#(i love them but i like the other girls too)

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Love Me Again

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut

Exes to lovers - this was requested so I hope you like it!!

To be completely honest, Lando doesn't even know what happened that night one year ago. He knows very well that he drank too much, got drunk like never before and that the next day he lost you.

You came to his apartment and found a hair band in the bathroom that wasn't yours. Lando knew whose hair tie it was, but he tried to hide it from you and convince you that it was yours. Of course with that, he only made things worse. The fact that he decided to lie about it hurt you even more.

You threatened to leave him immediately if he didn't tell you what happened the night before and who spent the night in his apartment. It didn't take long for Lando to break down and tearfully tell you that one of his girl friends spent the night at his place after going out. The morning after, he barely remembered anything, but he could have sworn that he hadn't even kissed her, let alone slept with her.

His only fault was that he brought her with him to the apartment and let her sleep there, but even that was more than enough for you to break your heart into a thousand pieces.

You knew which female friend it was. You never even liked her and even though Lando always told you that you had no reason to be jealous, it annoyed you that she was throwing herself at him every chance she got when the two of you were together.

She was too close to him for your liking and then when you heard that she was the one who slept over at his place that night when he was dead drunk, it was over for you.

Lando cried, despaired, begged you to forgive him for months, trying to convince you that for him there was only you, but you couldn't get over your pride and forgive him. In the end, you even believed him that maybe there really wasn't anything between the two of them, but the trust was broken between the two of you and it couldn't be fixed anymore.

Since you two were together for two and a half years before you broke up, you were very close to his family. They adored you and considered you a member of the family. They couldn't believe that you broke up, even they begged you to forgive him, but even though you decided not to, you still remained on good terms with them and continued to hang out from time to time.

And just like that you found yourself on a huge luxury yacht celebrating Mila's third (idk how old is she??) birthday together with Lando and his family. It was a three-day celebration in the small circle of family and for the sake of that you decided to remain calm and behave normally around Lando.

It wasn't easy for you to be so close to him yet so far away. It was even worse for him, but he enjoyed having you around. Of course he tried in every way to reach you, approach you, talk to you, he did everything just to get your attention. From time to time he would succeed, you would find it funny how he tried everything, so you would give in and engage into a conversation with him.

On the last night, everyone went to bed pretty early because they were exhausted from celebrating, swimming and sunbathing for the past three days, but you weren't so exhausted, so you decided to stay in the lounge area of ​​the yacht and be with yourself for a while. The sky was beautiful, full of shining stars and the feeling was so peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment, but not for long because you were soon startled by none other than Lando's voice.

"You decided to sleep under the sky tonight?" He asked making himself comfortable on the sofa next to you.

"No, I was just enjoying looking at it."

"With your eyes closed?" He mocked.

"What else do you want other than to disturb my peace?" You roll your eyes sitting up from the lying position.

"I was very hot, so I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come here to the pool to cool off" He says looking at the pool in front of you.

"It's like" You take a look at your phone to check the time. "Almost 1 a.m. and you're going to get in the pool now?"

"Yeah, wanna join me?" He smirks.

"No, thank you." You laugh rolling your eyes at him again.

He gets up from the sofa and begins to remove his shorts, leaving only his boxers on. You were a little embarrassed and you didn't expect him to start undressing in front of you, so you cleared your throat and looked away.

"C'mon, it's nothing you haven't seen before, y/n" He mocks seeing how flushed your cheeks got.

"I'm going to my room, you have fun" You say getting up and fixing your oversized t-shirt that served as your night gown.

"No, come on, stay, keep me company." He pleaded before stepping into the pool. "Please?"

It didn't take long for him to persuade you to stay, because you secretly wanted to, you just didn't want to admit it so you sat down on the edge of the pool dipping your feet into the water as you watched him slowly threw himself in. Diving under the water he swam closer to you.

"You enjoying yourself?" You ask paddling your feet.

"It would be even better if you jumped in with me" He says placing his hands on the edge on either side of you.

"Not a chance" You resist pushing him a little with your feet. He chuckles biting his lip and taking your foot in his hand pulling you to himself a little.

"Lando, don't you dare" You warn him when you feel yourself slide down a little.

"You're not wearing any shorts?" He asks tilting his head to the side to peek under your t-shirt. You gasp quickly closing your legs and pulling your shirt down.

"You're so inappropriate, get away from me" You push his chest with your feet pushing him away from yourself only for to swim back to you again.

"Did you have any fun these past three days?" He asked curiously.

"I did, I have always enjoyed spending time with your family. It was good to see everyone again."

"Even me?"

You stop and sigh softly at his question not wanting to look him in the eye. it still hurts, stings. You'd be lying if you said you weren't glad to see him. You still love him after all, but you're still not sure if you want to forgive him.

"I'd rather not answer that"

He can't hide the hurt look in his eyes after your statement, but he also doesn't want to push you away from him by bringing certain topics up again.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but I had a talk with Mila today and she told me that I am all you talk about. She says it's getting too much even for her to listen to you" Lando being Lando, of course, turns everything into a joke just to lighten the mood. You can't help but burst out laughing at the nonsense that he was saying just to say something.

"There we go, that's the laugh I wanted to hear" You blush at his caring words hiding your face in your shoulder. He takes a risk and places his hands over your knees slowly pulling them apart to stand between them and you surprise both of you when you let him.

"Lando.." You sigh hesitantly when he slowly puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"Please, let me" Before you could even ask him let you what?, he pulled you down into the pool with him. You gasped and your skin crawled as the slightly cold water soaked your t-shirt making it clung to your body.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" You were breathing rapidly trying to grab the edge to get out, but Lando pulled you by your waist closer to his body.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay"

"You're completely crazy" Your mouth complains, but your body responds differently to his touch especially when he moves one of his hands from your hip to your leg making them wrap around his torso.

"That's better" He says quietly glancing at your lips. You have to admit you feel a little uncomfortable, especially with his lips less than two centimeters away from yours. You haven't been this physically close to each other in over a year and you've almost forgotten what it feels like to feel his skin on yours. "It's just me" He whispers and it somehow calms you down when you remember that it's Lando, your Lando.

"Lando, you can't do this.." You say, but wrap your arms around his neck hiding your gaze in the crook of his neck. Your gesture encourages him so he hugs you tighter and gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Baby, I miss you so much" Your heart trembles at his choice of words. "I'm losing my mind without you" His voice breaks when you look at him and he moves your hair out of your face. Your fingers make gentle circular motions over the back of his head as you press your foreheads together.

"I swear only hope that one day you'll love me again keeps me sane" He continues.

"I've never even stopped" You quietly confess.

Even if he tried, he couldn't describe the feeling of hearing that from your mouth. He felt as if he had come alive again after such a long time.

He couldn't hold back anymore, everything in him was dying to feel you, to kiss you so he crashed his lips against yours and kissed you the way you kiss a person you love more than your life, but haven't been able to touch in more than a year.

You didn't even think about resisting anymore, you gave in and kissed him back with the same force. He walked with your legs still wrapped around him to the edge of the pool pressing against you with your back against it. His hands quickly slipped under your shirt exploring your body again after so long enjoying the sound of your moans.

"Please..please tell me that no one..has touched you..no one but me" His voice was quivering as he tried to get the question out to which he wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer to.

Lando was your first. First in everything basically. And he was so proud of it. He loved your innocence and the fact that no one had ever made you feel the way he did. You were all his and that's why he had a particularly strong protective feeling towards you. And he probably would lose his mind if he heard that someone else had touched something that only belonged to him.

"No one but you" You panted making him go feral.

His hands went under your butt gripping it before his fingertips moved your panties aside. He grinded his crotch into yours nibbling at the skin of your neck.

"Lan.." You moaned wanting more, but hating to ask for it. Luckily he knows your body like the back of his hand and knows what you need very well so he slipped his middle finger inside of you. One was soon replaced by two making you throw your head back giving him full access to bite and suck on your neck.

"Fuck.." He hissed as the aching feeling in his cock kicked in desperately needing to be touched. "Baby, I need to feel you or else I'm going to explode" He grunts.

"Let's get out of the pool, yeah? We can't fuck in here"

He lifted you up from the water sitting you onto the edge before getting out of the pool himself. You took off your wet shirt leaving yourself only in soaked panties and a bra. He looked you in from head to toe before pulling you to him and laying you down on the sofa hovering over you.

As he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung off you looked down at him with a slight concern in your gaze and he noticed it.

"What, baby? Is everything okay?" He asked leaning down to kiss you caressing your cheek.

"Yeah, it's just..it's been a while.." His gaze softened and he smiled pressing a kiss to your forehead to calm you down.

"We'll take it slow, okay?" He assured you. He pulled down your bra taking your tits out and attaching his lips around your nipples and with every passing second of him doing so you were getting wetter and wetter. He then took his cock in his hand rubbing his tip over your pussy up and down a few times hissing at the sensation.

He stopped at the center and felt you getting nervous as your breathing quickened. "It's alright, baby, I know you want this, I can feel how wet you are. I'll go slow, I promise."

He slowly pushed the tip in planting kisses along your jawline to distract you from the pain. He pushed a little further and you squeezed your eyes whimpering and holding your hands against his chest.

"It hurts Lan, it's too big.." You cried out trying to close your legs so he put his hand on your cheek gently caressing it. It took everything in him not to cum right away at you complimenting his length.

"Shh, I know, baby, but you have to let me in okay? We'll make it fit, yeah? Like we always used to" He cooed you pushing your legs further apart. "Just a little bit more and it's fully in. You can take it, love, I know you can."

Little by little and he pushed all of himself in staying still until you felt comfortable enough for him to move. "That's it, just like that, baby, always such a good girl for me" He was so impatient to fuck you, to cum all over or inside you it didn't matter to him, but he decided to take his time with you because he wanted you to feel good above everything else.

Once the pain was replaced by the feeling of pleasure, he started thrusting in deep and fast stretching you out in the way only he knew how. When you felt confident enough you wrapped your legs around his torso to push him even deeper.

"Does it feel good?" He asked and you nodded. "This reminds me so much of that time I fucked you on the couch in my parent's house."

"Ohh, Lando” You moaned.

"Where anybody could've walked in on us and see me pounding you from behind. Fuck, you have no idea how much this turns me on.." He groaned.

"I missed all of you, missed fucking you, feeling you squeeze my cock, playing with your pussy, oh" His words were coming out as broken sobs struggling to last as long as possible. "I feel you clenching are you almost there, love?"

"So close"

"Yeah? You're drenching my cock baby. You're so tight, fuck, I'm gonna cum in seconds."

"Ohh..yes yes, ahh"

"Oh shit baby.." Once he saw you slide you hand down to your clit and start playing with it, he lost it. His body shuddered, his cock twitched inside you and he came undone. He kept moving slowly until both of you rode out your orgasms.

When both of you came to your senses he started hugging you and kissing you as if you were going to run away every second. You leaned your head to the side and watched him smiling.

"So..does this mean you're mine again?" He asks tracing his fingertips over your collarbones.

"It does not, but" You emphasize. "If you try a bit harder maybe you can change my mind"

"Understood. Let's get you cleaned up for round two then"

"Lando, that's not what I meant!"

[smuttysabina]

Born To Be A Slut

(Male Reader x Shin Yuna x Hwang Yeji, 5k words) Tags: Romantic sex, Dating an Idol, Lovey dovey stuff, Adorable cuddling, Teasing, Lesbian sex, Some cuckolding, vaginal sex- hey what was that last part?, Oh, well if EVERYONE is cucking each other isn't that just a polyamorous relationship?, Yeah so group sex, Anal sex, Deepthroating, Cum eating, Threesome, Oral sex of all kinds, forceful sex (I mean, Yeji is involved, what did you expect?), Rampant sluttery, And smatterings of mutual understanding, Oh and fat sloppy creampies.

It was a particular agony to be a personal trainer for idols. The more mundane aspects of it certainly held painful tensions, sculpting the taut, supple flesh of gorgeous girls into ever more enticing shapes would be a temptation in and of itself. But the methodology of idol training requires a rather hands-on approach, which makes the sexual pressures nigh unbearable. Normally this stress would be easily resolved by the idol in question, in fact many "trainers" were on hand for precisely such an occasion; since the ladies themselves were hardly immune to the arousing effects as well. Unfortunately for the true professionals however, they were far too expensive to be used as fuck-meat and discarded. And so they would suffer from their pent up lusts, morosely watching as others were fucked senseless by the very luscious idols they had been training mere moments before. Of course, the more kindly or salacious girls would surreptitiously assist the poor trainers, briefly allowing them to drain their tensions into them before returning to a strictly professional relationship. Which was what was supposed to have happened to you, but sadly some idols simply enjoy breaking the rules...

You really shouldn't be doing this with Yuna. But it's hard to say no to her when this nubile vixen is staring up at you with such needy eyes. She had been teasing you for months, constantly glaring at you hungrily, wordlessly demanding your attention as well as your love. Yuna had put her body through its paces for you, relentlessly showing herself off during training, moving subtly so that your hands strayed where they should not. Which is not to say that she had not been quite verbal about her interest either, her sweetly innocent voice had been encouraging you to take liberties with her the entire time. Yuna's constant attentions had locked you in a sordid spiral, unable to think of anything but being here, yet unwilling to simply leave and end your misery. The easiest thing to do would be to give in, but that would create a whole host of problems, since you knew that you would be unable to resist giving into her demands after falling the first time. Lia had noticed your predicament, and a week ago had sympathetically led you into the bathroom and sucked you to completion; willingly swallowing your painfully bloated load that had festered in your balls for ages. But now...

Yuna presses against you, hot and sweaty from her exercise, her toned body lithe and ready for more intense... exertions. You awkwardly pry the young idol off of you, you're here to help her with her workout, not engage in unwholesome activities. Yuna submits to your entreaties with a sly smile, sighing dramatically as she returns to her stretching routine. A routine that seems to have gained some rather exotic positions since you last ran through them. Yuna presents her body to you from all imaginable angles; arching her back to show off her smooth abs and perky bodice, bowing down and thrusting her tight butt into the air, spreading her legs wide and leaning down to reveal her bulging camel-toe... All the while she watches you like a hunting cat, her poses growing ever less useful and ever more erotic as she slowly whittles down your will to resist. Yuna doesn't even bother averting her gaze from the obvious bulge in her pants. She knows you want her, so what are you waiting for? Give in.

Eager to shatter the final chains of restraint, Yuna flows upright and stalks towards you; hips swaying, chest thrust out with clear seductive intent. You stumble backwards into the wall, sliding down its mirrored surface, trying to find a way to escape, but Yuna will not be denied. She joins you on the floor, crawling the last few feet and between your legs until her face is inches away from yours. Her face is flushed with arousal, her eyes begging you wordlessly for everything you have. Kiss her, caress her, grope her, please her, fuck her, fill her, fill her with your seed, fill her until she is swollen with your love, love her, loveherloveherloveher- With a snarl you savagely kiss Yuna, your tongues wrestling greedily as you pull her body against yours. She moans in ecstasy, her legs wrapping around waist as she gyrates on you, her hands already groping at your crotch. Your hands clench around her petite ass before sliding lower to grip the fabric of her leggings. Fueled by lust, you rip them open at her crotch with brutal strength, exposing her already dripping pussy to the cold air. With mirrored enthusiasm Yuna painfully wrenches your cock out of your pants, before slamming herself onto your rigid manhood with a groan of pleasure. This virile slut had been teasing you for months, ever since you started working with her, and you pay her back for every excruciating second with interest. You jackhammer her tight cunt, pounding into her crotch with such speed that the wet slaps echo noisily throughout the empty room. Yuna blubbers with joy, taking every thrust with salacious enthusiasm, loudly begging you for your hot cum... Unable to resist her encouragements any longer, with a tortured groan you empty yourself into Yuna, making her squeal as she follows suit. Her pussy milks your cock greedily, squeezing out every last drop until your shaft has been fully drained.

Yuna lets out a content purr, her legs locked tight around your waist, her hands idly rubbing up and down your back. She stares deep into your eyes, her own wet with tears of joy, and kisses you possessively, you are hers now, got it? You belong only to Yuna...

Yuna howls as she squirms beneath her lover, her lithe body writhing as she takes every last inch of him, her greedy little cunt squeezing tight around his manhood. Her eyes roll back and she spasms as his seed erupts into her, her legs locking tight around his waist so that she receives every last drop of his love. Yuna snarls as he withdraws, but is quickly mollified as he is replaced by another fan whose cock is already dripping with excitement. This one takes her from behind as she slobbers on another member that appears like magic in front of her face. Yes, fill her up! Give her more...

"Oh! Be gentle," Yuna exclaims as you slowly push inside of her pussy, "I'm still so tight baby, so go slow with me..." She simpers as your cock fills her belly, nodding shyly in encouragement while pressing one hand against your chest, the epitome of an innocent lover. Once Yuna had caught you, her continuous seduction had mellowed, well comparatively so, she still teased you endlessly, just more in private now. And now whenever her temptatious stretches filled you with lust, you simply took her in whatever position she so happened to be in; it had gotten to the point that Yuna had joked that she should wear crotchless yoga pants, since you tore hers open so often. She hadn't, of course, she knew full well that nothing was more exciting than the anticipation that led up to the act itself, and kept her puffy lower lips shrouded to fire your imagination... Yuna moans sweetly as her legs bounce on your shoulders, you are so deep inside of her that a bulge forms in her belly from where your cock is buried in her, "Please, you're stretching me out, I'm not used to taking-"

"MORE! Give me more!" Yuna screeches as twin cocks piston her gushing cunt, her pussy slobbering fluids all over the pair of them as they plow her. The pink of her insides are clearly visible as her hole fails to grip them tightly enough, the slut too busy orgasming to even consider clenching down on their dicks. It's still not enough to fully satisfy her though, and soon another meaty cock is cramming itself into her already gaping cunt. Yuna wails with pleasure as her pussy is stretched out by three pounding dicks, gleefully scrabbling at the floor as her guts get brutally rearranged...

Your member noses curiously up Yuna's soaking slit before prodding gently against her anus, causing her to squeal in protest, "Wait! I want to save that for a special occasion! I'll need time to prep too you know!" She looks back at you and pouts, her ass still raised high in the air while her chest is pressed fully against the ground in a perfect arch. Yuna smiles affectionately as you lower your ambitions and push into the now-familiar warmth of her pussy, its wet folds welcoming you inside lovingly. You had been seeing Yuna for a couple months now, meeting with her in a disused practice room to provide a thin veneer of deniability; ostensibly she was growing stiff and required some extra assistance in working out the kinks. You certainly had been helping her stretch out, though the main area you focused on was her crotch and core. For her part, Yuna remained adorably endearing, lavishing you with attention whenever possible, even if it was mostly sensual in nature; her love language was undoubtedly sex. But still, you sensed she was holding back somewhat, contrary to the rumours about her, Yuna was delightfully wholesome and submissive once you got her clothes off; she was aggressive while teasing, but once your cock was inside of her she was like putty in your hands... You shudder with pleasure as your seed pours into Yuna as you hold her perky butt tight against you, causing her to gasp with delight, "I feel so warm inside..."

Semen spews out of Yuna's gaping asshole like a fountain as her guts empty themselves in a torrent of foul liquid after getting mercilessly pummeled by a gargantuan cock. The whore wails in distress as all the creamy love her fans had filled her with gushes out of her, as she desperately tries to squeeze shut her blown out asshole. Yuna's frantic bawling eventually draws Yeji's attention, who sighs in annoyance before assigning yet more meat to pump Yuna full again. Soon the slut is once more spasming in delight as her butt gets refilled once more, her filthy cunt drooling from the stimulation of having her ass violated by countless cocks...

Several weeks later, you and Yuna had secreted yourselves once more in the unused studio, going through actual stretches for once, as Yuna had strained her leg the other day while dancing. Though things had certainly started to hint at a more intimate sort of physical therapy, when the door suddenly slams open; and in saunters Yeji. Wearing naught but a towel, and crowned with the same, Itzy's leader appears fresh out of the shower, and more than a little amused to see you, "So this is where you've been hiding then," she smiles evilly, "don't think I haven't noticed you running off all the time, Yuna." Yuna sits upright from where she had been touching her toes and rolls her eyes in exasperation, "Well yeah, where else would I go to do some physical therapy in private?" Yeji sighs and stalks closer, as Yuna scoots between you and her protectively, glaring up defiantly at her senior, and Yeji meets her gaze with ease, "Yuna, tell me the truth, is this your new lover? It's been months since I found your last one, or have you finally grown up?" Yuna's pretty face twists petulantly, "No, he's just helping me do therapy, I've been a good girl, I promise!" Yuna's posture shifts from rebellious to submissive, affecting sadness at Yeji's lack of trust in her. It seemed all for sure, but even you felt a little moved by her performance, and it seemed Yeji did as well as her lips part slightly, "Oh, you promise?" her voice suddenly reduced to a husky whisper, the tension between the two felt like a familiar one, as Yeji stands directly in front of Yuna, so engrossed in her junior that she ignores you entirely; or you are merely beneath her notice, "So have you been a good girl Yuna?" she breathes. Yuna tilts her head forward and gives Yeji her best puppy-dog eyes, her face the very definition of purity, it was hard to refuse Yuna when she looked like that. Yeji twitches. Yuna lays it on like butter, "I promise I have not been a naughty girl, Yeji..." She flutters her eyelashes, smiling sweetly up at her leader, adorably shifting slightly from side to side as she maintains constant eye contact. Yeji's face flushes, as her lips draw back revealing clenched teeth, until with a snarl of pure lust she grabs Yeji's head and shoves it into her crotch.

"You lying slut," Yeji hisses as she forces Yuna's mouth against her cunt, "you filthy little whore, you've fallen in love again, haven't you?" Yuna lets out a whine of protest, even as she gorges upon Yeji's pussy, doing her best to try and pull away but unable to match her senior's strength. Yeji's towel falls to the ground from the violence of their sex, revealing her well-toned body and perky breasts; if she had any shame at being nude in front of a male coworker while forcing her junior to eat her out, she did not show it. Instead she groans brazenly as Yuna pleasures her, that nimble tongue and soft lips you knew so well now put to good use stimulating Yeji's hairy pussy; she crouches slightly as she pushes back against Yuna's head, hand gripping her hair tightly. And as much as she seems to struggle, Yuna still satisfies Yeji skillfully enough that soon she is shuddering as she approaches climax, "Oh fuck, eat it, eat it," Yeji moans loudly, even as Yuna squeaks in distress, which only seems to excite Yeji even further until she cannot hold on even longer, "Oh fuck, Yuna!" Yeji eyes roll back and she screams as her cunt squirts all over Yuna's mouth, forcing her to gulp down her fluids even as she struggles for breath, until Yeji stops quivering and regains her composure. Exhaling slowly, she releases her grip upon Yuna and allows her to collapse onto the ground like a piece of trash, where she coughs pitifully. Finally, Yeji acknowledges your presence, glancing at you with a sneer that conveys all too well her relish in cuckolding you, "Now then, strip."

You hesitate, knowing full well that company policy protected you from the idols' sexual demands, but unsure where your protracted tryst with Yuna left you on the scale of things. Were you still a professional trainer, or were you just an intern now, to be used and abused at will? Yeji cocks her head, "I said strip, or else I'll do it for you, meat." Yuna squawks in protest at this, but Yeji just laughs mockingly, "What? I thought he wasn't your lover, so why do you care so much?" While Yuna scrambles her brain for a response, Yeji returns her attention to you and menacingly raises an eyebrow, indicating you should get on with it. She eyes your nude form with the mild disinterest of a lady whose body count was in the thousands, before shrugging slightly and lazily stalking forwards. Her slow advance halts though when Yuna scrambles in front of her, arms outstretched, still bravely defiant, "You can't have him, he is mine!" Yuna snarls fiercely, you are unable to see Yuna's expression, but it must have been serious as Yeji blinks in surprise, "No, he is fuck-meat, he exists to be drained and discarded." "No," Yuna spits, "I love him, and he is mine!" Yeji groans in irritation, "How many times... Yuna darling, if you really loved him, would you have fucked literally hundreds of fans while he was yours?" You knew obviously, but you still feel a pit open in your stomach, before Yuna replies, "Those don't count! Those were just dicks, he is different! He is special!" she turns her head and gives you a reassuring smile before returning to staring down her leader; and the knots in your belly disappear, she did love you! Yeji rolls her eyes, and glance past Yuna to give you an exasperated look, before sighing wearily, "If he really loved you Yuna, would he be hard for me right now?" Yuna sniffs haughtily, contemptuously not even bothering to check to see if it was true (it was), Yeji continue as if by rote, "So if I were to fuck him right now, he would not stay hard at all, and would not enjoy himself?" Yuna nods confidently, "Of course not! But you would be able to force him to cum anyways!" Yeji smiles wanly, "See? If he can't stop himself from breeding whatever hole is wrapped around his cock, what makes yours so special? For all you know he's been plowing Chaery and Lia as well." "What, no!" Yuna stammers, "He's been giving all of his love to me! Plus he's a professional, so he's off limits!" "And what if I made him love me, would he just be fuck-meat then?" Yeji smiles slyly. Yuna laughs at that, "There is NO way you could do that, his love belongs only to me!" Yeji merely smirks, "Well let's find out then, shall we?" she looks at you, "On the ground meat, time to get fucked..."

You shiver slightly as you lay down, nervous about the ordeal to come, but Yuna gives you several kisses for support before pulling back and giving several more for your cock; as if claiming it for herself once more. Then Yeji arrives, "Oh good, you're getting it ready for me," as she grabs your cock and points it up, before slamming Yuna's head into it. Yuna's arms flail as she chokes on your meat, but Yeji simply leans forward, applying her body weight on her juniors head to keep her occupied. Giving you a faint smile, she murmurs in your ear, "Sorry, but this is going to be rough. Her lovers rarely last this long, so I'm going to have to make this... memorable," her smile becomes genuine for a moment, "enjoy this, because I will." Yeji pats your cheek before returning her attentions to Yuna, whose face is growing steadily redder by the moment as spit pools around the base of your shaft. She eases up enough for Yuna's head to jerk up, allowing her to gulp down what air she can with your cock still occupying her mouth, before Yeji forces her down again, "Didn't I say to get him ready for me? Fuck, you suck at this," she starts to piston her junior's head up and down your cock, uncaring of the massive mess she was making as Yuna slobbers and gasps desperately for air. You meanwhile are too busy groaning with pleasure to worry much about your lover, her wet tongue and throat driving your cock wild; you even start to thrust a little in time with Yeji's rhythm. At some indeterminable point Yeji grows tired of her sport, and hauls Yuna's drooling face off of your meat before depositing her nearby. She gives you a ravenous glare, "Time to fuck..."

With languid grace Yeji orients herself above your slippery member, holding position just low enough that her coarse folds kissed your tip. She gently sways her hips, running your cockhead through her moist, hairy slit, smirking as you shudder from the stimulation; she can tell how badly you want it. Yeji licks her lips as your hips begin to unconsciously hike upwards, your body desperate to breed her, no matter the implications, "You see Yuna," Yeji purrs to the prostrate form of her junior who was only now raising herself up onto her elbows, still hacking as she recovers from having her throat used like a fleshlight, "just a little teasing and now he is mindlessly desperate for me already. And this is why men are all worthless fuck-meat." Yuna whines despondently at this, but fixes you with a stare that wordlessly conveys her confidence in you; she nods in encouragement, she knows your love will not waver even if you are balls deep inside of Yeji. Speaking of which, Yeji finally decides to put you out of your misery, and with a feral groan slowly slides your length inside of herself until her folds kiss your crotch. She pauses her for a few moments, savoring the feeling of being filled, allowing you to feel the differences between hers and Yuna's insides; then with a crooked smile she rides you. Her pace is ferocious, almost feral, fucking you as if she were an animal in heat, her sopping cunt massaging your cock ceaselessly. Unlike the smooth tightness of Yuna, Yeji's cunt was practically drooling with fluids, roughly dragging against your shaft as she bounces atop you. After several minutes of this voracious sex, you can feel your balls already pulsating needily, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on for your beloved, you knew you were going to breed Yeji. Or not. Pausing on the precipice of your climax, Yeji waits until the moment has passed, before slowly starting again, hungrily she leans forward, her dark nipples rigid, and growls, "Say you love me." You refuse, and so she continues.

What feels like hours pass by, but it must have surely been far less, as Yeji continues to pry at your determination, urging you to give in. And oh how you want to, your balls throb in agony from being denied so many times, and your brain feels melted from being edged for so long by this cruel sexual goddess. All the while Yeji smugly provides a running commentary for Yuna, who is out of your view by this point, and no doubt worried sick about you. But even the thought of your dearest Yuna could only sustain you for so long, and like the experienced slut she was, Yeji could tell without you even needing to say anything. So when she runs her hands up your sweaty chest, and clasps your cheeks, she knows exactly how you will answer before she even asks, "Do you love me?" Despairing, you moan an affirmative, feeling absolutely wretched for betraying Yuna, but unable to resist your body's demands that you impregnate the woman atop you. Yeji smirks, her body similarly coated with sweat, her breasts heaving from her protracted exertions, her legs bulging with muscles, and lets out a little laugh, "No, you don't," Before finishing you off with a furious burst of riding that has your head spinning as your balls empty themselves into Yeji's fertile cunt. Who groans with delight as her pussy is filled, her narrow eyes widening slightly as the sheer quantity of semen pouring inside of her surprises even her. She slowly grinds on you as your cock finishes leaking its load into Yeji, "Fuck," she murmurs, "That was a lot, I'm almost impressed," she turns around and calls behind her, "Yuna dear, time to clean up! Oh stop masturbating and get over here already!"

You frown up at Yeji in confusion, masturbation, what was she talking about? Yeji grins mirthlessly down at you, "What, didn't you notice? The entire time you were doing your best to hold on for her, your supposed lover was busy finger-blasting herself silly like the perverted little cuck she is. That's right, she was enjoying your suffering, she was aroused by watching you getting taken by another girl. Pitiful, isn't it?" With that Yeji smoothly unmounts you, uncaring of the slick of semen leaking from her cunt down her glistening thighs; she was about to get cleaned off anyways. Then she drags the now completely naked Yuna towards you, who blushes shyly as she approaches, stammering awkwardly in embarrassment, "Honey! You're okay! You um, held on for so long! I'm so proud of you!" she gives you a sickly sweet smile, as if trying to distract you from the fact that her legs were absolutely drenched with fluids. The look of jealousy that flashes across her face is genuine though, as she smells the stench of another girl slathering your nethers. With a determined expression, she gets to work sucking and licking the evidence of your copulation off of you; cleaning you so enthusiastically that your member improbably starts to rise to the occasion once more. But Yuna's chore is not yet finished, after all, your delicious load belongs to her, so she takes her due.

Yeji groans as Yuna devours her sloppy cunt once more, the slut's lithe tongue scooping out its creamy contents before undulating it back down its length and into her throat. Yuna's ass is raised high in the air as she works, the tempting sweep of her hips put on full display, showing exactly why she was so often taken in this position. Your interest does not go unnoticed, even as her pussy is getting emptied, Yeji beckons you closer, leaning forward slightly so that she can spread her junior's cheeks, "Ready again? Good, now fuck her ass this time," Yuna lets out a surprised noise at this pronouncement, but Yeji uses a hand to keep her on task by holding her head in place, "Oh and don't worry about lube, she likes it rough. So, are you going to fuck her or not?" You hesitate, Yuna had said that she had wanted to save anal for a special occasion, but she had not helped you while Yeji was ravishing you, and instead had been aroused by your suffering... Your tip prods at her entrance, causing Yuna to quiver slightly until you grasp her wide hips to hold her in place as you force yourself into her asshole. You push inside of her vigorously, expecting to have to press through the cramped confines of her unused rear; instead, you slam yourself inside of Yuna's guts to the hilt. A muffled squeal emanates from Yeji's crotch, as Yuna's entire body jolts in surprise, and a gush of squirt splatters against your balls. The tight hole which you had been aching to fuck for so long, was loose from overuse, stretched out from countless cocks that had been plowing it while you had patiently waited. So you jackhammer Yuna's worthless asshole, now beyond caring about her discomfort as you relentless fuck her guts, causing Yeji to coo in delight, "See I told you she was a slut, make her pay for cucking you..." And oh how you do, you treat her asshole like a cheap fleshlight, uncaring of the pain you might be causing; though judging by the sporadic sprays of squirt that hit your thighs in balls, the whore was enjoying it. And you were too, though her anus was no longer the snug hole it used to be, her coils still had enough strength to massage your shaft as it slams past them. Your balls start to clench upwards once more, your thrusts deepen and grow in force, Yeji notes this and urges you on, "Do it, claim her fucking asshole, fill this bitch's guts with your cum," groaning loudly, you comply, spurting your seed deep inside of Yuna's innards while she spasms with ecstasy from having her ass bred.

Still shuddering, you pull out of Yuna's ass, and are unsurprised when it closes immediately after you leave, sealing your semen inside of her. Panting, she looks up at Yeji for approval, her face flushed with arousal, her face smeared with Yeji's cunt juices. Yeji pats her cheek affectionately, "Fuck, you were born to be a slut, Yuna," the girl in question giggles shyly, before glancing back at you apologetically, "I'm sorry dear, I guess it wasn't love after all, I'm just a slut after all..." Yuna continues to breath heavily, and whines, "I need mooore," she pouts, "does nobody love me enough to give some?" Yeji lets out a knowing sigh, "I'm sure some of the interns are absolutely bursting with love for you Yuna, why don't you go ask them?" Yuna brightens noticeably at this, and beaming happily scampers up onto her feet and races out of the room, not even bothering to spare you a parting glance. And thus ended your relationship, if it could be called that, with Yuna. Yeji gives you a sympathetic look as the pair of you sit on the wooden floor, both uncaring of the fact that you are seated in a puddle of sexual fluids. Yeji clears her throat, "We're going to have to let you go, but don't worry, we know a few other companies with openings so you shouldn't have any troubles finding work. IVE in particular seem to be needing good physical trainers, those lazy brats," she gives you a level stare, "But first, fuck-meat, I am going to use you until I am satisfied. After all," she smiles cruelly, "I don't have to worry about being down a professional trainer any more..." Her smug boasting is cut off however as you jump up and shove your cock into her face, forcing her to clean the stinking ass-juices off of your cock as her eyes narrow dangerously. Once you are erect once more, you push her back onto the ground, where she growls huskily, "Feisty, I think I'm going to enjoy this more than I expected," Yeji smoothly assumes the position, sticking her butt up into the air and giving you a meaningful glance,

"Well pick a hole already, and don't worry, I won't let you stop until I'm satisfied. Now show me how you fuck an actual woman, and not some mincing slut..."

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚: calling them “pretty boy” ... ( 엔하이픈 )

ㅤㅤ﹙2214﹚ ㅤ장르 fluff, fluff, fluff est. relㅤㅤwarnings kissing, pet names, mentions of make out in hoon'sㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ i think i will go back to my roots and write long hcs >< happy reading and pls rb & leave feedback iNDEX

HEESEUNG

you two were having a movie night, his eyes not leaving the tv screen even for one second, not until you notice that the packet of chips on your lap is empty and the other one is on his side. “hee, can you pass those chips, please?”

your voice manages to distract him from the movie and he gives you a blank stare for a brief second before registering your words and passing you the snack. “thanks, pretty boy.”

and those words catch his attention— brows knit together as he turns his head towards you, eyes wide open in amusement. “what did you call me?”

“i called you a pretty boy,” you stifle a laugh at his reaction, noticing how his cheeks turned a shade of pink as words fell of your lips. “cause you're so so pretty,”

he laughs at your words, although with a hint of shyness and averts his gaze to the screen. his cheeks only heat up more when he hears your soft giggles, something that is music to his ears. he turns to look at you again, putting an arm on your back to pull your closer. “you're the prettiest, angel.”

JONGSEONG

you were going through the pictures from your date earlier today, while jay laid on the bed with his head on your laps, sighing softly at the calming action of your fingers brushing through his soft locks.

“you're so pretty, 'seong,” you whisper softly, quite literally enamored by how effortlessly stunning he looks in the pictures. “not a single bad pic,”

he doesn't respond for a few seconds, a bit taken aback by your words before he ends up laughing, making you put your phone aside while he lifts up his face from your lap to look up at you. “are you sure ‘handsome’ isn't the word you were going for?”

“that too, but you're my pretty boy,” you say with a chuckle, leaning down to brush your nose against his, a touch so feathery it makes him smile and lean in for a kiss, but you are quick to put your forehead against his instead. “the prettiest boy.”

and he shakes his head at your words, unable to stop himself from smiling. he props himself up on his arms and then sits up in front of you, cupping your face to pull you in for a kiss. “sounds fair, since you're the prettiest girl ever, darling.”

JAEYUN

“hey, pretty boy,” you chime in with a smile, deciding to swing by his classes because you haven't seen him since the morning and the withdrawal is hitting both of you.

first, he gets excited after hearing your voice, having missed it even though it has only been a few hours since you two have gotten off the phone. and secondly, his eyes literally spark up at the sight of you, even more so when he hears your words. “pretty boy?”

you nod, pressing your lips together and lean against the doorframe. “yeah, do you not like it?”

“oh, i love it, babe” he tells you, putting emphasis on the word ‘love’ as he walks towards you, putting his arms around you to pull your closer. he leans in for a few quick peaks, whispering in between. “you should call me that more,”

you laugh at his words with a nod and make a mental note of that, playing with the loose strands of hair in front of his forehead. “i will, pretty boy.” — you best believe he's kissing you every time you call him that.

SUNGHOON

you simply stand against the wall, arms behind your back as you watch him put on his shoes, a soft smile dancing on your lips. “see you tomorrow, pretty boy.”

“oh, hell nah,” and he closes the door just as soon as he had opened it, turning to look at your with a cautious expression. “you cannot just say that so casually,”

you stare at him in surprise for a few seconds before laughing, pushing yourself off the wall to stand up straight. “say what? pretty boy?”

“see, you're making me go crazy,” he sighs, watching you laugh at his antics and a smile creeps up his lips as well, but he hides it well, taking a few steps in your direction and lifting you up in his arms, walking to the couch. “now we have to make out again!”

“hoon, put me down!” you yelp in surprise, although the laughter erupting in the room made everything much better. he does put you down, on the couch in fact, laying you down on the soft material with his lips hovering over yours. he doesn't give you the chance to complain, immediately pulling you into a chaste kiss.

SUNOO

he came over to pick you up for your date but heavens had another plan since it started showering right before you were planning to leave. the plan was to watch a movie, until sunoo said he wants to paint your nails.

and now you're sitting in front of him on the bed, your one hand in his and eyes on him, while his attention is on your fingers, putting the nail paint ever so care, not wanting to ruin it for you. “you're so pretty, 'noo,”

he looks up at you in surprise before his lips curl into a smile, a slight hint of red on his cheeks that he manages to hide by looking back at your hands. “i don't know what you mean. you're the prettiest,”

“no, you are pretty,” you say a bit dramatically, with a pout and all, making him scoff slightly.

he finishes up with your nails shortly, putting the nail paint away, almost melting at how adorable you look with that pout. he leans in closer, planting a tender kiss at the corner of your lips. “well, i have to keep up with my pretty girl,”

JUNGWOON

“good morning, pretty boy” you whisper softly over the silence as soon as he opens his eyes, sunrays entering through the window and adorning his face, making him look prettier than ever.

“good morning, beautiful,” jungwon takes a few seconds to push away the sleepiness, although not really succeeding as a yawn interrupts his words. “what's gotten into you?”

“nothing, i just want to call you pretty,” you brush a few strands of hair from in front of his eyes, the smile never leaving your lips and you find bliss in the quiet mornings with your boyfriend.

“that's new,” his voice is not louder than a whisper, laced with drowsiness as he throws his arms over your waist to pull you closer and nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. “but i like it,”

you can't help but smile at his actions, leaning down to kiss his forehead and brushing your fingers through his hair. it's quiet for a few minutes before you feel him lift up his head and speaks through a sweet grin. “call you call me that again?” — and why would you refuse?

NI-KI

you were on call with your boyfriend after the movie date, not really wanting to hang up but knowing it was late. you lean further into your pillow, speaking with slight disappointment in your voice. “‘night, pretty boy. i love you,”

“wait,” and you were just about to hang up before he stops you. “what do you mean ‘pretty boy?’”

you chortle at his words, clearly visualising him with that confused expression, brows furrowed. “i mean you, because you're a pretty boy,”

“i am?” you laugh again at his words, more when he laughs as well, finding him absolutely adorable especially when you can feeling him blushing in just the way he sounds. “say that again,”

“you're my pretty boy,” you repeat and he hums in approval, trying to be cool as he chuckles, but you know he's probably laying on the bed and smiling while looking at the ceiling with the cutest smile— or maybe not.

“good, now say it to my face,”

now it's your time to look at the phone screen in confusion, staring at his caller ID. “what?”

“i'm outside, open the door and call me pretty”

taglist

[ellecdc]

hi mother i love ur writing !!! i was just wondering if you could write something with any ship that has james in it, where they're proud of reader bc she cleaned her room? i have really bad adhd and im cleaning it rn and im pretty proud of myself :) anyways its okay if not ! i love youuu !!!

thanks for your request, lovie (and congrats on cleaning your room!!!) here's a little baby blurb for you <3

marauders x roommate!reader who cleaned her room [500 words]

CW: platonic but could be read as something else, fem!reader, hints at non-platonic feelings but nothing outward

“One second, I’ll ask.” James says before he’s knocking on your bedroom door.

You had hardly raised your head to answer before he was pushing open the door door, his knock unanswered.

“Hey angel! Sirius and Remus are wondering if we want them to pick up- OH MY GOD!” He cut himself off, shouting as he looked around your room in…horror?

No, he was looking around your room in shock.

“What!?” You could hear Sirius shout from the other end of the line; a conversation that James had seemingly abandoned as he stared around your space. 

“What did you do?” James asked you breathlessly; finally moving his disbelieving stare from your belongings to yourself.

You suddenly felt horribly aware of yourself. You’d been cleaning all day; you had moved every piece of furniture and hoovered underneath and behind them, you had sorted out your closet and dresser, and you had finally organised the things that you had stashed under your bed to ‘deal with later’.

All this to say: you were sweaty, likely dirty, and you were sure your hair was in a right state.

“James what the hell is going on!? Is everything okay!?” Sirius’ muffled voice shouted from James’ phone. 

“James, you’re giving Sirius a fright.” You chided instead of drawing more attention to yourself.

James seemed to remember himself at that and brought the phone back up to his ear. “Sorry, sorry. What was that, Pads?”

Sirius’ response was quieter than before, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was still worked up.

“No, no. Sorry, everyone is fine. It’s just…bloody hell Pads, she cleaned her room!”

Another hot flash of embarrassment surged through you.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You mumbled as you folded your last shirt.

“Of course it wasn’t, angel. That’s not what I meant.” James offered; significantly softening at your worried expression. “I just know this had been on your list for a long while, and I also know how fucking hard this must have been.”

You hardly had a moment to wave him off before you heard Sirius shout “we want to see!” from the other end of the line.

Protests meeting deaf ears - because it apparently didn’t matter that they’d be home in a measly half hour - James was quickly turning the call into a facetime and pointing the camera around your room.

“Oh my god!” Sirius echoed James’ earlier sentiments. 

“It looks great, dovey!” Remus chimed in. “You must have been in there all day!”

“It looks amazing.” James agreed quickly, bending over to survey under your bed. “Think you can do mine next?”

“Prongs!” Remus was quick to admonish. “No, she’s done quite enough for the day I’d say.”

“Forget I asked anything Prongs; we are getting pizza and we are celebrating.” Sirius decided. 

“We don’t need to celebrate the fact that I cleaned my room, you sods.” You scolded.

“Oi.” Sirius called with faux severity. “Let us celebrate our sweet girl if we so please.”

“We should get a cake, too.” You heard him add as he and James ended the call.

“It looks really good, angel.” James repeated; no longer looking around your room in awe, but rather at you with a peculiarly soft expression. 

“Thank you Jamie.” 

James spent a moment longer smiling at you before he was turning to leave your room. “I’ll set up the living room for us. What movie do you want to watch? Don’t answer that; I already know!”

[babyleostuff]

fanservice

𝜗𝜚 theme: fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 pairing: idol!mingu x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 word count: 944

・ ❥ ・ jealousy is a disease when it comes to kim mingyu and his fanservice

“i’m not your strongest soldier lol don’t play with me rn.” 

you rolled your eyes at the caption, and scrolled past the video that had been haunting you for the past couple of days. ever since the boys’ fan meeting last monday your fyp had been going crazy with videos of your boyfriend holding hands and comparing hand sizes with his fans. 

and that wasn’t even the worst part. 

your man was the definition of fanservice, him holding hands with others and making puppy eyes at them wasn't anything new, hell - how many times had he asked you to take his “boyfriend” photos he later posted on instagram, while looking like a literal walking dream. he loved making people go crazy on a daily basis, so it wasn’t like the hand holding bothered you. 

what bothered you was the lovestruck expression, the annoyingly gentle, sparkly eyes, the perfect fucking black hair falling over his forhead, the soft smile, the gaze that never left the person in font of him. 

you weren’t sure where the sudden surge of possessiveness came from, but oh my god, there was a limit of what you could take, and if only you remembered your twitter password you would’ve logged out a long time ago. you knew exactly who this look was reserved for, and it was you, and you only, so why was he suddenly going around looking at others like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky. 

“baby?” mingyu’s voice echoed from your bedroom. “have you seen my black dior hoodie?”

you were too busy scrolling past yet another tik tok to answer your boyfriend. besides, who cared about a hoodie when he was basically cheating on you?  

“and what are you gawking at, huh?” you muttered under your nose, as the girl in the video squealed when mingyu took her hand in his. you weren’t sure why you were working yourself up so much. it’s not like you were jealous of the way his thumb was running over her palm. or how their fingers intertwined perfectly.

thinking you didn’t hear him from the other room, mingyu gave up on his mission to find the hoodie he was sure he saw in the closet just this morning, and walked out to the living room to look for you. “baby, did you h-,” he didn't have to look at you twice to see who exactly stole the piece of clothing he was searching for. “there it is,” he beamed, a smile blooming on his face. his heart never failed to turn into mush whenever he saw you dressed in his clothes, especially the oversized ones that made you look like an adorable teddy bear. 

“i can give it back if you want,” you mumbled, your eyes still glued to your phone. 

“it’s fine, i’ll just find another one, but tell me,” mingyu crooked an eyebrow at your frown, and walked over to where you were not so happily occupying the armchair he and wonwoo decided on buying last month, “what the hell got you pouting like that?” 

you didn’t notice your boyfriend standing behind you until it was too late. “huh?” too slow to turn off the phone, you spun around to find mingyu behind you with an annoying smirk on his face. “i wasn’t pouting,” you tried to argue, as you slipped the phone under your thigh. he laughed, and tucked a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“baby?” he crouched down, and placed his chin on your shoulder. 

“mhm?” maybe playing stupid would help. 

“why were you watching videos from the fanmeeting, hm?” he asked innocently, like he didn’t know exactly why. 

you groaned, and turned around, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. there was no way you’d admit to being jealous of some girls for holding your boyfriend’s hand when you literally did that 24/7. 

“you know you literally get to cuddle and kiss me, right? it’s not like they’re going to steal me from you,” he said. you didn’t have to look to know that he had this infuriatingly handsome smile on his face that always made your knees weak. 

“stop being so smug about it, kim mingyu,” you mumbled, and hit his chest. 

“never.” 

he grabbed the back of your neck gently and peeled you of him, much to your reluctance. a pang of self-consciousness suddenly hit you because what if he thought you were acting immaturely over this? “listen,” he walked around the armchair to kneel in front of you. “whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” grabbing your face tenderly, he ran a thumb over your cheek. “i’m yours, remember?” 

“i know, it’s just-,” 

“let me finish, yeah?” you nodded and kissed his palm, encouraging him to keep going. maybe that was just what you needed today? a bit of reassurance and his words of affirmation. because if there was one thing that kim mingyu was good at, it was making you feel secure and loved. 

“i know it can be hard looking at those videos and whatnot, and you know why i act how i act when it’s needed. but i love you. you. and no matter how many hands i have to hold or how many people i have to pretend to flirt with, it doesn’t change the fact that at the end of the day all i want is to come home to you. ‘k baby?” 

too overwhelmed to say anything, you just nodded quickly, and threw your arms around his shoulders, so he wouldn’t see your teary eyes. 

“you’re really mine?” you asked, sniffling quietly. 

“all yours. only yours.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot 

[acidburnsthings]

BY THE BOOK//MV1\\

pairing: max verstappen x student!reader

description: college is hard... senior year is harder... the final week is hell... all of that, along with media attention, makes for an interesting time...

faceclaim: various pinterest girls

y/username

liked by maxverstappen1, user1 and 44,645 others

y/username closing in... one month to go!

maxverstappen1 a month till i have you all to myself

y/username ugh cant wait either

user1 ugh, she makes learning look hot

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y/username

liked by maxverstappen1, carmenmmundt and 46,565 others

y/username one subject taken off the roster, like a million more to go...

carmenmmundt aaaaah, can't wait to see you!!! good luck w school bby

y/username me either!!!! thanksss <<33

maxverstappen1 look at my pretty girl being smart <3

y/username 🥺 love you maxiee <<33 maxverstappen1 <3

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y/username

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 46, 546 others

y/username And another one!

lilymhe pookie looking fire as always!!

y/username thank you pookie maxverstappen1 huh? y/username for someone our age, you are beyond confused and it sometimes concerns me lilymhe come to me bbg, i know it all y/username sorry, but alex aint letting me alex_albon damn right im not, back off my girl

user2 those 100% are calling me stupid in every language

user3 like fr, she's putting my A's to shaame

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y/username

liked by maxverstappen1, y/bro/username and 57,632 others

y/username more studying, feat. lil bro cause he wanted coffee and the pic was nice

y/bro/username the coffee was good... the fact i didn't pay for it... even better

y/username wow, really mature, mr. im yoUng ANd have mY oWn moNEy y/bro/username yeah, i said i had money not that i spend it user4 a whole mood tbh

maxverstappen1 @y/bro/username my gf is not your ATM, love you tho little man

y/username tell him maxie!! y/bro/username sorry max, wont do it again

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y/username

liked by maxverstappen1, user5 and 64,258 others

y/username its the final count dooown ft. maxie cause he got some time off 💃🏻

maxverstappen1 put your phone down and come over

y/username 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ user6 so real for that

lilymhe @/carmenmmundt she fr chose him over us

carmenmmundt i mean, thats criminal y/username you girls know you'll always be my no.1s maxverstappen1 ?? im next to you y/username 👩🏻‍🦯

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maxverstappen1

liked by y/username, redbullracing and 561,207 others

maxverstappen1 the only right way to spend my break <3

y/username love you, baby

maxverstappen1 love you too, cutie <3

user7 imagine being picked up with flowers and coffee, i'd die tbh

user8 the matching pj's, soo cute

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y/username

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 64,115 others

y/username did yall think he didn't bring the children??

maxverstappen1 send me that pic rn

y/username way ahead of you, check your messages

user9 im, sorry, he brought the cats with him, they're watching friends and eating in bed?? your honor they're perfect

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maxverstappen1

liked by y/username, redbullracing and 664,879 others

maxverstappen1 forcing her to take a break <3

y/username you know i cant deny your eyes <3 user10 so real for that

hater1 them dating for like one week a year is so annoying

user11 you being single is so annoying user12 omg right? like get a life

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y/username

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 64,513 others

y/username i graduated or something, idk

maxverstappen1 congrats my love!!<<33

y/username mwah <3

lilymhe omg, congrats beautiful!!!

y/username thank you pookie!! alex_albon congrats professor, hope you can teach max some anger management!! y/username i honestly think yall are the problem cause hes a sweet baby angel around me landonorris uh-hu whatever you say... congrats tho!! y/username yall are getting on my nerves...

carmenmmundt congrats love, can't wait for dinner tonight, georgie is already stressing over his suit!!

georgerussell63 its the wrong color, its not gonna match your aesthetic😔 y/username dont worry georgie, its gonna be fine whatever you wear, also thank you bby

lewishamilton congrats little lady!! rosscoe is ready for dinner, bowtie and all

y/username thank youuu, i just know he will be the best behaved guest of them all

redbullracing Congratulations, professor!

y/username thank you!!<3

fernandoalo_official congrtulations little lady!!

y/username thank you old man<<33

sebastianvettel congrats shatzi!!!

y/username dankeschön!!!

user13 mother is mothering!! congrats!!! liked by y/username

user14 ugh i cant wait for the dinner pics

user15 and the drunk pics hihi liked by y/username user15 MOTHER LIKING!!?? liked by y/username

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y/username

liked by maxverstappen1, josko_gvardiol and 661,156 others

y/username an amazing night; featuring all of my favourite people and josko who said he couldn't come

comments have been turned off

TAGS

@yllomhej @walldemons @shelbyteller

if anybody else wants to be tagged, send me a DM or an ask!

[tayytayy12]

Once I fix me, he’s gonna miss me | LN4 x singer!reader

DR3 x Exgf!reade

Summary - After a messy breakup with Daniel reader releases a new album, but no one expects the random love song at the end of it, and they certainly didn’t expect it to be about Daniel’s friend and ex-teammate.

Warnings - Cheating mentioned, swearing, villain Daniel (for the request I love Danny Ric)

FaceClaim - Gracie Abrams

Requested - Yes

Notes - Please give me the benefit of the doubt for some spelling errors, it’s not my strong suite 😭

Yourusername

Liked by - YukiTsunoda22, TaylorSwift, SabrinaCarpenter, and 5,653,773 others

Yourusername - I’m back, and I’m bringing you a gift to apologise for being away for so long 🤍 my brand new album, ‘My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys’ is out tomorrow, you’ll hear more from me then. I love you 💕

View comments

User1 - Y/N OMFG AHHHH

User2 - I CANT WAIT A WHOLE NEW ALBUM TOMORROW WHAT.

User3 - ITS ONLY BEEN 4 MONTHS

User4 - This shit looks sad

User5 - Daniel did some fucked up shit in their relationship 😭

User6 - Hoe wdym ‘My boy only breaks his favourite toys’

User7 - Is everyone forgetting Daniel’s favourite bar in Australia is called ‘the black dog’

User8 - He fucked up big time

User9 - Fr, how do you cheat on THEE y/n y/l/n?

User10 - Daniel’s teammate in the likes shows that even the grid don’t agree w how he treated our girl 😭

User11 - Stop making him a villain okay, he didn’t know what he was doing.

User12 - Daniel, and thirty four year old man, didn’t know what he was doing when he controlled, belittled and public cheated on Y/n, a TWENTY THREE year old girl? He knew what he was doing, you can’t defend him anymore.

SabrinaCarpenter - You even look pretty when you’re sad

Liked by author

Yourusername

Liked by - JackAntanoff, MaxVerstappen1 and 6,545,720 others

Tagged | @/AaronDessner, @/JackAntanoff

Yourusername - My god where do I even start? This album is everything and more to me, really. The last year of my life writing these songs has been my escape from my reality, one that I really didn’t want to be a part of, but it was also one that I didn’t know how to escape, and when I finally did I didn’t know how to let go of all the pain I’d kept with me in that time. So, I picked up my pen and let it do the talking. This is my first album where every song is written solely by me, but of course I had the help of my soulmate collaborators, jack and Aaron to produce and do their magic. The pair of them helped me, along with someone special showed me that what I felt was okay, and valid. These songs are my most unfiltered and my most vulnerable, this is not an album that has been made for the general public. This one is one I made with only you, my biggest supporters and myself in mind. I’m forever grateful of how I’m able to trust you with my feelings without any fear. I love you, and I hope you live this album like I do, or it could help you like it did me. Just remember, you’re not alone in your feelings 🤍

‘My boy only brakes his favourite toys’ is all yours now, all eighteen tracks about my coping mechanisms, and one about how there’s happiness after heartbreak… 🤍

View comments

JackAntanoff - You’re a living legend 🫡

Yourusername - That’s all you New Jersey

User13 - What. The. Fuck. This. Album. Has. Killed. Me.

User14 - I’m sorry but wtfdym miss Y/n Y/l/n has a song where she says the word ‘I’ll get older but your lover stay my age’

User15 - All too well killed me

User16 - I love how you can just tell what songs were produced by jack and what by Aaron

User17 - ‘I know it won’t work’ is so heart wrenching istg no one speak to me

User18 - I’m its biggest stan

User19 - WHERE DID THIS HOE FIND MY DIARY WHEN WRITING THE PROPHECY ?!??!!??

User20 - Because I liked a boy is so superior, like she finally addressed what Daniel’s ‘fans’ put her through at the start of their relationship

User21 - ‘Say it once again with feeling, how the death rattle breathing silenced as the soul was leaving, the deflation of our dreaming, leaving me breathed and reeling, my beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree d-y-i-n-g’

User22 - How did it end is so superior

User23 - Y/n could write Romeo and Juliet but Shakespeare couldn’t write this bridge

User24 - PAY FOR MY THERAPY

User25 - Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed? Were you writing a book? Were you a sleeper cell spy? In fifty years, will all this be declassified? And you'll confess why you did it. And I'll say, "Good riddance". 'Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden. I would've died for your sins. Instead, I just died inside. And you deserve prison, but you won't get time

User26 - The smallest man who ever lives reigns supreme on this album

User27 - NONE OF YOU HOES TALKING ABOUT CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT?

User28 - FR WTFDYM THERES THIS WHOLE SAD ASS ALBUM THEN JUST THE BEST LOVE SONG Y/N HAS EVER WRITTEN

User29 - I NEED TO KNOW WHO THE HELL ITS ABOUT

Yourusername - And who is my man? that’s one secret I’ll never tell.

User30 - HOE YOU WATCH TOO MUCH GOSSIP GIRL

LandoNorris

Liked by - Yourusername, Charles_ Leclerc and 2,536,639 others

LandoNorris - Week off shenanigans, I’m still the biggest Y/n Y/l/n fan. New albums great btw 🫡

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User31 - Everyone is a Y/n fan

User32 - WHO ARE THOSE FLOWERS FOR HELLO

User33 - he has taste with call it what you want AND feather

User34 - he made it CLEAR he’s team Y/n

User35 - Thought Daniel was your friend..?

User36 - Everyone ignoring the boyfriend Lando pic

Yourusername - Thanks for the streams 🫡

LandoNorris - no problem 😌

Yourusername

Liked by - LandoNorris, Lilymhe and 2,726,637 others

Tagged | @/landonorris

Yourusername - Turns out I’m physically unable to do a soft launch so, THIS IS MY BOYFRIEND LANDO AINT HE ADORABLE

View comments

User37 - What the fuck

User38 - OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

User39 - I’m in love with them already what

User40 - Y/n you’re truly an icon

User41 - THE PHOTOS OMG THEYRE ADORABLE 😭

DanielRicciardo - wow.

User42 - GET YOUR STINKY ASS OUT OF HERE WE DONT WANT YOU LEAVE LEAVE LEAVE LEAVE

User43 - This is his karma

LandoNorris - You’re cute

Yourusername - Stop I’m blushing.

User44 - Obsessed.

LandoNorris

Liked by - Yourusername, OscarPiastri and 2,644,646 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername

LandoNorris - Lol stay mad, should’ve treated her better when you had her.

I love you so much, and I’m going to treat you that way 🤍

View comments

User45 - LMAOOOO

Yourusername - My god I love you

LandoNorris - I love you so much more

———————

[miupow]

which txt members do u think would b the most into foreplay and whod be impatient cuz theyre desperate lol ㅜㅜ

hehe omg… i’m finally getting around to answering old asks :33 • cw // NSFW, MDNI!

TEASE

yeonjun -> he always makes sure that you cum at least once on his fingers and once on his tongue before he even begins to stick his dick in. and even then he just drags his fat hot shaft up and down your pussy lips, slaps his dripping red cockhead against your puffy clit until you sob out for mercy. and maybe, if you’ve been a really good girl, he’ll finally give you what you want.

taehyun -> tyun is the fingering king; he loves to play with your pussy, make you fall apart while you’re bent over his lap or on all fours, split open on his thick, calloused fingers. obsessed with making you squirt on his fingers too, thinks it’s so cute~ will make you cum and cum until you do, til you’re shaking <3 and then he’ll fuck you rough and nasty, coke can cock stretching your oversensitive wet pussy out just how you like it :3

kai -> kai is always battling with himself, torn between giving in to mindless pleasure and focusing on pleasing you— he just wants to please you, make you feel as good as you make him feel <3 and he’s so attentive!! always playing with you so gentle and sweet, stretches you out proper for his big fat cock cause he would never want to hurt you~ but he loses all composure when he finally gets to feel your cunt swallowing up his cock so well, pussy so tight but so wet, the slide so good he whimpers so pathetic.. now his minds all empty and pussy drunk, can’t focus on anything other than how good it feels and how badly he wants to cum.

soobin -> soobin’s gotta make sure your little tight hole is ready for him, and mutual masturbation is his favorite way to prepare you for his cock… his thumb rubbing tight against your clit through your panties as you fist his big long cock til it’s throbbing, his balls heavy and aching for release— and until you’ve soaked through your panties, gotten whiny and desperate grinding against his nice long fingers, begging him to put them inside and fill you up <3 and the stretch of his monster cock’s dizzying, red hot, but you love it so much as soobin groans n moans so deep in his chest as he bottoms out, kisses your cervix and threatens to nearly push through <3

beomgyu -> when beomgyus needy he’s needy, so horny he can’t even think straight, so hard it hurts when he’s dragging you off somewhere secluded to fuck your brains out. he just wants to fuck, not play around,,, “i can’t wait any longer, i have to be inside of you!” <3 but even has selfish as he can be when he fucks, he will always make sure you cum too… multiple times if he can help it :3

IMPATIENT

[jadeslayter]

︶ ◜ᴗ◝ ࣪ 𓈒・ 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍' 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍 𓇼

꒰ : 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 ˚ ｡ ⋆

★ The jjk men have a marathon session . ★ Pairings ⦂ Sukuna , Geto , Toji x Fem!Reader ⭒ (separate)

꒰ ୭ৎ 𓂃 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓 ׂ ׅ

♡⃕⠀ - short drabble : scratching, choking, somnophilia, (dom & feral jjk men cus yesss), degradation, praise, overstim, piv, creampies, spanking, dub-con, dumbification, edging, domestic Geto, power dynamic, true-form kuna, masochism

୫; - pet names : doll , (pretty) girl, baby, princess, mama, ma ୫; - wc : 3k

─── ⋮𝐑. 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

THE ROOM WAS HOT. Sweltering, even— thick air swallowing your shaking body as you convulsed underneath that bastardly curse; his nails digging angry crescent moons into the plush of your supple thighs– reddened from his previous assault. “Takin’ that c-ock so good,” Sukuna would praise, his warm breath bellowing directly into your face as his hips snapped forwards with ungodly haste, stretching your overstimulated cunt until your velvet walls sheathed the entirety of his size. He wanted you full of shaft– full of him. “I should make it..fuckbaby,” He paused, reeling his head back in pleasure. “Should make things h-arder for..you.. yeah?”

This was not a question, but a statement— Sukuna would ask these things to make you feel as though you had some sense of power over the situation. You hadn’t, but it never hurt to imagine you did. Sukuna preferred things this way, and you’d accede, too. He was certain of it. 

The man’s calloused hands— two of them, the other pair gripped firmly behind your knees, locking your thighs against your chest in a tight mating press— travel along the lines of your body, grazing over your sweat slicked skin. Lower and lower— tantalizingly lower. 

Until they were nestled within the cute folds of your cunt, his big fingers working the bud from hiding as he pinched her between two rough fingers. Not gently, either. He wanted to hurt you; and so he would. He’d squeeze on your little clit with malice, massaging the bud aggressively between an index and a thumb. His other hand spread your lips, sheen coating his shaft in sinful pleasure. 

You’d be cockhungry and desperate by the time he was finished with you— a sloppy puddle of a woman drenched in her own arousal. “‘Kuna—Fuck,’Kuna!” You would scream into the recesses of your lovers neck, inundate scent enveloping you; sukuna laying his full claim to every inch of your being. It was impossible to escape him. 

Your toes curled, his precious cock head jutting against an all too familiar patch of textured velvet. Sukuna was an expert at anatomy— your anatomy, only. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and he’d studied hard to understand it. He’d shoved every inch of himself inside of you to accustom himself with your pleasure points, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. 

“Shut up n’ take that fuckin’ dick,” He would be so mean with you, degrading you— invalidating you crudely as he split you on his cock. He just couldn’t help but lose his sense of stability, you knew that, Doll. 

He was very lenient with you; very loving, in all the ways he knew how to be. Not many. But, the effort was still there. 

His body would press down against yours— his weight heavy above you as his waist slammed down into you; his inches slipping inside of you with ease, slicked with your pitiful fucking orgasms. Over and over (and over). 

He made you cum so much. Until you were physically unable to move beneath him— it just felt so good. But seeing you immobile wasn’t enough; he needed you brain dead. He needed you to rely on him, you could do that, couldn’t you? You would. He’d make sure you fucking did. 

“Kuna, fuck—right there, baby— hohgod, g’na cum!” The words ripped from your throat, your moans bellowing within the echoes of your bedroom. “yesyesyes, Kuna— fuck m’ cummin’” 

“Yeah, baby, give me what I want— gimme ‘notha one, make it g-ood. Don’t you dare disappoint me.” He meant what he said. His words were sharp in your ears; his breath hitting against the shell of your ear. 

And God, would you fucking cum. All over his cock— for the nth time. Your release flowed out of you with haste, coating his shaft in another layer of your euphoria. Your body would convulse, shivering desperately beneath the man once more as you struggled to overcome your high. 

His thighs wouldn’t stop their smacking; his heavy balls slapping against your cunt with hellish velocity— Godspeed. He was so careless. 

“Thas’ it, Pretty girl,” He huffed, his chest heavy with the weight of his own impending orgasm. “Giveitall— give it t’ me. Not stoppin’ til’ you’re fallin’ asleep on my cock.” 

─── ⋮𝐒. 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

“DONTSTOPDONTSTOPDONTSTOP,” You’d pant, latching your flailing hands around the bare abdomen of your lover– his skin dewy with sweat as he forced another inch of himself into your sopping walls; cunt swallowing his shaft expectantly. 

He was right where you wanted him— ramming against that spot with genuine rapture; his hips rocking into you gingerly. “Don’t stop, baby? Yeah?” He’d mimicked, his hands traversing the frill of your nightgown; thin silk hiked over your thighs, pooling above your bellybutton. 

Cute little lolita top he bought you on the night of your honeymoon— the night you were finally taken by a real man— it had always looked so good on you; the blue of the fabric slightly faded over the years of your marriage. He loved seeing you in his clothes; albeit his personal wardrobe, or the clothing you’ve accumulated with his money. The feeling never faltered. 

Geto would be obsessed with the way your perky nipples peak from below the fabric, sensitive buds hardened underneath the restrictions of your nightgown. 

A strained chuckle would pass Geto’s pre-parted lips, heavy breaths and groans resounding within the man's throat. “Thas’it, Baby,” Suguru would moan, the intensity of his thrusts sending recoils through your body. You’d grip the headboard for stability– fuzzy brain swarmed with indescribable pleasure. 

Geto was an elephant when it came to retaining information; all information. Names, dates, locations, everything. So, naturally, Geto’s interests peaked when you had mentioned being woken up to the rock of his hips between your thighs; how foreign his cock would feel inside of your sleepy lil’ cunt while you dreamt of him, and how familiar it’d feel when you awoke to the sensation of spilling on his length. 

So here he lay, a soft hand wrapped firmly around the width of your neck, the other clasped firm within the bend of your knee, your ankle resting upon his broad shoulders. That cute little nightgown of yours clinging to the curvature of your body with sweat. 

You were so pretty when you were like this— cum drunk, lust clouding your comprehension. You only knew how to ask for more and more. You only spoke Geto’s language, and he had no problem following suit. You were his— through and through. 

“This pussy’s s’ fuckin’ good, Baby,” A husky groan reverberating in his throat— adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke. “‘specially when i work her up in the mornin’.” You felt so good around him. Looked good, too; cute little cunt puffy with overstimulation; your holes clenching so desperately around his thick cock. 

And those eyes, Jesus, those eyes, Baby. He could stare into them for hours; big curious orbs blown with pleasure. Hearts practically morphed your irises; delectation overwhelming. This— in all of its glory— is why he wanted you in missionary; wanted to see that pretty, drool-crusted face as he edged you into oblivion.

He almost felt bad for you— princess pussy so sensitive, yet so eager for a release. So needy, only for his package. “So—hnh— full’f me, yeah? Wanna cum, Princess?” His pelvis pistoned between your shaking thighs as the heat of a prolonged orgasm washed over the both of you, coiling the knot within your stomach with yearning.

Geto would roll his hips into you, slowing his pace as he ground himself deep within your velvet walls, pressing your abdomen into the mattress— his raven locs veiling against your forehead; hair disheveled atop his head. He was so focused. Determined. 

He looked the most attractive this way, his skin ripe with droplets of sweat; blotchy patches dotting his arms— soon-to-be-bruises forming just beneath his flesh. He looked so strained above you, thrusting everything he had into your cunt as he distributed his weight into his forearms, his nose directly against yours. 

He’d exhale against your lips, beridding his lungs of their oxygen before pulling you into a sensual, slow, kiss— his lips entrapping yours as they began to swell with pressure; his teeth boring indentions into the plush. 

Geto would tilt his head slightly to the right , angling his nose before yours as he deepened the kiss; his desperation palpable. His tongue would slick over your lips; a gesture of request— and he’d slip himself within your mouth when you oblige, his tongue exploring your cavern hungrily. 

You’d dance in tango, tongues swirling vehemently as the kiss grew increasingly sloppier with every reposition of your lips against his; saliva glistening along the corners of your lips, some dripping upon your chin.

His cock continues its cruel assault, bucking away at your g-spot with malice; his hips shifting slightly to elicit more lude noises from your throat— to which he would swallow up in that kiss, drinking down your essence as he fucked himself into you. 

He was fucking you so good. The pleasure had your eyes rolling into your skull, your toes pointed with tension. 

So fucking close. Just a few more thrusts—

Geto’s lips unlatch themselves from yours, a bubble of intimacy stringing between you before snapping, the droplets warm against your flesh as they land.  

A deep sigh; and then it’s gone. Everything. The movement of his hips ceases between your bruised thighs— begrudgingly, ‘course. You’d feel so empty; so indifferent, so.. frustrated. He’d taunted you with the idea of an orgasm yet again; eighth time in counting.

“Not yet,” He’d huff as he’d collapse above you, his flesh adhering to yours with sweat— lots n’ lots of it. “Just a little bit longer, You can hold it f’ me, huh?” 

─── ⋮𝐅. 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

SOMETIMES WHEN TOJI fucked you, you were physically incapable of making any noise. 

It just felt that good— your little cock hungry brain unable to process any sounds other than pitiful whimpers, occasional gasps when he’d force the arch of your back deeper into the mattress. 

Especially after he’d ram the entirety of his dick into you; his balls slapping against your thighs, girthy 7 inches bottoming out within you, not the slightest shiver of repentance. This was your punishment, after all. What did he have to be apologetic for? 

Certainly not your actions. You were responsible for atoning those. And you would, he’d make sure of it. Your careless transgressions were what got you in this position to begin with— slutty little holes on display for him while you drooled helplessly upon the cotton of his pillowcase, your saliva soaking the fabric through and through. 

“D’aww, Mama,” He’d chuckled ingenuienly through his teeth, callous fingers adamant with their search between your legs, his broad fingertips circling your clit prudently with the resolve of his amatory impurity. He wanted you so bad; wanted to split you open with his seed, fill your breeding chamber until you were swollen with every last drop. “T’s too much? hmm? c’mon, use that mouth, t’s all ya’ good for, idntit?” 

Toji was so mean. 

So condescending as he forced his vigilantic tournament upon your cunt. She could take it. 

But God, it’d feel so good. He’d feel so good inside of you, stretching your velvet over the length of his cock, burrowing himself into your cute lil’ g-spot. He loved being inside of you, even if it were for the benefit of punishing you with the sadistic means of fucking you until you nearly safeworded. 

He hadn’t wanted to hurt you, Doll. Only a lil’ bit. Out of spite, ‘course. 

You’d manage to force a lamentable little whine once more, nodding your head frantically as your sweat adhered your forehead to the pillowcase. “Please,t’stoomuch, Jiji— god, rightthere!” Muffled moans swallowed up by the material your husband were fucking you into. 

“Yeah, right there?” His tone was teasing, his voice pitching as he mocked your desperate pleas of pleasure; how very piteous you sounded begging him to continue with his assault on your insides. Had you no shame, baby? But t’s okay, Toji preferred you absolutely fucking stupid on his dick. Easier for him to thrust his seed into your cunt, because you were simply unable to object. Not like you would, anyway. 

Your arch deepened, the fat of your ass recoiling against Toji’s brutality— skin slapping whilst your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. So fucking good. Toji knew just what you needed— knew your body better than you had. 

Knew how to push you beyond your limits; have you a crying, screaming mess on his bedsheets. He loved seeing you so voracious; all created by him. 

“You don’t get to say that,” He breathed, his thrusts erratic from behind you— peak of his orgasm approaching rapidly, desirous cockhead famished for its release. “‘T’s too much’, this ‘s—..fuck, Baby— This is your f-ault.”

A coy chuckle, and then he’d shove your face deeper within the recesses of the mattress— his right hand heavy above your head as he crushed your frame into the foam. His fingers entangle your roughly tousled hair— the singe of his grip searing through your scalp. “If you’d learn patience, I wouldn’t have ‘t fuck you this way—“ His large knuckles strategically angle your head, his fist pressing your left cheek into the pillow. “Now you’re stuck, Mama,” 

Toji was so ashamed of you, he had trained you so much better than this. You couldn’t even resist your primal urges long enough— couldn’t respect yourself or your husband long enough to wait for his return. Had to call and call his phone; sending him nude photos of those perfectly unbruised breasts, squeezed between a pair of elbows Toji so desperately wanted tied behind your back. 

Your soft eyes would gaze up at the camera as you angled your tits into the frame, snapping the photo and shooting it off to your preoccupied, very busy, husband. Caption being a string of pouting emojis, your desperation almost sickening. Toji’s eyes glossed the minute he opened the inappropriate image, his cheeks warm with the creeping effects of your careless neglect. 

He had you stripped bare and teary eyed in no less than 10 minutes after walking in the door; no hooking his keys, hanging his coat; slipping off his shoes— straight to the bedroom, straight to burying his cock inside of your disgustingly greedy cunt. “Yeah, this’s what ya’ wanted, wadntit’, fuckin’ whore.” He had panted against your skin after his second soul snatching nut, gleaming as he watched the cum spill from your hole. You were able to speak then, strings of curse words and affection spilling from your raspy throat. 

But now he’s pushing out his fifth, and all you can do is lay breathless, pinned to the mattress as your body jolts from the force behind— your ass bruised in bright red handprints, purple and dark green splotches adorning either side of your waist's curvature. Your cunt tight and unwinding against your lovers intrusion as the heat of your orgasm buzzed overhead.

“Oohbaby, t’s’ close, huh? Can feel that pussy clenchin’, Ma.” He rasped deeply, beads of sweat dribbling down onto your back as he rammed himself into you. “Go ‘head, Baby, cum on this dick— fuck, yeaahh baby, M’ cummin’, too,” 

He shot another thick load within you, your pussy clenching down— spazzing helplessly against shaft as he bucked, the accuracy and rhythm of his thrusts receding. He gripped onto your waist for support, balancing himself before lifting his right leg and sitting the flat of his foot against the bedsheet, angling himself inside of you to better overstimulate that poor lil’ g-spot. 

Your screams would prove futile; the fatigue of your cries evident, though no sound emits, your vocal chords just too strained. The sting hurt so good, overstimulation paralyzing you. You really were stuck at the mercy of this man, cumming repetitively on his cock like it’d be your last. 

His thighs resounded off of yours as he fucked the both of you through your paralytic highs, his dick splitting you deftly. It wasn’t long before the peak of yet another release overcame, the sensation sending a rush of euphoric bliss over you as you gasped, your body language giving way to your liberation; shivers and jolts of electricity firing through you— a tired arch faltering underneath him. 

Exactly the way Toji wanted you. Punishing you was so much easier when you obeyed. When you sat and took your punishment like a big girl— Toji’s big, strong girl. Like you’d take this one, over and over, until he decided he was done with you. 

And he was far from that. You hadn’t begged enough, and that just wouldn’t do. No matter, you’d pay with every drop of cum you pushed out of that swollen, sweat-slicked cunt. 

“Gimmie anotha’ one, c’mon, cream until you’ve learned your fucking lesson— til you learn the privilege of restraint.”

© JadeSlayter 2024 Tumblr

[satorusugurugurl]

The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie!

Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor, will you get to see the goods, or was it just a rumor? Time will tell.

Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,457

Warnings: language, smut, sixty-nine, pinv, safe smut, condoms

A/N: I’m having so much fun with this series!! It makes me giggle! I loooove streamer!Gojo so much! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two

Gojo impatiently tapped his fingers against the Love Hotel receptionist's desk counter. He pushes his dark sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and waits for the girl at the counter to give him the key card to the room he had bought. However, she keeps staring at him. Every once in a while, she glances back at him from her computer screen. She was trying to figure out where she had seen him before but couldn’t quite place it.

In her defense, it was hard to recognize him as his online persona, which was typically half naked, when he was fully clothed.

“I’m sorry, but you look so familiar.” She questioned, handing him a form to sign that you both wouldn’t be breaking any of the equipment or the toys within the room. “Have I seen you before? Have you stayed at our establishment before?”

“Nope!” Gojo quickly signs his name at the bottom of the dotted line. “Never stayed here.” He said that he had never stayed at a love hotel. This was his first experience.

“Huh,” the receptionist eyed him, glancing at his scribbled name, “I would say you have one of those faces, you know, like a generic guy. Someone I see all the time that comes in here. But I’m sorry if this comes off too strong—” She bit her lip, eyeing him up and down, “you are utterly gorgeous, and I’m pretty sure I would recognize you if you stopped in here before.”

Gojo fights the urge to slam his head against the counter repeatedly for them over how long it’s taking to get checked in. He didn’t care about meeting potential fans or conversing with them like Nanami insisted. All he wanted to do was get you up to the room and worship the body. He had been drooling over the night before. The only way that could happen was if the bimbo receptionist would give him the damn keys to the room.

“Look, I’m sorry--could I get the ke—”

“Are you like an idol? Is that where I’ve seen you before?!”

“No, I'm not an idol, the ke—”

“An actor?!”

“No—”

The girl not so subtly unbuttoned the top button to her blouse, pulling it to the side as she leaned over her desk. “Oooh, maybe you should invite me to your room and let me get to know you more personally, Mr. Gojo.” Satoru is two seconds away from losing his shit and getting canceled on the Internet when a delicate hand gently wraps around his arm.

“Baby~ did you get the key to our room~?” your breath is hot as it fans against his ear. The sound of your sultry voice causes goosebumps to rise over his skin as he physically shudders. “I’m feeling a little antsy~” God, he barely knew you and was so bad for you.

The girl behind the counter straightened her flirtatious smile and smacked off her face, replaced with a more professional one, as she buttoned her shirt back up. “Oh, is this your friend?” The tone in her voice doesn't go unnoticed as you catch an eyebrow at her.

“No, I'm his girlfriend.”

The receptionist says no other words as she reluctantly hands Gojo the keys to the room. “I see. I hope you enjoy your stay with us,” Gojo mumbles out a quick thank you before dragging you towards the elevator.

The second you both are inside, and the door is closed. You’re giggling as a Gojo slams his head against the metal wall. “That had to be the most painful experience I’ve ever had with checking into a hotel.” He slams his head against the wall before pushing his sunglasses up, his bangs sticking out here and there. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.” Both hands are behind your back as you give him the most gentle smile you can muster.

“You're welcome; that must be hard getting recognized without people being able to connect you to your streaming channel.”

“Eh, normally, it’s not that big of a deal. It helps that I’m half-naked when I stream. But once in a blue moon, I like that, then recognize me, but they can’t put their finger on it.” With a step, he slowly crowds you into the corner of the elevator's confined space. “You, however, recognize me right off the bat with clothes on.”

An audible gulp is heard as you stare at the gorgeous man crowding you. “I-I’ve been a big fan for a long time—” That was a lie; you and Gojo knew that.

The Greek god of a man standing before you was fucking hot beyond all means, but it wasn’t just his looks or his body that drew you into him. It was his humor, the way he laughed, the kindness he showed smaller streamers to his fans. He could be arrogant and hardheaded, and he had a bit of an ego online, but it didn’t deter you from the fact that he was a good person. That was only one of the many reasons you liked him so much.

The man only took you to Sendai for his favorite dessert, paying for your ticket and the hotel room, but he also made you feel super comfortable talking to him. There was a connection between the two of you, one that probably only came once in a lifetime. One, neither you nor Satoru are going to let slip away.

Gojo’s is an inch touching your lips with his when the elevator dings as you reach your floor. “Alright, here we are.” He clears his throat as he gently takes your hand and his own, leading you out of the elevator to your room.

“Did you get a themed room? I’ve seen some pretty crazy ones on YouTube and stuff.”

“Themed room?” Gojo scoffs, his face plastered with an incredulous smile. “Wow, I can’t believe you.” He swipes the key, opens the door, and reveals an underwater-themed room. Complete with a fish tank wall, with real fish, and glowing blue lights overhead. “You would assume I wouldn’t get a themed room.”

You step inside, face twisting from awe and amazement to pure disgust at the tacky decor. The door shuts behind you as you turn to look up at the man who had purchased this room for the night. His shoulders shake as his lips are firmly pressed together while you fight the giggles rising in your chest.

“I—” you cover your mouth, “don't know what even to say.”

Gojo’s cheeks are flushed as he chuckles softly. “Oh, sweetheart, you haven't even seen the best part yet.” He turns you to face the opposite side of the room, where you see it. A giant clam is positioned against a wall, but it isn't a clam but the bed.

You lose it the second your eyes meet the tacky pillows made to look like pearls. You throw your head back, your face burning, and Gojo joins you in laughter. The hotel staff took the theme of being under the sea to the next level. You laughed until tears formed in your eyes. You found yourself leaning into Gojo as the giggles finally began to subside.

Gojo hummed, his hands gently running up and down your arms as those piercing blue eyes bore into yours. “You’re so beautiful when you laugh.” Putting the tacky room aside, you found all the humor fading into a low burning desire.

”Thank you. I love the sound of your laugh.”

The burning heat filling the room settled in your chest as Satoru continued moving his hands up and down your arms. It was such a simple gesture that it held so much want behind it. The tension between you grew with every passing second, much like the night before, but no screen separated you this time. This was irl, no avatars, or web cameras to hide behind. Behind the closed door of the Love Hotel were you and Gojo Satoru.

You could feel your pulse racing in your neck as you pulled back enough to turn to face Gojo. His cheeks were flushed as his hands slowly trailed down your arms before hovering over your hips for the longest moments and not daring to move as he took a long breath.

”Is this okay? Do you want to do this?” Satoru cleared his throat, eyes darting off to the side. “Because if you’re uncomfortable with this, we can cuddle instead.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth with a nervous chuckle. “We only just met, and I���ll be honest with you. I’ve never done anything like this.”

His concern for your comfort had your heart racing even more. Not only was he funny and hot, but he was also extremely considerate, making sure you were okay with whatever was going to go on. You found yourself moving without hesitation, pressing your chest firmly against his. The feeling of your breast against him had the streamer shivering as you led his hands to your hips, placing them on your body.

”I’ve never done anything like this before, so that makes two of us.” You slowly ran your hands up his t-shirt, fingers grazing over the defined muscles under his shirt before passing his pectoral muscles. “But I feel like there’s this spark between us, and while I’ve never done anything like this before, I’ve never been more sure that I want to keep whatever this,” you gestured between you with your finger, “is going.”

”So does th—“

”That means I want you in every way you’re willing to give.”

With your consent spoken loud and clear, the grip Satoru's hand on himself snapped. His hands moved up, cupping your face as he feverishly kissed you, Eyes shut tight, white lashes twitching as he put everything he had into your first kiss. It was hot and heavy, knocking you back, stunning you for just a second until your arms were wrapped around his neck, kissing back. He pushes you further back until the back of your legs hits the clam-shaped bed.

Satoru breaks the kiss, heaving heavily before he pushes you back against the plump mattress. You’re sprawled out over the white comforter, staring up at the man you had been a fan of for so long. In all of his streams in the past, he was so upbeat, happy, and a total goofball. But right now, as he stands before you, breathing heavily as he tugs his shirt and tossing it to the ground, every fiber of your being is losing itself to the raging kindling inside of you. You didn’t think it was possible to find him more attractive than you did, but seeing this incredibly intimate side of him, you fell head over heels.

Following his lead, you pull your shirt up and off, tossing it at his bare chest, before doing the same with your bra. Seeing Breast in person and not through his computer screen makes Gojo melt. His hands reach out, closing the distance between you before he’s groping your perfect tits. He massages them, palms running over the soft flesh. His fingers gently brush over your nipples, rubbing them in slow circles as they harden under his touch. You arch into him, pressing your breast more firmly into the palms of his hands, making him shiver.

While his cerulean eyes are focused on your breasts, your hands dip down, cupping the tent that was forming in his pants. You could feel his cock as it twitches against your hand as you rub your fingers over the tip, teasing the slit through his shorts and his boxers. The pre-cum smears within the confines of his too-tight undergarments, making him jolt forward, aching for more.

“Mmm fuck.” Satoru, these lips meet yours again in a kiss that takes your breath away. The lingering sweetness of the brown sugar, Boba, you both drink, lingers on his tongue as he flicks it over your bottom lip. He doesn't have to wait long before opening your mouth and welcoming his tongue. The kiss is messy, passionate, and full of nothing but pure lustful need. “You—mmm—” You take his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling it gently before kissing him harder. “Fuuuck, you taste so good~ so sweet.”

“You taste good, too~ but you feel even better.”

Hearing those words leave your mouth almost sends Gojo over the edge. His cock throbs eagerly at your words. But instead of words, you slid your hand into his shorts and boxers, gripping him at the base of his cock before dragging your thumb up and down the underside of his shaft, tracing gently over the veins. Listening to your words would

been easier to do at this point because right now, all of his attention was focused and not blowing his load inside of his boxers.

“Haaah—nnngh.” Satoru’s head falls forward against your shoulder as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him up and down. “Y-Your hand feels so good.”

You giggled breathlessly, biting your lip as you twisted your wrist with each stroke. “My hand feels good, but my mouth feels even better~” his cock throbs hard in your hand, pre-cum dribbling out of his slit as he whines.

“Y-You trying to make me cum? Because if you keep talking like that, I will explode before we even get to that point.” He pressed kisses up your shoulder.

“Then let’s get to that point.” You moan out as his lips and teeth assault your neck with a burning passion. “I wanna taste you; I don’t mean your tongue.”

Satoru groaned, bucking his hips into your still-jerking hand. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard his entire life. With a growl, he rolls you both so he’s lying down, and you’re on top of him. The sudden change of positions makes your pussy throb as he slaps your ass.

“Well, come on, baby, bring that perfect pussy here; sit on my face while you suck my cock.” He slaps your ass again, squeezing the fat of it and making you jump.

“Okay!” You giggle, shifting to the side, pulling your pants and panties off and tossing them to the sand pattern carpet. As you do that, Satoru is beaming as he tugs his pants off, his cock throbbing as it smacks his abdomen.

You settle your legs on either side of his head, gripping his cock, leading it into your mouth. Satoru’s hands were gripping the top of your thighs as you wrapped your lips around his tip. He jerks, jaw clenched as herrs whines, your tongue swirling around his twitching tip. He was so cute, withering and whining underneath you. He had no idea what he was in store for.

That’s what you thought. When, in reality, you had no idea what you were in store for. Taking more of him into your mouth, Satoru’s grip on your thighs tightened, making your eyebrows and it together. Before you could pull off to look back at him, his mouth was on your cunt. His tongue moved up and down your slick folds, laughing at your dripping hole before finding your clit instantly.

“Mhmm?!” a startled gasp sounded from deep in your throat as Satoru chuckled into your dripping sex. The confusion was evident in your voice as your eyes rolled back into your head. “M-mnnngh.” Your hips rocked against his eager mouth as you struggled to keep up with his pace with his cock in your mouth.

“Heh~” Satoru scoffed, laughing his tongue up and down your folds again before flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit like a madman. “What~ you thought I was a virgin or something? That’s just because I like the feel of your hands on my body. I’ve never done this before. Is that why you’re making such shocked sounds? My tongue feels that good~?”

“Hmmm!” Your eye shot open as his lips sealed around your clit, drawing out a louder moan from deep in your chest.

“Oh yeah~ I’m experienced. I hope you’re ready because I’m gonna give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life.”

You didn’t doubt him for a single moment. The way he eagerly laughed and looked at you, how his hands tightened, gripping you as hard as he possibly could, holding you against his mouth, and having him so eagerly challenging you to focus on him. It seemed like every time you tried to take him back into your mouth to buy your head up and down, attempting to make him lose all control. He would one-up you.

He slid his tongue inside of you, pressing his muscle against your g-spot on his nose, and rubbed against your click back-and-forth, not more and more moans from your throat. Each time you try to bob your head up and down, increase the speed of his time inside of you, laughing and looking at your wet walls. Each time he did that, you would lose your concentration, your movement ceasing as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

Satoru loved the way your body would stiffen, how your breath would hitch your throat, and how the muscles in your thighs tremble with each flick of his tongue. You were so responsive to his touch. He could get used to eating you out like this. It wasn’t just the sex it was you. Something about you had his heart fluttering, racing like a hummingbird's wings. He found himself wanting to get to know every part of you. Including you’re wet, throbbing sex.

“Fuck~ you taste so fucking good,” Satoru sighed, pulling away from your sex. “you’re so sweet, almost as sweet as kikufuku; there’s only one difference.”

You pulled off his cock, replacing your struggling mouth with your hand, jerking him off. “Oh yeah, and what’s that~?” The man underneath you moaned, bearing his face further between your legs.

“You’re not cream filled~” He gives you clit a touch suck with a smirk. “Not yet, at least.”

His words shake you, muscles in your legs trembling under his skilled tongue. You take him back into your mouth, sucking just as eagerly as he was, but his tongue is far too talented. Tears well in your eyes as soon as Gojo rubs his face back and forth, rubbing your clit and stimulating you and all different kinds of ways. You pull off his cock, accepting your defeat.

“Ahh~ haaah~ fuck I-I’m gonna cum—”

“Mhmm~ mhmm~ mmm!” Satoru hums in agreement, his tongue flicking your click faster before he seals his pretty lips around it, sucking it as hard as he can, trying to pull you over the edge. “Come on, baby~ cum for me~!”

That was all that it took him sucking, and his eager homes pulled you down over the edge into a mind, shattering orgasm. You scream louder than you had ever screamed with a partner. As you slick coat his tongue, Satoru doesn’t stop. He moves faster and harder eagerly, licking up everything you had to offer him, extending your mind-blowing orgasm. He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking above him. Even while sucking, his tongue continued gently lick your folds clean before he peppered kisses along your inner thighs as you struggled to escape his delightful tongue.

You collapse, resting your head against one of the pearl-shaped pillows as Satoru licked his lips clean. His cheeks are flushed as he grins down, taking the sunglasses off the top of his head and resting them on the nightstand next to the bed. He looks like an angel from where you’re lying and in a post-orgasmic haze. His being an angel seemed fitting, saying that he almost ended your life with how hard you came.

“G-Give me—” you hold up one finger in front of you, panting heavily, “one sec and I-I’ll get you off.”

Strong hands gently rub at your aching thighs. “You don’t have to finish doing that. Do you wanna keep going? Once you come back to earth?” You grunt with a nod, holding a thumbs up as he lies beside you.

As your heart rate slows and your blood stops pounding in your ears, you turn on your side, staring up your favorite streamer, who had been a stranger until yesterday and had selflessly taken you out on a date. He was kind, handsome, and funny on top of everything else. Gojo was your type; you couldn’t wait to see where this new relationship went.

While you stared into, Satoru grinned gently, cupping your cheek and one of his hands while the other wrapped around your body, pulling you flush against his bare chest. He took a moment to admire your beauty, flawless skin, beautiful hair, the way your eyes glitter, and the blue lighting of the room. You were stunning, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life, but it wasn’t just your looks he was enchanted by.

It was how you did a happy dance when you ate the kikufuku, how you left wholeheartedly when you stepped into the hotel room. It was how you were looking at him right now.

This wasn't a one-time thing for him. He wanted to see where your future took you both. He wanted all of you. That had him leaning in, closing the inch of distance between your mouths, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, almost hesitant, like you were testing the waters of a pool in the summer.

You both melt from that single kiss that wasn’t driven by pure lust but by curiosity instead. Satoru pulled back, grinning down at you, pressing his forehead against yours before kissing you again. This kiss was more passionate, his lips moving against yours feverishly. As you turned your head, your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss by gently sliding your tongue over his bottom lip.

The second Satoru opened his mouth to you, your tongues moved against one another, allowing you to taste yourself as Satoru reached for the bowl on the nightstand blindly. When he pulled his hand back, breaking the kiss, you noticed he was holding a condom. He swallowed, glancing at the foil packet.

“Oh shit, too small.” He turned around, reaching into the bowl, searching for a condom of the correct size. “Bingo!” He beamed, pulling out a condom in a gold foil and ripping it open with his teeth. You watched as he expertly rolled the condom on with a concentrated look in his eyes before he rolled back onto his side, grinning at you. Do you have a preference for positions?”

”I wanna do it like this.” Your voice was low and soft as you draped your right leg over his hip while your hands wrapped around his neck, allowing you to continue to stare into his beautiful eyes. “Is this okay?”

If you could hear his heart slamming against his chest, you would know he was more than okay with this position. “Yeah,” he swallowed, “I think it’s perfect.” His left hand rested on your right thigh, pulling you an inch closer to him before his right hand dipped between your bodies, leading his cock toward your wet and twitching entrance. “Are you ready?” Letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, you gave him a gentle grin before nodding.

“I’m ready, Toru.”

Hearing you call him, Toru had chills of excitement running down his chiseled back as he slowly pressed the head of his cock inside of you. “Mmmhm, sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He chuckles before giving you a gentle kiss. “I’m barely inside of you, and you feel so good.” From the way your jaw drops open, you could say the same about him.

He feels so good sliding slowly inside of you, stretching you out in the most phenomenal of ways. It burns, but it burns in the best way. A burn that's left you aching for more of him. You whine, pressing your lips harder against his with a pleased moan as he pushes inside of you until he bottoms out. You both lie there, staring into each other's eyes, breaths combining as Satoru pulls out an inch before slowly sliding back inside of you with a moan.

His thrusts aren’t hard or rough; they’re slow and well-paced, leaving you aching for more of him. While your insides twitch and hug his cock, telling him to go harder to fuck your stupid, he holds himself back. Satoru didn’t want you to think he was just going to fuck your brains out, and that was that. No, he wanted you, your body, and you psussy to know that he wanted you, all of you. He truly meant that he didn’t want this to be your only date; he wanted this to be the first of many.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He growled out against your swollen lips before catching them again with his own. “So fucking pretty, smart, and sweet.’ His fingers dug into the fat of your ass, massaging them as he set a slow pace, gently thrusting in and out of you, his chest pressing against your bare breasts.

“Ah, Satoru~” As he kisses you, your fingers trail up, running through his soft bed and messy hair. Nails gently scratched at his scalp as he continued to slide in and out of you, his low grunts growing louder with each slide in and out of your heat. “Faster~ please, I need more.”

Hips that were moving almost agonizingly slow begin to move a bit faster, both your breathing and breathless moans filling the room that smells like sex. All you can smell is the musky scent of Satoru and clean linen. It makes you feel high as he rocks his hips faster into you with a guttural growl. You softly cry against his lips, tugging his head down, pressing lips more firmly against your mouth.

“Mmm~ fuck you feel so good~ god fuck, your pussy is so tight it feels so good wrapped around my cock like this.”

”Y-Yeah, god, fuck, you keep hitting my cervix.”

Upon hearing his dick was hitting the most sensitive part inside of you, Satoru slowed down just a bit. “Oh, sorry, do you wan—“

You cut him off with another kiss. “I want you to fuck me harder, it feels good.” Bright blue eyes widen before narrowing as he does as you ask, slamming in harder, but not enough to make it painful for you. “Oooh fuck yes, Toru, just like that!” There you go again with that nickname that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart, nngh, you feel so fucking good.” He grunts, pressing his forehead firmly against yours.

“So do you—haaah!” Your words are cut off as Satoru kisses you, moans mingling with each other in an orchestra of pleasure. “Toru~ Toru!” His cock is slamming into you now, drawing out more high-pitched cries from you as his balls slap against your ass, mixing in with the squelching sounds of his cock disappearing inside of you.

“Haah~ mmmhmp fuck yea, say it baby, shit, say my name~”

“Toru~! Toru~! Toru!” Each moan of his name has his cock twitching inside of you, both his hands grabbing either side of your hips as he begins drilling himself inside of you with deep animalistic groans. Ones that would make any pornstar blush, ones that were pushing you close to your sweet release. “I—I’m gonna cum! Ooh fuck me, I’m gonna cum so hard.”

”Yeah~? Me too, baby, I can feel it coming.” Both your walls and his cock, twitch in harmony as your nails dig into his shoulders, your eyes going wide, filling with tears. “Yeah~ that’s it, sweetheart cum for me, cum. all over my big fat cock.” He can feel you before he hears you. Your insides convulse, squeezing around his throbbing shaft, milking him. “Ohh fuck Cumming I’m cummming baby, fuck fuck, fuck!” His whiny breathless moans fan against your mouth as you messily kiss each other as Satoru’s cum fills the condom separating you.

The orgasm is the most intense one you’ve probably had with a partner before. He was leaving you a shaking mess on the clam-shaped mattress. Satoru whines, tailings soft kisses over your cheeks and down your neck as the twitching between you slowly dies. When your walls relax, he gently pulls out of you, sitting drunkenly up, pinching the tip of the condom off and tying it up. The whole time he cleans up, tossing the trash away, he has a goofy, happy grin on his face, his cerulean eyes occasionally darting towards you as he heads to the restroom to fetch you a warm rag to clean you up with.

Much like on the train ride or during your Sendai outing, the silence that fills the room as Satoru gently wipes you clean isn’t awkward. It’s comforting and relaxing, and it feels so natural. Neither one of you has to put on an act around the other; you can sit and be yourselves. Connections like this were rare, and you were lucky enough to find it in each other.

It’s the same comfort that has Satoru’s arms wrapped around you as he stares up at the shell that covers half of the king-size bed. “So, what are you doing this week?’ Satoru probs as his hands gently caress your back.

“I have a couple of classes to attend this week, and I’m probably going to be working on Geto’s logo design.” Satoru hums, pursing his lips together. “So, I’ll probably be at the shop this weekend. I like to be in the amphospeher of the business I'm designing.” His face lights up as he grins sleepily down at you.

”Could I buy you a coffee? Maybe I can take you to dinner? Trust me when I tell you, you’ll need to get away from the shop with the characters working there.”

”Says the half-naked leisure streamer who lives in Geto’s basement.”

Faux shock crosses Satoru’s face as he pulls you tighter against him. “Look at you; you barely meet them, and you’re already talking like you’ve known them for years.” He presses a quick peck to your forehead, winning a giggle from you as you wrap your arms around his waist. “In all seriousness, could I take you out on Friday for a proper date?” Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you nod.

”I would love that.” You both yawn as the bubbling from the fish tanks in the walls lulls you to sleep. Your fans won’t mind you missing a live stream?”

”Mmm,” Satoru turns the fluorescent bright blue lights off, leaving a darker blue light glowing from the tanks as he covers you both up with the cool, crisp blanket. “Yeah, they won’t mind; my fans and community are great.”

“Okay, Friday it is.”

”Friday.”

Satoru repeats with a grin as you both fall asleep, unaware of the thousands of notifications blowing up Satoru’s Twitter, discord, and Twitch accounts. The do not disturb on his phone makes it so none of Nanami’s calls or Suguru’s texts come through. Leaving you both unaware of what was going on until morning. Because the-strongest-streamer was trending online, and the headlines read; “Popular Leisure Streamer Checks into a Love Hotel with His Girlfriend!” Underneath the article was a photo of you and Satoru at the receptionist's desk, where you had just checked in hours before. Everyone knew it was him because he had left his mask on the table at the Sendai shopping center.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

LSIAH Tag List (AGE MUST BE IN BIO):

@witchbybirth @zoeyflower @missmuffinr @kalulakunundrum @matchalatte06 @aussiemeerkat @gojoful @ilovebattison @getoloverr @dottedhalfnotes @sonicsolos @manyno

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Young Gods (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 

Summary: History has a way of repeating itself. Much like another pair before you, Aemond and you make each other worse. 

Requested: Yup. Hades!Aemond with a not so literal twist. Strong!Reader. Requests still open!

Warnings: Dark fic? Rape is mentioned a lot. People in their underwear, non-consensual touching and nudity. Beheading. Kidnapping, duh. Plenty of self harm threats. Detailed TW after the whole work. 

STORM’S END IS cold. As you dismount, the wind snaps your braid back, forcing you to grab it with one hand. You are careful to fix the flower shaped pins attached there. They were a terrible choice for today, as was your dress. It’s made of a fine red linen, bodice shaped like leaves hugging your body.

You favor botanical patterns, but it seems this keep is not the place for it. Sensing your distress, your dragon whines. 

“Everything it’s alright, girl.” You shush her, affectionately. She is a lovely dragon, although on the small side. The guards don’t seem very impressed with her, and it vexes you. She may not be what people think of when they picture a dragon, but she had been with you since you were only a couple of days old.  

Her youthfulness is seen by many as a hindrance, but not to you. Just as your brother’s dragons, your Green Lady is a daughter to Syrax. She had hatched when you were a babe, and shared your craddle until she got too big and needed to be moved to the dragonpit. The bond you shared was stronger than what older dragons could ever hope to have with second or third riders. 

Perhaps because of your derisive thoughts about older dragons, there is a sudden, loud screech. Vhagar. Of course. That was why the guards were so unimpressed with your dragon.  You chuckle, out of sheer frustration. What else could go wrong today? 

The tensions in your family had always been more on the male side. Both Helaena and you had been left out of it, both deemed too queer to truly engage in clever quips and insulting toasts. Your uncle, in particular, had never paid much attention to you. 

There had been some japes about your bastardy, but Aemond had been more focused on Luke and Jace. He preferred to single them out, take his frustrations out through humiliating your siblings. 

Some of it, you guessed, had to do with the loss of his eye. Luke had taken it from him, after all. But a secret, resentful part of you thought it had to do with the fact they were men. 

Thank the Gods your mother had sent Luke to deal with the Arryns. You shuddered to think the face Aemond would make when he saw you, but had you been Luke, you feared that he would have snapped. He would probably have ended up doing something unforgivable. 

You tell one of the guards your name. “I bring a message to Lord Borros from the Queen.” 

The man looks at you, pity in his eyes. He knows as well as you that your mission is doomed from the start. If you had beaten Aemond there, if you had something more substantial to offer…

Thunder cracks. Rain seems about to start. You square your shoulders, and smile at him. 

“… Daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.” It chafes, that the knight doesn’t refer to your mother by her proper title. You bet that when he announced Aemond, they named him brother to the King. 

When you enter the hall, your eyes do not linger on any decorations or the people there. Your eyes scan over them, searching for a tall figure, dressed in all black. Aemond is looming to the side of Lord Borros’ throne. Next to him, stands a girl with a no nonsense expression, dressed in Baratheon's colors. 

“Lord Borros.” You address the man on the throne. He is big and broad, with a long beard. He is also wearing a tremendous scowl. You give him your sweetest smile. “I brought you a message from my mother, the Queen.” 

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King.” The man gestures at Aemond, tone dripping with condescension. “Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Some of the guards present and the Baratheon girl laugh. You keep your expression pleasant, unaffected by the mockery. Having grown as an unusual child, you are used to it. It had endeared you to your aunt, but unlike her, you were adept enough with social cues to know you were being laughed at. 

I’ll tell you a secret: Humiliation still tastes the same, even when you are expecting it. 

“What is your mother’s message?” Borros asks, when it is clear you will not react. You step closer and hand him the letter. “Where is the bloody maester?” 

You watch as the maester reads the letter aloud, whispering into his lord’s ear. You don’t notice how Aemond steps closer. 

“Remind me of my father’s oath. Bah.” Borros scoffs. Despite knowing your mission had been doomed from the start, you still feel disappointed. As silly as it sounded, you had been harboring a secret hope that he would change his mind. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact.” 

“If I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you wed, girl?” He mocks, and you see red. You wish to tear him to pieces, this smug man, Daemon, Jace. It comes down to that, once again. The fact that you are not a man. 

Your mother had yet to name her heir. She always excused herself by saying her throne was not yet secure, the succession issue would be settled in time. But you knew her true thoughts. Her sweet girl, she called you. The strange firstborn, who liked flowers and dressing up as a forest nymph. The one that was not fit to rule. 

There is no succession issue, you wanted to scream, sometimes, as you watched Daemon pat your twin in the back, give him secret smiles. He assumed he was to be King. The bond they had was one you envied, sometimes. Daemon had never looked at you as a daughter, having two of them already. But Jace was his first son. 

It wasn’t fair. You had come out of the womb first, wailing, before even Jacaerys was pushed out. Your mother was doing to you what her own father had done to her, refusing to recognize her as heir. But unlike what had happened to her, you doubted she would change her mind. 

“I would wed one of your sons, my lord.” You say, smoothly. The anger, the fire and blood that make you a dragon, threatens to burst through. “But I do not know if I am free to marry, for my twin brother heads North to offer my hand to Lord Stark.” 

Offer. As if it were not yours to give. You are not sure of how you will lay with a man when you despise them this much. The mere thought revolts you, tales of the birthing bed and the consummation making rage bubble up under your skin. You wish you had been born a man. 

Your brother rides North with tales of your beauty and fertility, the same you must have inherited from your mother. As if you were a breeding bitch, of impeccable stock, to produce more pups for the northern wolf. They do not see you as a person, so why should you see them like one, too?

“So you come with empty hands. Go home, girl. Go back to playing with your flower crowns and dolls.” It stings. A hand goes to your dark hair, held back in a braid adorned by marigold pins. You feel like such a silly little girl, and you hate him for it. “Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.” 

You smile at him, coldly. You give him a curtsy, back ramrod straight, jaw hurting from clenching your teeth so hard. If you were a man, you would be allowed to be incensed at the insults being thrown your way.  Hell, if you weren’t, they would call you craven. But as a woman, if you show your anger, you will be called hysterical. 

“I shall take your answer to the Queen, my lord.” 

You begin to exit the hall, hands tightly clenched into fists. 

“Wait… my Lady Strong.” 

You recognize that voice. You would know it anywhere. Despite it, you keep walking. Aemond moves to intersect your path, bodily placing himself between the entrance and you. 

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

You stare at him, eyes full of hatred. You wish you were wittier, that you could give him a scathing quip about using your proper title and being half cunt, as Daemon says. But you are not. Instead, you try to evade him, but he steps into your path again, smug little smirk on his face and hands clasped behind his back. The picture of confidence. 

“I will not fight you. I come as a messenger, not a warrior.” You say, voice firm. Despite it, your hand lowers to the folds of your dress. Against your thigh, you carry a dagger. A last resort, and a precaution, Daemon had said, when giving it to you. Men were cruel to beautiful maidens all the time. His eyes had lingered a tad too long when you strapped it to your leg. More than what a father’s should.

Despite your unfortunate coloring, you still were Rhaenyra’s daughter through and through. The similarities weren’t in the bone structure, but in much subtler details. The tilt of your head when you laughed. The way you walked. How your cheeks dimpled. Enough that men noticed. 

“A fight would be little challenge.” Aemond mocks, hand coming to grasp at your jaw. Something odd crosses his eye. Almost… Wishful. It scares you. You jerk out of his grip so fast your cheeks ache. “No. You love your brother, don’t you? Luke.” 

You stare at him, unmoved. Aemond stares back. His gaze feels full of disdain to you, as it draws a path from your light red skirt, to the crown of flowers in your hair. He makes you feel small and trapped, and you hate it. You are not less because your father is not Laenor Velaryon, you remind yourself. 

“I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine. One would serve. I would not blind you. Mm. Plan to make it a gift to my mother.” His eye looks crazed, face dangerously close to yours. His expression is close to the lust you have seen in Daemon’s eyes, and it terrifies you. Because Aemond doesn’t admire your resemblance to his wife. His lust is for blood. 

“No.” 

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.” And he lunges at you again, and you can’t help it, really. You shriek, rushing towards the doors and avoiding him as best as you can. 

“Not here!” Borros interferes, for the first time. He sounds worried. You would be, too, if you saw a man stalking behind a woman in the way Aemond is going after you. Your heart is in your throat, you fear it might leap out if you speak. 

“Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!” And this time, he does grab you. Your hands go to cover your eyes, and you keep screaming, shrill and high, terrified. 

“Not in my hall!” And there are hands tugging at you, tugging at your dress, getting Aemond away. You open your eyes to see Borros’ knights dragging him away. “The girl came as an envoy, and I will not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Escort the Princess to her dragon.” 

You can’t believe you are still alive. Aemond looks enraged, body positioned forward as if to lunge again. He struggles against the grip the guards have on him. There are at least four holding him down. He is a man possessed. 

You do not hesitate. You hike up your skirts and run. 

BY THE TIME Aemond leaves Lord Baratheon’s hall, it has already started raining. The guards release him only after you are out of sight, but rage still flows through his arteries, warming his blood. 

His face feels hot. He is no doubt blushing. Aemond is unsure if it is from fury or shame. Holding you against him, soft skin yielding like butter under his fingers, smelling of flowers, he had gotten struck by a memory. That smell… 

You had been a girl. No older than eight. You had sat in the gardens, surrounded by flowers, their perfume lingering in your hair and skin. Searching for fairies, you had explained, with the most serious face. Helaena was searching with you, giggling in excitement. The two of you had invited him to join, but Aemond had refused, citing fairies didn’t exist.

For a moment, he felt as the rude nine years old he had been, sneering down on silly girls who smelled like flowers. The memory had hit him with the force of a war hammer, dragging him out of his thoughts of getting his revenge on your siblings through you. 

He had been jerked out of it when you had started screaming your lungs out. It was not that you dared be sweet, with your flowers and childish dresses. Nor that you had grown into an objectively pretty woman. It was that you had dared push him off you when he had only wanted to gaze upon your eyes, that you had made his stomach swoop with uncomfortable feelings, that he found you so damn irresistible. 

Some fools in the realm called you the prettiest maiden in Westeros. Once, he had thought them exaggerated tales, to please your whore of a mother. Aemond despised agreeing with the masses, and yet, he now had to admit there was a certain truth to it. 

His grandfather was right. Bastards were treacherous creatures, made only out of lust. There had to be some sorcery at play. Aemond was sure of it, and he was going to end you for daring to use your tricks on him.  

“My Prince, are you sure you must leave?” His betrothed gives him her best cow eyes. Aemond is sure they are supposed to be seductive, but he is too annoyed to care. Besides, she seems as daft as they come, and conniving too. Nothing more dangerous than an ambitious fool.  “The weather is so terrible, and all of that with that wretched girl…” 

“Dragons care not for rain.” He answers, striding towards Vhagar regardless. Hearing you being called a wretched girl only serves to rile him up more. It was not Floris’ place to criticize you, she was forgetting her position. A whore and a sorceress you might be, but you were half Targaryen. This one was plain whore. “And mind your tongue, less you bite it and poison yourself.” 

Vhagar was agitated when he mounted her. Seeing your dragon had excited her, perhaps. It encouraged her to fly faster, more daringly than usual. It meant Aemond caught up with you in no time. 

He sees your back first. Your braid is whipping against the wind, most flowers gone. The few that remain look askew. Your red dress is absolutely drenched, clinging to the curves and dips on your body in an indecent manner. It makes his blood boil. You must have worn it to attract attention. Harlot. 

Your smaller dragon is having trouble keeping up with the weather. The wind hits against her wings, and she doesn’t have the experience Vhagar has when flying in adverse conditions. Your voice is carried by the wind, sharp commands in High Valyrian, ordering to fly lower, avoid the clouds. The poor thing tries, but not even your attempts at helping her are making a difference. 

“Riiñaa…” Aemond taunts, trying to reach you. At first, you don’t hear, his voice covered by the noise of wind and rain. “Riña!”

You jump on your dragon’s back. Unlike him and his siblings, you don’t ride chained to the saddle. You look back at him, brown eyes panicked. The rain sliding down your cheeks looks eerily like tears. 

“Adere.” You order your dragon. But Aemond will not allow you to escape that easily. Not when he has you so close. He orders the same to Vhagar. 

“Jemēla gēlȳni enkā!” He shouts at you. A debt. For the eye your brothers had taken, and the trick you had played on him mere minutes ago. 

“I don’t owe you anything!” 

It’s all a blur when he later reflects on it. Some things happen too fast to be stopped, and you can only watch in horror as time seems to pause before the disaster happens. 

Vhagar screeches, excited by the thrill of the chase. Her jaws snap towards your dragon. 

“No… No…  No! Vhagar, serve me! Serve me, Vhagar!” 

But she ignores his commands. No matter how hard he tugs on the reins, Vhagar won’t budge. It is both the foreboding crackling of distant thunder, and the desperation he feels at being powerless, what makes him reach forward, and grab your arm, tightly. 

Your dragon ducks. One second you are sitting in the saddle and the next you are not. Aemond can’t feel his hands. You are screaming so loud his ears ring, and Vhagar is roaring again. There is a sickening crunch, your green dragon roaring in utter rage. You cling to his arms, grip slippery and cold, rain still pouring over the both of you. 

He pulls up, as his shoulders crack in protest. Were it not for the fact that he is chained to his saddle, you might take him with you in your fall into the abyss. Your nails dig into his skin, painfully. You are howling like you are the one being murdered, but you climb, bravely placing a foot on Vhagar’s scales and helping Aemond get you in the space between the saddle and Vhagar, in front of him. 

You start to wail. 

“No, no, no!”

Aemond doesn’t dare look. His own hands are shaking. But as you start to try to throw him off Vhagar, slapping him everywhere you can reach, he has to. He needs to know. 

Your dragon is covered in blood. It is sprayed along her belly and wings, as if Vhagar had not only bitten her, but also shook her as a dog with a bone. Her front paw is missing, and she howls in agony with every turn. But she has the same bravery as you do, and she is trying to defend her rider, about to slam against Vhagar in a suicide mission. 

“Call her off!” Aemond orders you. “Call her off, she is going to die.” 

He knows how painful the loss of an eye is. He cannot imagine losing a limb. But the great beast, your Green Lady, as you call her, is still fighting. Her devotion must be stronger than the pain she is suffering. She doesn’t seem to care that Vhagar is much bigger and could eat her whole. 

Vhagar licks her chops. Aemond shouts something. He is not even sure what is coming out of his mouth any longer, but you sob, and peer to the side. 

You had not noticed she was still alive. You howl. Your dragon responds to your cry, roaring at Vhagar. 

Aemond looks at your face. He sees the calculation in your eyes, deciding if to call your dragon off or not, if it is worth the risk. If you could jump from the saddle, from Aemond’s front and into your own mount. It’s risky. 

“Lykirī!” You finally scream, and he nearly sags in relief. Your dragon obeys much better than Vhagar, stopping on her tracks. She hovers by, as if unsure why she should not try to kill the threat that took her human and her paw. 

Things are about to get nasty. He can tell. No matter how tame she is, she is still a beast, and the urge to protect and fight will surpass her training. 

“We need to land, now.” Aemond orders, and without waiting for your permission, nudges Vhagar into dropping.  But your dragon gets in the way once more, set on headbutting Vhagar. Aemond has to do a swerve to the side to avoid his dragon eating the damn thing. 

You say nothing. Your whole body is tense, anticipating the opportunity for a rescue. Your hands let go of Vhagar and instead, start to reach forward. 

Aemond snarls. He grabs at your braid and tugs back, sharply. 

“Don’t you dare!” 

“Lykirī.” You shout. Aemond’s mind is racing. What to do now? He almost killed you, he thinks, and cannot help himself. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, until you are flinching in his grip. 

Seven Hells, what is he supposed to do? He can’t land. Bringing whatever is going on between your two dragons to land is risky. If allowed, Vhagar would eat yours whole. And that is not considering they might as well take to the skies on their own and leave you stranded. There is nothing for miles, not even a Keep. 

You have family in the Vale. He could fly there and… What would he even say? I accidentally almost killed my niece? Your kinsmen would slaughter him.

There are a few heath leaves in your hair, pink and glorious against the dark backdrop of your braid. Solitude, Aemond thinks. Are you as lonely as him, or do you simply like pink? 

The memory comes back, unprompted. You, laughing in the gardens, smelling like flowers. A crown of marigolds in your hair, running among the tulips barefoot, sun kissing your skin. Searching for fairies. 

He has never gotten anything pretty for himself. But maybe… He touches a pink petal, watching how the rain clings to it. It’s almost like dew. 

Your mother had sent you away on your own. She didn’t value as she did your siblings, clearly. For any princess, no matter how loyal her dragon, should travel with her guards. 

He had wanted your eye. But it would be too cruel, wouldn’t it? To scar such a beautiful face. If he took something else instead… 

No one would notice. No one had to know if he just…

“Where are we going? You said we were going to land.” You ask, turning to look over your shoulder. The tilt of your head is enchanting, and he finds himself fascinated by it. 

You huff, annoyed by his lack of response. He observes how your brows pinch together, and thinks of the debt your family owes him. His eye. The eye of a prince for the maidenhead of a bastard girl. It wouldn’t even scar you forever, even when it would forever haunt you. It seemed like a fair exchange. 

“To the Vale.” Aemond lies, as smoothly as he can. “You have family there, and can no longer be my problem.” 

You keep an alert position, but you relax against him. You are too trusting for your own good. It is precisely why a woman, you, shouldn’t inherit the Iron Throne. 

When the two of you fly past the Vale, you do not notice at first. Your eyes are trained on your dragon, dutifully flying at Vhagar’s right, slightly behind. Just unreachable enough for you to jump on her, but also just unreachable enough for Vhagar to bite. Freedom in exchange for safety. 

You have not said a word during the whole journey. Perhaps you fancy yourself irritated at him. 

“Prince Aemond!” You scream, once you notice the terrain under you is no longer the green hills the Vale is known for. “What…?” 

“I lied. We are going to the Red Keep.” 

You call your Green Lady to you, high and panicked. Aemond grabs your braid, making a fist close to your skull and forcing you to arch your back. You yelp in pain. 

“Don’t you dare! Tell her to fly behind Vhagar. One wrong move on your part and your dragon dies.” Aemond warns. You get the same calculating look in your eyes, lowering them to the clouds under you. The fall would be fatal. 

“I will never forgive this.” It comes out from behind clenched teeth. Your back is still arched, Aemond’s grip still strong. He tugs a little more, if only to see you take it, pretty little body making a perfect bow. 

He thinks of his rage, and how he is starved for death and blood. He thinks of himself as Vhagar, biting down on your paw and shaking his head until his own mouth is covered by blood. Of your dark hair spread over white sheets, a halo. Of a boy’s dark hair, and a knife. The stench of blood, your wet body, your smile, the sinful urges. 

Maidenheads were just blood, too. 

YOU CAN HEAR your dragon screeching as the dragonkeepers drag her away. They prod at her, as she cries her distress, mirroring your own. Just as Syrax cries when your mother is in the birthing bed, your Green Lady cries with your despair. You scream, trying to get to her, and Aemond’s hands tug at your dress, your thighs, anything he can reach to keep you. 

When he tires of you, he throws you over his shoulder, hands digging into your thighs so hard it hurts. You are sure that there will be bruises left in the aftermath of his grip.

You do not stop screaming. All the way to the entrance of the keep, you scream for help. Every servant you see is one you ask to help you, the same for the guards. But while some of them pause in their duties to stare, Aemond doesn’t. 

He strides confidently, despite being in wet clothes and with a woman hanging upside down in his arms. You get glimpses of the Red Keep as you pass, tapestries and dragon motifs gone and replaced by the Seven Pointed Star. Gone are the crimson and black banners your grandfather had favored, replaced by green ones. The call to war is not missed on you. 

You are familiar enough with the layout of the building to know that the room you are shoved in is his. The door slams after you, Aemond not even caring to check if you landed on your feet.  You don’t waste your time looking around, choosing instead to try to force the door open. 

“Let me out!” 

No one answers. You scream and scream, but no one comes. You are unable to tell if Aemond has walked away or is still in the hallway. After a while, you begin to hear hurried footsteps. 

“Was that…?” The usurper dares ask. 

“That’s Rhaenyra’s heir! You will undo everything this family has…” Alicent. At least she is being reasonable, you suppose. Perhaps she will convince them of sending you back. 

“I have gained us a hostage, you mean.” You can almost picture Aemond’s haughty expression. His tone is cold, as if he finds Alicent’s concerns dumb. 

“Your grandfather..!” 

“…Just because you are not ruthless enough to do what…” 

A slap, hard. Aegon laughs, a bit hysterical. You wonder what Aemond had been suggesting, what Alicent had seen in his eyes to prompt the slap. 

“Do not take that tone with me. Dishonor the girl, Aemond and the Seven help you..!” 

Dishonor. Oh. Did she think the two of you were involved? You frown. You don’t like this. Anxiety begins to pool in your stomach, a sense of dread so strong it makes you feel dizzy. 

“One would think, with how often you called her mother whore…” Aemond argues. Instead of making you bristle, though, it only heightens your uneasiness. You are more focused on his tone than his words, and he sounds wrong. Like he had sounded when he was laughing after Vhagar bit your dragon. 

“A highborn woman can be two things: A maiden or a mother.” Alicent cuts him again, and the feeling of wrongness intensifies. Unable to see them, you feel like you are missing half the conversation, but your gut tells you it is bad. 

“Are you suggesting..?” Aegon sounds as confused and horrified as you feel.

“No! You will not use rape to terrorize our enemies.” 

Rape. Rape. You feel as if you are underwater. Everything sounds muffled, except from the thump of blood in your ears. You can’t breathe. In your mind, rape is not something that happens to Princesses like you. It’s something you read about in your history books, something that happens to servants or lowborn women. 

No one would dare touch you, you had thought once. For you were a good maiden, one that didn’t dress too provocatively and who was kind to everyone around her. But most importantly, your mother was going to be Queen. No one would touch you. They couldn’t. 

Men’s lustful glances were nothing new to you. As a princess, you were a coveted prize. You knew they lusted after your blood, the Valyrian children and the dragons you could provide. But never had you caught one lusting after your body. You still dressed like a girl, running around Dragonstone with flowers tangled in your hair and no shoes. 

If any man had looked, Daemon disposed of them. And while the glances your stepfather gave you were charged, you never thought he would act on them. 

“… The bannermen will think us fools!” 

Men who raped women weren’t princes. They were commoners, soldiers drunk on power, dirty beggars who pounced on strangers in alleyways. Drunkards in taverns, that smelled like piss. If there were any lords that partook in those horrid acts, you always thought they were cruel ones, like the Boltons, and always on serving girls. 

You had never felt unsafe near Aemond. He was a prince, he was part of your family. It had never occurred to you that you could be stripped naked and forced to share his bed, not even imprisoned as you are. 

You imagine him, ordering one of the guards to remove your clothes. You imagine yourself, naked, trying to preserve your modesty, and being beaten for it. Aemond’s hands, touching you, forcing your legs apart, hitting you when you do not comply. Your uncle, your uncle who preferred books to people, who was always so quiet, being no different from those terrible men at all. 

It's impossible, you think. He is only doing it to rile up his mother, to seem more manly in front of his brother. He has always felt the need to compensate for something. Yes, Aemond is incapable of it. 

Your entrails turn to ice. If it is so impossible, you think, why does it scare you so much? Why are your palms sweating, why are there acrid tears burning through your cheekbones, leaving a scorched path down to your jaw? 

Where is this fear coming from?

“I could send her back, broken. As a warning.” Aemond taunts. You feel like a giant fist is squeezing your heart, until it turns into a bloodied pulp. You taste the blood on your throat. 

Who is this man, that has taken you from a safe world and dragged you into this hell? This man, who talks of breaking you, of sending you back dishonored and beaten. You do not recognize Aemond. Not even after all the years of taunts and resentment you would have expected anything like this. 

Like a prey animal, you freeze next to the door, hands wringing together anxiously. 

“A lesson.” Another voice joins. Otto Hightower. “But there are more efficient ways to bring down our foes. No. You will take her to wife. Rhaenyra will have to be Queen, of course, but then it shall be her turn…” 

It all turns into static in your ears after that. You probably won’t be raped today, but you might still be. Who knows if Aemond will give up his plan because his mother and grandfather say so? Once, when you thought you knew him, you would have thought you were safe. He would never dare disobey them. But he would never dare suggest raping a woman either, right?

“… Running to a brothel no doubt. Essos, was it?” 

You no longer care about the conversation, but you guess they are speaking of Aegon. It is a mystery how he will fit in their plans. Be it as it may, you don’t intend to find up.  You grab your dagger, and sit on the bed. 

When Aemond enters, this is what he finds. 

You, still wet, dripping water into his bed. Hand holding a dagger to your own throat. 

“Take one step further, I dare you.” You whisper, eyes cold. 

Aemond’s expression darkens. He stands straighter, looking every inch the warrior. His eye moves from your dagger, to your eyes, then back at the dagger.  

“I could take that from you in a moment.” 

“I swear to you, if you step any closer, I will slit my throat and bleed to death right here in your bed.” You tilt your chin up, letting the cold kiss of the blade caress your skin. 

You had heard once of a culture where women would jump into fire pits when their men were defeated in battle, to avoid being dishonored by the conquering armies. It’s not a bad way to die, you think. Sounds less painful than the horrors that await you in this bed. You, too, would prefer death to being brutalized. 

“You are nothing more than a little girl playing pretend.” 

“This is not a game to me.” Aemond steps closer, and you make a slashing motion with the dagger. Blood starts to pool at the cut you make, barely deep enough to leave a mark. You lift the dagger again, set in your grim choice. Death before dishonor. Death before betraying your Queen and becoming a pawn in the Greens desperate bid for power. 

“Wait!” He cries out, eye wide with anger and fear. You imagine his heart must be thumping as loudly as yours was when you heard him proposing to break you as if you were an unwilling mare. “Stop! I will take the blade from you, you stupid…” 

“I’ll be dead before you reach me.” You taunt, with a vicious smile. It feels good, seeing him feel the terror you had felt mere moments before. The dagger rises again, your hand trembling slightly. 

It is not fear. Only an acute feeling of satisfaction, that feels close to sexual arousal, with how good it is. You are under control now. He has taken everything away from you, but he will never be able to take this. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Aemond’s nostrils widen, face twisting into absolute rage. You had thought him a man possessed before, a devil wearing your uncle’s face. But now, he looks beastly, a bull ready to charge and ram anything on his path. You don’t waver. “You are a woman, and you only possess the amount of courage women have.” 

You think of your mother, who took six times to the birthing bed. You think of yourself, all the old hurts that made you who you are. The times you had felt less, the times you had felt scared. And you think of how good it will feel, how much it will scar him if you die in this very room. 

“Put me to the test, then. If you dare. You know nothing of courage, you might surprise yourself.” 

Aemond examines your face. You do not know what he finds there, but it must terrify him, for his hands raise in surrender. 

“Fine. You win. You win, my Princess.” He takes a step back, and then another. You do not lower the blade, still holding it against your throat. You fear he is about to trick you. 

His hand goes to his belt, where his own dagger hangs. Your body coils, ready to spring up into action, but Aemond merely takes the sheat off it and throws it at you. 

“You win. Keep that as your prize.” And he is turning on his heel, and leaving the room. Before he exits, he shouts at you. “I'll send for clothes and a bath, less you catch your death.” 

Without taking your eyes off the door, you lean down and pick up the sheat. You catch a glimpse of your reflection on the metal. For a second, you think you see a woman watching you back, eyes cold as obsidian and a crown of dead flowers in her head. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, chopped off roughly. But when you blink again, the familiar brown eyes you are used to stare back at you. Your braid is slowly coming undone. 

THE SCREAMS YOU let out as Ser Arryk holds you down are more than enough satisfaction for Aemond. He might not be able to break you fully yet, but it's more than enough of a substitute. He imagines what it will be like, chipping your resistance away little by little, and cannot stop the smirk spreading on his face. 

He might not be allowed to rape you, but no one said anything about breaking you. It was fine, really. Rape was nasty business, despite its effectiveness in breaking a person. Aemond could testify to that.

Your dagger had been taken from you early on by the Kingsguard, when you had tried to stab him for holding you down. This time, Aemond wasn’t going to repeat his mistake of allowing you to keep the dagger. 

He strips you down to your chemise, just for the sake of it. He takes a good look at your teats, barely covered by the wet cloth, and trusted outwards with the way Ser Arryk is holding you. At the way your poor little buds stand to attention, even if unwilling. At how the white chemise looks obscenely sheer, clinging to all the curves and dips of your body. 

“No, please. No. I rather die. Don’t… Don’t… No.” You start to cry when your dress is peeled away from you, terrified. Your eyes are wide as saucers. They glint with your tears, highlighting their offending color. Poor little bastard girl, thinking Aemond will get enjoyment out of your body. 

He might. Just not in the way you think. 

“You are pretty when you beg, riñitsos.” 

“Aemond, please. No. I am still a maiden, I can’t…” You choke on a sob, next words unintelligible. 

Ser Arryk looks vaguely uncomfortable. He averts his eyes from the scene unfolding in front of him and stares to the wall, past Aemond, and over your head. 

“They call you the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms.” Aemond comments, idly. He unpins your braid, letting it fall down your back. With Ser Arryk behind you, and him pressing close on your front, there is nowhere for you to run. It’s delightful, the fear on your face. 

Unable to help himself, he pinches one of your breasts, making you yowl like a cat. 

“I like your teats best.” He leers, doing his best to imitate Aegon with the serving girls. It’s not that he is actually getting any sexual satisfaction out of this. This is about control and fear, and you have shown this is what you fear most.  It would be foolish not to take advantage of it. “Do you think they will call you the most beautiful woman, once I am done with you?” 

Ser Arryk looks at you with pity. He leans his head down, perhaps thinking he is being subtle. 

“At ease, Princess. You won’t be harmed.” He whispers. If Aemond had not lost his eye, he might not have heard him. But thanks to your beloved sibling, his hearing is more acute than a normal man’s. “Prince Aemond won’t disobey the Queen. He is only trying to frighten you.” 

Aemond smirks. He tugs at your hair. 

“I am not allowed to dishonor you, of course.” He smiles, pressing the dagger to the part of the braid that lays over your nape. You don’t notice, too busy hiccuping and recoiling in fear. “But I understand nothing done on the marriage bed is dishonorable. We might even call for a bedding, wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“I know no other queen but Rhaenyra Targaryen, queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms. And she won’t allow her daughter to marry a craven cripple.” You stand up straighter as you speak, no matter that Ser Arryk is holding you. Your words are as much for the knight as they are for him. 

The urge to slap you, or stab you with the dagger is strong. For a terrifying moment, Aemond fears he might actually go through it, and ruin his grandsire’s plans. Impudent little bitch.

The dagger is so sharp it cuts through your braid in one pass. You howl when you hear something ripping, thinking it might be your chemise, by how you struggle. Aemond smugly presents it to you, some withering marigolds still weaved into the dark hair. 

“Something to send my dear sister.” He says, as he places the two long braids in a silk bag. You cry harder. Aemond wasn’t exposed to you much during your teenage years, but he remembered that as a little girl, your brown, glossy hair had been your pride and joy. A shameful proof of your bastardy, no doubt, but one that everyone complimented. 

You had taken to flaunting it, when older. Wearing flower crowns, and embellishments on it, keeping it long. A girl in the bloom of her maidenhood, more forest nymph than Targaryen Princess. 

And it was all gone. Packed neatly into a silk bag, along with your dagger and red dress. He hoped the old whore howled with the same agony when she opened it.

When Ser Arryk lets go of you, the first thing you do is reach up to feel your hair. A few locks fall from it still, chopped off badly. It is now about the same length as Aegon’s, cut in a way more suitable for men. Your hands are shaking. 

“I’ll never marry you.” You shout. Your eyes are hurt. It doesn’t feel good to be tricked, it seems. “I wish you were dead! I wish Luke had plunged the dagger deep, and cracked open your skull!” 

“You will.” Aemond answers, coldly. He hopes to hurt you as much as your words have hurt him. “For what is a girl to the Iron Throne?” 

He leaves you to your grieving. He would rather not admit it, but deprived of any blades, your words have still managed to cut him. You can be his mother’s problem from now on. 

The next two days are spent into lingering guilt and extraneous exercise. Every time Aemond’s thoughts go back to you, he spars with whoever is available. His whole body hurts by the end of it, and you still haunt him. He might have gone overboard, but he will never admit it out loud. 

There is a dark sense of satisfaction in his stomach. It slips past his guilt, sometimes. The terror on your eyes had been exquisite, worth every reprimand he had gotten afterwards. As he hurt you, putting the fear of the Seven in you, he imagined hurting your bastard of a sibling and finally felt peace. 

It’s best not to think of you. You bring up conflicting feelings and memories, the girl you once were, kind and sweet and the woman you now were, indifferent to him and easily frightened. The images superposed in his mind, betrayed eyes as he proclaimed he was going to dishonor you, crying at the funeral of Laena Velaryon, worried as Daemon whisked away with your mother, as Lucerys appeared covered in blood. 

It is easier to punish keep himself occupied in the training yard. He doesn’t think of you when he spars with the knights or when he swings his sword until his arms feel like they will fall off. Nor when he falls asleep out of sheer exhaustion, bruised black and blue.

Not until his mother comes looking for him. 

At first, he doesn’t notice her presence, busy hacking at straw figures until his arms ache. But she clears his throat many times, forcing him to turn. He does so while still holding the sword. 

His mother looks odd in the training grounds. She is small, almost dainty looking, a flame of green standing among the mud. Aemond approaches her in four short strides. 

“Mother. Is something the matter?” 

“The girl is sick.” She says, a troubled frown on her beautiful face. Aemond has always admired her grace and beauty, and even though life has been cruel to her, she has only cultivated it more. She is what she thinks all women should be, gracious and pious. If it had been up to him, he would have married someone like her, he thinks. Her only flaw is her sentimentality.

“Get her a Maester.” Aemond says, annoyed at being interrupted by something so trivial. You probably have a cold, foolish girl that you are, having insisted on staying in your wet clothes and refusing a hot bath. 

“I got her plenty. She nearly scratched the eyes off one, and when they tried to give her Milk of the Poppy…” His mother makes a pained face. Aemond doesn’t want to know. Truly, whatever you had done was probably willful and cruel. Gods, why did he have to marry you? You weren’t demure, you weren’t pious and you certainly weren’t gracious. “She is now refusing food.” 

“Let her starve off. When she is hungry enough, she will eat.” 

“The girl can’t die, Aemond.” His mother grabs his arm, brown eyes filled with mania.  “It would mean war. They say Rhaenyra has scoured the Seven Kingdoms each night on dragonback since she disappeared. She has only calmed after receiving the package, but negotiations are not going well.” 

He stays quiet. His mother glares. 

Aemond hates that his mother is still so attached to his sister, even after all the time that has gone by. He had never intended to be a part of this hare-brained scheme to save them all, much less her. He had not taken you because he had some great political ploy to put in place and needed you as his figurehead. 

Aemond had been thinking of something much more simple. Your family owed him a debt, and it was going to be paid in fire and blood. If he couldn’t have Lucerys’ eye, he would have yours. Or your maidenhead. Or any blood he could draw out of you, he wasn’t picky. 

If someone had asked him, he would have preferred Aegon as King. It was much simpler and the way things should be. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He asks after a while because he is sure you will not listen to him. 

“Convince her.” His mother orders, and Aemond sets down his sword and goes to your room. 

To get inside, he has to enlist two Kingsguard and a blacksmith. You have not spent your time free from his mother idle, it seems. Instead, you have moved a dresser or some sort of heavy furniture in front of the door. 

The blacksmith has to pop the hinges off the door, and only then, Aemond and the Kingsguard get to move the dresser and unblock the path inside. How you managed on your own, he has no idea. 

When he steps in, the smell of vomit and old sweat hits his nose. It’s revolting. There are several plates and cups upturned and laying in disarray over the rug, staining what once was pure white fur. A pomegranate, cut in half, has rolled to a corner. It is your favorite, but it lies untouched. 

Aemond’s annoyance spikes. He knows you are aware he has you situated on what were his personal chambers. The careless destruction you have left on your wake irks him. 

“Lady Strong.” He mocks. “Where are you?” 

His bed is unmade, missing the covers. Aemond checks inside the dresser that had taken three men to move and finds nothing. He then checks under the bed. Nothing either. 

It is only when he checks the bathing chamber that he finds you, sprawled on the floor. The covers are forming a cocoon around you, and your forehead is pressed tightly to the cold tiles. You only wear a sleeping shift. 

Your eyes are open and feverish, face sweaty and tinted red. You don’t seem to recognize him, but your head lifts slightly at the sound of the door opening. 

“Seven Hells.” 

The looking glass is smashed on the floor. You clutch a shard in your fist, tight enough to bleed as it digs into your skin. 

“I will not be drugged again.” You say, voice barely more than a rasp. “And I do not want a Maester.” 

“You are in no position to make demands.” 

“If you force me again to do something I do not want…” You trail off, clutching the shard more tightly. He should take it from you, but you look half mad already. If he hands you back to your mother like this, war will be inevitable. He doesn’t dare push you farther. 

“May I touch you?” Aemond asks, instead. 

“Since when do you ask for permission?” You lay your head down, once again pressing it to the tiles. 

“Come.” He grabs your arms, pulling you to your feet. Your skin is concerningly hot. Burning up, truly. “I’ll send for a lukewarm bath. And this time, you will take it.” 

You stagger. Your movements are sluggish, and your eyes are glassy. 

“I do not want anything from you.” But you lean on him, allowing Aemond to take you away from the broken shards on the floor. You are not wearing slippers or socks. 

“Let me get you a Maester.” Aemond offers, getting you to the bed. You land on it without any grace, and promptly begin to kick the covers away.

“I do not want a Maester. I want… My mother has a midwife.” It is as puzzling as it is unexpected. A midwife tending to a princess. His mother would have kittens.

“Are you pregnant?” You had thrown up, after all. The room smelled like bile, so much it was upsetting even Aemond’s stomach. He fought the urge to gag himself. 

“No. But she knows how to cure other ailments. Upset stomachs, colds.” 

“Do you feel nauseous?” 

You shake your head. Aemond’s grip on you tightens. 

“Don’t lie to me. It reeks of vomit here.” 

“Your mother put Milk of the Poppy in my food. I threw it up.” You deadpan. 

“You induced…?” Aemond is not sure which one is more interesting. His mother drugging you? Oh, you must have been throwing a spectacular tantrum. The fact that you were ruthless enough to force yourself to retch shouldn't be so surprising, though. You had been ruthless enough to threaten to kill yourself, twice. 

“Yes. And I won’t eat or drink anything else after that, you snake. Bitch. Alicent is… Daemon used a word…” You mumble to yourself. 

“What do you want me to do?” Aemond asks, frustrated. Why must women give him such grief? First Vhagar, with her willfulness and refusal to heed commands. Then his mother and her hare brained schemes to protect Rhaenyra. And now you. He must be cursed. 

You ignore him, eyelids growing heavy. 

“Cunt.” You say, after a while. You laugh. 

Aemond sighs. He sends for a lukewarm bath and some servants to tidy up the room. It will not be an easy night, it seems. 

“PRINCESS, PRINCE AEMOND is requesting entrance.” Ellia says, softly. You turn to look at her, from your place on the bed. You close the book on your lap.

The girl has been your constant companion ever since the incident. To ensure nothing untoward happens, said Aemond, and that you feel safe. She had kept watch over you as your fever broke, her hawk eyes following Aemond as he tended to you.

“Tell him I wish to bathe first.” You decide to test him, once again. Your uncle seems more in control of himself lately, but you still feel on edge around him. Aemond had shattered your trust in him and in men in general. 

You cannot bear to look at Ser Arryk. Your shame is too great. To think he had held you, and looked as Aemond…

No. You cannot think like that. Not with the news from Dragonstone. The negotiations are going better, it seems. Your mother has been considering leaving you here, from what Aemond says. 

Her betrayal hurts. You have always known Jacaerys was her favorite, but this is low, even for her. She is probably making more children with Daemon, trueborn and ready to contest your claim. Your suffering will mean nothing in the end, not even with Alicent’s plans. 

It is beyond cruel, to allow you to hope that you will get the Iron Throne. Not when she is throwing you to Aemond as a sacrifice. Is this what maidens in your tales had felt, when they were used to appease an ancient deity that asks for a price in blood?

Your mother has abandoned you. You are alone in this world. 

“The Princess says you cannot come in now, for she wishes to bathe.” You hear Ellia speak, her voice hard. You do not listen to Aemond’s answer, but considering Ellia comes back in and starts getting things ready for your bath, you guess he was not angered. 

“He asked that you not get dressed yet. He wishes to examine you.” Ellia says, helping you sink into the water. You keep your eyes on the ceiling, not wishing to look at your reflection. You already know what you will find. Dark circles under your eyes, unflattering haircut, skin waxy and pale.  As if all life had been robbed off you. 

You try to avoid her, this stranger wearing your face. She looks like the woman you had seen reflected on metal during your first day here. More ghoul than woman, all hail the Queen of the Seven Hells.  

That Aemond wishes to examine you doesn’t surprise you. He has been taking care of you since you have gotten sick. You were quite fearful of Maesters, both for being men and for what you had seen them do to your grandfather. Even in a feverish daze, you had refused them. 

Alicent hadn’t respected your choice then. But unexpectedly, Aemond had. Considering his uncouth and terrifying behavior before, you weren’t inclined to trust him, but had little choice. The feverish version of you was as weak as a kitten, and unable to resist his tender care. You feel lucky that you survived with your maidenhead intact. 

Once you are done with your bath, you dress in another shift, a cotton one that buttons all the way to your neck. You sit primly on your bed, covers drawn up to your waist. Ellia brushes your short hair, making tears well up in your eyes. 

Your mother had called it once the crown you never took off. A lion’s mane, for her brave girl. You had never imagined it could be taken away so easily. Gone were the elaborate braids adorned with flowers. You couldn’t even pin it back now. 

Aemond knocks. You brush your tears away. When he enters, you look perfectly composed. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, sitting on the side of the bed. He places a parcel down next to you. “I brought you a gift. Thought it may cheer you up.” 

You ignore him. Aemond sighs. 

“It’s a dress. And a cloak. The dress comes from Highgarden, it has flowers embroidered on it. I got you a brooch to wear with the cloak, too. It’s a silver marigold. You like marigolds.” He explains. Your expression doesn’t change. You stare resolutely at the wall. It is not the first time he tries to bribe you with presents.

His regret is not sincere. Not when he takes advantage of every chance to touch you, and make your skin crawl. Yet again, you have to get used to it. 

No way out in the underworld but through. Best to not look back. If he wishes to exercise casual cruelty to feel better about himself, good for him. You would do the same if you were allowed. 

“I am going to check your lungs now.” Aemond says, and you tense. His hands slowly open your nightgown, with great care. Your breasts are exposed, so you cross your arms over your chest to cover them. 

Shame and fear make you feel like you are about to throw up. You remember his hands, and the way he had cruelly pinched you, as Ser Arryk forced you into position. You jerk your head away. 

You will marry him. That is what Alicunt says. You must endure his touch, and provide heirs for the Iron Throne. The thought sickens you. 

Aemond grabs at your wrists, pulling them away. To your utter embarrassment, the thought of being restrained makes you freeze with fear, and begin to tear up. 

“I think you can listen to her back.” Ellia says, sharply. She draws your shift closed, with a harsh tug. The girl is a few years younger than you, but she is fierce and outspoken. You wonder who chose her for this job. She is perfect for it.  

“I…” Aemond stammers, taken aback. He isn’t very used to being told off by the help. “You are right. I apologize, Princess.” 

He buttons your shift again. You stay very still, waiting for him to push you forward and press his ear to your back. But nothing happens. Ellia’s hands come to rest on your shoulders, clutching you tightly.

“I have made a right mess of things, haven’t I?” Aemond asks, after a while. You are unsure if he is speaking to Ellia or to you. His lips form a bitter smile. “Fuck. What have I done?” 

He rubs his good eye, almost punishingly. You feel very numb. Something broke in you that night, something that you do not think can be fixed. He had not taken your maidenhood, but he had certainly taken your innocence. 

“I apologize. I behaved in ways that are not befitting of my station, and much less…” 

“I don’t think I can forgive you.” You interrupt, before Aemond thinks he can begin spouting out some remorseful tirade and get things to how they were before. Your relationship with him cannot be mended. 

There was once a string connecting the two of you. It had been pulled tight by the years and disagreements among your families. Despite it, the thread gave. It stretched, and tensed, and never snapped. But Aemond had pulled it too hard this time.

The string is no more. It lays broken between you two. He is no longer the boy who had played with your brothers. Now, he is just a cruel man. A small, bitter, man. 

“It is one of those things you don’t really forget, I suppose. I know a bit about that.” He gestures to his eye patch. You wonder if his string with Luke had been cut by your brother that night. You wonder if your pain and his are comparable. 

The both of you stare at each other. You place your hands on your lap. 

“You will be pleased to know your Green Lady is doing well. She will be able to travel in about a week.” He comments, seemingly out of nowhere. A way out. Ellia doesn’t notice, still standing behind you.

“I wish to be Queen.” You answer him, also seemingly out of nowhere. Your heart aches for a whole different reason. All of your suffering would be in vain if you heed his advice. You would be another Queen that never was. 

“Would you like some jewelry, next time I visit you?” 

“My mother prefers Jace over me.” You have nowhere to go. You look up at him, and try to convey that no matter how much you may wish it, your mother would never forgive you. Not after being so close to getting everything she wants. 

“Aegon is in Essos.” Aemond suggests, a strange look on his face. It is then you realize this is his attempt at doing you a kindness. Sparing you. Apologizing. 

Have you grown so used to cruelty you do not recognize kindness anymore? 

“I wish to be Queen.” You repeat. You wonder what he thinks of this cold woman that you have become. The one that only wishes for a single thing: A crown. “I will think of travels then.” 

Your mother appears on King’s Landing a few days after. She comes with Daemon, your siblings, Rhaena and Baela and even Princess Rhaenys. It seems she has taken every dragonrider available with her, to show both the common folk and the Greens that the might of House Targaryen stands behind her. 

You have dressed today, which is a miracle on itself. You have not really been feeling up for anything. The dress you wear is a sober, red velvet gown. There are no flowers in sight. 

“Mother.” You greet when she dismounts from Syrax. For a second, you think of running towards her dragon and taking to the skies. Your mother used to take you riding with her as a child. Perhaps Syrax will still recognize you now. 

“My wonderful girl.” The endearment is new. She looks half mad with worry, crossing the courtyard in one long stride. You curtsy, but she grabs your hands before you can sink into it, and pulls you for a hug. 

Her hands shake as she smooths the short strands down. 

“What have they done to you? Your hair… And you are much too thin.” She sobs into your shoulder. Her embrace is comforting, making you melt into her. You start to chastise yourself for judging her too harshly. She must have been doing her best to get you back, but wars were difficult. More so among kin. “I am so sorry, I never intended for any of this to happen.” 

You think of your imminent wedding. Of the six moons you will spend at Dragonstone, with only Aemond to keep you company. Of Alicent’s cruel eyes as she told you to get used to it, for Aemond would have a right to touch you from now on. I have suffered, her brown eyes seemed to say, so every woman must too. 

“Why did you agree?” You ask her, brown eyes meeting lilac. You need to know.

“To save your life.” She whispers. “To stop a war.” 

But her eyes tell a different story.  When you look over her shoulder, you see Daemon being greeted by the Goldcloaks, a smug smile on his face. 

What is a girl to the Iron Throne?

Your smile falls. There is a terrible feeling on your chest, as if your heart, which had been beating so merrily, has just about turned into stone. 

You remove yourself from your mother’s embrace. The pomegranate you had for breakfast tastes like ashes on your tongue.

YOU SPEND MOST of your time reading. Hiding away in the library, where you enjoy pretending Aemond can’t reach you. 

Aemond doesn’t understand it. Dragonstone is so big you could go on with your day as normal and never cross paths with him. But he leaves you be, just as he had left you be during the wedding night. It seems to help you. 

He dedicates his time to exploring the island instead. Unlike you, Aemond won’t get to leave it while you go back to King’s Landing. Nor is he allowed any visits. It feels suspiciously like a punishment, perhaps for what he almost dared do to you. 

He is sure his uncle is behind this. It reeks of him. Exile with only you for company? Surely, your mother wouldn’t be so cruel, more thoughtful of what he could do to her precious daughter. But Daemon? He would find it outrageously funny. 

The island is very intriguing to walk. There are several dragons here, and Aemond recognizes them all. There is the Cannibal, and the Sheepstealer, Silverwing, Verminthor. He had been fascinated by them as a child, when he had no dragon of his own. 

Vhagar seems happier here. He supposes it is much better than the confinement of the dragonpit. But your dragon, the pampered green thing, seems to hate it. Competing for food is not something she cares for. 

Aemond wonders if he will get to see the dragons reproduce. With all the spare time he has, he might as well solve the mystery. He could do some research, but the library is your domain. He would have to wait for you to retire for the day. You spend almost all your waking hours there.

What in the Seven Hells could you be doing? You had not been the studious type as a child. Nor had you been energetic like your brothers. You reminded him more of Helaena, but instead of insects, your obsession was flowers. 

He tries to think of something else, but he is so bored and his curiosity is piqued. His feet lead him to the library almost without meaning to. 

Aemond often does things out of sheer curiosity that he later regrets. The first time he had fucked a woman had been the product of that, and it had left him feeling ashamed and unsure, but wanting more. It had been the oddest thing. 

He had claimed Vhagar only to see if he could, too. He had made that cursed toast, wanting to hurt the four of you, but also curious about what your reactions would be. Watching Aegon slam Lucerys against the table would be forever one of his fondest memories, but the scolding after… 

You are sitting at a table near the window. Sunlight hits you from the side, giving your brown hair an almost golden glow and bathing your features in a soft chiaroscuro. Thick tomes are spread around you, bearing oddly familiar titles. 

“The art of war. Seven accounts of the battle for Dragonstone. Ten thousand ships. The first dornish war, a treaty.” He whistles, unable to help himself. It is quite the collection. “Are you planning on declaring war already, niece?” 

You startle. The quill you are holding falls from your hand. 

“Husband.” You say, tone haughty. “If you must know, I am trying to learn strategy.”

“Strategy?” Aemond echoes. It’s not something he is very well acquainted with himself. He has some knowledge about it, from books and listening to his grandfather and Cole, but he is nowhere near an expert. His intellectual pursuits had been centered around philosophy and history, more than this. When he read about wars, he often glossed over the accounts about formations and such, more interested in the economical and political ramifications of them. 

Strategy was also something a father should teach. Viserys had never been too interested in it, having not seen battle himself. What he had learned had come from observing Cole. Never having been at war, it was challenging to conclude if he had the right of things. 

“I plan to be a good Queen.” You answer him, closing your book. Your tone is awfully civil. “And education is the greatest equalizer.” You give him a pointed look. Equals. You want to even the playing field between the two of you, so he can never frighten you again. How funny this is the topic you choose to learn. 

“You shouldn’t worry about that.” Aemond snorts. “I hardly know about it myself.” 

“But you are a man.” You say, astonished. “Surely, you were taught! Daemon taught Jace, someone had to…” 

“My father was never interested.” He leans against the window, observing you. You observe him back, eyes glued to his hands as if you expect him to lunge at you and stab you. “How come Daemon didn’t teach you too?” He stresses your stepfather’s name. 

“I am a woman.” You say, bitterly. “He thought my time was best spent learning to sing and play an instrument, so I could secure a good match.” 

“He never seems to disapprove of the womanliness of your mother.” He arches an eyebrow because while his uncle might not be a good role model, he is exemplary when it comes to marital devotion. 

“Doesn’t he? He has her popping out babes like there is no tomorrow.” You start gathering your parchment and quills. You have a small bound book inside which everything goes. Aemond had seen you with it before, but he had thought it a diary, not a set of instructions on how to go about a siege. 

Showed how much he knew you. Go figure. 

“You find having babes demeaning?” 

Your expression turns positively murderous. Children seem not to be a good topic of conversation. This will probably become a problem later on, when the two of you need children of your own. He makes a mental note of it and moves on. 

“His word is law. Or used to be, in our home. She defers to him.” You say, tone bitter. Daemon has fallen out of your good graces. Aemond almost wishes to travel to the Red Keep with you when spring starts, to see what you will do to him. Almost. 

There would be nothing that could prompt him to enjoy his sister’s court. He refuses. 

“Perhaps they are partners, and she seeks his counsel.” Aemond offers if only to irritate you. He is starved for intelligent conversation, and if he has to defend Daemon to keep you talking, he will. His boredom is driving him mad. There is nothing to do here beyond eat, sleep and train. 

“He is great at it, just like you.” You say, coldly. Then, you say something very interesting. You repeat the same words that he had said to you once. “What is a girl to the Iron Throne?” 

“Ah.” 

So your resentment towards Daemon wasn’t about favoring your brother, or fucking more brats into your mother, but rather much more simplistic. You felt as if he had chosen to sacrifice you, so your mother could get her throne. Fascinating. 

An angel passes between the two of you. Aemond can almost feel its wings brushing against him. Then, you inhale, sharply, and break the silence.

“So. Strategy. You should learn too.”

“You think war will come for us? And here I thought you trusted Jacaerys.” Aemond mocks.

“Let’s not delude ourselves.” You say, touching a strand of your hair. Brown. Strong brown. “There are new players in the game.”

Your mother’s babes, Aemond thinks. Daemon’s trueborn sons. Like a monster of myths, you cut one head and two more appear. You had disarmed your opponents in this generation, making them toothless dragons. Aemond was chained to you, Aegon in Essos, Helaena in Oldtown with her children. But as dragons tended to do, there were new ones hatching already.

War would come for you. And him. Aemond had never truly imagined himself sitting on the Iron Throne, he had been born a supporter. He had always thought he would stand behind a King.

But just as Daemon Targaryen, he could stand behind a Queen instead.

“So we learn, wife. And we fight.” Aemond sits across you and reaches for his own tome. Prince consort of Westeros had a nice ring to it. Perhaps his uncle was onto something.

You eye him warily. But you go back to pouring over your book, shoulders relaxing slightly.

It takes a few weeks of repeating the same routine, the two of you reading side by side during the afternoon, for you to warm up to him. Timidly, you show up to break your fast with him one day and never leave.

He is an early riser, always making use of the training yard before the sun is out. You never wake as early, but you need to do it if you wish to catch him before he starts his day. You manage to be out of bed at sunrise every morning that week. Aemond doesn’t comment on your change of habits. He is not sure that he wants to stop it.

“Aemond.” You say, one day, as he peels a pomegranate for you. It’s not like he is doing you a favor, really. It is for his own good. Your hands are small, and you press too hard to break the seeds out, making a mess of the whole table. It’s best if he does it and saves himself from being sprayed with the red liquid. He finds it stains terribly. Your tiny hands always end up red for days, and it’s not proper at all for the future Queen of Westeros. “Could you…?”

“What?” He cuts the pomegranate into quarters and pops the seeds out, placing them in a bowl. He slides them towards you, with a spoon. Savage thing that you are, you might end up digging right in with your hands.

“You owe me a debt.”

“I do?” He startles. Aemond is unsure what you are talking about, but his guts twists. You have a long memory, he has come to learn. And an intrinsic ability to quote his own words back at him at the most inopportune moments.

“What you did was awful, and while our truce has been pleasant, I wish to forgive you. And for that to happen, you will do something for me.” Your voice is careful and steady. There are no tears in your eyes. Only the slight shaking of your hands as you reach for the spoon betrays the scars that evening had left in you.

Aemond doesn’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. He wipes his hands with a napkin. The stains on his hands look awfully like blood, and they won’t come out, no matter how hard he tries.

“Who says I want your forgiveness?” He deflects. He does want it. But this past few weeks, pretending to be a normal marriage, have been too blissful to risking upsetting the delicate balance the two of you had found by ignoring the past.

“I do.”

Aemond looks at you. You are a bit pale, but your expression is calm. It relaxes him slightly, knowing that you are at ease.

“What I want is to get out of this damn island.” And it is true. He needs to get out of here, or he fears he might go mad. Seven Hells, Aemond fears he might already be. When had he started worrying about how you felt? Thinking of you as an ally and not a ball and chain?

“That won’t happen in the near future.”

“You are not my jailer.”

“Am I not?” You smile at him, deliciously wicked. It seems the little dragon is waking up, ready to torch everything in her path. Aemond’s scar starts to throb. He can tell something bad is about to happen. This doesn’t feel like your usual banter. “You want to rule. But before me, you were nothing. Only a second son.”

“And before me, you were nothing. Just a whore to throw at Cregan Stark and see if the damn dog was led by his cock enough to support your cunt of a mother.” Aemond’s mouth works faster than his brain. He is just so angry at hearing you say he was only a second son that his words come out before he can stop them.

You laugh. It only irritates him further. He feels as if he is unraveling, coming apart at the seams, but he just can’t stop it.

“Well, look at us. We made each other worse.” There is a smile in your lips, a coy, infuriating little thing. Insolent, impudent, just as your mother. He had been so wrong calling you a bastard. You are all dragon. “But you will earn my forgiveness, if you wish to share my bed.”

And it infuriates him, your presumption. That he will fall at your feet like a lovesick fool because you paid him some attention. Aemond half lunges at you, barely managing to stop himself from throttling you.

“You whore! I could just use you.”

You jump too. Your cutlery falls to the floor. Your eyes are alarmed. It is only then he notices what he has said. Aemond has crossed the line he had sworn he would never touch again.

“I am sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. It was in poor taste, of course.”

Your eyes keep darting from him towards the exit. You are terrified, eyes both looking at him and somewhere far away. Are you there again, Aemond wonders? In that room with Ser Arryk and a version of him consumed by his bloodlust?

The next time you speak, your voice is but a whisper.

“You never think. That’s the issue.”

Aemond swallows. He has broken things once again, but he doesn’t know how to mend them. He needs to fix it.

“What did you need? The favor, what were you going to ask?”

Your lips turn white with the force you are using to keep them pressed together.

“It’s best I don’t.”

He thinks of you sitting in the library, hands smoothing down your parchment. Education is the greatest equalizer, you had said. An idea sprouts, half formed. As always, his mouth is speaking before his mind has time to catch up.

“If you knew how to wield a sword, would you feel safer? If I taught you to defend yourself?”

“I do not think…”

“I will let you trash me around the training yard, even.” Aemond offers because maybe wearing some of your bruises will help him feel better. Punish himself by letting you have a go at him.

“Fine.”

You are a good student. Despite an initial hesitance to be near him, you thrive on the training yard. You use your smaller form to your advantage, twisting and ducking in impossible ways. All those dance lessons seem to have paid off. You are light on your feet. He might make a swordswoman out of you yet.

“Do you think I could find Rhaenys’ sword?” You ask him, one day, as you laze on a rock. You are watching him hack at a straw opponent. The sun is hitting you just right, and lazy cat that you are, you are soaking it all up. “She had to have one.”

“Probably. But you think it is here?” Aemond pauses, out of breath. He sets his sword down and wipes the sweat off his brow with the edge of his shirt. Your eyes trail his movements with barely concealed interest. It is a recent development.

“Where else?”

“Essos? Sold by pirates?” He offers, very reasonably. You have a tendency to daydream, he knows. Despite being a cold, calculating thinker, ready to go to war for your crown, you are still a young woman. Aemond doesn’t have the heart to tell you Rhaenys might not have even had a sword. It would shatter you.

You huff.

“You lack a sense of adventure.”

It is how he ends up joining you in a chase around Dragonstone. The castle is scoured from top to bottom, running up flights of stairs, scandalizing the servants and opening up secret passages. You force him out of his boredom and actually get him interested in discovering the castle’s secrets.

Aemond's chest hurts when he thinks of what he will do when spring comes, and you are not there to distract him. It is probably the sappy thought that distracts him, truly.

He falls down a flight of stairs, over his ankle. It hurts like the Seven Hells. It’s nothing compared to the loss of his eye, but it does make him cry out in surprise.

“Sprained.” The Maester says, as you fuzz over him. It bars him from running around the island, so you invite him to listen to your tenants.

Aemond finds holding court in Dragonstone is not as dreadfully boring as he had feared. He supposes he will have to do it in your stead when you travel. He despises the thought.

But what he finds he enjoys more, is being your sword. No matter that you are growing more adept with yours, Aemond rather likes standing menacingly behind you to intimidate the men that dare interrupt you.

It spirals out of control when winter starts. Aemond has commissioned you a small diadem in the shape of a flower crown, and he gifts it to you just as the last leave falls from the trees in your garden. Dragonstone is hard-pressed for flowers during summer as it is, much more in autumn.

“You have not worn flower crowns in a while.” He offers, as the only explanation, when he places it on your hair. You smile, admiring the glittering jewels on the top of your head in the looking glass.

“I love it.” And your eyes meet his in the reflection, and Aemond has to look away because he fears what he will say if you look at him a moment longer.

He focuses his gaze on your shoulders instead. You aren’t tense any longer, and you seem unburdened for the first time in a long time. He is slowly starting to see flashes of the girl you used to be, the one that would fill rooms with laughter and sunlight.

He finds himself drawing strength from the memory as the morning progresses. The petitioners today have been especially irritating, and a gruesome case has been presented for the Princess to pass her judgement.

A woman with a scarred back is brought before you, still bleeding from a lashing. The wounds seem to have cured badly, due to her lack of access to a Maester. As you had sent her to the one in the castle, the husband had been brought in front of you, and Aemond knew with just a look that he was going to be trouble.

He had tuned out the words you were speaking, choosing instead to stand behind you, a hand in the back of your chair. But it is as you sentence the man to a week in the dungeons, that he hears it.

“… You are a child. I won’t allow a child, wearing a flower crown, to dictate how to discipline my wife!” He bellows out, and makes to lunge at you.

You flinch. Your expression, relaxed, turns into a frown. He can tell you are embarrassed about it, your crown of flowers. You had not worn them ever since that meeting in Storm’s End.

The guards step forward, ready to intervene. But Aemond’s blood is boiling because how this did man dare mock his gift to you? Who was he to mock you for who you were, when it had taken you so much effort to go back to a semblance of normalcy?

“My wife may wear all the flower crowns she wishes, for she is to be Queen of Westeros.” He says, stepping forward before the guards can do anything. He unsheats his sword. Aemond cannot hurt him, not yet, but putting the fear of the Seven in him will be delightful regardless.

“If you think anyone will support this… This…” The man argues, pushing him and trying to intimidate Aemond with his bulk. Aemond lets himself be shoved, smirking. Got you, he thinks.

“That is treason. Do you know the punishment for treason?” He asks, very calmly. He raises his sword. The man, busy glaring at him, doesn’t see it.

“It’s the truth! She is as touched in the head as…” But before the man can finish his comparison, Aemond beheads him.

“Aemond!” You scream. He smirks.

“He was growing tiresome.”

Aemond goes back to standing behind you, feeling rather pleased with himself. After that, no man dares raise their voice at you.

Spring and summer are unbearable months in Dragonstone. Aemond entertains himself with keeping your lands in order. He patrols the island daily, and makes sure to handle petitions the way you would like it done.

The day the first leaf falls, you arrive on dragonback. You jump out of your saddle as soon as you see him, tumbling out into his arms.

By the Seven, if Aemond hadn’t caught you, you would have broken a bone.

“You are back.” He says, a bit perplexed by your enthusiasm.

“It is my home, is it not?” You say, smile bright and smelling of flowers. The diadem he has gifted you with shines on your dark hair.

“Oh.” Aemond says, as if struck by lighting. “I…” He has been a fool, hasn’t he?

You surge forward, placing one of your hands on his shoulder and tangling the other in his hair, and you crash your lips to his. You are so warm against him, so small, and there is fire in his veins instead of blood, spreading through his body, reaching his heart and setting him aflame with just one touch.

You smile against his mouth, a smug, infuriating thing. He kisses back, harder, crowding you against your dragon. You fall back against her, and he follows, giving a teasing squeeze to your waist.

You pull back.

“It is good to be home.”

“Indeed.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

DETAILED TW: Aemond knows reader is scared of rape, he feigns he is about to do it to her to scare her. He has thought of the reader in sexual ways, but it is clear in the scene he doesn’t intend to go through it since it is told from his pov. He does grope the reader. Reader threatens with suicide to avoid rape. Twice. Pretty much dark fic.

[cordeliawhohung]

pornstar!gaz x fem!reader

garrick's girl

cw: alcohol consumption, overly emotional smut, 99.9% smut, 0.1% plot, gentle possessiveness, actual morons in love

It’s a miracle your dress is still on by the time you’re in Kyle’s bed. 

Comforter expertly smoothed over a large mattress, dipping underneath your combined weight, you’re interested to see how strewn about it’ll be by the time he’s done with you. Ravenous eyes peer at you through heavy lids, the complete opposite to the patience of his hands as he gently strokes the exposed skin of your thighs. Fat kisses press to the side of your calf as he lifts your leg, trailing down to your ankle until he reaches the strap of your shoes. Your foot falls free as he undoes the buckle, tossing the heel behind him where it clatters on the hardwood floor of his bedroom. 

“How often do you have to think about me to get off when you’re filming with other actors?” he asks nonchalantly. 

White hot embarrassment prickles underneath the skin of your cheeks and neck. Superheats you so furiously you’re certain Kyle can feel the warmth radiating off of you by touch alone. He’s quick. No beating around the bush, even though the patience of his hands would have you believe otherwise. Still, he moves with delicate intentions as he awaits your answer, removing your other shoe without taking his eyes off of you. 

“No one does it like you do,” you answer, voice trembling with want. 

He smirks, hands gliding toward the inside of your thighs before pushing them apart. Clothes still shroud both of your bodies, yet you feel the most exposed you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

“No need for flattery, doll. There’s no cameras. No one on the viewfinder. Nothin’ but us. Tell me. I want the truth,” he urges, voice sweet as syrup.

You swallow. “It’s… not just on set.” His hands continue up along your thighs, thumbs brushing against the thin — nearly sheer — fabric of your panties. Your body lurches, demanding more, but you hold yourself back. “I think of you more than I should, I…”

“Do you think of me while you touch yourself?” he prods. 

It’s a question he already knows the answer to. One he can read in the DNA of your cells and the widening of your eyes. Shock echoes throughout your body at his insinuation, but you shouldn’t be surprised at how well he can read you. Kyle has been able to see right through you this whole time — some transparent being; skin made of cellophane. 

“Yes,” you breathe, hips writhing underneath his touch. A pathetic worm, yearning for more, longing for what he’s withholding from you. 

“Why? Is it because of how good I fuck you?” he asks. With each word he speaks, he’s sinking closer and closer to you, hands on either side of your head as his face dips into the crook of your neck — close enough that you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear. “Or is it because of something else? Something more?”

His lips part and you can feel the way the spit breaks in his mouth — already salivating at just the sight of you. 

“Were you also thinking of me when you said I love you on set today?” 

Palpable trepidation ripples through your skin; unforgiving and all consuming. Shaky hands brush along his back, following the defined ridge of his spine until you’re cupping either side of his face. You nudge him back, encouraging him to look at you. Throat tight, heart thumping — you pray you won’t regret this. 

“You’re the only person who makes me feel like this,” you say in a whisper, the pad of your thumb caressing the small scar on his cheek. “Kyle I… I don’t just follow anyone home. I’m not here just for you to fuck me. I’m here because I love you. And I want you to love me, too.” 

There is no breaking point. No instance in which the water boils over, flooding the stove with starch and foam. There is only warm fire. Campfire flames dancing in a pit; enticing and loving. A little spark. A sharp crack. Wood charring from the heat so that you can melt, sticky and sweet into the bed. 

His only response to you is his lips on yours, soft and savory as he licks up the faint alcohol on your tongue. There is no rush. No director calling out position changes, no bright lights, no camera in your face; just you and Kyle. Stone crumbles, cracks and breaks free — walls tumble until you’re open, bare and free. There is nothing — no apprehension or worry — there is only love. 

Dulcet kisses render your lips raw and fuzzy before traveling along your jaw, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Kyle tugs at the top of your dress, and you aid him in wiggling the straps down your shoulders where he pulls until your tits flow free from the fabric. He continues, embracing the line between your breasts, gracing your sternum with adoration, all while murmuring I love you, I love you between each one. 

His mantra continues, a repetitive notion as if he fears you might one day forget it if it’s not engraved in your skin. He says it into your chest, into your stomach, your pelvis; he continues his chant until he’s pushing up the skirt of your dress and placing kisses on your clothed pussy. Each pitched groan he pulls out of you is music — a symphonic melody he wants your mouth to emulate forever more.

“My girl,” he mumbles, fingers snaking underneath the band of your panties before dragging them down your legs. “Told you I’d get you alone. Wanna love you properly… wanna…” 

He cuts himself off, mouth swallowing the view of your cunt. Hips bucking up, Kyle’s name falls from your lips like a prayer as his tongue slides along your clit. It’s torturous, and already has your nerves sparking like live, frayed wires. It’s a familiar feeling — a nirvana he’s able to pull out of you on set — but there’s something different about it. The film is removed. The edges are sharper. There’s no fear or worry to muddle the bliss that’s mixing with your very blood. 

When he pulls away, he doesn’t leave you unstimulated for long before his fingers are prodding and pushing at your cunt. Your head lifts with a gasp, hands reaching for your chest as you look between your legs. Long, adept fingers glide in and out of you, aided both by your arousal and Kyle’s spit. His lips part as he stares down at his work, enchanted by the way you swallow him whole. 

It’s then that he realizes he can finally stop and smell the roses. Can take his time with you without the pressure to rush. And he is languid with it. Stuck in a dumbfounded stupor as he watches his fingers pump in and out of you over, and over, and over, and over —

“Kyle…”

Gentle hands slicing through the air, you reach for him until you’ve got a hold of his shirt. Dressy, perfect for the over-important party the two of you attended earlier. One by one, you undo the buttons separating his skin from yours before yanking him forward. He tries to keep his fingers inside of you, tries to unravel you, but you’re stripping him bare. Cloth undone, crumpled on the foot of the bed — he looks heavenly in the dim light of his bedroom. Silky smooth skin, dark loving eyes; you want to be unbound. Become nothing but stray chords and muscle, entangle yourself with whatever mess Kyle is about to render himself into. 

“I need you,” you whisper. You say it like a secret. Something nobody knows but you; as if the whole world isn’t afraid to burn to a crisp over your passion. 

He descends. Bare skin warm against yours, chest pressed against your breasts, lips on your neck, hands slowly guiding himself into you. He rests there for a moment, cock barely pressing against you, lined up perfectly yet refusing to further pursue you. Though Kyle enjoys teasing you — revels in the large pout and needy whines — everything he does is deliberate. It’s not to prod and upset you, not to rile you up; it’s a preparation. An agreement. Once he starts, he won’t stop until neither of you are sure where your bodies begin and end. 

There’s a gentle brush against your cheek. Fingers curling into the back of your head. A searing kiss that chars your lips and leaves them still begging for the heat. To seal the pact, he fills your cunt with one celeritous thrust of his hips, and he swallows the guttural moan he rips from your body. Tender. Consuming. He continues, shockwaves rippling throughout your body, moaning back into your mouth as the head of his cock splits you apart. 

You have fucked Kyle many times before, but it’s never been like this. Not with his body engulfing the expanse of your skin or his fingers interlocked with yours. You’ve never fucked like you were lovers. There’s never been such unrestrained ardor; something past simple concupiscence. The affection rotting your DNA is enough to destroy you, and you’d gladly crumble in his hands — as long as it meant Kyle gets to hold you. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you sound more unrestrained than when you are on set. Like you’re not afraid to hide anything in fear that it’ll be burnt into film for the rest of your existence. Kyle leans back, lips leaving your skin for the first time in what feels like hours. A blazing incalescence sparks in his eyes as they flit across your face. He catches on to every expression that morphs in your features, how he can make your brows knit together with a particularly deep thrust, or how your lips part when he thumbs over your clit. Such a beautiful creature, laid out bare for him to witness in all her glory. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, whiskey breath panting across your face. “Look at you, my pretty girl. My girl. Could never tire of lookin’ at you.” 

Praise falls from his lips like water from a fountain, and he feels the way you clamp around him. His pretty girl, always eager for praise. His thumb grinds against your clit, adding pressure ever so slowly to the point you’re nearly seeing stars. Your hands reach out for him, grabbing for any sort of purchase you can get to keep yourself steady as your body rocks against the mattress. Nails digging into his skin, he knows you’re close. 

“Could do this every night. Have you in my bed. In my arms. I just wanna take care of you, doll.” He’s practically dancing on the edge. So close to his own euphoric release, yet stuttering to hold himself back. Not until you, he thinks. Not until you. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Give you that true love you deserve.” 

Your hips wiggle, fighting against his thumb as it unravels those sweet nerves underneath your skin. Eyelids fluttering, you try to keep your eyes on him; a fruitless effort. Your head presses back into the pillows — of which smell just like the same, spicy cologne Kyle always uses — as every muscle in your body tenses to the point of fracturing. 

“I need that. Need you,” you stutter through chattering teeth. “I love you. Fuck, I love you. P-Please, Kyle…”

“I know,” he shushes. His movements are steadfast — even and firm as he feels your muscles turn to mush under his very fingertips. You whine so sweetly, delicious honey and milk against his mouth as you fall apart at the seams. “There we go, there she is. Such a good girl, coming on my cock like that. F-Fuck. Gonna milk this cock next, yeah? Won’t ya, doll? My beautiful girl…”

When he finally lets go, he feels his entire body seize. Legs wrapping around his hips, you pull him closer to you as he twitches inside of you, dumping every last bit of spend he has to give you while his face presses against the side of your neck. A rhapsodic silence sits somewhere between heavy panting and faint giggles. There is no one to shout about the scene ending. No bored huffs as the set is torn down around you. There is only Kyle’s heat on top of your body, the faint glow of his living room lamp pouring through his bedroom door, and a gentle kiss on your jaw. 

When his arms and legs start to give out underneath him, Kyle rolls to the side, body colliding with the soft cot as he drags you along with him. Glorious giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your nose into the center of his chest. It’s nice to just lay. To be embraced without prying, impatient eyes. To be loved. All along, you have been adored with such fervor; you were just never able to feel it through the barrier forced around your body because of work. 

“You smell good,” you mumble, once you’ve finally caught your breath. 

“Oh?” he prompts. 

“Mhm. Could eat you up.” 

“Feisty,” Kyle quips. 

A hum rumbles deep in his chest as he kisses the top of your head, arms snaking impossibly tight around you as he draws you close. You dissolve into him, limbs entangled, knotting until they’ll never come undone again. The pounding drum of his heart slowly relaxes into a steady rhythm, and you find yourself nearly falling asleep as he traces the dips of your hip. 

“So,” Kyle speaks up. There’s something off about his tone — like he’s grinning too hard to say his words properly. “How did Simon react when you said my name instead of his?” 

You groan, embarrassment flooding your face as you try to hide away. His laughter at you feels playfully mocking as he pulls you closer and wiggles around, as if he can shake the answer out of you. 

“I don’t even want to think about it,” you whine. 

“Come on, I wanna know,” he eggs. 

You sigh with a heavy pout forming on your lips. “He… grinned. Like the fucking bastard he is. Like he knew all along. He didn’t say anything on set, but when we were done he… mentioned that I should try to find you at the party tonight. He actually pointed you out to me while you were moping in the corner.” 

Despite your dig at him, he laughs. Sweet and deep. Comforting. Like he’s finally found home. 

“Well, at least he knows whose girl you are.” 

He feels your smile curve against his chest. “Garrick’s girl.” 

That night, after Kyle washes your body and holds you underneath warm, running water, you sleep in his bed. You sleep in his bed, in his clothes, in his arms. It comes as easy as breathing. As natural as dreaming. And as you fall asleep, you hum, content in knowing that this is how it should have been all along.

[ellecdc]

Dude since like you would continue writing poly moonwaterkiller. Idk if you okay with it, but do you mind writing poly moonwaterkiller x sick reader. I mean, we know barty is so fucking wild. Would love to see barty doing anything for reader to make her happy, but moonwater get stress cos "no barty! she shouldn't be outside rn! She's sick!" And Barty be like "but she looks happy out hereee!!!"

Something like that, thank you! And love you both

thanks so much for your request (and your patience in me writing this for you a few months later 😅). I knew I loved the idea; just needed to wait for the right moment to write it!!

poly!moonwaterkiller x sick!reader who Barty is taking very good care of thank you very much

CW: fem!reader is poorly, Barty calls Pandora peculiar [affectionately], disgusting amount of fluff

“Dovey!” Remus exclaimed as he spotted you sitting on the stone floor of a small balcony on the side of Gryffindor tower. “What are you doing out here!?”

It had officially been about a week of this gods-awful flu that was wreaking havoc on your immune system (and more importantly, your lungs) to which Madame Pomfrey prescribed healing draughts, lots of water, and rest.

And this, Remus felt, was decidedly not rest. 

He and Regulus rushed to crouch beside your hunched over form to see that your eyes were closed as you pointed your face towards the sky. 

“Hi boys.” You offered weakly, still never opening your eyes to greet them.

“Amour, what are you doing out here?” Regulus repeated, placing the back of his hand against your temple and grimacing at the heat radiating from it. 

“Getting some sun.” You explained simply. “Haven’t been outside in ages.”

And while Remus knew that to be technically true, he also knew there had been a reason for that. 

“Dovey, it’s barely spring and it’s far too cold for you to be out here; besides, it’s mostly cloudy.” He explained, wondering how in the hell you found the energy to move yourself from Remus’ bed all the way out here when you seemed completely incapable of even opening your eyes. 

And where the hell was Junior!?

“Exactly; mostly cloudy.” Barty’s voice chimed in as he stepped out onto the balcony to join the three of them with a cup of tea in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

“Junior, what in Salazar’s name do you think you’re doing?” Regulus hissed at him as he placed the bowl on the ground in front of you. 

“Taking care of our girl.” He hissed back at him before softening as he turned to look at you. 

“Hey Treasure, still doing okay?” He asked softly, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You hummed in acknowledgment. 

“I brought some tea with lots of honey.” He explained as he placed the cup in your hands.

That, Remus noticed bitterly, enticed you to open your eyes. 

“Thank you.” You cooed, though the sentiment was sort of lost in the coughing fit that it elicited. 

“Junior, it’s too cold outside; she needs to be in bed.” Remus sighed disappointedly.

Disappointed that he had to play the bad cop, and disappointed because this looked like a really nice way to spend the afternoon. 

If you were tired of being sick, Remus was tired of watching you feel so poorly and not being able to do anything to fix it. 

“I cannot believe you think me daft enough to leave her to the elements, Lupin.” Barty sneered as he resituated the blanket that had begun to slide off your shoulder. “She has four layers on and a heating charm surrounding her, Evans had some muggle fever reducers that I gave her just before I went to the kitchens, and vitamin D is supposed to support healthy immune system function. So suck my dick; the both of you.”

“Okay.” Remus offered quickly at the same time Regulus let out a tiresome “Barty”. 

“You feel better already, don’t you baby?” He cooed as he sat beside you and pressed a kiss to your overly hot temple.

You hummed in the affirmative again. 

“Okay, but where are her shoes?” Remus continued, noting the way you were sitting with your knees up to your chest and the soles of your feet pressed firmly into the stone beneath you.

Barty seemed to turn a bit bashful at that before quickly schooling his expression. “It’s quite simple, really. Pandora suggested that she ought to try grounding.”

Though his tone was haughty, he turned bashful again when he received no response from either of his boyfriends.

“Said it would be good for her…chakras or her aura or…I don’t know! Alright!? I don’t know; but Salazar’s saggy balls, she’s been so sick for so long and I just wanted her to feel better. So yeah, I listened to Peculiar Pandora, okay? Sue me.” 

Barty hardly had a moment to pout before Remus was wrestling the Slytherin into his lap as Regulus cooed at him.

“Barty’s going soft.” Regulus taunted lovingly.

“I will literally bite your fucking head off, Black; try me.”

“You’re just soft for our girl, hm?” Remus purred into Barty’s ear, relishing in the way the notoriously tense boy melted for him.

Barty made a harrumphing sound half way between reluctant admittance and a whine. 

“Be nice to him.” You admonished quietly; opening one eye at Remus and Barty as you leaned into Regulus’ side who had moved to sit beside you in Barty’s place. 

“He is being nice.” Regulus defended quickly.

“I’m always nice.” Remus added. “I’m alway nice to you, aren’t I?” He continued as he looked down at Barty, currently curled up in his lap. 

“You’re mean.” Barty pouted.

“Come now.”

“Horrid.”

“Yeah?”

“Just awful.”

Remus beamed down at the petulant boy before nuzzling his face into his neck.

“You love it.” He accused.

Barty was quiet for a moment as he drew circles on the back of Remus’ hand. “Maybe.”

Remus was very thankful that Barty was such a clever person, because sitting out here with his three loves on this semi-lovely Scottish spring day felt an awful lot like Remus’ own little personal heaven.

[prettyboykatsuki]

your kind of like | h. suo

✮ tags ; fem!reader, tomboy / athlete!reader, friends to lovers, third-year suo but its not super important, mutual pining, silly shoujo tropes lol, i headcanon tsubaki using she/they pronouns

✮ wc ; 2k (??????)

✮ a/n ; based on violets request for suo + my tomboy reader delusions. reader is a himbo but a girl and i love her.

also sorry if i completely butchered this guy LOOOL

The first time Suo lays eyes on you, you're half-way up a tree - a few feet from the ground, trying to coax and old lady's cat to jump on you and come down safely.

He remembers it in great detail since it left a lasting impression. How you rolled your skirt up so it wouldn't get in your way, how your face and hands were covered in scratches - and most particularly, how you smiled the entire time. How you were loud as you clicked your tongue but soft to it once it jumped into your arms.

You had jumped onto the soles of your feet with great force but the kitty seemed calm in your arms after a while. Bright as the sun and twice as warm, you returned the cat to it's owner and then, met Suo for the first time.

You give him your name, your age, your birthday - and then ask him for the same. When he gives it to you, you clap a hand on his shoulder and tell him it's so good to meet him.

Suo does not believe in love at first sight. Koi no yokan—love at second sight, or the feeling when you meet someone that loving them is your destiny. If Suo could put a name to that feeling, it was probably that.

He was bound to love you from that very instance.

For the last two years, he's been going straight down that path with no resistance and insurmountable clarity.

It's natural for Suo to make comparatives. It's the type of person he is, the kind of fighter he sets himself up to be. Primarily a martial artists with a preference to keep calm requires strategizing.

Drawing connections comes to him as easy as breathing.

So, if he had to compare him to you, there's no end of things that make you incredibly different. Almost opposite in all ways except your decency. Compared to Suo, you are loud and brutish and strong. You're easy to read in a way that reminds him of Sakura, but denser. Your nature is tough and absurdly honest.

You don't often fight outside of your sport for one reason or another, but when you do - you prefer to tank hits instead of avoid them. Everything you feel always shows on your face.

He's never met a girl so earnest in his entire life.

He's never really met anyone like you in general.

After your first meeting, you began to get friendly with him and Bofurin in general. A student athlete in an all-girls school in the same town, you're often in the area doing odd jobs for money. You live with your brother who works in the city, and you're the youngest of your family. You're incapable of lying, even when it might benefit you and you like sweet things.

You're nice to everyone and like to chat up whoever's around, but you like Suo especially. You often ditch class to go to Furin and hang out with them and you're rarely intimidated by anyone. You're comfortable with his friends, though you seem especially fond of Nirei and Sugashita. Sakura too, though he has yet to know how to act around you even this many years later.

Your relationship is as normal as any other friendship, but maybe that's part of the problem. You treat Suo as thoughtful as you would any other friend - even when he refuses to tell you about himself. You're not hurt by the fact he's got walls up so high, and you don't hound him when he can't be straight with you.

You understand Suo as a friend and don't bother with any other details. You just.. get him. So effortlessly. And even when you don't, nothing changes.

The nature of Bofurin after all, leads Suo to fights that leave him in emotional tatters. Moments where anyone else would ask to open up, you remain steadfast. Your friendship is a lot like you, sturdy beyond his understanding

(Countless times, Suo has shown up at your door unannounced - often covered in bruises and battered. You worry and anger, but you always let him. Take care of his wounds, let him borrow your shower. Even going so far as sneaking him into your room when your brother was home, just so he didn't have to be alone with his thoughts.

He can't count how many times he's slept across from you in your bed. Dense. An honest idiot. A girl with no self-preservation who's letting a guy sleep alongside her with no care.

Suo always feels apologetic the next morning and you smile and go along like nothing happened. It might've been true in your case, but in his - he fell in love a little more each time.)

Because you're that way - Suo finds it hard to deal with his feelings. With the enormity of them, the intensity of them. You're not totally clueless - but when people talk about relationships or dating, it always seems like it has nothing to do with you.

If you were anyone else, he thinks it'd be easy to confess to you. If you had been another girl, or less of a friend.

But it's you. The bright, earnest, tough, you. He can't even bring himself to flirt with you or treat you idly despite how much he likes you. He knows better than anyone how good you are, and can't pretend to be anything less than honest about it. He adores you so utterly that it'd be pointless to even try to pretend to have the advantage.

He can be a tease. A flirt, if he wants to be. With anyone else it'd be easy. But with you, the love is so genuine it's impossible. He just wants to cherish you. Wants to shower you in affection, wants to spoil you and give you all of his time.

Friends is such a hard line in the sand. The minute Suo crosses it, there's never going to be anyway to go back to how you were before. He's been careful in being content with just friends, because he'd rather keep you in his life than not have you at all by scaring you away with his feelings.

He thinks it'll all be fine until Nirei tells him word on the block about a recent confession.

__

"A kouhai from a different team asked you out?"

Suo reaches out to wipe the grain of rice from the corner of your mouth as you eat onigiri. Your carelessness endears him but he's too distracted by the rumor to pay it any mind. You nod, swallowing with a sip of water.

"Uh-huh. Akira-kun. Dun' know his first name, but he's a good kid. Super tall for being younger, though."

Suo was sure he would never have to worry about this since you went to an all-girls school. To think you'd get a confession from a fellow student athlete, a boys member of an opposing team. He tries not to get irritated at the thought.

"Are you interested in him?"

You pause. Suo feels his heart race before you answer with a shrug and continue to eat your bento.

"Dunno the guy enough to like 'im. He seems nice. I told him as much but he said that was fine," You pick at the veggies in your bento, taking a bite out of one. "So he asked me on a date instead so we could get to know each other."

"Oh?" Suo forces himself to smile and keep his voice even. "Are you going to go?"

You nod and Suo feels his heart stop. Shit.

"Really? I'm surprised."

You hum. "Well, you know, I've never been on a date," You say, suddenly smiling. You look so genuinely happy Suo can't bring himself to be totally upset. "But, it sounds super fun! We're gonna go to a batting cage in another prefecture."

He looks at you in surprise. "A batting cage?"

"Well, he thought I'd like that more than other date ideas, but I'm not all that picky since I've never been."

"You already talked about it a lot then."

"Uh-huh. He laughed when I said I wanted to go eat meat after. Said that was just like me... somehow I don't get it, but I'm happy anyway. I hope it'll be fun."

Suo smiles his best business smile and tells himself beating the shit out of his friends kouhai for flirting with her is wrong. "Hm. Are you prepared to go on the date?"

"You sound like Tsubaki-chan," You lament. "She made me go get nice clothes and everything."

....

"She did, huh? That sounds just like her. Did Kotoha-san go too?"

"Mhm. They just picked it out for me since I'm not good with any of that. Tsubaki-chan is so beautiful so I trust her."

"Mm,"

"What's wrong?"

You're looking at him with such clear eyes it makes Suo guilty. He knows if he says nothing now, you'll drop it without question. That's just how you are. But for once he doesn't really want to drop it. It's too impulsive and entirely rash but he really...

"You know, if you wanted go on a date - I could've just taken you."

You pause then grin a little. "Dates are for people in like, you know."

Of course you would assume it was a joke. Suo pauses, suddenly looking serious.

"So, if I told you I liked you - would you consider going on a date with me?"

"Sure," You smile because you definitely still think he's joking. But it's a pretty, honest smile anyway. "But Suo-kun doesn't need to ask me for anything. We can always just go together."

He still himself as he scoots in closer to you where you sit, pushing your lunches out of the way and closing the distance to look at you closer. You blink in surprise but don't back away or flinch.

"I'm being serious you know?" He hums softly. It's less hard to say than he thought, but maybe it's because he's already been willing to put everything on the line for you from the start. "I really like you. In that way."

You blink. "...Huh?"

He can't help himself. He'll apologize later. Your breath is warm and soft when he leans in and presses his lips to yours for too long. You don't push him away, uncannily receptive to the touch. You taste salty. Suo kisses you for as long as you'll let him and pulls away only for breath.

He isn't sure what he's expecting, but the jump from pure shock to pure embarrassment surprises him. You put a hand on your shoulder, jaw open in disbelief.

"....So it was like that," You mumble, in shock. "It was... really like that?"

"For a long time, now"

"I also like Suo-kun, but how shocking."

Suo stares at you. "Are you sure your like and my like are the same? I get the feeling that -"

You press your lips to his as if to prove a point, pulling away and brushing it off just as quickly. He can feel the heat rise to his neck in immediate disbelief. You frown at him "Between us, I'm the one who's good at being honest so don't be like that,"

He just... stares. He's elated but completely confused. "Why didn't you confess earlier?"

You smile sheepishly. "Being your friend is also good, so I was okay with not changing it. It's hard to tell what you're thinking and I didn't think it was important."

He laughs in disbelief, dropping his head down to your shoulder. He didn't think he would be this happy. He didn't even think it was possible. "How could that not be important?"

"You're more important to me than that," You say easily, though he can hear your beating from where his head is. "I'm happy we like each other but I care the most about Suo-kun's feelings and being with you since you're important to me. I want to be with you for a long time."

Ah. In some regards, it seems like Suo is never going to be able to one-up you. He laughs in disbelief as his arms snake around your waist, crushing you more tightly in his arms than he can bear. You giggle so sweetly when he does he thinks he might really be done for. His usual demeanor comes in easy, calm and collected but absolutely estatic.

"It sounds like a proposal." He mumbles, almost lovesick.

"We could get married but you have to ask my brother first."

Suo laughs brightly against your neck. "Be less casual about something like that," And then a little softer. "But yes, we'll stay together as long as you want."

He holds you like that a little bit longer.

[see-arcane]

The idea of one of the Weird Sisters being a romani girl or a slovak girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time is horrible, and a great way to showcase the kind of power (both social, and supernatural) that Dracula forces upon the humans around him.

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong state of being, social, supernatural or otherwise. Dracula could have taken anyone from any station in Transylvania. Rich or poor, friend or foe. But I think none of the Weird Sisters were noblewomen while alive. They were, like Jonathan, sniffed out among the chattel. Dracula is their superior in every regard that way; and more, the servile classes do one thing better than any aristocrat.

It is their wont to make their ruler happy.

The eldest, a young fair girl, was a drop of sunshine and laughter in a threadbare village. Someone who uplifted and charmed whoever she crossed. Dracula, after some unknown breaking point in the mad red fog as he skulked up the mountains into his broken castle to wrestle with inhuman instincts and hold to something like a man's sanity, was alone. A monster made raw with slaughtering, with his people only fearing and fleeing around him. His halls are quiet. He crawls and lopes through them, snapping at himself, knowing he is reducing night by night into a Thing more than a man, let alone a conqueror.

So he goes hunting. He finds the fair girl who makes others happy and holds their hearts. He steals her. Wrings out months of playacting from her; in turn, he has reason to force himself into behaving like a man. The castle has no visitors in that era. When she cries and calls from her window, she hears only her own echoes as a pleading choir. And then it is back to making her monster happy. So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

The next girl was taken back when ties were first forged between the Count and the early generations of Slovaks he would come to entrust with his errands. There was trust on the human side too. Yes, he was a monster, but he was their monster. Their benefactor. He speaks to them like kin and pays a dragon's ransom for their work. They are allies! He calls them friends!

So it goes until his attention falls on one of the girls. A daughter. A sister. A new wife. She knows their Count, their kind monster. 'A friend of the family.' And perhaps she is not even afraid when he asks her, cordial as a lord, to aid him with something in the castle. A small matter, my dear, but something he would not trust the coarse handling of the men to do. She goes in. The door locks.

Does she go to that same room, that same window? Does she weep and call for her family? Does anyone try to come for her, to plead with their friend-master-owner, or to--ha--raise a weapon against him?

If so, it is a small matter. Quick. Bloody.

She charms him while alive. For she must. She thought, just as her new-ancient Sister thought, that she might find a way out. A chance to flee. But she makes him so happy. So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

And the Slovaks learn a lesson that is shared through centuries. They warn all those they work with in the future of the same. The locals, the nomads, the strangers. No women. No girls.

The third girl has no warning. She is Romani, but she has run from her people too. Or else she was trying to find them. Times have always been grim, but especially when the mania over witchcraft was at its height. She lost friends and family to...what? Sham trials and tortured deaths? A scattering to the winds as they fled the self-assigned hunters? Running further, higher, steeper. God's soldiers will not bother with their mission if it means galloping up the cliffs.

Up, up, up.

There are wolves. There is cold. She has no room in her to care.

And then, a fairy tale happening:

A man appears on the moonlit mountain. His eyes are fire. Are you lost, my dear?

She is. She thinks herself already dead or dreaming when he leads her into the castle. When there is food, warmth, and sympathy from this smiling noble perched in the crags of the Carpathians. And for one month, maybe two, even after she smells something worse than death on him, even after every liberty is plucked from her like petals from a rose, even after she has her first glimpse of her grinning Sisters, even after she sees strangers--Living people! Her own people among them! Look, look, I am trapped here! Please! Please, do not go, do not leave me with him...--she clings to charm. To smiles. She makes him happy.

So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

And now there is a young man. Such a winsome thing, young and strong. He makes their monster so happy.

His waiting Sisters think their monster may just love him.

And as they hear him shout from the hand-me-down window, they laugh along with the living in their coffins.

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

a tarot reading just in case you need to remember this: it's okay to be a bitch.

we all know good vibes, kindness and empathy are amazing traits and etc BUT... there's shitty people who don't deserve that and some of us can't pretend like we are not full of anger. "negative" emotions are just as valid as "positive" ones, they contribute to our growth and our character, and they also keep us same from further harm.

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

pick a pile and let's find out what type of "bitch" behavior can bring something good to your life.

MASTERPOST & PAID SERVICES

xoxo gigi <3

images from pinterest and dividers by @ithemes 

plz excuse the shit quality pictures of the cards, i'm working on that but i didn't realize how bad they were until i uploaded them :(

btw I'm doing a poll so you can pick a day when its convenient for you and me to do an ask game on here, answer some questions with my tarots and give away readings from my menu.

Pile Number One

Hello there! So, the cards on this reading are mostly “positive” if we take a superficial approach, and ignore the prompt of this reading. What I see here is that, although there’s a sense of brightness, joy and enthusiasm that is typically associated with your identity, there’s a lot of your inner world that it’s not getting any chances to be manifested into your daily life. I think many people assume you are happier than you actually feel, and many people think the joys and blessings of your life came to you out of nowhere, they think you’re naturally successful, when in reality you are quite the hard worker. Nobody likes to be realistic in the struggle to achieve anything, so it's understandable to some extent that people are not seeing the actual strength and patience that it took you to be where you are. 

Personally, I think that sometimes it’s really hard to fight back against misconceptions on how hard do we actually have to work in order to get something, it’s even harder when people don’t allow you to express anger, and belittle any feeling that it’s not as comfortable to be around as your usual “good vibes”. You are the type of person who everyone is too lazy to understand beyond their own romantic ideas of you. Don’t let others dehumanize you like that, you are a person, not a secondary character in someone’s love life, or the sweet innocent sidekick, or the girl next door, or whatever. Embrace everything that makes you complex and misunderstood, as these are the things that will bring you closer to people who are actually interested in your true self. 

But, there’s absolutely nothing wrong if you’re being strategic about who gets to see your most genuine version and who doesn’t. I see a lot of prosperity for you in the future, and you might not be able to appreciate this now, but your career choices will make you quite happy eventually. Take a lot of time to reflect on the people you want to keep around you, trust your intuition and prioritize your mental health, don’t be afraid to communicate your emotions in ways that others might find uncomfortable, in the worst case, by doing this you will find out who actually deserves your time and energy. And please, don’t fall for the first person who shows any kind of romantic interest, this is not a great moment for you to deal with a relationship, as there’s some emotional work to do first. Be persistent with how you take care of yourself, be patient and kind to you in the same way you are with others. 

Pile Number Two

What I’m seeing a lot on these cards is a lack of closure and proper communication about it. I’m not necessarily talking about a situation that hasn’t been settled yet, but more so about the fact that you are able to perceive things deeper than the average person and whenever you can, you do go ahead and take the actions necessary in order to get things going in the way you know best. You are someone who moves quickly and efficiently, but others who are more dogmatic in their ways are beginning to find issue with this, forcing you to conform to spaces where everyone knows you are too overqualified to be in. 

I don’t think you are someone who is submissive or someone who allows people to walk all over you, but I see that you’re trying to find less conflictive approaches to issues and situations that you are used to solving in more explosive ways. Behaving in a more “diplomatic” or “assertive” way is not exactly what works for you, but at this point it is necessary that you learn to tolerate being put in this position. I don’t see you losing your values or your ideals, not even your personal strength. But I am concerned that you might be doubting yourself with things that are so bonded to your nature that you haven’t even thought twice about so far, and rightly so! You’re lucky that your determination and passionate ways, even when proving an inconvenience to others who don’t get it, has been channeled in such proactive ways. 

At this point, all I can tell you is that whenever you are being forced to remain in stagnation due to self doubt, you shouldn't attribute this to your lack of will to stick to norms and traditions, but more so, this situations happen because people around you need to catch up with what you already saw and processed. This means that many times you will have to choose between waiting or moving on by yourself. Be strategic about this, and always make sure that there are comfortable places for when you need to reflect and relax. Yes, many things have gone right for you by moving impulsively and following your gut, but imagine how much more you could accomplish if you took some time to plan. 

There’s nothing wrong with your creativity thriving in chaotic environments, there’s nothing wrong with being confrontational and hot headed, absolutely nothing bad about being perceived as hot headed and impulsive… just be more mindful on how to channel these parts of yourself. 

Pile Number 3

Okay, this is a complex set of cards for a complex and sensitive person.  What I'm seeing here is this sort of nostalgia other people have for a version of you that was painful to live for yourself. I think plenty of people were feeling too comfortable with you when you were not on top of your game or working towards your own personal happiness. I feel like you are now beginning to find new ways of questioning and deconstructing ideas and actions that are no longer serving your deeper desires, and you are sharing this with people who are not willing to join you in this path, while also alienating you from your own power to manifest into existence the person you want to become. 

As you are beginning to move away from spaces of comfort that were designed for a weakened version of yourself, you will realize there’s plenty of facades and deceitful half truths. It’s a shame that all you have during this moment is your own emotional intelligence and a well justified sense of hope, nobody should face things like this on their own. But being realistic, solitude is a strength in your case, and you will soon find out that this journey was meant to give you consciousness about the powers and strength, many have tried to hide from you in order for them to keep the spotlight. 

Don’t let others force you into being someone who is only an ornament or a tool for keeping a facade. Even if you are naturally generous, kind, empathetic, and altruistic, it’s not a betrayal of those values to focus on growing outside places that don’t deserve all your sensitivity. This is a moment where you will find plenty of personal characteristics that many have ignored or belittled, cultivate those and nurture your ability to exist on your own terms. You have more control than you think, and far more tools than you imagine. It takes bravery and intellect to take the steps you are taking into finding new ways of being yourself, while also being celebrated and respected. 

Always remember that many times, others will make you believe something crucial to you is a defect, or a disadvantage, but it’s up to you if you’re taking into consideration the thoughts of someone who doesn’t know why you are who you are, and who you are trying to be. (You shouldn't).