#There was this infatuation at some point for either of them to the other

[arcanarix]

Because You're a Big Deal - Satoru Gojo X Fem!Sorcerer Reader

Content Warnings: handjobs, body worship, exhibitionism, cockwarming, edging, cunnilingus, satoru might have a slight humliation/degradation kink, satoru is lowkey a creep and yandereish but not really, he also has no concept of personal space

Word Count: 10.1K

Summary: It’s common knowledge that Satoru Gojo is completely devoted to you. Why?—Because he makes it everyone’s, especially your, problem!

AO3

Since he’s been ripped out of his mother’s womb, life has bent to Satoru Gojo’s will. Everything falls into place as if the universe itself acknowledges that he’s destined for greatness. He barely has to lift a finger, and his achievements pile up, much to the irritation of literally everyone around him. It’s not just because he’s able to back up his skill—he makes sure it’s known that he’s the best sorcerer in the modern world, though—it’s also the way he exudes this untouchable self-assuredness which sets him apart from the rest. He’s practically a God walking among mere simpletons.

In a way, you find yourself pitying the guy at times. You can see how that kind of existence could be isolating. Being blessed—or cursed—with so much power from the get-go. He’s high above everyone else, like he’s observing the world from a higher vantage point—like a God in the sky or on another plane of reality. So to someone like you, who scrape by on sheer determination, ambition, and hard-headedness, Gojo’s life feels impossibly distant.

You’re not part of the elite three clans. You’re…just you, really. You’re a fledgling sorcerer who’s stumbled into this world all on accident, thanks to some Grade 2 curse spirits running amok on your college campus. Among the student and faculty body, you’re the only person you know who can see them, the only person who can react. It’s kind of made you an outcast there because you were afraid of stepping out of your dorm. That’s how you ended up here, after meeting Gojo and the others through chance. You’re training at Jujutsu Tech under Yaga and Gojo’s guidance, as a Grade 3 now—not that far along, but still a step above from where you began which was rock bottom. You still don’t compare to your peers at all in terms of experience.

But as much as you are grateful for Satoru Gojo and his small group of students, who have already rapidly become family to you, you can’t say you’re exactly pleased to be in his presence 99 percent of the time.

Why’s that, you wonder?

It’s simple, really.

From the moment he met you, he’s made it painfully clear that you have captured his attention. He’s obsessed, locked on you with such fervor it could decimate entire buildings with the same energy as a Hollow Purple. While it may have started as a shallow infatuation—you can’t even begin to imagine why—you know better than to let your guard down. With men like him, it’s easy to feel like a conquest, a prize to be won. From someone who’s so used to winning, without a doubt, he sees you as a challenge.

His favorite toy. You refuse to give him that satisfaction.

You don’t know how wrong you are about that assumption, though.

Because titles aside, he’s still just some dude who probably thinks more with his dick than with his brain.

You’re not sure why you in particular, either. Maybe others who’re more aware of his reputation might find it flattering, for the following reasons: he’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern times. That’s one. He’s rich as fuck. That’s two. He’s also stupidly handsome with those striking blue eyes of his and that lanky figure. That’s three.

You can’t find it in your core to give a flying fuck about it, though. Because beyond the superficial, he’s lacking in a lot of areas.

Everyone around you seems to agree.

Even now, as you sit in the classroom, waiting for him to show up—because of course, he’s late again as usual—you feel the tension building in your gut. You lean back, your chair creaking as a deep sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers idly trace the screen of your phone. Fushiguro’s gaze bores into your skull, with an all-knowing feeling. Is Gojo going to pull some bullshit today like he always does?

Your eyes roll, as you whip around to meet his gaze. As if silently communicating to him. Of course he is. Gojo always pulls something and everyone knows it, but especially Fushiguro. You have learned to expect it just as everyone else does.

The door swings open with a rush of air, and in strides Gojo, with that smug grin plastered across his face. He carries himself with a straight posture, hands stuffed into his pockets, acting like the world revolves around him because obviously it does. To him it does.

“Sorry for the wait! Since there’s not a lot of things we have to go over today before Megumi and the others are sent on yet another mission, I won’t keep you guys that long.”

Even without looking up, the weight of his gaze locks on you. You feel like you’re on a stage and those blinding blue eyes are the spotlight. When you do glance his way, you catch the faintest twitch of his lips. You’re not wearing your uniform today, and that seems to spark something in him. His blinding blue eyes, though hidden beneath his blindfold, must gleam with mischief. He’s definitely scheming.

“Well, most of you,” he finishes, that smirk of his widening.

You suppress a groan, already knowing where this is going and what thoughts might be running amok in that idiot brain of his, which only thinks with his dick in your presence. The outfit you opt to wear is nothing special—just a pair of shorts and a tank top—but for Gojo, it’s like a gift sent from the Heavens. He always twists the simplest actions of yours into a reason to give you a hard time.

As the briefing drones on, your eyes drift upward by mistake, sneaking a peek at him. What a bad move. Of course, he’s already looking at you, that grin still so wide his face is cracking. He raises his hand to his mouth—thrusting his tongue between two spread fingers—and your face flushes deep from embarrassment. Without thinking, your hands fly up to cover your face as you bite back a sigh.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Luckily, no one notices.

True to his word, the briefing is just that—brief. Itadori, Kugisaki, and Fushiguro head off, leaving you behind with Panda, Inumaki, and Maki for a few moments…at leaste, until they, too, make their hasty exit, leaving you alone.

Leaving you alone with that sad fuck of a man.

He slides up to you, peeling his blindfold up with a slender finger as he leans in closer than necessary. His breath fans against your forehead, and you have to resist the urge to step back lest you want to stir up more trouble for yourself, to push him out of your personal bubble. But Gojo doesn’t seem to have any concept of personal space. He never has. Those eyes of his, sharp, and blue like glaciers in the north, flicker across your face, down to the exposed skin of your shoulders and collarbone.

“Where’s your uniform?” he asks, his voice casual, with a playful note beneath it. There’s a layer of something else, though. His slender fingers trail along your arm, ghosting over your skin where the thin fabric of your tank top exposes you.

The guy acts like he can do whatever he wants. That he’s the man.

You aren’t ever going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that because he already knows he’s a big deal. He already knows he’s absolutely all that and he doesn’t need more reminders. You aren’t interested in stroking his ego (or any physical attributes of his body, for that matter). That must get under his skin and you might be a little too proud of yourself for that, mentally giving yourself a pat on the back every time he seems a little disheartened by your lack of reciprocation.

You need to set that record straight with him. He needs to be knocked down a LOT of pegs.  

Fuck him and his Infinity…you’d love to kick him where it hurts because that’s the only thing he thinks with in that idiot brain of his…

You finally swat at his hand, irritation burbling beneath your skin. “Didn’t Ijichi tell you? It’s at the dry cleaners.”

Gojo gives a non-committal hum in response, but his grin never leaves his features as he settles onto your desk, sprawling out like he owns it. His gaze locks on you, studying every part of your body, and your insides are screaming at you to bolt out the door. But it’s only going to cause him to be more annoying.

“You sure you didn’t wear this just for me?” His voice is a low rasp, dropping an octave, a purr in your ear that sends a shiver dancing down your spine. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb grazing your supple skin.

You smack his hand away again, maintaining a blank expression.

“Not interested,” you deadpan, rising to your feet. “Now, am I dismissed?”

Gojo’s expression falters for a fraction of a second before that smugness of his bounces back, slipping the blindfold back over his eyes.

“Sure,” he replies, but not before his fingers tuck under your chin, tilting your head in an angle ever so slowly.

You swallow on a lump of nothing—

Oh.

--that bulge in his pants, straining against the fabric of his uniform, growing more and more prominent by the passing second. You swallow hard again, your heart dropping tor your stomach.

“Now you know,” he finishes in a low murmur, sliding off your desk with his infuriating smirk still on his fucking face.

You scowl so deep your forehead wrinkles, stepping back away from him. Before you make it further, he grabs your elbow, pulling you close—too close. Flush against his warm body, where your thigh brushes against his hardness. You hate the way it makes you feel.

You hate that you don’t hate it.

“You’re too beautiful for your own good, you know that?” His voice is low, soft, reverent, but the edge of teasing remains.

“I could have you written up for sexual harassment,” you mutter under your breath.

His laugh is quick, sharp, echoing through the walls of the empty classroom.

“Hoho, I’m so scared,” he retaliates in a mocking tone as he allows you to break free from his grasp. “The worst Yaga will give me is a little reprimanding and a swat on the wrist, which won’t change much in the grand scheme of things.”

Utahime is right, you idly muse. He’s a fucking man child.

Why does he find such joy in being a troll? You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. That maybe he has some depth beneath the stupidity he embodies. Is it to hide trauma or something? Can’t he, for once, be a little more serious? Address you like a person because that’s all you want from people?

Do you even care to pick his idiot brain and find out?

“Because you’re the untouchable one in this universe,” you remark with a defeated sigh. Maybe consider transferring to Kyoto? But then he might find another way to harass you…

“Exactly,” he retorts, as you whip around to fully face him. He towers over you; he towers over nearly everyone. But you don’t often take note of how intimidating that is in combination with his reputation. You wonder if he truly is blessed in every aspect of his life (perhaps his only vice, that you can name thus far anyway, is his lack of interpersonal intelligence).

“I’ll be seeing you, Sensei,” you mumble through gritted teeth as you gather your things and amble out the door. His wolf-whistle follows you out, and you resist the urge to turn around and deck him on the spot. Not that you can be able to with his goddamn Infinity.

Maybe you should still write him up for harassment.

But then, upon further reflection, you sincerely doubt it’s going to make a difference. He even says so himself. Nothing changes his mind.

The cool autumn air rushes through your hair as you and the other students stroll down the busy streets, laughing and chatting it up. You find comfort in this routine—the way you can shed the weight of becoming a sorcerer, even if only for a few hours.

To cap off the end of a grueling week, the students often orchestrate a fun night out in the town. You and the other students engage in some semblance of normalcy outside of jujutsu society. You actually get to have fun—and not in the presence of any of your superiors, which helps you take the edge off, for sure.

Itadori and the others—well in particular he, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki—they make you feel like one of them and you haven’t even been with them for that long. Each and every one of them, they’re unique and talented and genuine people. You are willing to admit even Gojo is, in his own right. You just won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that, on some levels, you do respect him for certain things.

You probably won’t be alive today if not for these guys.

Itadori grins, his arms stretched behind his head as he glances at the group.

“Is anyone up for a karaoke night?” Itadori inquires, eyes twinkling.

“I’m down, but maybe after I’ve had a few drinks,” you tease with a light giggle. “I’m no Mariah Carey or Ariana Grande.”

“None of us are,” Fushiguro scoffs, shaking his head. “Except for Gojo. Naturally.”

You resist rolling your eyes. Even when he’s not here, Gojo finds a way to worm into the conversation and in your fucking bubble.

“Of course he is,” Kugisaki quips with a smirk playing on her lips. “Guy’s got no shortcomings.”

Fushiguro is quick to challenge that statement.

“Actually—!” Fushiguro starts, only for Kugisaki to cut him off.

“—What, Fushiguro? Apart from his lack of personality, what else?” Kugisaki asks, curious.

That clamps his mouth shut, lips pressed in a deep frown. He falls silent as you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Can we actually not talk about Sensei?” you ask, your own frown stressing your features. “I want one night where I don’t have to think about him and his stupid face.”

Fushiguro glances at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah, of course,” Fushiguro states, “Is he still giving you trouble?”

“When does he not give any of us trouble?” Kugisaki chimes in with a sigh. “Then again, he’s been a bit pushier with you lately. We can bring it up to Yaga, you know.”

Your shoulders tense for a moment, before you shake your head.

“He hasn’t done anything,” you realize how meek you sound and try to find that strength in your voice again. “Well, nothing Yaga would take seriously. Not like Gojo would take anything seriously, either.”

“Understatement of the modern age,” Fushiguro wisecracks in a low murmur.

“Come on, Sensei’s not that bad,” Itadori interjects,  always the sort of person to give people the benefit of the doubt. Where applicable, of course. Which for someone like Itadori, it’s 99 percent of the time—especially when it comes to people he admires like Gojo.

Never mind how overt and rambunctious Gojo can be, he’s still a good person. Or at least, he fights for the right things. You can concede to that. But still…

“Sure, he’s kind of…persistent, though. I don’t know him all that well still so maybe Fushiguro will have a better handling on that.”

“He’s as idiotic as any other man comes,” Fushiguro concedes with a grunt. “If I have to punch him out, I’ll punch him out. That is, if he’s gutsy enough to shut off his Infinity to take a little disciplinary action like a man.”

“We’re still talking about him,” you point out.

“Sorry,” they all apologize in unison.

The conversation finally drifts away from Gojo, and you find yourself easing up a bit. The tension melting off of your body. It’s nice to be in the presence of your friends.

“So,” you drag out the word to catch their attention again, hoping to lift the mood. “Karaoke?”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” Itadori jabs two thumbs up in the air.

The lights of the karaoke bar you all frequent blinks ahead. You’re excited for a few hours of escapism.

Of course, life has other plans as it seems the faculty of Jujutsu Tech orchestrate their own karaoke night. Since you’re together in the same bar, you decide to rent a room for all of you to sing your lungs out with unlimited drinks.

The karaoke room is dark save for a few string lights casting soft glows across the plush seats, low tables, and around the ceilings. The music blares from the speakers, the laughter of your friends mixing with the thumping, reverberating bass as you amble over to the couch. While Gojo and your mentors are here, you still find yourself unwinding and enjoying your time with your friends.

But of course, the universe has decided you can’t have nice things for very long.

On your way to the couch, you trip over something—a bag, a dropped can of beer, a foot, who fucking knows—and before you can catch yourself, you fall right into someone’s lap.

Not just anyone’s.

The odds, as always, are in Gojo’s favor. The planets always align for this fuck.

His arms secure around your waist instantly, securing you in place with an unyielding, vice grip.

“Well, well, well, happy birthday to me,” he murmurs, his breath fanning the nape of your neck. You shift, attempting to break free, but he yanks you back down, pressing your ass into his lap. That unmistakable hardness beneath you makes your heart jump to your throat.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice demanding, as he presses the growing tent in his pants between your ass cheeks.

You grind your teeth, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare at him. His grin is as infuriating as ever—that shit-eating smirk that makes you want to tear him a few new assholes.

“I’m about to go back up and sing,” you hiss, squirming in his lap which only seems to encourage him, a low whimper escaping his lips that only you can hear. It makes your hairs stand on end and your blood burble. He tightens his iron grip, grinding his hips against yours.

“Stay a little longer,” he coos, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. He bites back another little whimper as he rolls his hips again, and there’s a heat pooling in your legs that’s impossible to ignore. Luckily, everyone’s too distracted with Shoko’s and Utahime’s drunken rendition of Smells Like Teen Spirit, and no one’s paying attention to you or to Gojo.

For once, the universe isn’t humiliating you.

“Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw. “I wonder how amazing you’d feel bouncing on my wood.”

“Gojo!” you whisper in a harsh tone, finally slipping free from his lap. You’re tempted to smack him, and you almost do, but you recognize the challenge in his gaze.

Him and his fucking Infinity.

“Fuck you,” you sneer, turning on your heel and returning to the others, but you still hear his response:

“Soon,” he calls back with a lazy wave.

You know you don’t get the luxury of avoiding Gojo.

You come to a realization that hits you like a Falcon punch to your gut: you’re not sure if you want Gojo to ignore you. It’s not because you’ve come to enjoy the attention. Far from it. He’s still crass; he’s still pushy; he’s still overt and obnoxious. It’s still infuriating and he’s still very punchable about this shit.

But today…today, you just aren’t into entertaining him. Today, you’re feeling really off your game in more ways than one, and he wants to whack the hornet’s nest out of sheer habit.

He must sense your shift in mood since that karaoke night. One second, you’re telling him to piss off, leave you alone, and the next, his large hand wraps around your wrist, jerking you toward him. His body is pressed to yours, and you can feel that hardness against our thigh.

You’re praising the gods above that there isn’t anyone around to witness this because this is probably you at your most unbecoming self.

“Sensei,” you grind out, your voice low with frustration. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Come on, no need to be so formal here. It’s us, baby girl. Say my name. Satoru.”

“Gojo,” you sneer, attempting to pull away, but his grip strengthens like titanium around your wrist. Those blue eyes of his—no, they look more like predatory slits now—bore into you with an intensity that you only saw once before back in Shibuya. When something inside of him fractures, splitting like glass under the high stakes. The memory of it, jagged and sharp, makes your heartbeat skyrocket.

You aren’t interested in exploring what lurks behind that gaze; you don’t wish to challenge it. But he doesn’t give you the luxury of turning away. His hand remains secured around your wrist, jerking you off balance as you’re spun in a fluid motion, pressing your back flush against the wall, his body caging over yours. You collide with the cool surface with a light thud, but you’re not all that disoriented. Just a little taken aback. The scorching heat of his body crowds into yours. His knee is still wedging between your legs, the pressure firm but demanding as it rubs into your clothed cunt.

“When are you going to stop punishing me?” he murmurs, his voice a near-growl that rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your skin. The sound is barely audible, yet it hits you like a tidal wave. Your breath hitches, and your eyes narrow into slits out of defiance.

“I’m not—!” The retort dies in your throat as his lips graze against your ear, his breath sending a rush of heat from your neck shooting all the way down to your groin. He shifts his knee, pushing it harder against the sensitive core between your thighs, and the friction draws a gasp from your lips before you can act to suppress it.

“Don’t feed me that bullshit,” he growls, his teeth taking in your bottom lip and grinding it between them. He chews hard on it, just enough to make you flinch, before his tongue swipes across the sore spot, soothing the light sting. More heat rushes to your cheeks, spreading in waves throughout your body as his hands roam your body, still skimming the modest areas, but it’s enough to make you squirm and fidget. It makes your breath come out in short, ragged, uneven breaths.

His grip slides dangerously lower, tracing the slight dip of your waist with his fingers that linger just a little too long for your comfort.

“Stop dancing around how you feel about me.”

“Gojo…” you whimper, though your voice pitifully muffled against his mouth. Your hands push against his chest, but to no avail, you’re weaker than him (everyone is weaker than him, but you especially so and for other reasons not related to physical prowess); your mind is torn between pushing him and away and… wanting to understand what the hell this is. What the hell he’s doing with you. What he wants to do with you.

“Satoru.” He corrects, his voice thick and guttural from arousal. The way he demands it, it’s primal, feral, a low rumble like distant thunder that leaves you no room to refuse him. “Say it.”

“Satoru,” you stammer, the syllables tumbling from your lips unbidden as he nips at your lips again, hard enough to draw yet another breathy gasp. You reluctantly tilt your head back, exposing the line of your neck to his relentless pursuit.  “Stop.”

His eyes continue to bore into yours, drilling deep like a jack hammer through your skull. Those eyes of his, they’re so bright, so blinding, almost as if they can strip you bare with just a glance because he can bend everything to his will like he always does. Even with his Infinity shut off, they’re so intense. He’s suffocating. Inescapable.

Unforgettable.  

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, his voice softening to a lower murmur as he dips his head lower, his nose brushing along the sensitive skin of your neck. His lips trail after, feathery light over your skin, barely there, and he inhales sharply when he reaches your pulse point thundering just beneath your collarbone.

“I know you don’t mean that.”

Your cherry perfume lingers in the air between you as he continues. His fingers graze at the dips of your waist. Suddenly everything feels too constricting, all consuming.

“Please,” he mutters, his voice cracking. He sounds almost…pained, almost vulnerable in a way that you have never seen from him before. He’s always so sure of himself. So haughty. For another second, there’s something fragile flickering in his gaze.

“Stop torturing me.”

It happens before you can stop it—you can’t help the slight twitch of your eye. Torturing him? Is he serious? You almost want to laugh off the sheer absurdity of that accusation. But the thought soon dies when he leans in again, his lips wet, sloppy kisses along your jawline, taking his time like he’s savoring this moment. Like he’s not sure he’ll ever have a chance again. He might be wrong; he might be right.

You don’t even know yourself.

He stops at the tip of your chin, his voice a low crackle like the strike of lightning.

“You’re torturing me by not acting,” he grunts out that explanation, his words now rough and strained. There’s a rawness in his voice—a kind of sincerity that you’re shocked he even has in him. His hand slides even lower, now grazing your hips, before grasping your wrist and guiding it down to rest against his pelvis. There’s the heat of his arousal, the strain of it sticking through the thin fabric of his slacks, and you freeze.

“You see what you do to me. You see how hard you make me,” he whispers, guiding your hand along the rigid length of him through his slacks. His eyes remain locked on yours, bright, blindingly hungry, studying your reactions. As always, he’s relentless in his pursuit of you, determined to get what he wants. He’s not used to things not falling in his lap.

He moans low, guttural, still pained, like…like this is a need for him.

The world between you narrows, sharpens like a camera filter, focusing in on the two of you. Just the two of you in the empty classroom. His ragged breaths fill your senses, the feel of his smooth hardness beneath your soft moisturized palm. You feel the erratic pounding of your own pulse in your eardrums. He moans again, low, needy, a pained, pitiful sound. It’s so thick and suffocating, and you honestly wonder how you got to this point. Why you’re letting him do this.

It’s a lot, and yet you can’t find yourself ripping away from his gaze. His gaze never leaves yours, even as his hips buck slightly into your hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Those eyes, full of that unsettling lust and vulnerability, continue to glow bright and shiny. It’s too much, way too much, too bright, too overstimulating. You want to break the connection, yet you can’t. You’re caught in his web. You’re trapped.

“Keep rubbing me like that,” he rasps, his voice in broken gasps, as he presses his body needily into yours. His hands find your waist and grips tight, fingertips digging into your skin, securing you in place as if he can’t bear to let you leave as he continues to grind helplessly against your hand. “Fuck… your hand’s so soft… feels so good…”

He keeps rolling against your body, making your breath catch. It’s kind of sexy. He’s unguarded in a way you’ve never seen him in other settings, even when he’s goofing off with other colleagues or the other students. Every broken whimper that leaves his yappy lips just adds to the appeal all of a sudden, because you can’t believe you’re able to make him succumb to you like this. You’re making his control slip with each passing nanosecond. You’re the center of this world, and you don’t find yourself hating that.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice pitching higher now, desperate as he ruts against your paml with a lot more urgency, a lot more desperation. His cock twitches through the thin fabric of his slacks, the friction too much, too good to pass up. His body’s shaking against yours, and it’s because of you. His breath hitches with every languid roll of his hips.

“I need you,” he quavers, his voice catching in his throat as he trails heated kisses along your collarbone. His lips feel soft, but his words are laden with a kind of desperation you’ve never thought you’d see in your life. “Can’t you feel how badly I fucking need you?”

You can. You can feel every ounce of his need, pressing against you. Your bodies are so close there’s nothing but headiness and heat. That need of his…it makes you a bit wary. You don’t trust Gojo for a myriad of reasons.

Not like this, at least.

Yet, while your mind is screaming at you to rip away, to cease this nonsense, you find yourself complying. Your hand remains where it is, your fingers grazing his bulge on their own accord matching the rhythm of each roll of his hips. He’s still trembling, falling apart at your touch. Something about that…something about that is so fucking hot, and you hate that you don’t’ hate this.

“Almost there?” you murmur, your eyes fluttering as your thumb brushes lightly over the tip of his cock poking through. It’s an instinctive motion, and his reaction is immediate, drawing out a choked gasp, his head dipping onto your shoulder as his full body shudders.

“Fuck…yes,” he moans, his voice still rough and strained from need and arousal, rutting harder into your hand. “More. Fuck… please, more…”

Your breath catches in your throat as you jerk him faster, each stroke sending him over a dangerous edge. That grip on your hips constricts, almost bruising your skin as he chases his release. His moans falling from his lips are so soft, breathy, needy…it’s so juicy.

“Baby,” he whimpers, his voice broken as he thrusts one final time into your hand. His cock twitches again, hard, swollen, before he creams into his slacks with a strangled, pitiful whine. He pants in short, ragged gasps as he nuzzles his forehead into your shoulder.

The world halts between you. The only thing filling the room is the sound of his ragged breaths. His body slumps against yours for a few more moments, before he reluctantly pulls away. His gaze never leaves yours, dazed, delirious…drunk off of you.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your ear before nipping it in a playful manner. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before fully stepping back.

You remain there, pressed up against the wall, dumbfounded, your mind reeling from everything that’s just transpired. You want to feel disgusted, repulsed even. Yet…you’re not.

You feel almost…

Your cheeks burn at the mere notion. There’s no way. Guess Hell has finally frozen over.

Gojo says nothing more, sparing you the embarrassment as he retreats, his hands smoothing over his slacks, in an attempt to conceal any remnants of his little time to rejoice. His perfect posture bounces back far too quickly from this. It’s infuriating how he can act like nothing happened and you’re still taken aback. He bends down, retrieving a small disinfecting cloth from his desk drawer, then wipes your hand in a soft, reverent motion.

His eyes flicker to yours as he does, lingering with a softer expression.

“You…” Your voice comes out pathetic, wimpy. You find some semblance of strength over your voice and your body. Everything that’s happened finally sinks in, and your mind is swirling.

His natural scent still lingers, he’s so close. Crisp, fresh.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence like he always does, a spark of amusement hidden just beneath that calm tone of his. His lips twitch into that infuriating, ever smug grin of his. “Didn’t hate it?”

You open your mouth to snap back, to scream and yell at him, but the words catch in your throat. You can’t even hate him. You can’t even find the anger that should be threatening to burst through that tightly sealed lid, that you keep bottled up. There’s just confusion, frustration, uncertainty…

You rip your hand from his and twist on your heel, ambling toward the door as your body is operating on autopilot.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob, his voice cuts through the thick silence.

“Come on, it was good, right?”

You freeze in your tracks, your back still turned to him. His gaze burns into your skin. You don’t respond. You don’t know how to respond. You can’t. You twist the doorknob, the door emitting a creak as it opened, stepping out into the hallway—away from his suffocating, overstimulating presence.

Suddenly you feel lighter, cooler.

But as you stride down the empty halls, your mind replays the events in an endless loop—that nagging sensation gnawing at your soul.

Are you coming around? You don’t know. You know you didn’t hate it; that’s as much as you’re willing to admit. Your heart thunders, echoes of his parting words lingering.

You don’t notice him peeping out through the door slightly ajar and watching you walk away.

You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

Not through the briefing, where the low chattering of conversation barely registers over the pounding heartbeat in your ears. Sure as hell not through the training, where your hands fumble through the motions, distracted. Fushiguro and Kugisaki get a chance to tumble you to the ground without so much as a shred of remorse.

It’s like you can’t break away. Every time his eyes land on you, you can feel them burning straight through our soul, making your stomach twist and churn.

When you’re back in the classroom, it feels stifling. The chalkboard behind Gojo is worn from everything Gojo writes on it. You sit at your desk, twiddling a pencil between your fingers; your mind relaying the events over and over, no matter how much you want to shove them down, push them away. It’s almost impossible to focus on anything else. You entertain the glimpses of his expressions, how he unravels at your touch…they all keep floating to the surface of your brain and it’s both a nightmare and a dream. You’re not sure which.

He's always been open about his feelings. It’s never been a secret. He makes it everyone’s problem, for fuck’s sake. But now, seeing it firsthand, how he reacts to the slightest brush of your fingers…it’s different now. You don’t know how to feel about it.

“Yoooo,” Itadori’s voice snaps you back to the present, his hand waving in front of your face. You blink a few times, jerking back into reality as his curious eyes meet yours. “We’ve been trying to get your attention. Everything okay?

You force a smile, but it feels strained and awkward on your lips. It’s like a mask that doesn’t fit you.

“Yeah,” you lie right through your teeth, strained to your own ears. “Just a lot on my mind.”

You haven’t noticed Gojo excused himself at some point—how long has it been since he left the room? Not like it matters that much to you. Because even when he isn’t present, his energy clings to the air, inescapable, suffocating. Unforgettable.

Fushiguro leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses your reactions.

“Is it Gojo?” he asks, his voice a low, irritated grumble.

You hesitate, your fingers clenching around the pencil.

“…No,” you manage to say, the words slipping through your teeth with a bit of difficulty. “Other stuff.”

Itadori, ever the peppy optimist, flashes you a heartwarming grin. His sincerity can get so annoying sometimes, but endearing all at once.

“Enlighten us? Maybe we can help!” he suggests.

You shake your head, avoiding eye contact. You hate lying to him. “Nah, too dark.”

Itadori is unconvinced, his beady eyes focused on you. “You sure?”

“I’m good,” you insist, hoping your forced smile will suffice. “I swear.”

“She gets harassed enough by Gojo,” Fushiguro interjects with a snarl, swatting at Itadori’s head to knock some sense into him. “Knock it of, Yuuji.”

Before the conversation drifts to another direction, a voice cuts through the room like a blade.

“Yeah, Yuuji Itadori,” Gojo’s voice drawls in a playful way from behind you. You don’t have to see him to know his smirk is ever present on that stupid face of his. “Annoying her to death is strictly my territory.”

You stiffen in place, your muscles tensing as Gojo’s presence draws nearer. You don’t want to turn around; you can’t. His stare presses into your back, seeping through your skin like a stain.

“Alright guys, I think we covered everything we needed to today. Go enjoy the rest of your day, yeah?” he instructs after clapping twice, officially dismissing the students.

You don’t hesitate to scurry past him, the scrape of your chair echoing in the classroom as you hop to your feet. You don’t look back. As soon as the words of dismissal leave his lips, you’re up from your desk, making a beeline for the exit. You think you make it, your feet dragging you toward the sweet embrace of freedom—

--His hand is on your shoulder before you take another step. His grip is firm, not tight, but secure enough to make chills surge through your body. Every muscle in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like you’re stuck in place—pinned by the overpowering force of his presence.

“Hey,” he drawls, a soft, teasing purr that causes your skin to tingle. His lips graze against the shell of your ear as he chuckles. Your cheeks flush deep from heat. You curse your body for giving you so much Hell around him.

“Sensei,” you state, voice sharper than intended, yet it still lacks the strength you wish it normally has. “I’m just trying to enjoy the rest of my day, just as you instructed.”

He hums in response, breathing down your sensitive skin.

“Satoru,” he bites back in a growl, his lips still brushing the curve of your ear before nipping at it, a playful gesture that makes you jump in place. He soothes the sting with a few passes of his tongue, and you shiver.

“Say it,” he goes on again. “Say my name.”

You grit your teeth, annoyance laden in your tone.

“Satoru,” you mutter, the irritation in your tone clear. “What do you want?”

He chuckles again, but this time there’s a bit of an edge to it—that same, primal edge.

“You know,” he quips, and before you retaliate, his hand is guiding yours to his lap, and your breath hitches as you feel his unmistakable hardness pressing against his slacks again. He slips his cock out from his confines this time, and in an instant, he wraps your hand around his shaft. Your fingers trace the heat of his length. This time, he doesn’t plan on holding back. The realization of what’s happening dawns on you, and your mind is screaming bloody murder at you to knee him there and see how he likes it, but you don’t. You don’t know why you don’t.

You’re not surprised that he’s not lacking in this department either. So he’s not overcompensating.

“Like what you see?” he teases in a low, silken tone, his free hand sliding up to our neck, fingers wrapping gently around your throat and applying just enough pressure that sends a thrilling jolt through your veins.

“Someone might…see,” you manage through a choked gasp. Gojo glances over his shoulder, ensuring the door is locked, leaving no room for interruption because he won’t allow it.

His head dips lower, his soft lips pressing against the curve of your neck, planting soft kisses along the exposed skin as your hand strokes him, jerking him. His breathing quickly grows ragged, his shaggy white hair brushing against your cheek as his hips roll into your hand.

He’s letting go around you. You can’t believe you’re the one doing this to him. Satoru Gojo is the pinnacle of the jujutsu society, seeming so untouchable, just out of reach. The one who’s been blessed in any and every aspect of his universe. But here, his control is slipping at just your touch.

It’s…not just kind of sexy. It’s really fucking sexy. You will never give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

He clutches your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin and you bite back a whine.

“Fuck, baby, please, stop torturing me,” his voice is a soft, broken cry, and you chew on your bottom lip.

Your eyes flutter a bit, a little dazed and you’re untouched. Entirely focusing on his release. You’re not sure why you’re letting this happen. Probably because there’s not much you can do. If he’s so tormented by the prospect of your existence, then shouldn’t you feel an obligation to grant him some kind of respite?

Why do you even feel that way? You shouldn’t even care, and yet…here you are.

You assess his debauched expression with a soft stare. His face is flushed, his lips parted as he pants for breath, purring your name over and over again. His eyes—half-mast, glassy—flicker open, and you lock gazes. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter.

“Say my name,” he rasps out, pleading.

“Satoru,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Are you…close?” you murmur, your thumb ghosting over his tip leaking with pre. He chokes on a gasp at that, and you don’t know why you feel so powerful in that moment. Probably because you can make the strongest sorcerer of the modern age like this and you’re barely doing anything much. You don’t think so, anyway.

Your breath hitches. Any smart retorts you may have, have died on your tongue long ago because it’s no longer applicable. You’re right into his hands; he’s putty in yours. Quite literally.

He tightens his grip on your waist and hunches further over as a distinct confirmation. He’s chasing the friction with your hand, his hips bucking in tandem with your strokes.

“More,” his voice is now an uncontrolled falsetto, and you jerk his cock in time with hie hips. “Fuck. More…”

And here you are, the one in control, stroking him faster, harder, watching him fall apart to your touch. You remember telling yourself you wouldn’t stroke his ego or any physical part of his body, but you’re doing exactly that now.

You’re such a fucking liar. He mewls your name, catching your attention.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers, jerking into your hand faster until shots of seed leaks from his tip, hot and sticky and gooey. His head drops to your shoulder as he catches hie breath.

He pulls away a bit, his half-lidded gaze meeting yours. He looks all dazed, delirious…satisfied. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss full of heat and passion, his tongue twirling around yours. When he breaks the kiss, a thin line of spit connects your tongues before he cuts it with a twirl of his own wet muscle, his eyes still never leaving yours.

You’re trapped in a state of shock, your mind spinning. You don’t know how to feel—should you be angry? Repulsed? Relieved? You don’t know. All you know is that he’s getting his way, and it’s pissing you off.

Gojo steps back from your personal bubble, moving toward his desk with his casual nonchalance, leaving you reeling. He once again retrieves a disinfectant cloth, wiping himself clean before tossing that and retrieving a fresh one, cleaning your hand and face as if nothing out of the ordinary just transpired.

You’re frozen, your mind grappling with the current reality as he finishes cleaning you up. He flashes a little smile.

Your lips curl into a soft pout, that frustration still burbling beneath your skin.  

“What?” you demand, voice lighter than you intended—softer, more out of curiosity. He rests his hand—large, calloused, warm—on your cheek, brushing his thumb over your soft, plump lips. The tenderness of the gesture feels a bit foreign to you.

“Mine,” he growls low and gravelly. His eyes, usually filled with mischief and scheming a way to annoy or embarrass you, are shining with pure affection instead. You feel like he’s seeing right through you, and with those legendary Six Eyes of his, you might not be far off. He can read everything about everyone and anything. He’s always constantly processing everything with his Six Eyes and Limitless technique. His thumb presses into your ilps, gentle at first, before grazing the tips of your teeth.

“Gojo…?” His name spills from your lips, tentative, as his thumb pushes further, brushing your tongue now, as your senses are now hit with a tang of salty skin.

“Satoru,” he corrects in a sharp tone, his frown deepening, dissatisfaction etching across his stupidly handsome features. His eyebrows furrow, that little crease forming in frustration. Your attempts to pull away irritate him—it’s clear in his actions. “I don’t answer to Gojo or Sensei with you anymore.”

His words are definitive, absolute. He carries authority like he always does.

And it’s so fucking maddening.

“Satoru,” you try again, your voice faltering as his thumb presses deeper onto your wet muscle, warm and insistent against it. Your heart skips a beat; your heartrate speeding up as heat flushes across your skin. “What… what are you doing?”

He grins that easy, carefree smile you’ve seen thousands of times. Now it feels different. Dangerous, as his sparkly blue eyes twinkling with trickster energy. He might rival Loki himself.

“Assessing how pretty my girlfriend’s pussy is,” he answers easily, waiting for your reaction. “Especially when you’re riding my face the way you will my cock.”

His crassness, though usually expected, still catches you off-guard, and more heat rushes to your cheeks. Your breath is lodged in your throat, embarrassing consuming the very core of your being like a wildfire.

“Did… did you just call me your girlfriend?” your voice wavers, caught between disbelief and something else…something that feels a little bit like…flattery?

Oh, Hell has certainly frozen over.

“And stop being so lewd!” you add in an icy tone.

He responds with a rich and lazy chuckle, far too pleased with himself.

“Don’t act so shocked, gorgeous; don’t dance around what’s been happening since you got here,” he coos. His thumb slides down, grazing your bottom lip. “Mine.”

You step back slightly, gripping his wrist and brushing him off; impressing yourself that you keep your touch firm when you’re trembling on the inside.

“Satoru,” you start again, trying to regain some semblance of control—some clarity amid all of this chaos.

“Yes, honey?” he addresses you in a low purr, teasing and commanding, making hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He’s looking at you like he’s already won.

This fucking guy needs to be put in his fucking place.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to sigh. That frustration is still simmering beneath you; your foot tapping against the polished wooden floor, the sound sharp in the quiet classroom.

“What the hell is this?” you demand, narrowing your eyes into slits at him.

He tilts his head at you, folding his arms over his chest in that casual way of his. The movement causes his shirt to pull tight across his chest, emphasizing his taut lines.

“Isn’t it obvious? Or is your stupid showing?” he quips, but his voice is not in jest; it’s in a more serious manner. You’re impressed he can even take this seriously. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. It’s not rocket science, or some complex cursed technique, you know.”

You part your lips to protest, but he cuts you off, eyes flickering with something dark.

“Yeah, but—!”

“—but nothing,” he interjects, voice firm. “Mine.”

Your frustration finally boils over.

“No,” you growl, taking a few steps forward, forcing him to really look at you eye to eye. “You answer me. You owe me that much right now, Satoru.” You hate that your voice is trembling now, emotions raw and unfiltered because you have nothing to lose here.

He drags out a defeated sigh, the tension in his body easing as he relaxes his body. His eyes remain locked on yours.

“Fine.”

“Tell me the truth,” you demand, your voice low yet firm—a crackle of lightning in a raging storm. “What is this to you?”

He studies your face. When he speaks up, his voice carries a softer tone. More genuine.

“It’s simple,” he answers, carefully selecting his words. “You give me all of you. I give you all of me.”

His fingers trail down your arm, stopping at your elbow.

“Is it really so hard to understand how bad I got it for you? I’m nuts about you,” he goes on, his expression is almost…vulnerable. Open. He’s usually so guarded in spite of his silliness. “This isn’t a game to me.”

He’s giving you a chance to grapple with what he just admits to you. He’s giving a piece of himself he hasn’t given to anyone else since…well, you don’t know. You haven’t known him for as long as the others.

You chew on your bottom lip, warring with the questions in your mind.

“So…” you hesitate, voice barely audible. “Why me?”

He runs his hand through his shaggy hair, his eyes flickering with something that feels out of place. Raw. Honest. Something you’re so unused to seeing in Satoru.

“I mean, don’t you get it?” he sighs, almost to himself.

“Don’t you know how rare it is for someone to get my attention?”

You take a moment to process his words. You know they carry more weight than a casual, generic compliment. So far from sweet nothings. It’s a crack in all those layers he set up for himself. You’re peeling away at some of them.

“That’s not a direct answer,” you counter in a firmer tone, as a frown stresses your features. You won’t let him get away with just that.

His shoulders sag a bit in defeat.

“Then why don’t I just show you?” he suggests, his voice smooth, the challenge in his tone unmistakable. The atmosphere shifts like gears.

Before you can even process what he’s told you, Satoru hoists you by your bottom in a fluid, effortless motion, like you weigh a can of grapes to him (and you may as well have). Your back hits the hard surface of his desk with a thud.

His hands, gentle, but rough, trail down your thighs, his touch electric and the air between you growing thick and staticky, making shivers crawl down your spine. He meets your gaze, his electric blue eys locked onto yours. It’s too much to bear. Too much!

“May I?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly like earlier. His fingers hover just below the hem of your clothes. He’s so close yet so far away and you can’t believe you want this. You can’t believe you’re letting this play out. Maybe you like him more than you care to admit to yourself.

While he poses the question, his eyes tell you he already knows your answer.

Words dying on your tongue, tension in your body winding tight like a wind-up toy…

You bite your lip. With a barely perceptible nod, you grant him the permission.

In that same fluidity and effortlessness, he slips off your pants along with your panties, the fabric falling unceremoniously to the ground, leaving you fully exposed to him. The cool air nips at your skin, sending a ripple of goosebumps over your body as he spreads your legs wide across his desk. You’re vulnerable, laid bare before him, but the way he looks at you…you feel like you’re on top of the world.

Satoru’s gaze flits downward, and his liips part slightly as he takes in the gorgeous, raw sight of you, glistening in your natural arousal already. He licks his lips absently, a soft, animalistic sound escaping from deep in his throat.

“And you claimed you weren’t into it,” he purrs, his breath fanning against your sensitive flesh. The words are so teasing, so trolling, like he always is, but the effect he’s going for is anything but playful for you. Your body jerks involuntarily.

“Mean,” you pout, your lips forming that irresistible curve you know now that he can’t resist.

But you doubt Satoru’s going to give you any mercy here.

He shushes you, his voice a soft command as he leans in closer, his nose barely grazing your sensitive sex. Slowly, he uses both his hands to peel apart your folds, the movement achingly intimate. His eyes glisten with something almost feral as he whistles softly at the sight he’s been blessed to behold. Then, carefully, he dips a finger between your folds, gliding it along the slickness building there. His touch is feather-light, teasing, reverent, causing more heat to pool low in your belly and your groin.

“Look at that,” he teases, dragging the pad of his finger through your wetness, making you squirm under his touch. “All soaked for me. God, that’s the highest compliment in the world, baby. You have no idea.”

Your face burns from embarrassment, the flush spreading down your neck like you’ve caught a fever.

“Shut up,” you whimper as you feel his breath ghosts over your core again; the anticipation is worse. It’s so much worse. He eyes it for a few moments too long before finally sinking his teeth into the delightful meal that’s you.

The moment his tongue hits your sensitive flesh, a jolt of electricity shoots through your entire body. He starts from your entrance, rolling his tongue slowly up through your goopy folds, tracing a deliberate pattern toward your clit. The wetness, the gooeyness, everything leaves you breathless. You jolt in place, your back arching off the desk, but Satoru’s strong hands are quick to keep you steady. But his grip is tender yet firm.

His hands find yours, fingers intertwining with a kind of gentleness that is quite the juxtaposition to the party going on between your thighs. His thumbs brush over your knuckles in a soothing gesture, grounding you as his tongue pokes and prods at your sensitive flesh, lapping at your slick, gooey folds. He makes low groans, soft hums, little whimpers like he’s honored to finally do this.

It's so mean. It’s too much.

“Relax for me, gorgeous,” he purrs between fervent licks, his voice muffled slightly by the way he’s devouring you whole. The pressure coils in your stomach as his tongue continues to lap at your building slick, sloppy, wet, passionate. You can barely think straight now. The only thing swimming in your mind is Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. But you’ll never let him know that.

“Aw, fuck yeah,” he breaths, pulling back for a moment to speak and get an eyeful of your aroused, debauched state. “You have any idea how long I’ve been jerking off to the thought of this pussy?”

“Satoru!” you shriek, more out of embarrassment than indignation. Okay, maybe a little indignation. Each pass of his tongue makes every nerve ending in your body light up like fireworks!

“Stop being so lewd!” you demand, but there’s no real conviction behind your words.

He groans against you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive sex, and you’re squirming and writhing again beneath him and you know he’s savoring every minute of this, soaking this victory of his up like a sponge,

“I can’t help it,” he confesses, his voice ragged, breathless, reverent, as he continues to lap at your thick slick more urgently now. It’s messy, it’s sloppy, it’s wet, unrestrained, some of that thick slick catching on his chin. “You make me so wild, baby.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit, fast, hard, precise, and you swear you’re going to lose your fucking mind. Your mind is still spinning with Satoru, Satoru, Satoru, oh fuck. But you don’t want to say it out loud. It’s too much. It’s way too much

“And you taste so fucking good,” he growls, hoarse, that reverence in his tone still prominent, unmistakable.

Every roll of his tongue feels amazing. It’s dragging you under like the tides. You allow yourself to drown in the sensations, to live in the moment. Hie’s clinging onto you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Finally, you feel something twitch down there, and something deep inside you snaps in two. The dam breaks, and you’re splattering more of your arousal on his face while screaming his name (something you can’t hold back now) which he gladly laps up like a thirsty dog, dramatically and loudly gulping down your slick as you come down through such an intense climax. Your pussy is still pulsating and he’s still licking along your gummy, sensitive skin, groaning at your natural taste; he tightens his grip on your hands, just slightly.

You find yourself pouting again when he pulls away, his lips and the bottom half of his face sheen from your slick. Your face is deeply red from arousal, panting as you come down. He shuffles around for more cleaning supplies, helping to wipe you down before helping himself.

“That convincing enough for you, gorgeous?” he inquires with a cheeky grin, sticking out his tongue in a petulant manner. He hums as he savors the taste of you still lingering on his tongue, dragging it along his teeth and catching any remnants of your taste.

“Fuck. That’s going to be amazing to come home to every day.”

“Satoru!” Your hands fly up to cover your face. “Stop! Stop! You’re being ridiculous!”

“I can’t help it,” he says again, prying your hands away from your face to get a good look at you in your flushed state. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. God, can’t you just let me spoil you now? Let’s stop dancing around this.”

“If you just stop being so….argh.”

“Like what, a pirate?” He strokes his chin as if lost in thought. “So when you say shiver me timbers, it’s because I’m making your legs tremble when I eat you out and worship you like the queen you are, right?”

You let out another frustrated groan and you so dearly want to wipe that stupid grin off of his pretty face! Why does he have to be so infuriating even now?? Even when you’re not wholly against the idea of being his girlfriend? It actually sounds kind of nice…

“OH MY GOD! SATORU! STOP!”

He chuckles, and a comfortable silence falls upon you both as you catch your breath.

“So does this mean you know how serious I am about you?” he finally asks, breaking through the silence. “I’m crazy about you. I’m nuts about you. I just want you to actually give me a chance to prove that to you.”

“There are so many more productive ways you could have gone about it,” you grumble with a shake of your head. “But fine, Satoru. You’ve earned this much. …I’m still a little pissed at you, but maybe you can make it up to me over time.”

“Deal,” he replies with a grin. “Just as long as I get to call you mine, and you get to call me yours.”

He cups his ear and leans in toward you, his grin not moving. “Now let me hear you call me yours.”

You roll your eyes in jest, leaning in toward him to whisper in his ear. “You’re mine, Satoru.”

His grin widens, and he pecks your lips, gazing into your eyes with pure adoration twinkling in them.

Yeah, you decide in your mind. You can give him a chance.

[buthappysoverrated]

1 for the idiots to lovers prompt, I'll leave the pairing to your choice <3

Thanks for sending this Lidia!!! Sorry it takes a bit and almost all my writing turned out to be a little stream-of-conciousness like so they’re always confusing lol. Really hope you will like this! Also I ended it here because I don’t know how to continue

Prompt: "I don't like them like that. Absolutely fucking not. What the hell?"

Pairing: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma (it’s my comfort ship even though I don’t talk too much about them) (also it’s not Ed it’s Riddler)

The Riddler woke up that day in quite a pleasant mood. Today he needed to settle some business with Oswald; yes, it was the business day with Oswald.

He caught his face smiling on a piece of broken glass.

"I don't like him like that. Absolutely fucking not," he said. His reflection looked a bit rueful, but was still smiling. "What the hell," he snapped.

"That's funny," Ed said, "that's really funny."

------

Riddler could work things out just fine, mind you; the problem was, judging from past experiences, feelings were messy and unreasonable and not something that could be just solved. Annoying, that was what they were. He didn't like puzzles that couldn't be solved. Those really shouldn't be inside the category of puzzles.

He was sure about how he had felt towards Lee. It had been some kind of passion. Same towards Isabella. Huh, he was almost sure Oswald had always known her name; that bastard just pretended to not remember it out of sheer spite. Oswald. Why was he thinking about Oswald again?

Oswald did like him like that though, or at least at some point in the past, he had liked Riddler like that. Riddler still wasn't sure how to feel about that. Love. Oswald had loved him.

He had loved Isabella. He had loved Lee. One could argue part of him still loved them; love changed how he was and who he was, and he had carried on with the changed pieces and fit them together to a new him, and he would continue to live on with them. Sounded weirdly sentimental, but this was the most accurate way he could describe it.

Both Isabella and Lee were pretty. Riddler supposed he could say Oswald wasn't bad-looking either; he had pretty eyes and sharp cheekbones.

He was 99.7% sure Ed was straight. It was an accurate mathematical term. He could show you the distribution of data to prove it. Central limit theorem.

"But this isn't about me, is it?" Ed said from the small mirror on his desk. "nor is it about Math."

"Why do I have a mirror on my desk anyway?" Riddler said tiredly and irritably.

"You pull it out when you're in a hurry but need to check if every single one of your hair is in place or something," Ed supplied. "Mr. Penguin has full-length mirrors everywhere and constantly checks his make-up. At least you're not that bad."

"Why do you call him that?"

Ed stopped, then started again: "I always call him that. You're the one on first-name-basis with the mob lord of Gotham."

Riddler rubbed his eyes. He really should stop talking to him. "And why are we talking about said mob lord again?"

"Because we're thinking about it. Because you're thinking about him."

[crushmeeren]

⇢ Kirishima / Fem Reader

♡ Master List Link

☠ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+.

⇢ Warnings; daddy kink, praise kink, rough sex, hair pulling, mentions of choking, throat fucking, pussy eating, vaginal sex, Kirishima spits into readers mouth and you swallow that shit happily, cream pie, sweet aftercare, sleepy sex

♡ Note; I’m in love with Kirishima, I’ve been writing a lot of headcannons lately but I simply could not resist the urge to write about this overgrown puppy of a man.

Eijirou who is the actual human embodiment of a ray of sunshine. Who if you looked up the definition of golden retriever energy in the dictionary, his picture would be there. If he had a tail it would be wagging nonstop.

Eijirou who you met for the first at the gym. You were new and consequently uncomfortable and unsure of your actions when it came to weightlifting. Who came up to you so shyly and with a smile so sweet to explain the proper way to back squat when he noticed you struggling.

Eijirou who caused you to get weak in the knees when he approached you that first time. Who appeared intimidating due to being the size of a mountain, sporting bright cherry red hair, but was the kindest man you’d ever met.

Eijirou who stuttered and blushed adorably every time you asked him to be your spotter after that. Who finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, asked for your number. Who definitely did not see you fist pump in victory after receiving said man’s text.

Eijirou who is gut wrenchingly stacked. Who is also the biggest marshmallow you’ve ever met. Who gets overly excited to play wrestle with your dog. Who you swear loves your dog more than you because they’ve become two peas in a pod since you moved in together.

Eijirou who is very intelligent. Who is maybe not top dog when it comes to academics, but he is exceptional with emotional and street intelligence. Who can somehow read your emotions like an open book, giving you immense relief when you aren’t in the mood to talk.

Eijirou who is oblivious to how he looks. Who has so many Instagram followers he doesn’t know what to do with them. It’s due to the fact that he started posting pictures of himself at the gym just for fun and unbeknownst to him everything he posts is a thirst trap. Who didn’t realize until you pointed it out, but happily reassured you that you’re his one and only.

Eijirou who just about never says no to you. Who goes with the flow, an easy smile lighting up his face. Who lets you pick out the movie for date night more often than not, but you choose something you both enjoy just the same.

Eijirou who has an infatuation with cherry twizzlers. Who has hearts in his eyes whenever you buy him a pack every Friday. Who coos and gushes about how lucky he is and how much he loves you every time you show up with a pack. Who shares them with you either way.

Eijirou who loves to wear athletic clothing. Who, on the other end of the spectrum, also enjoys dressing in the punk aesthetic. Who has two lobe piercings on each ear. Who looks otherworldly when he wears nicer outfits. Who giggles when you make a joke about his clothes looking better on your floor.

Eijirou who is best friends with Katsuki, and by some miracle you’ve become friends with blonde as well. Who often plays video games online with his friends (Katsuki, Denki, Sero, also including Izuku and Shouto). Who insists you sit on the floor between his legs while he plays.

Eijirou who purrs like a cat when you scratch his scalp whenever his hair is down. Who lays his head in your lap while you watch TV so you can continue to play with his hair. Who falls asleep halfway through the movie because he can’t keep his eyes open.

Eijirou whose presence is calming and friendly. Who makes you feel safe and secure. Who you’ve never heard a bad word said about, although you’d step up to anybody who dared to try.

Eijirou who has made you feel more loved and appreciated than anyone else you’ve ever been with before. Who fills your chest with a warmth so intense your eyes burn with tears. Who brings you your favorite food or drink out of blue. Who makes you laugh so hard your stomach cramps.

Eijirou who is, without a doubt, your other half. Being with him is like regaining a limb you didn’t realize you were missing. Who becomes your husband, the father of your children, and who you share a love with that only appears once every five life times.

Eijirou who kisses you so softly. Whose lips move lazily with yours as he lets out little breathy sighs. Whose thumbs tease under your shirt, tickling the smooth skin over your hip bones as you straddle him. Who exhales roughly, sharp teeth snagging on your bottom lip as he bites down harshly. Who sucks on it apologetically afterwards when you cry out.

Eijirou who has a hard on for having you dry hump him while you’re both still wearing clothes. Whose head thumps onto the backrest of the couch, tightening his grip on your waist when you start to grind on him. Who flushes petal pink, eyes fluttering shut with a moan as he helps you drag your clit back and forth over his straining cock.

Eijirou whose switch flips once he gets to a certain level of arousal. Who tosses you onto your bed effortlessly and cages you in between his thick arms. Who grips your jaw harshly and forces it to pop open. Who spits possessively into your mouth, commanding you to “swallow it baby girl.”

Eijirou who loves the sensation of your hot, velvet like mouth sucking his cock. Who places you on the floor with your back shoved against the side of the mattress. Who grips the hair at the nape of your neck to keep you in place as he fucks your throat and props one knee up on the bed. Who licks his lower lip when he stares into your teary eyes and murmurs with a smoky voice “you’re so good at sucking daddy’s cock baby girl. You’re stunning on your knees like this.”

Eijirou who happily eats you out from behind. Whose plush tongue traces a path from your puffy clit up to the sensitive rim of your ass. Whose thick fingers stretch your pussy open while he focuses his mouth on your rim. Who makes your belly flutter and tighten, dragging an orgasm out of you this way.

Eijirou whose cock is thick. Intimidating enough that he’s determined to get your pussy drooling before he fucks you.

Eijirou who has a daddy kink. Who has you beg for his cock when he has you folded in half. Who keeps your knees close to touching your ears as he teases the lips of your pussy with just his tip. Who tells you condescendingly “you gotta ask daddy nicely if you want to be split open sweetheart.”

Eijirou whose chest gets slick with sweat, hair falling from its spiky position when you start to go at it. Whose moans raise in pitch when he can feel your nipples slipping over and over on his pecs as he presses his weight down and fucks you. Who cries out when you squeeze him.

Eijirou who has a filthy deep stroke. Who pants and whispers toe curling praise in your ear, but fucks you like he’s trying to carve out your guts. Who lets you weave your fingers through his soft hair and hang on for leverage. Who breathlessly tells you “your pussy’s so good to me sweet thing, daddy loves fucking such a tight little thing like you.”

Eijirou whose breath hitches when he switches to fucking you from behind. Who presses his cock back in with one roll of his hips. Whose pace is brutal from the get go, nails biting into the squishy flesh of your hips. Who actively has to reign in his quirk so it doesn’t activate and shred your skin.

Eijirou who makes you cum with a wail in this position. Who threads his fingers through your hair and forces your neck back into an uncomfortable angle. Whose voice is like warm honey in your veins when he coos “Oh? Right there angel? That was a big one, wasn’t it baby? You did so well for me.”

Eijirou who pulls you up into his lap until your back is sticking to his chest and lets a hand snake around your throat as he bounces you on his cock. Who makes your spine bow as he bites your shoulder, aiming to leave an obvious mark. Who whines low in his throat when he cums, eyes rolling back when you gasp.

Eijirou who has you limping to the shower afterwards. Who is sweet and tender with his aftercare as he washes your body, massaging your lower back where it twinges. Who tells you how much he loves you as he carries you back to the bed in a towel. Who has you giggling when he pokes your ribs while you change into one of his large T-shirts.

Eijirou whose face you pepper with kisses when he climbs into the bed with you. Who’s eager for it when you wake him up in the middle of the night to ride him slow and sweet with your foreheads pressed together. Who cradles you against his chest when you eventually fall back asleep.

[saturnsbabyboii]

♡Venus Through the Houses♡

(Brought to you by Sailor Venus)

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In astrology, Venus is the planet of luck, love, and beauty. It represents the way one loves, relationships, sharing, affectivity, and seductive ability. Venus is all about pleasure, especially pleasure shared with someone else. This planet concerns itself with love, romance, and harmony in our emotional attachments, marriages, friendships, and other unions like business partnerships. Venus is content to spread happiness and tenderness, all the while teaching us how to love and appreciate others and the things that we possess. We appear attractive, and we attract others. Socializing with and relating to others are important to this planet. Beauty is also strongly associated with Venus. The arts, music, dance, drama, and literature, and a sense of the aesthetic fall within the realm of Venus. Venus entreats us to indulge our senses and revel in the beauty of our world. This planet is inextricably linked to refinement, culture, charm, and grace. Venus also deals with the pleasure we derive from our possessions. Luxuries, jewelry, paintings, expensive cars, good food and drink, a beautiful home, and a sense of refinement all please Venus. This planet asks us to appreciate the exquisite nature of things. It’s a sensual and romantic world as far as Venus is concerned. Venus takes 225 days to complete its orbit of the zodiac and is never more than 47 degrees from the Sun. Its feminine energy rules Taurus and Libra and the Second and Seventh Houses. Venus's sign describes how you love and how you want to be loved. The house of Venus tells in which life areas you find happiness and where you feel loved. As the lesser benefic planet, Venus is often a point of ease and luck in the horoscope. 

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♡Venus in the 1st house♡

When Venus is in the 1st house, there is a strong sense of self-identity that is linked to beauty, love, and harmony. Natives with this placement are very likely to be charming, attractive, and personable and may have a natural talent for the arts or music. However, they may tend to be overly concerned with appearances and place too much emphasis on superficial qualities. If Venus is close to the ascendant, then this benefic planet would have a large influence on your appearance. Venus in the first house indicates a beautiful physical body. You appear ethereal, and some may refer to you as a goddess or god. This placement is frequently found in the charts of actors, models, and fashion icons. However, they may tend to be overly concerned with appearances and place too much emphasis on superficial qualities. A person with Venus in the 1st house might be feminine in demeanor and energy. 

Venus here represents a person with exceptional social skills. They can also be quite diplomatic, tactful, and skilled at negotiating relationships. You are magnetic, affectionate, and charming. You desire peace, harmony, and beauty all around you. People are drawn to you, and you are well-known. Individuals with this placement should remember that true beauty comes from within and cultivate deeper connections with others beyond mere surface-level attraction. Venus expresses her qualities through the 1st House values. Your initial reactions are either subtle or sensual. You follow your dislikes or infatuations, sometimes quite blindly, before you begin to think, accept your interlocutor, or keep your distance. Through your sensations, instinctive desires, or natural repulsions, you discover the world, others, and the unknown. Venus in the first house indicates that you are well-liked and popular. These individuals are stunningly beautiful. Everyone seems to want to be around them, and success seems to come naturally to them. In addition, they are often attractive and well-mannered. People are drawn to you because of your charisma and, in some cases, physical beauty. Venus is all about harmony, and when it is in your first house, it tends to give you a melodic appearance- the kind that people write music and poems about. Venus in your first house bestows grace, elegance, beauty, and allure on you. Others frequently spoiled you, especially when you were a child. Venus in the first house also indicates that your childhood might have been pleasant and that you lived in a lovely location. 

This placement often gifts you with a beauty that radiates inside out. You are friendly, warm, and affectionate. This placement can be a lovely location. This placement often gifts you with a beauty that radiates inside out. You are friendly, warm, and affectionate. This placement can result in an outgoing personality; most people with Venus in the first house are extroverts or at least comfortable around others. People with Venus in their first house also tend to have refined tastes, and many are talented actors. Planets in the first house always appear in one's life and are visible to others. People notice the energies of planets in this house and associate them with the person when they look at them. Venus in the first house is no different. People regard you as the epitome of beauty and grace. 

Venus is the planet of love and romance. As the ruling planet of Libra, she desires harmony above all else. A person with a prominent Venus in their chart has a strong desire for love and intimate connections. They want to be loved, and there are usually a lot of people who want to. With Venus in the first house, however, make sure that people are drawn to the real you. The natal chart is much more than just Venus, and people have much more to offer than beauty. People with Venus in the first house function best when they are in a relationship. To be happy, you need a lot of romance and pleasure in your life. One disadvantage of a natal Venus in the first house is that it may attract superficial people who will abandon you when times get tough. This is not to say that people love you solely because of your appearance, but it is important to be aware of this tendency. And, as always, Venus's sign and aspects have a significant impact on how this planet plays out. 

People with natal Venus in the first house instinctively know how to attract what they want into their lives. They achieve their objectives more easily than others, in part because people are eager to assist them. Although Venus is beneficial, it bestows its gifts on you without your participation. Too much Venus can make you sluggish. You become accustomed to success without exerting any effort, and you have forgotten how to work for it. This is often learned the hard way, especially if your Venus in the first house is afflicted. Venus enjoys living life to the fullest. However, everything should be done within reason. People with Venus in their first house have a proclivity for self-indulgence. They are attracted to the finer things in life, such as nice clothes, good food, and other luxuries, and could be described as a hedonist. However, you might have an extremely addictive personality, and once you've gotten used to this lifestyle, it's difficult to give up. 

♡Venus in the 2nd house♡

When Venus is located in the 2nd house, it can significantly impact an individual's financial status and personal values. This placement is often associated with a fondness for beauty, luxury, and comfort, which may result in excessive spending or a desire for material possessions. However, it can also attract abundance and financial prosperity since Venus is the planet of love, harmony, and prosperity. Individuals with this placement may also place a high value on their self-worth and self-esteem, which can influence their relationships and career decisions. It is important to nurture your emotions and engage in meaningful experiences. Although love cannot make you wealthy, it can enrich your life. Your wealth is measured by the kisses and tears you share rather than the number of dollars you have. You have an instinctive and effective approach to managing your assets, even if it may seem haphazard at times. You prioritize a person's innate preferences and personality over their image or wealth. People with this placement are their own greatest asset, possessing healthy self-esteem and the belief that they deserve the best. Venus is in dignity in this house because it is traditionally associated with Taurus. 

When it comes to financial success, Venus is one of the best planets to have here. You will probably accumulate wealth. This placement indicates that you are a hard worker who strives to lead a comfortable life. You have a deep appreciation for the luxuries that life has to offer, such as art, jewelry, nice clothes, and other refined things. This hedonistic tendency makes you an excellent fit for careers in areas like fashion, beauty, interior design, or any other creative field that requires a refined aesthetic sense. Venus governs the second house, which means that these individuals have a natural knack for creating financial prosperity, making money, and a keen understanding of how the material world operates. The second house is also the house of talent. Venus here represents an artistic talent and a sophisticated taste. You value beauty in the world and are a source of beauty yourself. Taurus rules the throat in astrology, and people with Venus in the second house have a pleasant voice. However, you can be quite materialistic, in your emphasis on financial stability. Venus in the 2nd suggests that you might spend a lot of money as well, which can be exasperated by the presence of hard aspects. This can be problematic because financial success is based on the amount you retain rather than what you earn. You place a high value on your social status and are willing to go to great lengths to amass more popularity, as it is interwind for you with wealth. However, becoming fixated on your status can lead you astray. In some cases, Venus in the second house can cause you to become obsessed with material gain, and this can lead to stinginess, and shallowness, and develop a vain and histrionic attitude towards life. 

The position of Venus in your birth chart can reveal the kind of partners you tend to be drawn to. When Venus is located in your second house, you may find yourself attracted to people who are both sincere and well-off, as well as physically appealing. You place a high value on stability and security in your romantic relationships, and you feel loved when your partner expresses their affection through physical means. You are not one to rush into a relationship - instead, you take the time to get to know your potential partner before committing, and once you do, you are fully invested. Your love is enduring, and you believe in taking things slow and steady in matters of the heart.

♡Venus in the 3rd house♡

This house is ideal for individuals with Venus placement in the 3rd house. It is believed that this placement brings about a charming and sociable nature to one's communication style. People with this placement are known for their conversational skills and have the natural ability to connect with others on a personal level. They may also possess a talent for writing or poetry and find pleasure in reading about art, beauty, and culture. However, it is important for individuals with Venus in the 3rd house to balance their desire for harmony with the need to express themselves honestly and authentically. It is crucial to control your moods based on the way you relate to the world. Communication is more than just exchanging information; it is a field of experience that involves your natural likes and dislikes. You should refrain from making judgments on people, ideas, or concepts. Instead, let your heart have the final say. You possess a creative mind and can easily express yourself. You are also very curious and love to communicate, which makes you diplomatic and a good conversationalist. You may be associated with street style, fashion education, art galleries, or the local art scene. You have good social skills, are flirtatious, and can easily strike up a conversation, developing a reputation as the popular girl in school or the girl next door or something of equivalence.

Venus in the third house indicates literary talent. You enjoy poetry and are artistic and creative. The third house represents education. Venus is madly in love with education. If you have this placement in your horoscope, you will spend your entire life educating yourself. Your home is most likely littered with books. You have a natural talent for languages and can quickly learn new ones. Aside from knowledge, Venus in the third house frequently bestows dexterity. People with this placement are extremely talented. This combination can result in a good teacher or writer.

It is suggested that if Venus is placed in the third house, you may tend to avoid conflicts. You may possess the ability to understand the other person's perspective, which can be advantageous in negotiations. Venus in the third house can help to resolve disputes quickly. This placement of Venus indicates that you have an inherent talent for communication and can achieve your goals while simultaneously being kind and charming. The third house is associated with siblings and childhood. If Venus is not negatively affected, it indicates that you had a harmonious relationship with your siblings during childhood, which will continue to be supportive throughout your life. Individuals with Venus in the third house usually have cheerful childhood memories and are often well-liked by their community. Although, at times, you may indulge in gossip, you are a beloved member of your neighborhood and acquaintances. Venus in the third house also indicates that you enjoy running errands and embarking on short journeys. During these trips, you may come across several things that can serve as sources of inspiration for your artistic endeavors.

Through the influence of Venus in you chart you can discover what you desire in a relationship, how you approach love, your way of giving and receiving love, and your perception of your worthiness. The third house in your chart represents your cognitive abilities. If Venus is present, you naturally gravitate toward intellectual individuals. You seek a partner who can mentally stimulate you and make you laugh. Additionally, you enjoy flirting. Communication is vital to you in any relationship, and you long for someone with whom you can engage in stimulating conversations. You tend to meet potential partners through your immediate surroundings, relatives, or even chance encounters on short trips.

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♡Venus in the 4th house♡

When Venus is located in the 4th house, it can indicate a strong desire to create a pleasant and harmonious home environment. This placement is often associated with a deep connection to family and a need for stability in relationships. Individuals with this placement may have a natural talent for decorating and creating a cozy atmosphere. They tend to express their emotions most freely within their family circle. However, they may be selective in their choice of loved ones and exclude those who are too different from themselves. They limit their love to a reassuring home and may tend to become overly attached to material possessions. It's important to remember that true happiness and fulfillment come from deeper connections and emotional security, rather than just external aesthetics. People with this placement are typically optimistic and cheerful and thrive on being surrounded by love and warmth. They are well-suited for creating a happy family environment and have good relationships with all family members. They are skilled at diffusing conflicts before they arise.

It seems that you possess a deep fondness for both your biological family and the family you establish as an adult, as indicated by the placement of Venus. This position suggests that you share a strong bond with your parents, and they have played a positive role in your life. Those with Venus in the fourth house are more likely to hail from a well-to-do family. The fourth house symbolizes not only your immediate family and home but also your ancestors and heritage. Venus in the fourth house is captivated by great-grandparents and all of your ancestors. It is believed that the past holds the answers to contemporary dilemmas. Individuals with Venus in the fourth house are often intrigued by history, archaeology, and ethnology or feel a profound connection with traditions and people of the past and their way of life. Customs and traditions are of great importance to you. You live your life by your family's values, and your principles align with your parents'. With this placement, you tend to be more conservative, and traditional values hold a special place in your heart. A joyous family life is a top priority for you. You may be fortunate in terms of real estate or land ownership. 

Venus in the fourth house also suggests that you are environmentally aware. You put in quite a bit of effort to make your home look appealing. Your aptitude for interior design is revealed by Venus in this position, as you may take great pleasure in decorating your space, be it your bedroom or home, create a cozy and welcoming atmosphere for yourself and your loved ones. Spending time at home is crucial to an individual with Venus in the fourth house, and they put in considerable effort to make it inviting and comfortable. 

You are likely drawn to individuals who are clean-cut, traditional, and stable. You seek a long-term relationship rather than a fleeting romance. However, those with this placement typically marry later in life. Emotions play a crucial role in your relationships. You possess intense emotions, and feeling secure and loved is critical for establishing a bond with someone. With Venus in the fourth house, you exude charm and tend to attract partners rather than the other way around. Raising a family with your partner is of great significance to you, and you may have a passion for it. As a cardinal house, the fourth house may also influence your passions and career. With Venus in this position, you may excel as a wedding, party, or event planner, wedding dress designer, interior decorator, house flipper, or jewelry designer.

♡Venus in the 5th house♡

Individuals with Venus in the fifth house possess a deep-seated admiration for sentimental and romantic relationships, as well as emotional attachments that bring them a sense of fulfillment. Their pursuit of love, whether it be a lover, a child, or a work of art, is characterized by an unwavering passion that drives them toward their desires with unwavering determination. They desire to craft something with genuine affection that is truly stunning and leaves an indelible mark on both themselves, as a creator, and the recipients. The act of expressing love is one of the most powerful ways they share a piece of themselves. 

This placement indicates a heightened desire for pleasure and entertainment, which manifests as a strong creative energy and an appreciation for art and beauty. People with Venus in the fifth house are often blessed with natural charm and charisma that makes them attractive to others. However, it is important to balance pleasure with responsibility, as the fifth house also represents happiness, putting one's happiness in the presence of others, love, vices or monetarily luxuries can lead to a shaky and unstable mindset that shifts between optimism and pessimism that depends on what they have and what they don't. It is no surprise that individuals with Venus in their fifth house possess a playful and humorous disposition, making them interesting people who enjoy being the center of attention and entertaining others.

The influence of Venus in the fifth house can enhance one's artistic abilities, such as acting and writing. It is a remarkable combination for producing art since the planet of beauty is situated in the house of creativity. This placement imbues individuals with an imaginative and playful personality, allowing them to go with the flow and exude an appealing quality that draws others towards them. They have a good relationship with their inner child and tend to be childlike and playful, traits that children are naturally attracted to. People with Venus in the fifth house are often skilled at working with children and enjoy nurturing and protecting them.

They usually have an abundance of romantic opportunities as they are very attractive. They value attention and are playful and charming, with plenty of sexual energy. They are drawn to individuals who share their upbeat and fun-loving nature. Hence, this placement suggests that they may have many love affairs. They're attracted to exciting individuals with vibrant personalities, strong creative abilities, and an intense desire for love and pleasure that match their own zest. 

♡Venus in the 6th house♡

Individuals with Venus in the house of Virgo are generally associated with practicality and groundedness. As an earth house, the sixth house prioritizes the pursuit of making a living and facing reality. It is worth noting that health and work are the two central aspects of life that the sixth house focuses on.

For those with Venus in the sixth house, there is a tendency to be detail-oriented and find pleasure in work that encompasses beauty, aesthetics, or creativity. This may manifest as possessing artistic abilities or having a passion for fields such as interior design, fashion, or graphic design. Individuals with this placement possess a keen eye for color, texture, and design and are often drawn to professions that involve helping others, such as healthcare or social work. In essence, Venus in the sixth house indicates a desire for beauty and harmony in the workplace and a commitment to serving others.

Your Venusian signature lies in your ability to be affectionate. You define yourself and your social role through your sensitivity, sense of aesthetics, and ability to be emotive. This often leads to a profession that is directly related to charm, femininity, and art. Ultimately, your place in society and your social function are determined by your ability to seduce, trust your instincts, and your natural preferences.

The distinction between the sixth and tenth houses is crucial to understanding your professional life. The tenth house represents your overall career and life path, while the sixth house represents your job and workplace, where you earn a living and pay your bills. The sixth house is also linked to health, revealing your susceptibility to diseases and what to watch out for. Daily routines that aid in maintaining good health are associated with the sixth house.

Pursuing art and beauty daily is a way of life for those with Venus in the sixth house. Finding beauty in the ordinary is a skill that they possess. Office decorating, interior design, architecture, creating objects of form and function are all areas that can be explored. You possess the ability to bring harmony to the workplace, beauty, and help your coworkers get along. You enjoy providing aid and assistance, which is why those with this placement often work in health or counseling positions, but there are many other jobs where they can indirectly aid others. Collaboration is typically a part of your job.

People with Venus in the sixth house are often conscientious and make excellent employees who are emotionally attached to their work. This placement indicates a job where you spend most of your time in a pleasant work environment. You get along well with your colleagues and are charming, creating a harmonious work environment. Venus in the sixth house makes you popular and well-liked at work, bringing you good fortune in your daily dealings. Your health is excellent, as you prioritize healthy habits such as getting enough sleep, drinking water, and avoiding unhealthy habits. However, if Venus receives difficult aspects, you may be prone to indulging in junk food and other sugary and salty foods.

Success in both work and love often go hand in hand in your life. When you are happy and fulfilled in your job, you radiate happiness, making you more attractive. Those with this placement frequently meet their partners at work, and they may share the same profession or work in the same field. When it comes to matters of the heart, you take a logical approach. You may appear reserved and cold, taking your time to decide if a relationship is right for you. However, once you commit, you are a devoted and caring partner.

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♡Venus in the 7th house♡

The placement of Venus in the seventh house is considered favorable for Venus since it is in her own house, the house of Libra. This placement is believed to bring about a happy marriage and good fortune in relationships. If Venus is not afflicted, then one's spouse is likely to be charming, attractive, and financially well-off. Individuals with this placement tend to perform best when paired up with someone as they dislike being alone. The placement of Venus in the seventh house can reveal valuable insights into an individual's relationships and partnerships. People with this placement are usually highly sociable, possessing an innate charm and charisma that often draws others towards them. Such individuals are quite popular among their peers.

One notable characteristic of individuals with Venus in the 7th house is that their decisions are based more on gut reactions than logical reasoning. When it comes to interpersonal relationships, they tend to feel first and think later. This sensitivity can be a double-edged sword, as it can make them the most charming person in the room when their sensitivity matches that of the other person. However, they can also be vulnerable to unwanted visitors and should approach new relationships with caution.

Regarding romantic relationships, Venus in the 7th house suggests that the individual places great importance on finding a partner with whom they connect on a deep emotional level. They tend to be quite romantic and enjoy expressing their affection towards their partner in various ways. This placement is an excellent sign for a happy marriage, as Venus is here to help them find the person of their dreams and live happily ever after. The spouse is likely to be attractive and charismatic, embodying many of Venus's characteristics. People with Venus in their seventh house have plenty of opportunities to get married.

Individuals with Venus in the 7th house often have a natural talent for public relations or working with the public. They are charming and loving, and the people tend to adore them. They are also well-suited to careers in law or counseling, where their negotiation skills and ability to see the other person's point of view can be put to good use. If Venus is not afflicted, this placement can also bring good luck in legal matters or business partnerships.

However, there is a potential downside to this placement, which is a tendency toward codependency in relationships. Individuals with Venus in the 7th house may struggle to maintain their own sense of identity outside of their partnerships, relying heavily on their partner for emotional support and validation. They value intimacy in their relationships, and emotional bonds are crucial to their sense of well-being. They want a relationship where there is a balance of giving and receiving. Individuals with this placement feel truly loved and worthy only when they are with someone. Finding happiness on their own can be a significant challenge, and they require a sense of belonging to someone. This dependency on others can be a trap, and it can be challenging for them to advocate for themselves in relationships, especially if their Venus is afflicted. To avoid this trap, it is essential for individuals with Venus in the 7th house to cultivate a strong sense of self and learn to advocate for their own needs in their relationships.

♡Venus in the 8th house♡

Your Venus is located in the eighth house, the house of Scorpio, which brings a sense of mystery and allure to your life. You are naturally drawn to hidden things and have a passionate and mysterious personality. This placement indicates that you will benefit greatly from other people in life, especially when it comes to joint resources, inheritance, gifts, and other methods of financial support. However, it also brings intense and transformative experiences in relationships and finances, indicating a strong desire for deep emotional connections and intimacy, while also fearing vulnerability and betrayal. The eighth house represents shared resources and financial gain often enters your life through the finances of others. Relationships help you grow spiritually and financially. Your spouse might leave you a great inheritance.

You have a natural talent for managing resources and investments but need to be careful not to become too possessive or controlling. This placement suggests a need to explore and understand the deeper mysteries of life and love. You have a strong desire to transform other people's sense of beauty and appearance. You should move beyond what the mainstream tells you to like, love, and look like. Shed superficial creativity and notions of beauty and art. Get deep into your creative processes and discover what truly inspires you. You are well-adapted to crises, thrills, wounds, and healings, and your affectivity thrives on contrasts, transformations, and self-questionings. When you explore something you love deeply, you might become so obsessed with it that you let it symbolically (or literally) kill you. People with placements in this house are drawn to mysteries and things that defy logic. You enjoy contemplating everything hidden, and this placement might pique your interest in psychology and spirituality. You are frequently drawn to forensics, detective novels, and horror films. Your ideal way to die would be out of love. 

Venus in Scorpio's house makes you irresistible, but it doesn't guarantee happiness in a relationship. You may struggle to understand emotions and be complete on your own. Your marriage may not last, but when it ends, you will benefit greatly, as you transform and improve after the ending of every vulnerable and intimate connection. In a relationship, you want to share yourself completely and seek your soulmate. You place a high value on intimacy, which may lead to jealousy or possessiveness if you feel hurt or in danger. Sex is an important part of any relationship for you, and you may have numerous kinks and desire to explore your sexuality and limits with a trusted partner. This placement is often fraught with drama, and you may choose the wrong partner for a relationship. Ultimately, you have a strong desire to save and assist others but remember that everyone must first help themselves to solve their problems.

♡Venus in the 9th house♡

This placement of Venus in the ninth is absolutely enchanting, serving as a testament to your positive, bright, and daring spirit. The ninth house has a significant association with the higher self, indicating a deep-rooted interest in spiritual pursuits. When Venus, the planet of love and relationships, is positioned in this house, it points towards an individual who possesses a unique set of values and ethics that they abide by in their daily life. This placement often leads to a preference for partners hailing from diverse cultural backgrounds, with travel being a common means of finding a suitable match.

Your Venus is endlessly inquisitive and constantly seeking out novel experiences, which may account for your profound love of traveling to foreign locations and immersing yourself in different cultures. With Venus situated in the ninth house, it's possible that your significant other hails from a different country or culture, and this placement may also suggest a powerful inclination toward higher education, philosophy, and spirituality. You tend to be drawn to individuals from diverse backgrounds and treasure the values and beliefs that you glean from these encounters. However, it's important to maintain a practical and rational approach to life, even as you embark on the beautiful journey of discovering love as you may lose yourself in absorbing everything in your partner's life, neglecting your own. Your philosophy is rooted in emotions, pleasures, and heartfelt connections, which allow you to explore and excel beyond your limitations. You possess a deep appreciation for wonders, and your emotional life is constantly fueled by exploration and discovery. Your romantic life is akin to a playful game of "love me-love me not," but with exotic flowers instead of daisies. You firmly believe that everything is waiting to be discovered and shared, and you never tire of adding new dimensions to your emotional life.

You possess a natural inclination to explore the world beyond the confines of your hometown. Your passion for adventure, coupled with your desire to experience diverse cultures and religions, is a direct reflection of your Venus placement in the ninth house. Your natural talent for acquiring foreign languages is impressive, and your attraction to individuals of varied backgrounds is quite apparent. You crave the excitement of traveling to exotic destinations, continually seeking to quench your thirst for knowledge and curiosity.

Your sense of independence is highly valued, and you remain open-minded and accepting of others. Should you encounter any constraints, you are not one to remain in a restrictive situation or relationship for long. Education is of utmost importance to you, and you thrive in both formal and informal learning environments. Those with Venus in the ninth house tend to be highly educated and may even pursue careers in teaching with a primary focus on maritime law. Your philosophical interests are strong, and you relish in contemplating life's most profound questions, eagerly engaging in discussions with others.

Higher education and spirituality are two other domains that the ninth house represents, thereby making it likely for individuals with Venus in the ninth house to find their significant other either in college or through spiritual connections. Jupiter, the planet of good fortune, is closely associated with the ninth house, thereby making it a place of abundant positive energy. Venus, being a sensory planet, absorbs this energy, leading to a favorable outcome in terms of marriage. The type of individuals that one is attracted to is also indicated by Venus, and in the case of Venus in the ninth house, one is attracted to individuals who are well-educated, modern and have a broad-minded perspective. Philosophical connections and a shared ethical value system are highly valued in a partner. In addition to this, the ninth house is also associated with in-laws, and with Venus in the ninth house, it is likely for individuals to share a positive relationship with them.

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♡Venus in the 10th house♡

Individuals with Venus in the 10th house are bestowed with a plethora of charming and attractive qualities that can prove to be advantageous in their professional lives. This placement brings forth a sense of balance between the energies of Venus and one's career, resulting in the emergence of success and recognition. The Venusian talents of these individuals are predominantly utilized in their vocations, making them popular among colleagues and superiors. Their public image is likely to be good, and they may excel in fields of directive roles in art, beauty, fashion, or entertainment.

However, this placement can sometimes result in a tendency to prioritize social status and material success over emotional fulfillment and inner satisfaction, leading to an imbalance between professional goals and personal values. To ensure a harmonious equilibrium, individuals must strive to strike a balance between the two.

If your vocation is correlated to aesthetics, art, or decoration, your Venusian qualities such as charm, taste, and receptiveness can prove to be valuable assets in maintaining your ambitions. You may become known for your work in the world as an artist or an innovator who rearranges elements into harmonious forms. Additionally, you may also have creative talents that you can be presented through public performances that make an impression on the audience. This placement also highlights the potential for success as an arbitrator or someone who mediates and resolves conflicts in family or work environments.

People with Venus in the 10th house are passionate about their work and think about the long-term, making plans for the future. They value beauty and grace and consider them as assets that help make them feel powerful in life. A smile is considered the most effective weapon for individuals with Venus in the 10th house. Venus brings good fortune and harmony to the house where it resides, making success in career and professional life easier to achieve.

Working with the general public can also lead to good fortune, and this placement brings social success, making one a born diplomat. Individuals with Venus in the 10th house are courteous, kind, and charming with excellent manners. In the eyes of the public, Venus here makes individuals appear charismatic, graceful, and loving. They are well-liked and adored, and their community knows who they are, with overwhelmingly positive impressions of them.

This placement also indicates a preference for playing it safe and following the rules rather than dictating them. Individuals with Venus in the 10th house are usually attractive and well-dressed, and this placement often shows that authorities and bosses favor them, helping them get ahead in life. In terms of love, these individuals tend to choose partners based on logic rather than emotion, carefully considering whether they will be good partners. They are drawn to powerful and accomplished people but also value trustworthiness and accountability. With traditional values, this placement indicates that these individuals may meet their partners at work or in a professional setting and desire, not just a successful partner but also one that adds and support their own success.

♡Venus in the 11th house♡

When Venus is in the eleventh house, it indicates a desire to socialize, make new friends, and be a part of something bigger. You have a fondness for meeting new people, and as a result, you have made many new friends. These friends often help you advance both professionally and personally. There is always someone available to present you with a new opportunity, introduce you to someone, or involve you in a new project.

Having Venus in the eleventh house is a favorable placement for money matters. This house denotes the income one earns from their profession and the things that come into their life. People with this placement have a diverse set of interests and prefer engaging in activities with others. They are likely to be part of organizations or societies that share a common goal or interest, such as those related to art, fashion, diplomacy, and social causes. They enjoy being part of a group and are regarded as socialites or society's darlings. Their relationships are marked by a deep understanding and complicity, which makes them feel like a whole entity. Although this principle can create some challenges, they strive to maintain exemplary relationships. They have artist friends who share their aesthetic sense, and they tend to meet their partners through social groups or organizations. They are natural leaders, and people are drawn to them. They have a large circle of friends, mostly feminine in nature.

Individuals who possess Venus in their eleventh house tend to be highly intelligent and creative. They enjoy questioning conventional methods of doing things and often wonder if there's a better way to accomplish a task. In their journey, they relish meeting like-minded individuals who share their interests. Venus is commonly associated with clubs and organizations in this domain. Being a part of a group where one can meet new people and assist one another is gratifying. These individuals have an extensive network of professional contacts and love the act of volunteering. It's an excellent way to forge new friendships while simultaneously contributing to the betterment of the world. With this placement, there are frequently humanitarian ideals. Venus in the eleventh house corresponds to being tolerant and open-minded. With the planet of harmony, they connect modern values with traditional ones to create unity between people. The eleventh house represents ideals, and Venus implies that these individuals have a plethora of them, to the point of losing touch with reality in their pursuit of a utopian world they envisioned.

Venus represents how one loves and desires to be loved. Its placement is critical when it comes to one's love life. With Venus residing in the house of friendship, one's partner is also their friend. This is a positive position for long-term relationships since both individuals share similar life goals and aspirations. Individuals with Venus in the eleventh house often attract others with their intelligence. A mental connection is significant to them, and they seek someone who thinks like them. If one hasn't found their soulmate yet, getting involved in social activities, volunteering, fundraising, or charity work may help. Spending time with friends is also essential. Often, these individuals become romantically involved with someone who is their friend or someone they met through friends. It's not uncommon to meet a significant other through volunteering or within the same group or organization that one is a part of.

♡Venus in the 12th house♡

When the planet Venus is in residence in the house of Pisces, where it is exalted and its influence is particularly strong. individuals may experience difficulty with self-esteem and connect with others on a deep level. While Jupiter remains the true benefactor in this astrological situation, Venus still offers some level of protection and guidance. However, it is worth noting that the twelfth house can be a challenging and peculiar place for planets to reside, as their energies often feel distant and difficult to access in one's everyday life. It is not uncommon for those with this placement to find themselves drawn to unavailable partners and engaging in secretive relationships. The twelfth house is typically associated with hidden or subconscious issues, which can make it challenging to overcome these patterns of behavior. 

Despite these challenges, individuals with Venus in the twelfth house may possess a strong spiritual or artistic inclination. However, it is essential to remain mindful of self-sabotage and escapism, working towards greater self-awareness and balance in both personal growth and relationships. Love can be a complex and elusive thing for those with this placement, as they may be seeking an unattainable romantic ideal. 

These natives possess a compassionate heart and a desire to help others, which can attract positive energy and support when they need it most. If you were born with Venus in this house, you may be particularly sensitive and introverted, requiring plenty of time alone to reconnect with yourself.

You particularly possess excellent artistic abilities, as you have the potential to explore the mysterious realm of the twelfth house and use it as inspiration in your art, as well as in your daily life. Engaging in art can be a great way to unwind and relax. However, this placement of Venus also indicates that you have many emotions that you either conceal or keep hidden from others. Some potential themes of your artistic expression may include anything from married life to romantic fantasies, as well as exploring the beauty of nature and wildlife. You may also have a fear of sharing your art with others. It is possible for you to have your work displayed in exhibitions, institutions, or other public spaces. Through your art, you can develop your sense of love and embrace your fears by channeling them into creative expression. You may even find that you are drawn to creating spiritually-inspired or devotional art, including paintings of gods and goddesses, phantasms, fictional characters, fan art, and fantasy art. Despite any challenges that you may face, your creativity can flourish and help you to become stronger.

People with Venus in the twelfth house may find themselves in complex emotional situations. They may develop feelings for individuals who are not available due to reasons such as being married, having a family, or being committed to work. Expressing their feelings may not be an option in such cases. Moreover, even if they are in a committed relationship or married, they may find themselves in love with someone else, which can lead to internal conflict. Despite their desire to remain faithful to their partner, suppressing their emotions may prove to be a challenging task. Conversely, these natives might be victims of cheating and being in a relationship that is characterized by a breach of trust, boundaries, and in the worst cases, abuse. Consequently, their love life may be a source of pain, and they may have experienced heartbreak in the past.

Individuals with Venus in the twelfth house are often attracted to those who have experienced significant suffering or are emotionally unstable. They may be drawn to helping them, but it is crucial to remember that they must first help themselves. This placement may also shed light on hidden bad habits related to excessive self-indulgence. Since Venus is associated with pleasure and enjoying life, individuals with this placement may tend to suppress their need for love, which is a basic human need, and instead project it onto behaviors such as overeating, overspending, or denying themselves happiness.

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Bye Babes ❤

[meanbossart]

I absolutely LOVE how casually Astarion reacts on cringy or strange stuff from DU drow. What else does Astarion react to as calmly because he's used to it?

MOST THINGS, REALLY. It happens rather gradually because DU drow does have a sense of propriety, but as they get to know each other better post-campaign Astarion really comes to understand and parse his eccentricities, and they grow really comfortable with it - it's kind of a love-language of itself, and Astarion is as baffled by what DU says as he is flattered. At that point, most of his declarations of love have some sort of dark, crass, or violent twist to them. Sometimes he finds them funny, sometimes he finds them shocking, most of the times he's just pleasantly overwhelmed by them.

I like to think that, in Astarion's long run of courting-under-duress and through thousands of people who fell in either lust or infatuation with him, he's never had someone speak like that. This is a man who's heard every line, y'know? But he had never heard anyone tell him that if he dies, they'll sleep next to him until his corpse disintegrates into goo and gets absorbed into their clothes, or that in the throes of violent impulsivity they still picture looking lovingly into his eyes and while they gut each other like hanging pigs, he's never watched someone seemingly battle the urge to bite a chunk of him off during sex and wax poetics about how he'd taste - followed by the reassurance that he could never go through with it because hearing his laugh is worth more than every ounce of his marrow. It actually makes him pause, it actually makes him pay attention, it actually makes Astarion believe him because it's so absurd that this time it has to be true.

[pascalrps]

*:･ﾟ✧ — plot idea dumpppp !!

childhood sweethearts (on the rocks)

a plot where muse a and muse b have been friends since childhood — here and there, they would have a one night stand, but never really allowed themselves to progress into anything more than just friends. now, as adults who are figuring out the dating scene isn’t as easy as their parents made it seem, muse a and muse b are seeing each other more and more frequently. eventually, muse a starts seeing someone new, and has less and less time for muse b. i’m talking jealousy, tension!!! muse b realizing maybe they’ve had feelings for muse a the whole time, muse a having to make tough decisions — either continue dating this new person or hurt muse b!!! i liiiiive for drama pls

childhood sweethearts (with a twist)

okay but a plot where close childhood friends reunite — except muse a was in love with muse b growing up, and muse b became muse a’s best friend’s high school sweetheart. muse a concealed their feelings for muse b all throughout their friendship, in high school & college, although both muses definitely had feelings & felt sparks for one another long before muse b started dating muse a’s best friend. despite the connection they’d felt, neither wanted to jeopardize any of the friendships between the three, and ultimately, muse b ended up married to muse a’s bff… except now, years later, muse a and muse b reunite at muse a’s best friend’s funeral. imagine the hurt of losing a loved one but having the comfort of yet another loved one?? blurred lines, tension, second-guesses…….

let me take care of you (southern charm)

okay so i’ve been kicking around a ranch hand plot where muse a is looking for help around the ranch they’ve just inherited due to a death in the family, and seeing as they’re just one person with lots of land, and virtually no knowledge on how to take care of it, it’s impossible to go it all on their own… enter muse b. muse b, a man who not only knows how to work the land but can take care of the ranch with ease, finds it impossible to not take care of muse a, while he's at it. just give me texan sunsets and lovers with low static music crooning in the background from some vinyl record please & ty

friends with benefits (with feelings)

a friends with benefits plot where muse a is dead-set, hellbent on not having a relationship and not getting too intimately involved with muse b; muse b has been in love with muse a for years, and muse a knows this, but still can’t bring themselves to get emotionally attached. i need tensionnnn and like, a lil toxicity ykwim??? for the angst omg

will you come find me (after the party?)

so hear me out — a plot where muse a and muse b met at a friend of a friend’s party & instantly hit it off. muse a is immediately infatuated with muse b — they laugh, talk, drink; they even make an incredible beer pong team. at some point during the night, muse a decides to put the moves on muse b. however, after leaving to get them some drinks, muse a comes back to find muse b kissing someone else… and to make it worse? it’s their boyfriend/girlfriend. tbh this plot could have the potential of a shakespearean comedy if we did it right akdjgh ok i'm talking messssssssyyyy

you feel like home (but i’ve got a different address)

okay so i need a tense plot where muse a and muse b are soulmates, beyond the shadow of a doubt — but muse a is married to a nightmare of a spouse. little by little, they spend more time together one on one, but it’s getting increasingly harder for muse b to see muse a with their spouse, especially knowing how that spouse treats muse a. idk this is a rough plot/work in progress plot but i feel like it has potential to go somewhere!!!

as always — send me over a private message if you're interested in writing up any of these bad boys !!

[ellecdc]

Hi! I’m back 😬. I’m still extremely new to requesting so feel no pressure to write this soon. I was thinking of quiet!reader, who gets nervous when she is around Regulus and instantly starts saying the most out of pocket things and being chatty to fill in the silence. Regulus finds this amusing and usually keeps a serious, quiet demeanor to hear the weird things that come out of her mouth. 😊

looolllll the second I got this request it made me think of that Philomena Cunk meme on TikTok where people were like 'me whenever the conversation lulls' - so I had to borrow that quote!!! (let me know if you find it). Thanks so much for requesting babes - hope you love it 🫶

Regulus Black x quiet!fem reader (who can't shut up around him)

The world was out to get you, that much you were certain of. You were certain of this fact because this was the third time this week that your table in the library had somehow attracted the elusive Regulus Arcturus Black. 

Usually, this would not be an issue. In fact, one could argue this was a rather nonissue, seeing as you were sort of embarrassingly completely infatuated with the aggravatingly quiet boy in your year.

However, it appeared that the company of one Regulus Arcturus Black short-circuited some fundamental part of your brain which caused you to blurt out the most asinine comments known to all of wizardingkind – nay – humankind. The universe has never seen the likes of such horrible conversation. 

It went a little like this: 

Earlier in the week you had set up your arithmancy homework out in front of you at your favourite table in the library. It was your favourite table because it had a window view, but that window view was the least distracting window view in the whole library. It also was the perfect distance to a fireplace, meaning you could manage to stay warm in the stone castle during the cold Scottish winters. 

Unfortunately, it seemed, the table didn’t give you a good vantage point to alert you when one Regulus Arcturus Black made an appearance.

“Mind if I sit here?” A quiet voice startled you out of your calculations, causing you to overturn a pot of ink in front of you.

“Fucking Merlin and Morgana! I- oh, erm, uh, no I uhm, fuck.” You sputtered as you split your attention between the boy standing across from you and the pool of ink quickly making its way towards your skirt. 

With a non-descript flick of Regulus’ wand, the mess was gone – though the damage to your parchment was unsalvageable.

“Oh, uhm, thanks. Sorry I – erm, have a seat. Although, you might not be safe!” You tried to joke but your voice came out disturbingly high, and the (failed) ‘joke’ made you flush hot with shame.

“I’m usually way cooler than this.” You tried to argue, before you realized that someone way cooler definitely wouldn’t have just said that.

Regulus was either unbothered by your horrifying actions or chose to ignore them. He opened his textbooks and began taking notes like you weren’t even there, while you sat in the most awkward and uncomfortable silence of your entire life.

It wasn’t long before you decided you couldn’t take it anymore, standing abruptly – so abruptly, in fact, that you had to quickly save another pot of ink from spilling – and began hastily gathering your things. Regulus did look up at this, and his eyes on you seemed to cause another malfunction to your central nervous system.

“Well, I must be off. I have other homework to dump ink on.” You said, except you didn’t deliver the sentence as a joke and it sounded all too believable – paired with your actions today, and you were certain he believed that’s exactly what you were off to do.

“Toodaloo.” You called and ran from the library.

Toodaloo!?!?! Are you fucking serious!?!! TOODALOO. Oh gods.

You didn’t dare return to the library the following day.

The day after that, though? It was fair game.

You were once again sitting at your favourite table and had ensured you placed a sticking charm on the bottom of your ink pots to avoid any more unfortunate accidents, when the clearing of a throat interrupted your studies.

“Mind if I sit here?” Regulus asked quietly, motioning to the seat across from you.

He’s kidding, right? After what happened two days ago, he can’t possibly want to sit with you?

Nonsense, perhaps this is just his favourite table in the library too.

You were determined this time not to make a fool of yourself.

“Have you finished the rune translations for Professor Babbling, yet?” Regulus asked.

No, the world was definitely out to get you.

“I, erm, I’ve started it. I believe it references the magic practiced by the Egyptians during the Predynastic period. Quite interesting stuff, Ancient Egypt. Did you know that Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do in your life was die?” 

You were talking a mile a minute. You knew this to be true due to the fact that your tongue was actually tripping over your words, but while your brain was shouting shut up shut up shut up shut up, your mouth just kept moving.

“Is that so?” Regulus asked, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he scrutinized you.

“I don’t know actually.” You admitted, realizing you may have just lied to Regulus Black about Ancient Egypt. “I, I suppose I meant that they put way more emphasis on death than life.” You cringed again. “I don’t know if that’s true either – it’s just, it’s... it's the pyramids!” You shouted desperately, earning you a shush from the librarian. 

“The pyramids?” He asked incredulously, a smile playing on his lips.

He was making fun of you, surely.

“Yup. Pyramids.” You squeaked, turning your face back towards your textbook.

“And you got all of that from the runes translation?”

Your face burned in shame.

“Uhm, no. The runes said no such thing. I just…know things.”

“You know things?”

“Right like, uhm, oh apparently Shakespeare didn’t actually write any of the works attributed to his name. Did you know that? William Shakespeare’s parents were illiterate - which doesn’t necessarily mean much because, perhaps he became learned later in life, right? However, William Shakespeare’s own children were also illiterate. I mean, what famous playwright wouldn’t teach their children to read? It’s all bollocks.” 

You had to catch your breath at the end of your tangent.

“That’s a bold claim.” Regulus said plainly. 

Fucking hells, was it hot in here?

“Right, well, erm. I have to go.” You said as you gathered your things and rushed towards the door.

“Uhm, Y/N?” Regulus called.

“Yes?”

“Your wand?”

You looked back at the table and, sure enough, your wand sat forgotten in your place. 

“Right, thanks. Uhm, best of luck on the rune’s translation. Let me know if you need help and erm, uhm, I - bye!”

You stayed out of the library for two days after that.

Which brought you to today. You decided to try to save yourself the humiliation and Regulus the hassle of having to sit with you by finding a different table. You would leave your favourite table to Regulus if it meant saving yourself the embarrassment of uttering absolute nonsense to your schoolgirl crush.

What you had forgotten, however, was how the world was absolutely 100% without a doubt out to get you.

“Mind if I sit here?” Regulus asked quietly, causing you to look up so quickly and, not being used to this table and unaware of the fact that you were sitting under a light sconce, you smacked your head rather painfully in the action.

“Son of a fucking dugbog.” You spat miserably as you rubbed at the sore spot already producing a lump on your head.

“Why?” You all but screeched.

Regulus tilted his head at you as one of his eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“Yes, why.”

“Why what?”

“Oh for – why do you want to sit with me?!”

He looked close to smiling as he scrutinized your form. “Do you not want to sit with me?”

“Of course I want to sit with you!” You admitted embarrassingly - and loudly - earning you a shush from the librarian.

“So, I can sit here then?”

You groaned and let your head thump onto the table in front of you – at least now you’d have a matching lump on the front of your head too.

“At the risk of me making a total and utter fool of myself? Sure, be my guest.”

You swore you heard him chuckle under his breath as he pulled the chair out across from you. You didn’t dare lift your head, however. Perhaps if you couldn’t see his piercing silver gaze, or his adorable black curls, or his stupid smirk, then maybe you wouldn’t be forced to say something ridiculous. 

“What? No fun facts for me today?” Regulus – the arse – asked from across from you.

You raised your head slightly, though left your shoulders at table level as you levelled him with a glare.

“You’re doing this to me on purpose, aren’t you? What, you get off on me making a fool of myself?”

Regulus smirked, though something in his eyes turned a little soft as he spoke. “I don’t think you make a fool of yourself.”

You scoffed and let your head fall back to its previous spot with a thud. “You’re an arse and a liar, Regulus Black.”

“Okay, perhaps you’ve been a little foolish.” He conceded, causing you to groan into the woodgrain of the table. “But I’ve enjoyed every second of it.”

Your head snapped up at that, and even Regulus grimaced as he watched you just barely miss the light sconce behind you.

“You’ve…enjoyed me making a fool of myself?” You asked incredulously.

Regulus moved his head back and forth in a sort of ‘so-so’ gesture. “I’ve enjoyed getting to listen to you. Why do you think I’ve been asking to sit with you all week?”

Apparently, your table wasn’t Regulus’ favourite table. Or at least, that wasn’t what made it his favourite – it was the fact that you had been sitting there that had made it so.

And ever since then, whatever table you were sitting at in the library – one would likely find Regulus Black there too.

[ang3l0fthursday]

“Jessie’s Girl”

matt sturniolo x reader

author note: inspired by the song Jessie’s Girl by rick springfield

summary: matt has a thing for his friend jessie’s girlfriend, and jessie treats her like shit so he tried his best to show her she truly deserves better

warnings: angst | y/ns bf is a cheating asshole | use of y/n😣 | cheating (jessie not y/n| smut (i couldn’t help myself | oral fem!recieving | grinding | p in v | riding | i think that’s it 🤞| sub!matt (kinda) |

word count: about 4k

matt’s pov.

i watched as they danced in the moonlight together in the parking lot we decided to hang out in, i sat on the curb watching them. he twirled her with a bland expression on his face. the rest of our friends were lost in their own conversation, something about internet drama is all i could assume they were talking about from what i had eavesdropped. it was so hard to try and be active in the conversation when she looks so happy with him. him of all people. he twirled and twirled her and she fluttered around him so gracefully.

she was truly the most beautiful girl i’d ever seen. she was flawless in every way. no matter what she seemed to do i couldn’t help but be infatuated with her.

i knew it was wrong, to look at someone else’s girlfriend like that, but he treated her so terribly. he would lie to her and ignore her, and what from i could tell she didn’t notice how badly he treated her. she didn’t realize how she deserved so much better. she deserved the moon and the stars. but she didn’t realize that.

i wanted to make her realize it. i wanted to tell her how badly i wanted to kiss the ground she walked on. how badly i wanted to show her she truly deserved to be loved. not held down like she was with Jessie.

“matt?”

i was broken out of my trance by her soft, beautiful voice.

“are you okay matt?” she bent down to meet my gaze, i looked up to see jessie walking off to the convenience store far off in the distance.

“yeah im sorry jus’ thinking”

she quickly glanced at the ground and giggled as she picked up a penny next to my foot. she sat down next to me on the curb

“penny for your thoughts?” she asked letting out a light giggle

god her laugh was so pretty

i took the penny from her before smiling and just changing the subject.

i kept that penny on my bedside table.

—————

it was some random thursday night, i was with nate, chris, a few other guys, and jessie.

(not excluding nick!! i love nick!! he just wouldn’t hang out with something like jessie)

we were all kind of doing our own thing at this point, everybody was either watching the movie or on their phones.

jessie being one of the people on their phone.

he kept huffing and laughing every once in a while, which caught both mine and chris’s attention.

“you texting your little girlfriend over there?” chris spoke in jessie’s direction, breaking the silence in the room.

“nah i’m texting this chick i met last night at a party”

what the fuck?

“wait what?” i made eye contact with chris, and i could tell nate was uncomfortable with it from the way he tensed.

“yeah dude she’s so hot you wouldn’t believe it, i’m trying link with her”jessie spoke with confidence.

are you fucking kidding me?

“so you’re cheating on y/n?” i asked, trying to regulate my tone

“yeah what about it?”

i suddenly felt a wave of anxiety crash through me and my heart dropped.

“uhm- nothing”

why couldn’t i stand up for her? why couldn’t i tell him he was being an asshole?

thinking back on it, i think i didn’t want to be a problem.

—-

Me, Chris, Nick, Nate, Jessie, and Y/n were all in our hot tub,

she looked so beautiful, the sun had long set and the moonlight bounced off of her pretty hair, she was wearing a blue bikini, it was my favorite color and she just happened to look so beautiful in blue. even though i couldn’t see much due to the rippling water, i tried my best not to let me eyes wonder down her beautiful body.

her and jessie were having their own conversation while i ‘listened’ to nick, chris, and nate’s conversation.

i kept peering over at Jessie and y/n, their conversation seems civil for a while, her letting out giggles and he let out the occasional bored huff.

but, his face slowly fell into a more angry look, hers a sad one.

nate, chris, and nick had wondered into the house for ,what i think they said, a drink.

i tried to keep my gaze away from them but his voice started getting louder, and before i knew it he was full on yelling at her

“no! no you’re fucking crazy! i can’t deal with your bullshit! you’re overreacting! i can’t ever fucking understand why you come at me with bullshit like this! we’re done i’m fuckin done!” he shouted mere inches from her face before getting up abruptly and storming out of the backyard, not a minute later i heard his car start and pull away.

he had broken up with her three times now, i wanted to say something but i felt glued to my seat, before i heard a hiccup come from her

oh no.

“oh matt im so sorry” her knees came up to her chest and a hand made its way to her mouth

“why are you apologizing to me? you didn’t do anything.” i immediately made my way over to her side

“did you hear him? clearly i did”

“no he’s dumb. can i ask what you said for him to do that? and im not saying it’s your fault i just wanna know what triggered him, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want” i rambled out, it’s like i couldn’t stop my words from pouring out to her

“uhm- *hiccup* he brought up something about last week last week and i remembered last friday, uhm he told me he was with you guys. but then nick posted your guy’s friday video and in the video you said that you had filmed the same day you were posting- so there was no way he was with you at all right? was he?”

“no y/n im so sorry he wasn’t. me nick and chris only left the house that day to record. i’m so sorry” i felt like my heart was crumbling and fading away. i couldn’t stand to see her so heartbroken

“oh no matt don’t apologize i should’ve asked you instead of him- god i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to start anything” her waterline suddenly filled and the sight broke me.

she was a much too beautiful person, inside and out, to be crying, especially over such an asshole.

“y/n, i’m gonna tell you something and please don’t get mad at me for not telling you sooner- i promise you i was going to tell you i just haven’t gotten a moment alone with you” i shuddered at the thought of hurting her anymore. but she deserved the truth.

“okay.. what is it matty?”

god that nickname.

“so, couple of weeks ago, we were having that boys night right? and… he kept laughing at his phone and chris asked if he was texting you. but he said no.. and said he was talking to some girl he had met at a party and-“ i stuttered, my hands started to shake under the water, i had suddenly felt so nervous under her gaze, why did i have to be the one to tell her? why do i have to break her heart anymore?

she noticed from the way the water rippled above my hands, she rested her own on top of my shaky ones, moving her thumb in slow circles.

“it’s okay matt. i trust you okay?”

i nodded before starting again, “he said that he was trying to sleep with her.”

she suddenly froze, not that i blame her. the circles she had been making on my hands had ceased, and her face remained the same. but from the way her eyes were i could tell something had clicked inside of her.

“y/n im so sorry you had to find out from me- im so sorry”

“uhm no matt it’s okay.” she let out in the most monotonous voice id ever heard come out of her. she was always so full of life and in this moment i couldn’t help but want to cry for her.

she didn’t deserve to feel any kind of pain. ever. and to know i was the one initiating part of her pain? god i wanted to take it all back. but she deserved to know. it was only right that she knew.

“no im so sorry, you don’t deserve any of that at all”

“matt you don’t have to lie it’s okay” she let out a light scoff

“lie? what do you mean?” why would she accuse me of lying?

she seemed genuinely confused by my question

“saying i deserve better- jessie made it clear that-“

“i don’t give a fuck what jessie told you- you deserve so much better than what he ever showed you. you’re such a beautiful person. you deserve to be loved by someone who truly cares for you and truly loves you, and i know that it sucks, but you won’t find that in jessie. you truly are an amazing person y/n and you deserve the very best”

i had kind of zoned out with my ramble, but i focused back in to meet her powerful gaze, her waterline had suddenly filled with tears again

“oh y/n- im sorry i didn’t mean to overstep”

her arms suddenly wrapped around me, hugging me, half her body on top of mine.

she had pulled away slight to meet my eyes, “you mean it?”

“every word.” god i wish she knew the power she held over me. i wanted her to ruin me-

not the time.

“matt you’re the sweetest- most genuine person i’ve ever met”

she wrapped her self back around me, her head going into my neck.

“y/n i’m always here for you- no matter what okay? text, call, in person, anything okay?”

“okay matt, i’m gonna have to unblock you jessie made me a whole ago” she giggled

“i was wondering why my happy birthday to you didn’t go through” i let out a light laugh. it stung that she has done that but who am i to say anything?

—————

me nick and chris, and im pretty sure nate, had hardly talked to jessie after everything had went town. Chris told me he and nick saw jessie storm out that night and saw me go over to y/n and decided to stay out of it.

it had been weeks since i last saw her in person. We had texted quite regularly but she was struggling to get out of the house, which i understood, and i had wanted to ask if i could come over or something like that but i didn’t want to overstep.

it was 3:42 in the morning, i was mindlessly scrolling on my phone, nick had fallen asleep and i think chris was playing fortnite.

everything had been quiet until my phone started to ring.

y/n.

i immediately picked up

“hey what’s up?”

i heard shuffling before it went silent, and then i heard sniffling.

“hey matt- uhm so you remember when you said i could come to you? for like anything?”

“yeah i do why? what happened?” i sat up in my bed, my blanket falling off of me.

“uhm so - im outside of jessie’s apartment, i just came to grab some of my things and i ubered so i dont have my car and- my phones at 2 percent and i dont wanna risk anything and i was wondering if you could maybe come pick me up? if not it’s okay i can try and-“

“ill get there as fast as i can” i hung up the phone and quickly grabbed some slip on shoes and ran down stairs, making my way out the door and into my car.

jessie’s apartment building wasn’t too far from my, nick, and chris’s house so i got there within five minutes.

i parked on the side of the road and immediately got out of the car and ran to her, she was sitting on the from steps of the building, she stood and i wrapped my arms around her.

she had been crying and seemingly got louder when i had hugged her.

“matt im so sorry”

“don’t be” i pulled away and lifted my hand to slip her hair behind her ear

“let’s get you home pretty girl”

“uhm matt? i’m sorry to ask for more- but do you think i could stay at yours tonight?”

“of course, come on” i led her to my car, hand in hand.

-

once we made it home i gave her some more comfortable clothes to change into, a pair of my sweats and a t-shirt.

we had made our way to my bed, i put on a movie of her choice , she chose ‘10 things i hate about you’

i had seen it before and my heart couldn’t help but swell at her choice because when she made the choice she had said, “since i know you also like this movie”

she knew the things that i liked.

could she get any more perfect?

i glanced over at her, just to check on her, only to meet her eyes.

“oh- i’m sorry” she stuttered out- moving her gaze back to the tv

“i’m gonna start tickling you every time you apologize” my hand krept its way towards her

“wait! no!” she practically screamed before quieting down remembering how late it was

i made contact with her ribs and started jabbing and tickling her .

“matt!” she whisper yelled and giggled and twisted around.

she had shot up at this point, grabbing my hands and tried to get me back, only to fall into me.

my cheeks flushed at the new position we were in, my arms were pinned to the sides of my head, her body had landed on mine and she was now straddling me

she giggled before letting go of my arms and sitting up.

“what you give up?”

god it was a beautiful sight to see her being confident.

in that moment everything in my head crumbled away, and i acted simply on impulse.

my hands moved to her lower back and pulled her down into me. as she fell towards me i quickly slipped one hand to her face and guided it towards my own.

once her lips made contact with mine, i heard her let out a light gasp

she pulled away, a few inches away from my face

“matt?”

my actions had suddenly come crashing down onto me- i panicked and realize what i had done

“oh my god i’m so sorry- i should have asked- i’m so sorry” before i could ramble any further her lips came crashing down again.

oh my god.

her lips moved in a soft rhythm and i couldn’t help but let out a low whimper.

god the power she held over me.

her hands nestled upon my face and she pushed further into me.

holy fuck is this real?

i could feel my dick harden at the thoughts that flooded through my mind. god please don’t be the wrong time.

“matt? are you..?” she glanced down quickly before meeting my eyes again

“yeah.. fuck i’m sorry if it’s not the right time”

she simply smirked before crashing back down into me, when she came down her body shifted in a way that she moved acrossed my length.

my breath hitched against her soft lips, i felt her smile into the kiss before her hips moved back and forth against mine

her movements sent a sort of shockwave throughout my lower stomach.

she pulled away to breath,“do you wanna keep going?” she smiled down at me

“oh god please”

she giggled before halting anything she was thinking , “are you gonna want to switch?”

“like positions?”

she nodded

“can i be honest?”

“of course matty, you know that”

“i have never wanted anybody to ever be on top of me more than i do in this moment”

this time her cheeks flushed.

“unless you wanna switch- because if you do we can and i don’t have a problem with it”

“no- probably a bad time to speak about him but jessie never let me- no matter how badly i wanted to” she smirked down at me before getting up and standing next to the bed.

she took off her shirt and pants before getting back on the bed

“can i try something first?”

“ofcourse matty i trust you”

i stood up, removing my shirt as i did so

“sit up at the headboard baby” i directed her before going to the end of the bed, meeting her halfway.

i scooted up forward towards her. i looked at her eyes to search for any signs she was uncomfortable, i put a hand on each of her knees before slowly spreading her legs apart

i looked to see her eyes had widened in a sort of shocked look

“matt- are you sure?”

“of course i’m sure. you deserve to feel perfect.”

i kissed a trail acrossed her thighs, stopping to kiss freckle next to her belly button

“you deserve nothing less”

i kissed across her tummy, and across her panties, and anywhere i felt necessary.

“you deserve the world”

i kissed her clothed cord, hearing her let out a stuttered breath.

i looked up one last time, just in case, and slipped my finger under her waistband, dragging her panties down her legs and tossing them next to the rest of her clothes

“you wanna take your bra off mama?”

i asked, looking into her eyes before realizing what i had said

“too much?” i had asked out of insecurity

“god no it’s perfect” she grabbed my face and brought me into a kiss, arching her back slightly. i took this as a sign to slip my hands underneath her and fumbled her bra clasp to get it undone. after i successfully undid it, i sat up slightly to pull her bra off of her.

oh my god.

she had the prettiest pair of tits i’d ever seen.

“you’re so beautiful y/n you don’t even realize. you deserve everything and more”

“you’re gonna make me cry matty”

i kissed down to her core

“i can’t stand to see you cry, i felt heartbroken seeing you like that”

i littered a few more kisses acrossed her thighs before licking a stripe through her folds.

she let out a quiet moan as i flicked through her folds

god she was like the embodiment of heaven itself.

i kissed her clit before circling it with my tongue

“oh shit matty…” her breathing started to pick up and i twirled my toungue around her puffy clit

i wrapped my arms about her thighs to have my hands rest on her soft tummy

i had one hand snake down to her clit, making figure eights while my tongue made its way into her entrance

“holy shit matt- god just like that” she had started to grind her hips against my face, hard and slow.

i peered up at her through my lashes, meeting her piercing her gaze.

god was she beautiful. her jack has slightly opened her eyebrows knitted.

but her eyes never left mine, they were open and i wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way.

everything was beginning to be too much, i need some form of release for myself

i slowly start to grind down my own hips,

unintentionally in the same rythym as her.

my fingers fumbled with her clit in the same figure eight pattern i had started with and my toungue made its way through her folds, making its way in and out of her velvet entrance.

from the way i was grinding down my hips i let a whimper slip out.

from the way she moaned louder, im assuming it wasn’t a problem for her.

i decided not to hold back on my own noises because god i was so sensitive.

i shamefully let out whimpers and moans, speeding up my hips unintentionally. my main focus was still on her pleasure

“oh my god matt- fuck fuck fuck i’m so close!”

i let off slightly, keeping my pace on her clit

“cum for me mama make a mess on my face”

“shit shit shit!”

her hips ground doesn faster as i went back to licking through her folds.

i could feel her walls clenching and before i knew it, i was covered in her arousal.

holy fuck. i never thought i would truly experience her.

as she was coming down i kept moving my own hips

“oh shit-“ from the sensitivity i had grown close to my peak.

“fuck fuck fuck!”

i scooted forward slightly to tuck my face into the soft skin of her tummy, my hands fumbled forward, reaching for anything and everything i could get my hands on. i felt her hands grip my own, one interlacing into mine, the other being dragged to her soft breast

“ohhh shit.!”

i quickly felt my peak wash over me, i couldn’t help but pant and whimper pathetically, it was all so rough and i was practically being held by the girl i’ve loved for so long.

as i calmed down and settled my breathing, i looked up to see her smiling down at me.

“my turn to do the work pretty boy”

i gulped and i could feel the heat from my cheeks flushing. i sat up, quickly removing my boxers and sweatpants, throwing the dirtied clothes into my laundry basket.

when i looked back to the bed she was off the the side of it slightly, smirking and waiting to me to get back.

i shuffled my way over, laying against the head board in the middle.

gazing towards her, she pecked my lips as she moved over into my lap.

god from how beautiful her body was, i had already gotten hard again.

she locked her lips onto mine again before grabbing my cock and moving it through her folds before slowly coming down my length

my jaw dropped and i shamefully moaned out

“f-fuck you’re so tight”

“you’re just big matty”

as she adjusted down onto me my eyes fluttered shut

my hands made their way to her hips as she slowly started moving. she sat up, almost completely pulling me out of her, before slamming back down and repeating her actions

“fuuu- holy shit”

i couldn’t even control myself at that point

loud whimpers and moans came out no matter how hard i tried to conceal them

“fuck mama you make me feel so good”

her hips kept going at a relentless pace up and down my length, my hips bucking up to meet her halfway every once in a while.

“i’m so sensitive- i’m already close” my eyes opened to see her face in pure ecstasy.

i can’t get over how pretty she is. how could jessie not see that?

“oh fuck matty- i’m getting close too it’s okay”

i could feel my orgasm building up, i needed more. my hands wrapped around her lower back and i quickly thrusted up into her.

“fuck matty i’m gonna cum”

“shit please”

her silk walls clenched down onto my cock.

“fuck cum with me matty”

my breathing picked up quickly- practically panting as i felt myself cum with her walls clenching down onto me.

she made a mess on my cock as we both came down from our highs together.

when her breathing calmed down she rested her head down ontop of mine

i leaned up go kiss her lips, trailing from her jaw down to the base of her neck.

“you’re so perfect y/n, and if you’ll let me i’ll try my best to prove that to you, every chance i get.”

“of course matty” she smiled that pretty smile at me

as she did so i felt a nervousness creeping over me.

oh the power she held.

[bomertheshark]

Riding

A Nanami Kento x top male reader

Short

You can’t quite remember how you got to this point. The very man who you had been chasing for ages now was now bouncing up and down your cock in pure bliss… what the hell happened?

You had an infatuation with a man named Kento Nanami, he had been working at your firm for some time now. You met him when he was a new guy since you were the assistant of the guy who had to show him the ropes. You thought he was a nice enough person, not too talkative but still not timid. The only real conversation you had was at a company dinner. You had been sitting across from each other and decided to strike up a conversation with him. Through out the entire night you both talked about this and that as he drank, you never drank much so you decided that tonight was not the night to try and hold your own. You learned a lot about him that night since his lips had gotten loose from the alcohol, and you suppose that’s when it all started. You spent months after that trying to get him to date you. You weren���t shy about it either, you came out and just confessed of course he thought you were joking but that didn’t matter to you, you never stopped flirting with him. You would talk to him everyday going out of your way to have lunch with him and other things to try and court him.

“Listen I think you should stay for dinner, I know it’s a cliche you know, stay for dinner cause it’s raining and I’ll confess my love to you that whole thing. But I just think it’ll be safer and we spent a long time on this project and I think we could use a break, plus you already know I like you and I’m one hell of a cook. And it’s not like this overtime or anything. ” You said moving around your kitchen to start preparing for the meal. “I suppose it’s fine, just don’t try to get me to stay any later than that.” He said as a response while going to sit down at the island.

After making the dish and serving it you sat across from him and ate in silence. “Is there anything you’d like to drink while we eat? I have wine, beer, champagne, water and some soft drinks.” You said after swallowing a bite of your food. “Some wine would be nice, preferably red.” He said in response “yeah I have some Saldo… does that work?” “That’s perfectly acceptable.” You poured the both of you some Saldo albeit you have yourself less just so that you could keep a clear mind in your own home.

Time had passed and you had finished one bottle of the Zinfandel. You cleared the plates and put them in the dishwasher. You were thankful you hadn’t had that much to drink as it seemed that your counterpart was having a hard time being clear headed. He had gotten up to help with the dishes but had ended up leaning on you and rubbing his face into your neck. To say this was embarrassing was an understatement, not only was your coworker probably drunk but he also happened to be the very man you had been attracted to for months.

“Okay Nanami I’m sure you don’t have a very clear mind right now so why don’t you sleep it off on my couch, I’ll make sure you’re on your way after you’ve sobered up.” You say to him trying to pull his arms off of you and start walking to the couch. He obviously didn’t like this idea as he whined a cling onto you tighter. Once you managed to get him on the couch you were turning to walk away and get the blanket that had fallen off in the process when he had grabbed you and you fell on top of him, he obviously enjoyed the position as he keened and started to wrap his arms around your head. This was a very compromising position for you, you could feel yourself start to get hard and flush. “Look Nanami we are coworkers and while yes I do really like you I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to do this when you are intoxicated.” You managed to get out of his grip as he whined and stood up. You have him the blanket and as soon as he got situated he fell asleep.

You finished the dishes and decided to go ahead and go to bed since Kento was already asleep for the night. You fell asleep pretty quick since you were exhausted from the work and trying to deal with Nanami.

You were having the strangest dream when you woke up to a weird feeling. It felt like someone was in your room, you looked at the clock to see it was 4 o’clock in the morning. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes you looked around to see Nanami standing near your bed, in confusion and a bit of fear you asked “what are you doing in here Nanami? Did you want to go home now? I can get up and take you if you really want to leave.” He didn’t respond just getting closer to the bed. “Nanami..? Nanami you’re freaking me out a little I can’t see you that well.” At this point he was now at the foot of your bed, you couldn’t see his face but you knew it was him, why wasn’t he wearing any pants…? “Kento are you alright?” He got on your bed, starting to crawl towards you as you backed up. “Are you still drunk Kento? You’re freaking me out man talk to me.” He was now straddling you peering down at you, you had put your hands on his thighs to stabilize him, when he started to grind on you you knew something was weird.

All of that led to now. Where the man who you had been chasing for months was now on top of you riding you like his life depended on it. With every rock of his body he gasped at how deep you reached. This was your third round and it was already day break. The both of you were sweating and panting, the pleasure that coursed through your veins spurred you on and you continued letting him ride you as he used your chest to stabilize himself. The view was impeccable. You couldn’t believe that you were experiencing this with the very man who you wanted to spend all of your time with. All of it was perfect just like him.

You were really hoping that this meant he would finally take you seriously and let you indulge yourself in loving him with every fiber of your being. But for now you focus on the time you have with him and not the fact that today is a work day.

I really hope you guys like this 😭

I’m sorry it took so long to post!

P.S Saldo is my favorite red wine 🫶

[indecisive-capricorn]

Headcanons to Dating Yandere Tom Riddle:

WARNINGS: MDNI! Yandere, stalking, implied dubcon, mentions of sex, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of breeding, mentions of wife, mentions of marriage, etc.

SUMMARY: A chance to experience what dating Tom Riddle is like, even when it's against your will to do just that.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, this headcanons leans more into dating Yandere Tom Riddle but technically, even without the yandere and dark part, he will do questionably dark things for his partner. I'm planning to make other headcanons that goes into details about that specific situation. For example, a "Headcanons to Dark Tom Riddle x Pregnant Wife Reader"

MASTERLIST: Feel free to check out my other works! :)

It doesn't matter where you come from, alright? Although it's important for Tom to have an excellent muggle free reputation, Tom has his ways to make sure any history you have with muggles are erased. No one knows your precise history because of it either, but according to their Dark Lord, you were a witch from a fine family in France. While that might have been true, what they didn't know was how you were actually a rebel and fought against him for a time until he kidnapped you.

You left him with no choice! He was infatuated with you due to your strength and infamous beauty. Tom kept on sending you gifts, invitations to balls even and attempted to bait you to become Dumbledore's spy in order to get closer to you. However, you rejected all his gifts and invitations, burning them into the fireplace as soon as they arrived.

You were intelligent enough to know about his plan, but as evil and cruel as Tom was, he was also a genius.

When Tom kidnapped you, you had screamed all the curses in the world at him, refusing for him to even touch you. However, it silenced down when you saw several death eaters pointing their wands to the necks of your little sister and other family members.

You were a rebel and if Tom tried to take you with the threat of hurting your family, he knew you would continue to reject him. After all, actions speak louder than words, and as the death eaters began to torture your family, you finally got on your knees and pleaded for him to stop. Tom was more than pleased with your actions, but to ensure that you will stay true to your promise, he demanded a kiss from you, which you reluctantly gave in the form of a peck on the lips.

Though Tom had spared your family, he will make sure you never see them again. One way or another, no matter how many times you plead and beg to see them, he will rip you away from your family for the sole reason so that your focus would not waver from him. Yeah, he's that possessive of you.

Speaking of being possessive, Tom from the beginning of the relationship will always make sure you are covered in the finest silk and most rarest yet stunning jewellery. You might try to refuse them at first, but you don't quite get it. All of the fine dresses, luxurious clothes and expensive jewellery that he had picked out for you was also his way to tell others that you're his, that you're his possession. Try to refuse it and he will punish you.

There are various of punishments Tom can give you. It depends on what you have done that made him measure how severe the punishment should go, but it also depended on his mood. If Tom was only lightly jealous, he'll most likely just leave marks on you like hickeys and bruises. However, if Tom was severely jealous.. then prepare yourself. Tom had once fucked you in front of two of your old friends whom he had taken as prisoner as a way to humiliate you after you had tried to communicate with them in their cells. Just don't defy him, okay? It won't end up good for you.

Other than that though, Tom will take care of you. He feeds you well, pampers you and even shower you with affection from time to time, which you always try to refuse. Tom tries to spend some time with you whenever he has the time, even with the ongoing war. Tom doesn't usually allow you to be out of the manor, but with his company, he allows you to wander around the garden and as much as you hate his company, a bit of fresh air will certainly do you good after being stuck inside for a long time.

However, with all that, he expects you to do your duties as well. You both might not be married yet, but Tom already views you as his wife, the only thing lacking is a wedding ring between your fingers and a ceremony. It will happen sooner than later. But due to it, you became the lady of the manor is your job to make sure that everything was going well in your 'home', telling the servants on what they must do to keep the cleanliness of the house.

And oh, on that note, you're not able to ask for them to help you escape. You learnt that the hard way because the day after you had tried to ask them, all of their tongues had disappeared, unable to speak properly anymore.

Tom desires to flaunt you to the public after making your relationship with him 'official'. However, he will only start bringing you to balls after he was sure that you will behave and Tom might just make a potion to help with that. He considers it as one of the duties you have to perform as his partner. But oh my, you do look ravishing in that tight dress he picked out for you.

At times during the night, you found Tom rubbing your stomach, eyes full of desire, as he thought fondly of children. He had been unsure of starting a family before. Of course Tom needed an heir, but he didn't think he would ever find himself wanting more children until he met you. It didn't matter if you didn't want children. Sooner or later, before or after marriage, you will be swollen with his child. And what better way to ensure an heir than start now?

[b14augrana]

Strobe Light

The only thing a few drinks fail to make you forget is her face

Alexia Putellas x reader

masterlist

Warnings: mentions of drinking / alcohol, party setting, romantic angst, short one shot

A/N: kind of a shit blurb i wrote ages ago that i wanted to get out of my drafts 👎 i think i was listening to the last minute of tumblr girls on repeat bc i had written that on the doc so … thats the vibe!

Oh, Ibiza.

It’s the most popular party location to the point where it’s hardly anything special anymore, but you still find yourself excited by it. Ending up on the floor of someone’s house who you don’t even know the name of, your first thoughts being the memories of the night before… what a high. You were addicted to that, the aftermath of getting shitfaced and only having enough capacity in your mind to worry about where your phone is, not what Alexia Putellas is doing right now.

You hated the people — watching them grind against each other and retreat to bedrooms if not crash on the sofa and make out right there, it was distasteful and you hated it. You hated alcohol, but you also hated the fact that Alexia wasn’t around to talk you out of having a few drinks, so you drank it out of spite. Among all these hundreds of people, you hated how you felt more alone than ever.

People would make the assumption that you attended these parties to find a girl to take home, but they looked all the same to you, hence your appeal in none of them, because Alexia was unlike anyone you had ever seen with her hazel eyes and lonesome dimple on her right cheek, the one that was barely there. Nobody else had that Alexia-ness that made you mourn her absence every time you went to these parties, and you knew that no matter how much you drank and partied, she’d always be your first thought of comfort the morning after.

You two had dated for a year, give or take a month. You were relentless in your pursuit of fun, whereas she was infatuated with football and refused to put anything above it, which was understandable, because she was good at it. She called it off in her apartment, saying that she couldn’t risk her career for a lifestyle you wanted to live, and you complied with it instead of making an effort to do something to keep you two together — it was your biggest mistake yet, and a decision that never fails to keep you up at night, because maybe if you had tried a little harder, she would’ve been beside you on these restless nights.

You thought you were absolutely hammered when you recognised her face in the sea of bodies, staring at you with narrowed eyes as if she was trying to determine whether it was really you she was spotting. Brushing it off, you considered it another instance of your mind fucking with you, and that made you put down the plastic red cup in your hand, abandoning it on some surface for another drunk to pick up.

Alexia was there, but she couldn’t tell herself why. Why was she in someone’s expansive Ibiza backyard without a reason?

She never liked big parties, such as the ones hosted in Ibiza. Her teammates appreciated them a bit more than her, but she wasn’t her teammates. She rarely ever got drunk unless she was in a Barcelona based nightclub, celebrating another trophy, but even then she never got blackout drunk.

None of that even mattered, because either way she was still standing among sweaty bodies on an island off the coast of Spain, the music sure to give her a headache sooner or later and the strobe lights hurting her eyes that were locked onto one uninterested face.

There was something else to the bored expression you had; almost like you were caught in an epiphany that this wasn’t enough to fill the void you gained when she left. Your face was plagued by disgust, your stare blank and fixated on nothing specific. She noticed all of this.

Alexia knew that you were only here to relive the oddly comforting morning-after sensation. She didn’t know that you craved it so much because ever since she left, she was all you thought about amidst a heavy hangover, and if you pretended hard enough, she was right beside you with her arms wrapped around your frame and her chest pressed to your back. Waking up post-party was almost like travelling back in time to the happiest period of your life — being Alexia’s girlfriend. It was the closest you thought you’d ever get to her again.

You felt like you were ebbing in and out of consciousness, the music fading into nothingness before coming back louder than ever, and your legs were giving in underneath the weight of your entire upper body. Shoulders and knees grazed against your own, nudging you around the crowd, and you could barely remember who’s property you were at, but you looked up and it became apparent to you that the Alexia in front of you wasn’t a hallucination and she was really there, reaching out to you and pulling you out of the crowd.

The reason she was there became apparent to Alexia as she led you to an empty guest room that wasn’t plagued by the smell of sweat and sex (she quickly learned that was rather hard to come across). She locked the door behind you two so there would be no chance of a lustful couple stumbling into the room while she laid you down.

You groaned as you made contact with the mattress, as moving your body at all had become a difficult task. She sat down beside you, turning on the lamp perched atop the bedside table, and she inspected your face; your cheeks bore hints of red and tired eyes squinted to adjust to the light as they settled on her own concerned-looking face. There wasn’t a feeling in the world that could sum up what she felt looking at you.

“Ale,” you mumbled, and she met your gaze. “Lay down. Give me this one night, at least,” you finished, rolling onto your side. Your back faced her, and she didn’t respond for a minute. She didn’t know what to do, what to say, and she was glad you couldn’t see the inconclusive look on her face.

All you felt was shuffling behind you before the mattress dipped and the presence of her body could be sensed behind you. There was a notable distance between you two that she worked hard to maintain throughout the night, because she didn’t want to remember what it felt like to be close to you.

She should’ve been in Barcelona, training and focusing on the matches ahead. After all, that was the entire reason you two had ended things, yet…

She was here.

[kingkat12]

icarus burning (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: stalking, obsession, upir!roman, Roman is a bit of a creep, toxic but sweet relationship?, mentions of sex

summary: sometimes, the deer doesn't know it's being hunted

word count: 2,514

a/n: this was originally supposed to be a requested piece someone asked for, and it was supposed to be a sweet story... but Roman is Roman and I want to do the request PROPERLY, so that's coming up later hihi

It was hard to get a sweet moment out of a guy like Roman, but not impossible— I knew that long before we got involved. Long before that time I started running into him practically everywhere, before he paid for my lunch when I was holding up the queue in the cafeteria because my card didn't work, and before he suddenly started showing up everywhere I was at school. Coincidences. 

I first understood that he was into me the time we ran into each other on my Sunday stroll in the city and he offered to drive me home. It was during that drive that I was trapped with him, unable to run away from the notorious high school playboy my friends had warned me about numerous times. He had put his hand on my thigh, just for a few seconds, just to prove the point of some joke he was making— and I knew I was done for.

Roman eventually got a little weird when he realized his feelings were reciprocated, and it got even worse when he realized his infatuation was growing. He'd text me incessantly, as though he couldn't stay away from me for more than a few minutes at the time, and then proceeded to present as the human form of lukewarm tea whenever we met again in person. Maybe it was the fact that he was absolutely terrified of anything real, or maybe it was the fact that he had his playboy image to uphold— I have yet to ask him this, actually.

However, when I started giving him the cold shoulder, not answering his messages, not caring to put much work into our conversations in the hallway, Roman panicked. Completely. And it was during this time that I started to get a little suspicious about our run-ins— they got more frequent, his demeanour got more and more intense, and I could almost sense that he was spiralling. 

"Just... don't, like, ignore me," Roman mumbled as we strolled through the bread-section at the store, once again having met by coincidence— right? "I get that I've been a little weird recently, but I'm really trying here..."

"Trying what?" I turned to him, hoping for him to be clear about his thoughts for once. "What are you on about?"

Frustrated, lips pursed, Roman ran his fingers through his hair as his voice got lower. "I'm messing this up already, aren't I?"

There was something different about him today. He was fidgety, anxious—  what was happening? I wondered if he felt rejected by my rebellion against his weird habit of going hot and cold. "Messing what up, Roman?" If only he could just say that he liked me out loud. That would make me feel more at ease about liking him back despite everyone around me telling me not to.

Roman clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, nodding to himself, mind clearly racing. "Nothing. Forget it," Without even saying bye, he turned the other way and disappeared into the next aisle, leaving me even more confused than before. 

After having thought about our interaction at the store thoroughly, it dawned on me that I hadn't actually seen Roman with an actual girlfriend on his arm. Ever. He was either with a cheerleader he'd change out every few weeks, racing through the cheer-team as though it was a revolving door, or with some random freshman girl who had no idea what she was getting herself into. Now that I really thought about it, I hadn't seen him with either category during the past few weeks we had been talking. I had a feeling that Roman wasn't faking his cluelessness, and that he was genuinely walking around in the dark concerning how to address his feelings and act on them. 

Something told me I had to give him a nudge in the right direction.

The next day at school, I found him rummaging through his locker, possibly looking for a pack of cigarettes he had buried beneath all the books he never used. I leaned my back against the locker next to his, waiting for him to notice me. And when he did, I watched his usual serious face melt away and morph into a look of cocky surprise; "Oh my, look who it is," 

"Yours truly," I said, raising my hands in defeat as I suppressed a laugh. 

Roman shut his locker, his pupils dilating at a rather obnoxious rate. Was he relieved to see me after our conversation yesterday? "What's up?" he eventually said, his green eyes scanning me without even trying to hide it.

"Just wanted to say something," I had to steady my breathing— was I seriously about to do this? I could crash and burn, an event more damning than when Icarus flew too close to the sun. However, I knew I had to pull myself together, not wanting him to know how nervous this was making me; I wasn't exactly here to stroke his ego any further. 

Roman's eyes practically sparkled; "Yes?"

Fuck it. "Okay, so... I like you. And on top of that, I have a feeling you like me too. So I would like it if you stopped following me around and instead took some action," I held my breath, watching the horror wash over his face— did he really think that I'd believe our run-ins were coincidental at this rate? "There's a movie going at eight that I want to see, and it would be nice if you'd join... I'd like that very much."

Roman's lips parted in partial shock— this was definitely not what he had expected me to say. He cleared his throat, straightening up; "Pick you up at seven thirty?"

I had an inkling that I didn't need to give him my address. "Sure," I said, biting back a smirk. "Bring extra cash, by the way. Popcorn is on you."

Roman let out a laugh as he shook his head, clearly in denial. "As if I'd let you pay in the first place," He leaned against his locker, letting out a relieved sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You look nice today."

I did my best to not blush. Later, I have learned from Roman that my attempt was unsuccessful. "I know," I said, trying to hide my growing grin as I kicked off the locker; "Well, I was waiting for you to say that... And now that you have, I'm off to class. See you later, Rome."

Unable to hold back, Roman chuckled as he watched me go, letting out the breath he had been holding. 

Surprisingly, my plan had worked. The cinema date was the first of several that ensued, and I rewarded his normal behaviour by texting him back a little more frequently. However, I wasn't completely sold on dating him further, because the weird situationship-phase was probably a little weirder than it would normally be. For instance, there were times where I wouldn't respond for a few hours because I was busy with friends or family, and feel... watched. 

There was also that one time where Roman just... didn't let me leave the car after a date. It was quite bad, actually, because it was right in that moment where I felt like I had gotten my period and needed to make a run for it to check. But the doors were locked and the windows shut; his voice dropped and his eyes were weirdly dark when he finally turned to me, suddenly not looking like his usual self. "Could you just stay here... a little longer?"

 I couldn't quite pinpoint what was happening, but I noted to myself that he probably hadn't blinked in about three minutes. "I sort of have a curfew," I tried, tapping my fingers against the door, hoping he'd get the point. "It was really nice today, Roman, I had a lot of fun—"

"A minute," he said, almost like a command, voice turning rather raspy. Roman closed his eyes, breathing heavily. 

I wasn't sure whether he thought this was romantic or if he had some weird plans for me. "... I think my parents are going to pissed if I don't go soon—"

And it was in this moment that he leaned over and kissed me, effectively stopping my trail of words. I froze, unsure what this whole ordeal had been about, but all my thoughts of reason and concern seeped out of my brain, melting into the kiss against his soft lips. Maybe he had just been nervous to kiss me, maybe that's what that was?

In retrospect, I try not to think about it too much.

And just like that, everything was suddenly sailing smoothly— I would sit with Roman and his friends in the cafeteria, his arm proudly draped around me. He had started to insist that he picked me up and drove me to school every day, which usually ended with us making out in the backseat of his car before class. And after class. And outside my house after the trip back, not letting me leave before he got a 'proper goodbye', as he called it.

However, at the end of the day, he was still Roman Godfrey. The same guy that had probably slept with the whole cheerleading team, along with half the school. That thought had me shuddering, and I did my best to shove it as far back into my mind as possible. Eventually, it started gnawing on me that he would probably be expecting something more of me soon, something more than just making out in the back of his car, and it made me go all Roman on him— also known as cold and distant. 

"What's wrong?" he said, staring at me from the driver's seat after he had parked at school. "You've been a little weird... Did I do something?"

The situation was starting to make me feel borderline bad. I didn't like having this conversation in his locked car. "No, Roman, it's nothing... I'm fine,"

This was seemingly not the right answer— later that day, I was cornered in an empty stairwell on my way to class. Roman's eyes were so incessant, so strikingly green, I couldn't help but feel nervous. "Stop saying everything's fine when I can feel that it isn't," he said, keeping his voice low in case anyone would hear. "It's driving me nuts, you know me."

I gulped, needing to look away to collect my thoughts. I hated that I had started to avoid being alone with him, just in case he'd ask or try to initiate anything. In reality, I simply wasn't ready, and the fear of him discarding me after we were done was enough for me to postpone it. I also had a weird feeling that if I gave myself to him in that way, that he'd just never... stop. Roman would never get enough— he had already claimed me in every other way possible. "I just... feel like you want more from me than I'm willing to give at the moment,"

"What?" Roman's brows drew together in confusion. "That's just downright cryptic. Care to explain like a normal person? Are you breaking up with me or something?"

"No, no!" I definitely didn't want that. Feeling the tension grow, I ground my teeth together. "It's just... Have you noticed that you try to take off my shirt every time we make out?"

It was clear that Roman disappeared deep into his mind for a moment, scouring his memories. "I'm... sorry? I'll stop, I guess,"

I let out a rather big sigh, feeling my anxiety rise. "I know you might be used to a certain linearity and timeline with a lot of things when you were with other girls, but that's... not how I work," Finally looking up to meet his gaze, I chewed on my lip, awaiting an answer.

However, Roman looked like a big question-mark. "I suppose?" It was clear that he was lost.

I wanted to shrink into a tiny bug and get stomped. That would probably feel better than whatever this feeling was. "I need us to wait with... that,"

"... What, sex?" The way he followed up his words with a laugh made me even more anxious.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "And if that's a deal-breaker for you, then you have to tell me right now. Because I'm honestly not too keen on getting my heart crushed—"

My nervous ramble was cut off when Roman leaned down, capturing my lips in a rather passionate kiss which probably shouldn't have taken place in a school. "It's fine," he whispered against my lips, running his cold, slender fingers through my hair. "I don't care. I just care that we're okay. Because... we're okay, right?"

Smiling, I snaked my arms around his neck, my nose nudging his. "Of course we are,"

"Good," Roman beamed, letting out a sigh of relief. However, his smile wasn't there for long— his eyes rounded out, getting serious, as though he was about to deliver some very, very bad news.  "But... just so you know, when a guy doesn't have sex for a very long time, his dick turns purple and falls off. So when you're ready for it, the chance might not be there... Just be aware of that."

I watched him crack up, giving in to a rather loud laugh which resulted in me giving his arm a playful smack— this guy, honestly. 

And we continued to be okay for a very, very long time. More than okay, actually; it was a continuous walk on cloud nine, and I was officially convinced that he was the man for me. Hence why I decided to put him through the most nerve-wracking situation a teenage boy could be thrown into— meeting the parents.

I was currently fluffing his hair on my front porch, watching his knuckles turn white around the flowers he had brought for my mother. My sweet, sweet boy. "Don't be nervous," I cooed, getting up on my toes to kiss his cheek. "It's just dinner."

"Sure," Roman breathed, clearly spooked. "Dinner. Just dinner. Food."

I couldn't help but chuckle— he was so damn cute sometimes, and he had no idea. "After this is over, we can go up to my room and cool off, okay?"

Immediately, Roman's pale face turned a little rosy. "That's a consolation,"

"Sure is," Before I turned to knock on my door, I pulled him in for a kiss, stroking through his hair. "You'll be fine, Rome, I promise. I adore you, and they will too."

Roman let out a shaky breath, smiling back at me. His eyes had rounded out at the words of affirmation; it was clear to me that he was absolutely smitten, and he didn't have to speak for me to know what he was thinking— you're everything.

I tried not to think about the fact that it was sort of concerning how much he was into me. That I was his actual everything. How he'd sometimes tighten his grip in my hair to the point where it sort of hurt, burying his nose against the top of my head as he held me closely... and how it only happened when I was on my period.

I didn't care. 

... For now.

[amberarmedheart]

In Defense of John Watson and the Importance of the Besotted Narrator

Every couple of years, the world as a collective likes to ruminate and come up with a new adaptation of the stories of Sherlock Holmes, every single new one promising to be either "The Ultimate Adaptation" or "Holmes for the New Era", there is no in-between. And it is understandable, this amazement and awe we hold for the beloved mysteries, they are classics for a reason.

And despite that, time and again I see creators of tv shows, pastiches, and movies, neglect the most important aspect in every single Sherlock Holmes' story: the immovable presence of John Watson. Some even going as far as turning Watson into a villain, a caricature of himself, or even erasing him completely from the narrative. "After all, the important one is Holmes, isn't he? He is the genius, and Watson is there just his biographer."

That is the capital omission to me when it comes to any of the adaptations, because it ignores the vital part that Watson plays in Holmes' life. Watson is the companion, he is the bridge between the "normal" world and the genius that is Holmes' deductive brain. He is, for a lack of a better descriptor, the translator between what jumps in judgement and reasoning Holmes' brilliant mind comes up with, and the layman's language.

There is a reason why we as readers come up with the idea that Holmes is smart beyond his quirks and his drug addiction, beyond his ignorance of anything and everything that in his opinion doesn't help him solve the cases that distract him from the boredom of normal life... and that reason is that John Watson is the person narrating the whole thing. We are not introduced to Holmes through an omnipresent, anonymous narrator which is the case with other books. We are thrown in the middle of a mystery from the start the same way that Watson is unexpectedly thrown in 221b.

What we think of Holmes, what we feel for him, it is all because Watson wishes us to experience. The stories themselves carry with them one of the best storytelling devices graciously blended into the narrative, which is the fact that Watson is an incredibly good writer, so much that the public gazes into the spotlight where Holmes is and in most cases ignores that the one shining it down is Watson himself.

Creators who like to ignore Watson and his function in the narrative tend to see Holmes as their own self-insert: a super smart man whose genius cannot compare with the mediocre world population and who can barely tolerate their stupidity, basically a gift to men from god and who has to be worshipped for it... When the reality is that every single thing we perceive from Holmes is because of how Watson sees him.

Watson is our unreliable narrator, his descriptions and impressions of Holmes are the ones that are weaved into the story; even goes as far as giving us a glimpse of Holmes' opinion about it through the way the consultant detective sometimes accuses Watson of adding too many embellishments to his narrations. If we see Holmes as an incredible genius, as someone whose intelligence is above the rest of the world, it is because Watson says so. With every passing story, we come across different characters that every once in a while whose first impression of Holmes has been influenced by what they themselves read in Watson's stories... All in all, the in-universe characters falling under the same influence we, as readers, are.

John Watson's love for Holmes is one of the main plot points in the story, we see its evolution the same way as one normally goes through different stages of falling in love. We see Watson's first infatuation, his interest in what makes Holmes what he is, first in a superficial way and later on with every new story. We see them have misunderstandings, which most of the time end up in a deeper appreciation of Holmes as a person.

All culminating in the incredible rendition of The Final Problem, which could easily be seen, without little effort, as Holmes' planning his own death. By what means we are never completely sure, to be honest, since we can only see it through Watson's deep grief. It is true that Arthur Conan Doyle's plans were to end Holmes' adventures with the short story, but even with the author's motivations being the main recourse behind its inception, there is no doubt when reading the story that the focus of the narrative is Holmes' spending his last moments with Watson.

The subsequent creation of The Empty House and further adventures after that, diluted partially the importance of the whole ordeal, but gave us a different insight of Holmes and Watson's relationship. Through that lens, we as readers witness the evolution of it, the toll that Holmes' fake death had in both his biographer and his own author, adding depth through the strain put by the facade.

E. W. Hornung made one of my favorite homages to Holmes and Watson through his stories of The Gentleman Thief, and put a greater emphasis on the strained relationship between the two characters after the fake death. He gave his besotted narrator another source of turmoil: the fact that while Raffles (our stand-in Holmes) was away living life and even having a romantic interest, Bunny (his Watson) ends up falling in disgrace after being sent to jail.

A.J. Raffles' stories lean on the importance of the unreliable, uselessly enamored narrator, to the point that Hornung didn't shy away from having Bunny refer to Raffles as handsome and attractive in many different instances. He understood how there is no Holmes without a Watson to appreciate him, how their dynamic is the fuel behind the success of the whole series.

And ultimately, that it is impossible to have a good story without a good storyteller.

[karlatakicker]

RUIN SPOILERS!!

i’m very attached to roxanne, and after the dlc i am very attached to cassie too! so here’s my thoughts on the both of them and why their relationship is just so unbelievably special to me

1. it’s implied that they both don’t really have any friends, as sad as it is. Roxanne says to Cassie in their conversation that she thinks that her friends will come to her party this time, which obviously means Cassie’s friends are either nonexistent or aren’t very nice. it’s also implied that Roxanne is disliked by the other children in the pizzaplex because of her desire to win and lack of empathy thus unawareness that children are upset by the idea of losing. so, the idea of them both becoming friends and acknowledging each-other is truly special if they have nobody else.

2. Roxanne’s desire to win on her race track is overridden by her kindness and feelings towards Cassie. in their conversation Roxanne remembers Cassie because she beat her twice on the track, which leads to Roxanne almost sounding proud despite being beaten which she usually expresses anger for. (I’ve been told this doesn’t mean what I think, Number 1 twice refers to Cassie’s birthday, but you can argue that it still shows something between them by the fact Roxanne is willing to say Cassie is Number 1, despite Roxanne constantly wanting to be Number 1.)

3. Cassie’s clear empathy towards Roxanne as her favourite - she pities and feels for Roxanne when she’s crying in the salon. despite seeing the horrid conditions that all the other animatronics are in, Roxanne as Cassie’s favourite is the only one she truly feels for.

4. Roxanne’s infatuation with herself does not inflict with her remembering details about Cassie. Roxy asking about and sharing Cassie’s love of carrot cake (and remembering her birthday) shows an attachment that Roxanne seems to have with no-one else, as thinking of herself does not conflict with thinking of Cassie.

5. in the cutouts of Cassie and Roxanne standing side by side, they’re mirrored. Cassie has similar makeup on to Roxy, and is holding her mirror the exact same way. Cassie wants to be exactly like Roxanne, to the point of copying her actions and being dolled up like her. these images of the two of them are simply to establish a connection between them, so it hurts a lot more when it comes down to de-activating Roxanne.

6. Roxanne, despite being so angered at the idea of not being pretty and being so damaged, has no hesitation in jumping to save Cassie despite possibly getting more damaged or even being completely broken because of it.

7. the line “it has been some time since i saw you last” can be interpreted as Roxanne had thought of Cassie since the last time she had been to the pizzaplex. it makes their reunion all that more heartbreaking because when Roxanne meets her again, it’s for Cassie to deactivate her.

8. Roxanne asking if Cassie had booked her party yet, is essentially Roxy asking if Cassie was going to come back and see her - Cassie, the only kid that Roxy is shown to have a connection with.

9. Cassie stroking Roxanne’s fingers before deactivating her, as if to give her the last comfort she’ll ever feel.

anyway that ends my rant. they’re just so special to me despite them having like 3 interactions. they are the true little sister/big sister animatronic and human pairing we needed. if I don’t get an ending where they’re sitting on the hill eating carrot cake, the developers are going to get a very strongly worded email.

(just to clarify months on from this post, the developers have received a very strongly worded email.)

[targaryen-dynasty]

DEPRAVITIES.

Prince Regent!Aemond Targaryen x female!Reader

When your husband feels overwhelmed reining in the stead of the severely wounded King, it is your duty as his wife to comfort him.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; profanity, lactation kink, lactating, pregnant reader, p in v, cuckolding, degrading, humiliating, tiddy slapping hehe, blink and you'll miss the size kink, very brief breeding kink, female Reader, Prince Regent Aemond

WORDS: 1.8 K

NOTES: Re-posting something I really enjoyed writing before going on hiatus.

Credit for the center piece goes to @justkwordme on twitter.

When the Great Hall slowly cleared, it was your turn to approach your husband, still seated on the large Iron Throne and the Conqueror‘s Crown atop his silver-blonde mane. 

His shoulders and head dropped slightly with the heavy doors falling shut behind the last person leaving, clearly displaying all the pressure that rested on them. Your lips had dropped as well, into a pout that showed the pity you held for him. 

You approached him with slow, careful steps not to startle him as if you were a hunter stalking towards its prey, not making a sound to strike in an ambush.

And when your hand eventually brushed his shoulder, he released a long sigh. 

Without either of you saying anything, you positioned yourself onto his lap, straddling his thighs with your arms wrapped around his neck and the skirts of your dress rucked up around your hips.

Ever since you got pregnant, you hadn’t touched any of your normal dresses–the fabric either too heavy or too tight for your changing body. Lighter dresses with much less embroideries and other decorations filled your closets, a new one being fitted to your growing bump and breasts at least every fortnight. 

Much to your husband’s delight, since he was utterly infatuated seeing your body swell because of him–or much more his seed.

Aemond fully embraced your advances and the position, head tipping forwards to rest his forehead against your swollen bosom, enjoying the simple proximity and comfort you brought. 

Your marriage with him hadn’t always been like that, starting cold and with him showing no emotions other than the sense of duty for your arranged marriage. 

Only after you both had learned Aemond had put a child into you, something primal in him set itself free, making him protective of you… but also obsessed. 

Your pregnancy was nearing the seventh moon, and your breasts were swollen enough for your back to ache from the weight and for your feet to hurt with each step. It was rare you even left your marital chambers, mostly laying in bed with your feet positioned atop a few pillows. 

The dowager queen had told you it was normal for a woman carrying a Targaryen offspring to experience such terrible side-effects during their pregnancy, as both she and her daughter had shared the same fate many times before. 

You believed her–but only because you didn’t have another choice. 

Your breasts were hot and tender to the touch and already swollen to the point one easily overfilled Aemond’s large hands. And just like now, they always tended to strain against the low cut necklines of your dresses, the fabric cutting into the skin and making your flesh appear to spill over it. That had earned you the curious glances of more than one man of court, much to your husband’s dismay.

The swell of your belly put some distance between your bodies, and Aemond had his hands planted on either side of it–a habit he had picked up rather quickly with your unborn babe starting to kick just mere nights ago.

When he pressed his chiseled lips to the exposed and flushed skin over your breasts in a soft kiss, the familiar warmth spread throughout your body, settling at the apex between your legs. It was a subtle movement as you ground your hips down on his, but still enough for Aemond to groan against your body. 

A dark-blown pupil gazed up at you with his eye widened slightly, the lilac almost completely eclipsed by black, not having to say anything for you to know what he wanted. 

You gave him a reassuring nod, and in no time, he had pushed the neckline of your dress down enough to free not one, but both your breasts out of their confines. 

From the heavy sigh you released it was clear you felt relieved already, more so when his lips wrapped around one of your hardened buds. But the familiar stimulation of his fingers around the other one was missing–until you eventually felt his hand eagerly undoing the laces in the front of his breeches. 

It was difficult for him to do so with you sitting on top, so you slightly raised your hips, allowing him to pull out his hard and throbbing cock. 

You were surprised he went that far, especially because you were in the Throne Room with the possibility of someone barging into the room–but you also were excited. 

“Aemond,” you spoke softly. “We cannot.”

Though your words were a weak attempt to protest, there did not really come any objection from you as he fisted himself between your bodies, yours already craving what your mind still needed to process. 

He pulled back from you with a lewd pop, just a bit of your milk resting in the corners of his mouth. It was obscene, but in your eyes he had never looked so good. “We can,” he all but barked. “I will have the head of anyone that chooses to interrupt us right now–regardless of who it is.”

With that, he tugged the center of your smallclothes aside enough for his digits to tease your entrance, positively surprised you were already soaked for him and whining at the contact. 

“I did not know I have married a whore,” he teased shamelessly, bringing the fingers covered with your arousal up to smear it around the areola of your right breast. “Are you certain my brother did not fetch you from the Street of Silk or Flea Bottom even? Or is everyone in the Reach just as depraved as you are, sweet wife?”

The profanity of his words sent a shiver down your spine, and if there even was a sense of restraint still left in your body, it vanished with your hand entangling into his silver mane to tug his head towards your bosom, clearly wanting to silence him.

“Enough,” you scolded teasingly, biting the tip of your tongue to suppress a smirk from taking over your features. 

When you eventually sank down on his throbbing length in one swift movement, you shuddered, and Aemond and you both released a contented moan. 

His lips locked around the bud that was covered in your arousal, sucking it in the rhythm your core clenched around him. There was no need for you to move–no, you didn’t even want to–fully satisfied with the way his member was just buried inside of you. 

Your head tipped back in pleasure, and you tried your best to stifle your moans, only quiet whines and whimpers leaving your lips at the stimulation. 

As the pressure in your breast slowly subsided, you were finally able to feel him suckle, and when you looked down, you were blessed with a sight that was truly created by the Seven. 

Aemond’s chiseled lips were wrapped around your little bud, his eye half closed and his cheeks dimpled from the suction, amplified each time he swallowed the bits of your milk. 

His tongue flickered over your hardened bud, eliciting a soft moan from the depths of your chest. You were able to feel him throbbing inside of you at the sound, followed by a growl that vibrated through your whole body. 

You not-so-gently tugged on his hair again, seeming to spur him on even more, and whined a ‘you will have to do the other as well.’ 

As he pulled back once again, you couldn’t stop yourself from pouting, which was mended by the sight of him licking over your bud to gather the remnants of your milk–all while he kept his eye locked with yours. No matter how badly you wanted not to moan, you couldn’t stop the sound from spilling past your lips. It was certainly getting a reaction out of you. The possibility of being caught long forgotten.

“Stop being greedy,” Aemond panted, and you just bowed your head in submission and nodded. “You should be grateful.” As if it was not him asking for permission to suck your breasts in the first place. 

“Y-Yes,” you mumbled in feigned humility, choosing to play into his game.

“Yes, what?” Aemond asked, serving a slap to your sensitive breast that had you wincing. 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Better.” 

And with that, he locked his lips around your other bud, but not without groping your rear to pull you closer towards him and deeper onto his cock–at least as close as possible with your swollen belly between your bodies. 

You sat just right with the hem of his tunic rubbing against your pearl, every lap of his tongue and squeeze of his fingers around your other breast sending a bolt of pleasure straight down between your legs. 

But then your hips started to move on their own accord, grinding down on him, riding him while he sucked every last drop of milk from you. 

The aching of your back and breasts was long forgotten as you chased your pleasure. 

A couple of moments passed until you felt Aemond’s breathing growing labored, his chest almost heaving with more and more muffled grunts and groans escaping his throat. He was loud–much to your surprise–but your body seemed to keen at that, the knot in the pit of your belly tightening at a rapid pace.

And then, you toppled over the edge of your peak with a loud cry of his name. 

Your body crouched forward while both arms just wrapped around the back of his neck to pull him closer into your bosom, the coldness of the crown pushing against your collar bone a stark contrast to the heat soaring within your body. 

You were trembling astride him, whining when you felt how your peak’s contractions were practically forcing the spend out of your husband’s cock. 

Just like he was sucking you dry, you were milking him for every last drop of his spill, too. 

And as he spilled inside of you, he released your breast to curse your name and bury his face between your now soft and tender breasts. 

There was silence between you safe for your heavy breathing, before you leaned back enough to look down at Aemond. His lips were red and swollen, a soft flush covered his cheeks and neck, and the lilac of his eye was still completely drowned out by black. 

Your head bowed forwards to capture his lips in a kiss that was shy of gentleness, the remnants of your milk on his tongue and lips spreading over to yours. 

When he pulled back, a sly smirk was draped over his lips–a smirk that couldn’t mean any good. 

“Let us retreat to our chambers, wife. I am not yet full.”

Aemond was insatiable, you had learned that very early into your marriage. And that meant you were in for yet another sleepless night, preparing you for what was to come once the babe was born.

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. IX

tags- @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @purple-1995 @pedro-pascal-love @fall-winter-heart97 @thelastemzy @reyndaisy @littleblackcatinwonderland @hueanhdang

cw- mention of death

finally a longer one!

Eight full days passed without trouble. Daenys and Cregan slept close together each night, pointedly avoiding talking about it each morning. Though, it was clear to be a great comfort for both of them. Daenys found herself having seven more dreamless nights, grateful for each one, though slightly wishing she could be blessed with the type of dreams that others had every night. Even Cregan, who smiled sometimes in his sleep, seemed to have pleasant dreams.

They were only one more night away from The Wall. Then, they would reach it by the morrow's noon.

Daenys had taken well to hunting, setting near-expert traps and even making it something of a competition. Without needing words, they would both hold up their catches of the day, either laughing gleefully or scowling when they won or lost. All in good fun, they agreed.

Dusk had even taken to sleeping with Morningstar each night, instead of at the human's feet. The dragon had not made her displeasure known, so her tolerance said everything for her. The wolf was comically tiny against the massive wing, quite like a mother and her pup. Though, perhaps Dusk didn't get that idea. His infatuation with the dragon appeared to be some sort of puppy love.

Cregan had pointed that out days prior, snorting at his companion's simpering behavior. "He follows that dragon like a green boy follows a pretty whor-" He paused, stopping himself. "follows a courtesan." He coughed into his hand, cheeks pink at his own borish vocabulary.

Daenys rolled her eyes, snickering at his expression. "I am not so green myself, my Lord. I can handle a few less-than-kind words."

His eyes widened, turning to her on Red. "Do you mean...?"

She understood immediately, flushing pink herself now. "Heavens, no! I only mean I grew up with my vulgar uncles. They have never bothered to filter their words or bring their 'lady-friends' into the Red Keep. I can not do such things until I am wed, I understand by duties." Daenys informed him, slightly embarrassed that she called herself experienced when she was not.

"I would not fault you if you did. After all, a lord could sire a thousand bastard babes, before or after marriage, and not be reprimanded." He said.

That was true. Rhaenyra was forced into marriage immediately after her 'nightly activities' with Daemon were discovered. Aegon was actively still participating in such activities after his marriage but received turned heads and blind eyes.

"That is a truth I have come to resent." She huffed. "There are many of us—silver-haired—out on the streets of King's Landing. It is a great shame that mine own kin is suffering on the streets instead of in the Keep where they belong."

Many times, she thought of how unfair their circumstances were compared to hers. They shared their bastard blood, but only she and her brothers got the privilege of being legitimized and defended whilst the others starved and suffered.

He smiled sweetly at her, perhaps in understanding of her underlying words. "I can sympathize with that sentiment. My father was an honorable man until his death. His one sin was fathering my half-sister, though I do not resent Sara for it. It is a shame how only the children suffer for the parents' actions. I watched how she was treated her whole life compared to me, simply for having a different mother."

She hummed her agreement. For a moment, she slightly wished that her mother shared his opinion.

"I loved my father dearly. But, I would never repeat his actions. My wife's honor is as sacred as mine, to father a child that was not hers would be unforgivable."

"Your wife will be a lucky woman."

He eyed her, amused. "If you call that lucky, then I suppose so. I would call it being a husband."

"Most men do not take that so seriously. A wife is seen as the one who simply provides heirs and a dowry, and whores and paramours are the true lovers." She shrugged.

"Is that how Prince Daemon sees Queen Rhaenyra?" He asked, catching her off guard.

"No...he is perhaps the only one of her husbands to have no lover after they married. Their marriage is a special case, I believe. He has only wanted her for many years, even through his previous two marriages. Loyal, yes, but no less a greedy man."

Daenys didn't care for her mother's and Daemon's strange history. She would not personally wish to marry a man twice her age, but her mother loved him, so she tolerated it. She did grow to like Daemon, too, after a few years of living with him.

Cregan nodded beside her, taking in her words. "Ser Laenor was different?"

"I'm sure you've heard of my father's preferences from the gossip surrounding the court."

"I've told you before, my Lady, that those in the North do not care for menial gossip." He reminded her.

Daenys nodded, exhaling deeply. "He loved my mother, though not as Daemon does." Or Harwin did, she left out. "But he could not change his affinity for his...squire." She finished, glancing at his facial expression only to see it unchanged.

"What of Ser Harwin?" The question made her nervous, though she refused to show it. His question was merely curious, not accusing or backhanded. "Your mother's sworn protector must have been around quite a lot, in your young years. What was he like?"

"Ser Harwin was a kind man. Kinder than any other knights at the Keep. He was Lord Commander of the kingsguard, though he never acted untoward or mean, not even once. He watched over me, in a time when many of the young kids in the keep had started to act as my scourages." She smiled in reminisce. "You remind me of him, slightly."

"How so?"

"A protector. A pillar of strength against harsh winds."

Cregan chuckled, though not unkindly. "I am glad you are able to see me that way, Princess. Perhaps you are a poet, not a sailor."

She laughed, loud and clearly. "If only you could see me at my septa's lessons, you would change your mind in a heartbeat. I jumbled the words so badly that two—two!—septas gave up trying to teach me to sing and recite poetry and music."

Cregan grinned at the sound, pleased to hear her laugh. "That can't be so, I've heard you humming little songs in High Valyrion when you are with Morningstar."

Bashful, she asked. "You heard that?"

"Most times, yes." He said. "Though I enjoyed it. I can't understand the words, but I can piece together that no words were stumbled over."

"Mm. Perhaps it is my audience, then. In front of my septas, their stares were so intense that I nearly cried when practicing in front of them. My dragon does not judge as they do, she sings along."

"I hope to be a well-mannered audience for you." He said, tone raillery and light.

Daenys didn't mind if he heard.

Night came fast, as it seemed to for the past days. Their routine came automatically: setting the tent, cooking kills over the fire, eating, conversing, and then finally heading to bed. They found their routine with changing into night shifts, as well. Simply turning as they changed at the same time instead of waiting their turns outside of the tent. Cregan and Daenys settled closely, breaths steady and visible in the night air.

It had grown jarringly cold. Daenys believed it was cold in Winterfell, but near The Wall was another story. She pitied those who lived at The Wall and the wildlings who were trapped beyond it.

Her streak of dreamless sleep was broken that night. She could barely see, but she could hear. She wished desperately that she couldn't, that she could forget the sounds that tormented her.

Sawing.

Slow, squelching, sawing.

She was in the Red Keep. The torches in the nursery were dim. So dim, that faces were impossible to clearly make out. But she could recognize Helena anywhere. Her sweet, sisterly Aunt Helena, who had never hurt a soul in her life, was pleading for two men to take her jewlery, take her, instead of her babe.

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, if she remembered correctly. She had met them once, at the family dinner the night before Viserys died. Helena showed them proudly to her niece, though her youthful face reminded Daenys of just how young she was when she was forced to have the twins. The thought made her feel ill, but she smiled and greeted the shy children anyway.

The men refused to take Helena, insisted they needed a boy to die. They forced the sweet mother to point out her son, to which she did with a pained and stunned look on her face. Daenys wanted to reach out, comfort her aunt, and protect her babes with her. But her feet remained glued to the floor, unable to be seen or heard by anyone in the room. It was not happening at that moment. Would it truly happen soon? It was war. Dirty tactics were used all the time without remourse. Surely they were not sent by Rhaenyra...right? She would never seek babes to be harmed, especially after Visenya was lost days ago. This must be a false dream. Daenys only needed to wait it out.

Sawing.

Sawing, squelching, thrashing. It felt like it went on forever.

Until it stopped. Daenys blinked her eyes open, glancing at the bed. Jaehaerys' head was gone from his body. Jaehaera was missing from her bed. Helena was gone. Daenys found herself running, finally able to move now from her planted spot. She ran out of the nursery as if the two men would chase her, too. She followed after Helena, who abruptly stopped at the bottom of the steps. She turned around, revealing her purple tear-filled eyes and Jaehaera clutched protectively in her arms. Helena looked Daenys right in her eyes.

"Stop him." She whispered as if she could see Daenys standing in the middle of the steps plain as day. She continued running, perhaps to guards, leaving Daenys stunned at her spot.

Daenys was awoken after that. No one had ever seen her during her dreams. Not Laena, not Luke, nor Harwin or Laenor. Helena had similar dreams, she knew. Waking dreams, mumbling to herself while she was wide awake. Helena and her always shared that, though never spoke on it. Daenys was torn. Would that become true? Would Helena's son truly be murdered in his bed?

She could not think on it alone anymore. She needed a distraction. Her first thought was to seek out Morningstar, to curl up under her warmth, and stay there until the visions stopped plaguing her mind ruthlessly. She didn't have her books to draw in or her journals to write in. She couldn't let out her thoughts any way but speaking.

"Cregan..." She whispered, leaning up on her elbow and facing the man. He looked to be having a happy dream, smiling slightly in his sleep.

"Cregan, please. I need you." She whimpered, cold tears falling onto his face as she leaned over him. She could feel guilty later, but for now, she needed him desperately.

He flinched unconsciously at the wetness falling onto his face, wiping it and blinking himself awake. His eyes finally met her tear-filled lilac ones, sitting up instantly. He held her shoulders gingerly, "what's the matter, sweet girl? Are you hurt?" He scanned her, wide awake now at the chance of a threat around. He found no blood, only her own crescented nail prints in her palms from them behind clenched so harshly in her sleep. He took her hands in his own, soothing over them while he waited for her response.

Daenys' chest heaved raggedly, trying to catch her own breath from her panic. He reached out, pulling her by her head to his chest, allowing her to clutch his shirt instead of her own palms and hair to ground herself.

He calmed slightly, figuring the distress was caused by her dreams instead of a physical threat. Recalling her Valyrion lullabies that she hummed to her dragon, Cregan mindlessly hummed into her ear, chest vibrating with the use of his vocals. He never hummed or sang, didn't care for it, and was never taught it. But, he would try anything to pacify Daenys' storming mind.

Eventually, after many sobs and mumbles that Cregan couldn't make out, Daenys stilled in his arms.

"He will die. I don't know who I have to stop, Cregan."

He looked down at her head, face still buried and half-mumbled by his neck. "Who will die?"

"My cousin. Helena's babe, Jaehaerys." She whispered, mind reeling still.

Cregan bit his cheek harshly. It would happen, at an unknown time to the both of them. Sometime in the future, or perhaps as they spoke now. He didn't doubt her vision for a moment.

"What do you mean by stop him, sweeting? He asked, rubbing small shapes onto her back.

"Helena told me so. She saw me. Actually saw me. No one ever has before. She held Jaehaera as she told me to 'stop him'." Daenys insisted almost hysterically.

He nodded, allowing her to mumble some more incoherently into his skin.

Stop who? How could she prevent a murder in King's Landing all the way in the North? Even on Dragonstone, she was too far away to help Helena. She could not fly her dragon to Helena to warn her, lest she be shot down by a scorpion's lance. She could not send a raven, either, knowing it would be intercepted, and Daenys would be accused of plotting to murder the heir.

Who was it? Who could she access? Helena knew, she would not ask it of her if she knew Daenys couldn't do it. Luke and Jace would be back at Dragonstone by now, and had no ill intent towards anyone. Rhaenyra and Daemon would be too focused on their council meetings. What grievance did any of them have to go after Jaehaerys? She could not think of any.

"Who is it?" She asked Cregan, then. "Who could order a babe to die in his bed?"

"I do not know, Princess. I'm sorry." He said painfully, wishing to help her more than anything at that moment.

They stayed like that until sunrise. Cregan and Daenys held each other. The only sound in the air was her mumblings and his comforting shushing and hums. He knew they could not waste time, The Lord Commander at Castle Black had long been expecting them.

He guided an exhausted Daenys to his own horse, not trusting her to be able to stay on Mylo. She sat behind him, head slumped to his shoulders as they rode on for the final few hours towards the castle. Mylo loyally walked behind, knowing his faithful food source could only come from the Lord in front of him.

As they reached the gates of Castle Black, Daenys found herself waking up in awe. The Wall, rumored to reach the skies, truly was taller than anything she had ever seen before. Seven hundred feet of pure ice lay in front of her, an impenetrable fortress that protected all that lie South of it.

Cregan chuckled at her gaping reaction. "I felt the same way when I saw The Wall for the first time, too. It is an even better view on top, my Lady." He assured her, glad to see her distracted from her perturbed mood.

She nodded, shifting in the saddle impaitiently. She hands were wrapped around his waist, though didn't quite meet in the middle. He patted her hand as they waited for the gate to open, reminding her to be patient.

As Cregan hopped off, he helped Daenys from Red, staying close to her as a stable boy led both horses to be fed and watered. "My Lord Stark." Bowed a young man, who seemed familiar with Cregan. "We are glad to see you here. Would you like for yourself and the Princess to be shown to the dining hall for a hot meal?" He nodded politely towards Daenys, bowing swiftly once more at her.

Cregan took her hand in his arm, eyeing the men who had gathered around, leaning to each other and grinning wolfishly at the sight of a pretty young woman at Castle Black. The only women they ever saw were the ones in the small town near The Wall, which only had a few women who sold their services to the many men of the Night's Watch, and none were as pretty as noblewomen were bred to be. Cregan knew this all too well, hungry eyes watching the Princess like she were prey. Daenys shifted uncomfortably, aware of the intense gazes, though in a different way than Cregan.

"Is Lord Commander Trant not here?" Cregan asked.

The young man shook his head. "He's been conducting business at Queen's Gate for the past few days. He'll be back shortly, he promised to return before the afternoon."

Cregan nodded, a tick in his jaw. "The Princess and I will be on top of The Wall, while we wait. Do not disturb us." He commanded, striding towards the crickity little iron cage that was embedding into the ice. Daenys paused, reluctant to step into the death trap.

"This will take us all the way up to the top?"

He smiled, guiding her gently by the small of her back to step inside. "Don't worry, it is used every day and hasn't failed the Watch yet." Daenys flinched as it whirred to life, bringing them up foot by foot. She watched the ground grow distance below her, usually an exciting sight on her dragon, but now a terrifying one. She held tight to his arm as if he could save them both if the contraption failed.

It took a few minutes to reach the top. Cregan stepped out first, allowing her to jump out swiftly. She sighed, glad to be on solid ground. If it could be counted as such. Though The Wall was pure ice, Daenys was pleasantly surprised at it not being slippery. Perhaps due to the soft layer of snoe on top of it for her boots to grip.

Cregan brought her to the edge of The Wall, many in the Watch bowing and gawking at the sight of the pair. All knew of the Princess' expected visit, but had not prepared for the sight of a Targaryen in their lifetime.

The sight on the edge was truly otherworldly. Miles of expansive snowy forests and deserts, all unclaimed by man or beast.

"It is more beautiful than you said, Cregan." She said, eyes glued to the view.

"It is." He smiled, though seemed to tense slightly when she turned to him. "Daenys. I promised you that we would speak of the number of bannermen I would send for the Queen. I have had plenty time to think it through on our journey over here. As of now, I have 2,000 greybeards ready to die for their Queen's war."

Daenys nodded, listening to him intently. "Greybeards, like old men?" She asked half-humorously.

He nodded. "Winter is coming, and I can not freely give a large portion of my young men without something in return."

"Return?" She asked, growing nervous. He had not mentioned such a thing in their entire time together.

"Do you like Winterfell, your highness?" Cregan asked, brows furrowed as he looked down at her.

"Of course–I have grown to love the North."

"Would you..." he trailed off, hesitating slightly. "Would you be willing to live in the North?"

"As in...a marriage offer?" Daenys asked.

"Indeed. If I could have your hand, Daenys, in marriage, the North would have a dragon and a Princess. They would be more willing to fight in a Southern war if their own Wardeness was who they fought for."

Daenys stood there, stunned. Had he brought her all the way to The Wall just to ask for her? Is that why he had been so warm to her, so friendly? Her face hardened, though that did not go unnoticed by Cregan.

"Daenys, please hear me out." The man pleaded, clutching both of her hands in his own and bringing them up to her chest.

"I would not ask something of you that would displease you. I wish to keep you safe. And if, after the war, you wish to never see me again, I will allow you to live at Dragonstone or the Red Keep with your family. I will never force anything on you, never ask for sons. All I want is you. I have wanted for you for a while now. Please do not mistake my genuine feelings for using you. Know that the last thing in this world that I want to see is your unhappiness." He spoke breathlessly.

"I love you, my sweet dreamer. It would truly kill me to see you at the mercy of some old and cruel Lord, who would keep you from happiness. If that makes me a selfish man, then so be it. But at least I am an honest one."

Daenys felt her chest swell with an unknown emotion, throat tight, and eyes glossing with tears. "Love me? How could you love me after all that you have seen from me, Cregan?" She whispered, voice taut with emotion.

He took her face into his hands, wiping away at her eyeline to ensure no tears fell from them. He kissed the spot between her brows with the utmost reverence, pulling away but not moving his hands. "How could I not? All I have seen, I adore. Do not simplify your entire being to your dreams–that is merely one part of you." He interrupted her, knowing exactly what she could argue against.

"Cregan..." she felt the warmth in his mismatching eyes fill her body with a soft heat, though they were surrounded by the winds so high up she barely even felt it.

Before she could finish, an older man came marching towards them.

"Lord Commander," the Stark greeted, though his irritation wasn't hidden. "I asked to be left alone until we returned."

"Forgive me, Lord Stark, Princess." The man bowed his head twice in turn. "There has been a letter awaiting the Princess since you left Winterfell. It is dire."

Daenys' eyes widened, it must be from Rhaenyra. Was there an update on the war? Cregan took the scroll in his hands, unrolling it slowly. She watched as his face dropped before looking to Daenys with a sympathetic gleam in his eyes.

"What?" Her voice wavered. "What has happened?" She didn't want to know. She wanted to stay oblivious in the North forever, keeping time paused back at home.

The Lord Commander shifted his gaze down sadly, respectfully taking his leave to the rickity lift so the two could talk.

Cregan placed a hand on her bicep in a comforting way, but she shook her head, urging him on. "Tell me."

"Its about your brother, Lucerys." He said softly.

"Luke? What of him?" She already had her suspicion. She saw him that night, the night she stayed at Winterfell. Daenys was forced to watch the boy and his young dragon being chased through stormy skies by a much bigger, looming beast.

She saw him, and continued treating with Lord Stark. Daenys left her brother to the wolves—or more accurately the dragon. All for a few thousand men to fight in a useless, stupid war. For what? What is the use of sitting atop of the Iron Throne if all of your children will be dead. Is that mot Rhaenyra's legacy? Is Jacaerys next? Little, sweet Joff and the babes Viserys and Aegon? Is she next?

"He is dead. Aemond Targaryen killed him with Vhagar."

No.

He was not dead. Lucerys was playing a prank on her. This time, he just took it too far. He loved his pranks, especially on his eldest sister, who was so easy to fool.

Lucerys was alive and waiting for her shocked face to burst through Dragonstone's doors.

"He's not dead." She shook her head, stepping back from Cregan. "Luke is fine. That letter must be his idea of a jest, 'tis all." She nodded to herself, solidifying her own words.

"Daenys—"

"I will marry you upon my return to Winterfell, whenever the Queen allows me time. You can send a raven to Dragonstone with how many extra men my hand will bring her. Farewell, Lord Stark." She bid him, focusing on making her way to the lift. She entered it, being sent up just in time for her to be allowed down.

"Daenys!" He yelled, tugging her arm roughly to his chest. Cregan loosened his grip apologetically, but did not allow her out of his reach.

She faced him, face scrunched up in a furious glare. "Let go of me. It is treasonous to lay a hand on your Princess." She bit harshly.

Cregan pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around her back and head, resting her head on his shoulder gently. "Don't go like this, Princess. It is dangerous to fly in such a state." He murmured into her hair, feeling her tense form shiver.

"What do you know of flying? Morningstar will get me to Dragonstone swiftly, she is the fastest of our dragons—" Daenys was cut off by her own sobs wracking her body violently.

If it were Morningstar sent to Storm's End, she could've outflown Vhagar. Little Arrax, with all his youthful pride, was the smallest yet of the three eldest children's dragons. He just barely started to be able to fly with Luke on his back. It had barely been a year since he'd grown big enough. They were both but mere babes in comparison to Vhagar and Aemond.

"It's not fair!" She yelled into his pelts. She could barely breathe, knees weak and unable to hold herself up. Cregan lowered them both to the floor, keeping her securely in his lap. "My boy, he's only a child. He should've stayed home, I should've kept him safe." She nearly screamed at herself. Her stupidity and foolishness.

How dare the Gods show her Luke's death but not Laenor's. How could they hate her so much? Hate her family? Did the gods hate bastards as much as their creations?

"It's not fair, I know. But you couldn't have done anything, my Lady." He cooed softly in her ear.

"I could, I have known for weeks and done nothing! Lived in obliviousness while my brother has been lost to the sea."

Living like a common whore, allowing herself to sleep next to a man that she was not married to. Allowing him to see her bare, and not being nearly as modest as a Lady should be. Alicent was right, she was always right. She was just like her mother. If she had stayed with Cregan in the wilderness for any longer, would she have allowed him to bed her, too? Would she father his bastard and be forced to cover it with a false marriage?

Daenys needed to leave.

But her legs did not obey her still.

Cregan gave her a pitying glance, one that she could not see in her own wallowing. Nothing he could say could truly get through to her. No one could comfort him for weeks after his own little brother passed. The guilt never leaves.

"Come, Princess. I will not send you off without first making sure you have food in your belly and warmer pelts around you." Cregan told her, but did not make her walk. Instead, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the dining hall, which he demanded be cleared for her privacy. She was despondent the whole time, silent and unmoving. It was only the Lord and Lady in the room, besides a young serving boy.

Daenys glanced up at him, finding kind brown eyes staring at her as the boy dropped stew in front of her. "M'sorry for your loss, M'Lady." He bowed his head low, brown curls shifting at the movement. Why was a boy jis age serving The Wall? Orphaned, most likely, or sold by his parents. She didn't know which fate was worse.

What she did know was that the boy was nearly a spitting image of Lucerys. She hung her head again, unable to look at the young boy. Cregan thanked him quietly, sending him on his way. Their stews began to grow cold in the silence, the both of them still as statues.

"You must eat, Daenys." Cregan urged.

"I will only throw it back up, I cannot stomach anything right now."

"Try, my Lady. Just a few bites. Half."

Sluggishly, she picked up the spoon and took slow bites. Chewing felt like it took ages, and swallowing was nearly painful. Her head spun, feelng nausea rising in her. Once she got through half, Cregan looked satisfied. Daenys stood, and he mirrored her action.

She led him to the iron gate, waiting for it to open. Outside of it, Morningstar was already crouched to allow her to leave. Cregan took off his brown pelts that she had been using as blankets for the past nights, pulling them snug over her shoulders.

"I already have a cloak on." She said tiredly, though did not fight his action.

"For my assurance, 'tis all." He said, fastening the direwolf clip around it. "Your flight home will be much colder than the one you took to Winterfell."

He paused a moment, clutching her hand in his. He placed a gentle kiss on her cold knuckles, lingering a moment longer. "I will send four thousand of my young soldiers to your mother's cause. That will be six thousand Northerners to fight for the Blacks. Return to me safely, Princess. That's all I ask of you."

They were officially bethrothed. Daenys wished it was under better circumstances, but this is the card she was dealt. Daenys nodded, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Then she left.

Daenys stopped after a few minutes of flying, throwing up what little she ate into a thorned bush. One snagged on her cheek as she stood up straight, coughing slightly. How very like her to enjoy a meal while her family was waiting anxiously for her return. Daenys mounted Morningstar again, not looking back at The Wall before taking flight again. This time, she would not stop until she was home.

🗡

She could see King's Landing in the distance and had half a mind to burn it all down. Morningstar could easily do so. Even the small folk, along with all the peasant bastards that shared blood with her, would burn. She wouldn't care. As long as Aemond Targaryen would be dead at her feet, she would do it. Perhaps they all deserved it. Sin was the only thing able to survive and breed in King's Landing.

Morningstar was exhausted by the time they landed on the dragonpit's perch. Meleys and Caraxes were already in the pit, roaring to greet their kin excitedly. They, too, were being fed after clearly long flights. Patrols, she guessed. "Feed her." She demanded the Dragonkeepers as she passed them, who were too stunned at her sudden appearance to even bow or greet their Princess.

Daenys charged into the Painted Table room, seeing it lit with a bright orange glow as multiple men surrounded it. Rhaenyra wasn't there. Why where they holding a Queen's council without the Queen? Daemon was at the head, just as he had been when Rhaenyra was screaming in her chambers whilst giving birth to his daughter.

There was no one to announce Daenys. No one had expected her that evening, especially with no warning. There was no time for it, either, as Rhaenyra was announced by a guard. Daenys quickly moved aside when he spoke, shifting next to Jace, who squeezed her hand at the sight of her puffy face. She could not look him in the eye, nor Daemon, who kept his keen eye on her until Rhaenyra entered.

The Queen strided in, meeting Daemon in the middle. He whispered something to her, earning a solemn nod. Rhaenyra continued past him to the head of her table.

"Your council stands at the ready, Your Grace." Daemon bellowed for all to hear him clearly. Daenys only paid mind to her mother's dreadful state. Unkempt hair, ash covered face, hands sandy and clutching at some piece of cloth that Daenys could not figure out. "I will fly to Harrenhall at your command. Set our toehold in the Riverlands."

"Your Grace, my Lord husband's blockade of the Gullet moves into place. All seaborne travel and trade to King's landing will soon be cut off."

The Queen did not respond to her aunt or husband. A great silence held the room until, "I want Aemond Targaryen." Was her command. She waited a mere moment, glancing at Daenys before leaving to her chambers to fix her state.

Daenys was led to her room by Jacerys, who insisted she get out of her heavy Northern attire now that she was in better temperatures. She cared little for the heat that the clothes engulfed her with now that they were quite useless on Dragonstone, but allowed her maids to change her anyway. She bathed, too, and had her hair done up more traditionally. She kept Cregan's personal furs on the wooden edge of her bed, carefully ensuring they were untouched.

Jacaerys waited outside the whole time, escorting her with an outstretched arm to their mother's chambers. "Are you okay, Dae?" He asked gently, as if she might crumble if he spoke in a normal tone.

She sniffed slightly, nodding. "I am fine. I will be well when Aemond is dead and burned."

The tone of her voice and her violent words shocked him, pausing his steps abruptly.

"Was...did something happen in the North? Besides the news?" He asked, dark brows knitting together.

"Nothing happened. Why do you ask?" She turned to him suspiciously, not wishing to share every detail of what happened. She did not wish to enlighten her family of her brutal killing. That would be between Daenys and Cregan until the day she died. And perhaps Rhaenyra, who might have the answers to her burning questions.

"I am merely concerned. Was he a borish man? I wish I could've gone to the North in your stead, sister. Lady Jeyne was kind enough, she would've liked you." Jace said, slowly meeting her steps once again.

"Lord Stark is not like the typical depiction of a northman. I handled him just fine." Was her vague answer. Truly, Daenys was happy to see her brother again. To be with her family again. But her joy was dulled by the missing presence in the halls. The one who was meant to greet her in the dragonpit. Jacaerys gave her a pitying look, opening Rhaenyra's chambers.

Their mother sat on a couch, meeting her children's eyes as they walked in and bowed. She looked more put together now that she received the same treatment as Daenys.

Rhaenyra stood, awaiting Daenys and Jacaerys to give their messages. Her chest heaved slightly, something that would have gone unnoticed by anyone but her children, who knew her too well. Jace started. "Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support. In exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale." His voice shook. He had been home for two weeks, yet in Daemon's firm presence, he forced himself to be strong and hard. He had not seen his mother except for her quick visits to eat and feed Syrax.

Rhaenyra nodded encouragingly, eyes brimming red.

"Lord Cregan stark has pledged 2,000 greybeards to you. In exchange for my hand, he promises another 4,000 young men." Daenys stated firmly. She refused to waver even slightly. Even when she wished to be held in her mother's arms. She couldn't let herself be comforted by the woman who had lost her own child. Daenys was the one who must comfort her when her own husband was so useless at it. His biggest flaw.

Rhaenyra and Jace looked shocked at the news. "You gave him your hand?" Jacaerys asked, a worried look on his face. "But–"

"I gave Cregan Stark my hand in exchange for 4,000 men. It is a fair trade, Jacaerys." She told him, holding no grudge or sorrow for it. She didn't wish for her family to, either. "He is an honest man. He will send every last one to fight for you, my Queen."

"That is not his concern. The Starks keep their oaths, yes. But are you happy with the arrangement, my sweet girl?" Rhaenyra asked, cupping Daenys' cheeks in the way that always made Daenys melt. She didn't trust her voice, so she simply nodded. Rhaenyra took Jace and Daenys into her arms. She could feel the quiet sobs deep in their chest, both seeking comfort in the reunion. Daenys held them tightly, afraid to let go. She had her time to cry, in Cregan's arms, now it was her time to finally make herself useful.

The Targaryens and Velayrons stood outside on a tall hill of Dragonstone's rocky beaches. Rhaenyra placed Lucerys' red tunic, the one she had found with Arrax's wing, onto the pyre's stand, reluctantly stepping back once she did. Jacaerys, holding little Joff, placed one of Luke's blankets onto the pyre. Joffrey, who didn't quite understand the funeral and its meaning, tossed a wooden horse that Luke handed down to him into the pyre.

Daenys stepped up, glancing at Rhaena across the fire's glow, seeing her struggle to keep her composure. She mourned for their broken betrothal along with her cousin, knowing they would have made a very happy couple. She clutched onto Luke's favorite tunic. The one she gave him for his three and tenth name day. Even when it grew tighter on him each month during his growthspurt, he still insisted he wore it. It had an embroidered three-headed dragon on it, in the colors of House Velayron. A testament to his future station as Lord of the Tides and a Targaryen. She stitched it for days, ensuring it was perfect for him. Daenys tossed it into the pyre, stepping beside Jace and watching the fire burn out. Most left after a respectable amount of time. Rhaenyra and Daenys stayed until the fire stopped entirely.

Her mother rubbed her back soothingly, allowing Daenys to rest her head on her shoulder. "Mother, I have so many things to ask you. A lot has happened in the North..." She muttered.

"Let us go inside. After you rest, I will dedicate my morning only to you." Rhaenyra promised, kissing the crown of Daenys' head affectionately. Daenys nodded, watching her mother walk back inside to retire for the evening.

A boat's movement caught her eye. Her squinted, lifting her skirts to walk slightly further down the hill. An intruder? No, they were leaving the beach. Daenys thought for a moment, there were very few on the island, and even less who had a reason to leave in secret. Unless...was it true? Were Daemon and Rhaenyra plotting to take Aemond's life in the dead of night?

No. Daenys gasped, sprinting towards the entrance doors of the castle. She needed her own way of transportation to King's Landing.

She was able to find a man who reluctantly took her on his small fishingboat. She doned a dark cloak that she was able to scrounge up in her hurry. Daenys tossed a bag of coins into his awaiting palm, not caring to count what was in it. The boat ride felt excruciatingly long, anticipation rising in her every minute. The thought of being caught made her scared, but the thought of Daemon getting to Jaehaerys before she did scared her worse.

Finally, the man stopped at a discreet sandy part of King's Landings' side wall. There was an extrance nearby, as well as another anchored fishing boat. Daenys scowled. How long had Daemon been there ahead of her? "Stay here." She called behind her, sprinting towards the open entrance in the wall while holding her hood over her silver hair.

There were no guards at it, unsurprisingly. They had all grown lazy under Aegon's leniency. She wandered the dark and damp streets unti she found an iron gate with a hooded figure waiting at it. A guard was walking away from the gate, small purse of coins clutched in his meaty fist.

"Daemon!" Daenys whisper-yelled, grabbing her step-father by his cloak and yanking him back. He barely stumbled but still had the audacity to look shocked and angry at her.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"You fool! You didn't kill Aemond. Do you think that lazy, drunken, craven could kill him?"

"I ordered him to kill Aemond, of course he will. If not, I'll find a way in myself." Daemon scoffed. Daenys grabbed his arms tightly, shaking her head. "You killed Jaehaerys. You killed a babe!" She yelled, uncaring of who would hear now. Perhaps it was both of their karma to die in King's Landing for attempting to kill Helena's son. Maybe if they were caught, they would catch the two men before they cold. Rhaenyra could find two more riders for their dragons, somewhere.

Daemon covered her mouth, pulling her to a less lit corner of the street before anyone could recognize them. "Are you mad, girl? You will get us both killed—" She punched him in the face, not staying to watch him clutch his nose before running back to her boat in a flurry of black and silver.

Daenys rode back to Dragonstone in a silent mourning. Jaehaerys would die. She knew it this time. She followed her dreams, finally. But still lost to fate. Or lost to Daemon. That coward, sending a guard to kill the kinslayer. He should be challenging Vhagar and the One-eyed Prince himself.

They could take him together. If only he trusted her to fight. Morningstar was large and battle-ready. Her and Caraxes would surely dominate the fight, a son for a son.

Not a child for a child.

Daenys slipped into her chambers, waiting for the news to wake the castle up. It wouldn't be long.

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dont mind me using morningstar and dusk as parallels for cregan and daenys 😋

changing the times between Jace and Rhaenyra arriving. Let's say Rhaenyra was coming and going for two weeks, only coming back when she had to eat and let syrax eat. Jace came back the day the raven came to bring the news, and has been ruling with Daemon in her place. Just to say Rhaenyra and Daenys came back officially at the same time to continue the plot forward with no gaps.