#body grow supplements

[ricky-olson]

not to sound morbid on a monday but i can’t wait to have wrinkles and smile lines. there was a point in my life id never thought id make it past 16 and then 20. now im 24 and trying to get my ducks in a row like i can’t wait to show i experienced life with my face and how much joy ive felt

[ftmsukkubus]

i’ve been thinking of trying one of those note games to motivate myself to act more like my real sex.

repeatable

every 1 note is a day i will grow out my hair

every 5 notes is a day i do not bind

every 15 notes is a week off t

goalposts

50 notes - i will shave my whole body and post pictures as proof

75 notes - i will post my real name in my bio

100 notes - i will destroy my binder and post pictures as proof

150 notes - i will buy a bra and panties and post pictures as proof

250 notes - i will go out in a push up bra for the day and keep going until i get misgendered

350 notes - i will start trying to induce lactation and take breast growth supplements and post progress pics

400 notes - i will delay my legal name and gender change

750 - i will hook up with a chaser that sees me as a girl

1000 notes - i replace my whole underwear drawer with women’s panties and bras

3000 notes - when i am in the financial position, i get pregnant and detransition

[vampiricgf]

— v. lycaon | stay soft, get eaten

·₊̣̇. ⊱ warnings: fem reader, dubcon, aphrodisiac, yandere, oral fem receiving, clit sucking, cervix fucking, knotting, creampie, extremely unrealistic depiction of sex, he calls you master n is a lil obsessed with you, not edited/proofread

wc: 2k+

the grip he has on me is insane now if only he'd be gripping up this [REDACTED] sobs

You were so lucky to have an attendant as well prepared as Lycaon. After spending the evening unable to sleep, angrily listening to birdsong as the light peeking in from the window grew less and less subdued, he had suggested you take a simple supplement and attempt a nap upon seeing you still laying in bed at his arrival. After all getting rest was the most important thing and if something would come up he could easily handle it for you without letting you rest excessively.

Just enough to be able to get through the day yet still feel appropriately tired come night, that was what he promised after handing a small tablet to you which you gratefully accepted. Lycaon had been sweet and thoughtful from the moment he started at your estate with the Victoria Housekeeping contract, and was always so adamant about remaining at your side.

When the room begins to soften at the edges you don't question it, it may be a mild effect from the pill or your own deprived brain. Focusing on the beat of your heart was easier, keeping your eyes closed as you remained tucked into bed. A heaviness spread through your limbs, delicious and reminiscent of a sleepy cat in the honeyed afternoon sun as you roll onto your back to stretch against the warm sheets.

The brush of them against your skin sends an unfamiliar sort of heat spreading beneath the surface of your body, an odd feeling of wishing it was replaced with physical touch, yearning suddenly for a certain thiren that you knew wouldn't be far from your bedroom.

You try ignoring the growing ache between your thighs, uncomfortably turning over and over from side to side as the temperature rises. Before long you have to thrash the covers off to rest barely covering your legs, nearly panting with the volatile mixture of desire and no sleep.

Thinking of calling for him you bite your bottom lip, a small whimper coming from low in your throat. As you struggle with the inappropriateness of the urge little do you know he's just opposite the bedroom door, listening intently to you with barely contained self satisfaction thrumming through his veins.

It's hardly appropriate for an attendant to be pining after their master, but say you were feeling struck by some overpowering need, what kind of attendant would he be to refuse if you begged for his help? Truly he'd done it on a whim, it just so happened that today was the perfect opportunity to act and perhaps it was simply fate.

"Master?"

His voice jolts you out of the thick fog of lust as he steps through the doorway, unable to bear the sounds of you whimpering for him any longer. With quick steps he's beside you, a hand coming to rest delicately against your forehead which nearly makes you moan from the contact. Your skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the scent of your arousal was heady in the balmy air, if he were less composed it would've made him drool instantly.

"Are you ill?" Faux concern laces the words as his eyes trail from your face to your heaving chest, your top having bunched up just beneath your breasts was a tantalizing challenge to his self control.

"I can't sleep- feels like I'm on fire," you whine, your eyes fluttering closed and he's grateful for the chance to ogle you openly.

"Do you require my help?" The tone of the question leaves little room for interpretation, the almost breathy way he asks betraying how clear your neediness is to him.

It should make you embarrassed, you should wave him away with a demure no I'll be fine but you can't bring yourself to speak the words aloud, nearly choking on how much you ache for him to touch you again. In a distant corner of your disconnected mind you wonder if thirens can smell things like arousal and perhaps that's why he offered. It makes your thighs clench together hard, the muscles flexing beneath the skin. How lucky you were to have someone so dedicated to attending to your needs that he'd even offer.

"Wouldn't be- appropriate-" you force the words out between deep breaths, desperately trying to regain some self control as your eyes find his.

He looked so handsome knelt by your bed, his singular visible eye shining with concern. You want to smooth the worry from his face with a hundred deep, frantic kisses, so powerful is the urge it's more like being gripped by madness.

"You don't need to worry, as my master I can't let you remain in this state without intervention." The words are so syrupy sweet to your ears, his voice low and sending delightful shivers down your spine.

If he's saying it's okay then why worry about impropriety? Once again you can't help the surge of thankfulness at his presence and his loyalty to you.

Gingerly he grasps your hand in his much larger one, bringing your arm up before placing the softest kiss to your inner wrist. The sensation of his lips against your skin is enough to make you squirm, back arching slightly just from the barest contact.

"Mm, don't know what's wrong with me," you breathe harshly as his mouth maps a trail from your wrist up your arm, your shoulder, and before you register it he's above you and those clawed hands are roaming the overheated skin of your stomach and it feels like every sense you have is being overcrowded by him.

If you had the wherewithall you would have perhaps been ashamed to be so openly writhing and moaning beneath him with your hands fisting in the material of his shirt but given the way he makes you feel like you'll crack apart in the next millisecond there was simply no room for things like humiliation or shame.

"Will you let me help you, my master?"

The request is accompanied by the feeling of him sucking on the side of your neck, sharp teeth barely ghosting over the delicate flesh he could easily rip. Why does everything feel so much more sensitive than usual? If you could think straight it would be a more pertinent question, but against the feeling of his hands cupping your breasts and urging you to help him remove your shirt the concern washes away like sugar in hot water.

In a way Lycaon is glad for your habit of wearing little to nothing in bed, because it feels like this is exactly what you wanted to happen. Each evening it was like the single greatest test of his resolve to not immediately give in to the urge that screamed to rip those skimpy clothes off you and fuck you until your pretty eyes were full of tears and that tongue of yours was only good for sounding out his name.

And he hadn't lied earlier, not fully. That pill would help you with your sleeping troubles eventually but the less than mild aphrodisiac effects would kick in first. It's no concern though, because that's what he's here for, to service you as his master. And so what if it happens to be a shockingly convenient avenue for satisfying his own desires? Who could blame a devoted attendant for loving their master so greatly?

As you shift your hips impatiently he's all too eager to indulge you, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and pushing one leg up in order to slot himself better between your legs and feel the tantalizing heat radiating from the apex of your thighs.

You can feel the way his bulge throbs against you through your clothes and it's exciting, like his body is begging for just the same release as yours and his movements have taken on a more predatory tinge- caging your body with his forearms on either side of your head now, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip in between sloppy kisses and the rhythmless, frantic grinding of his hips against yours.

"Want you, please," it leaves your lips as a pathetically desperate whine as you roll your hips to meet his in a pantomime of unclothed thrusts. Feeling his erection strain against layers of clothing has only served to make you feel even more delirious, like you're on fire and he's all that could hope to put it out.

"Like this?" The question is needy, nakedly desperate and it makes your fingers claw against his soft fur, pulling him down to kiss you again in a flurry of teeth and tongues.

You give an airy mhm and his head dips down to your chest with a particularly sinful groan, teeth ghosting over the swell of your breast before his hands are on you again, nearly ripping the flimsy pajama bottoms off of you in his haste to get you undressed and knowing you're so impossibly close to finding relief for the all consuming ache in your body makes you sigh contentedly for the first time as the air brushes against your clammy skin.

His movements are quick, snaking down on his belly and brushing his nose against the skin of your inner thighs. You can hear the deep inhale he takes, feel the way your body flushes hot in response. His hands run up and down your feverish skin, riling you up and when his tongue licks a fat stripe all the way up your flesh until his face is pressed against your pussy you can't help the way you moan his name so brokenly, a sound more akin to cracking porcelain.

And it's then that his self restraint seems to snap cleanly in two, his claws nearly digging into your thighs, nose bumping against your achingly puffy clit as his tongue delved inside your soaked entrance. It was impossible, feeling him as deeply as you were and he wasn't even using his fingers. Your own twisted into the bedsheets so hard they should have torn, your mouth open as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Soon enough he held one arm across your hips to pin you down and lessen your squirming, alternating between lapping at your clit and sucking on it, his sharp canines occasionally brushing dangerously against the sensitive bundle of nerves. With every drag of his tongue it felt like a coil winding back tighter and tighter inside your gut, hands fumbling to touch any part of him you could grasp as he retained his unrelenting pace never wavering in the attention he lavished your pussy with.

And all too soon he's pulling away from you, leaving you to keen high and pathetic at the loss of him, panicked eyes frantically locked on his figure as he drags himself back up to face you. Before you can whine too much he's shushing you with a deep, languid kiss and giving you the secondhand aftertaste of yourself on his tongue. For a brief moment you wonder if you've died and this is the afterlife: one long satisfaction of desire.

"I don't mean to tease, but I need you in another manner master." And you don't need to to ask what he means, feeling what must be his painfully hard erection rubbing against your bare, soaked cunt. Thrilled eagerness skips like electricity through your bloodstream, already rolling your hips to beg for it before your mouth even opens.

And like the wonderful attendant he is Lycaon obliges before you have to say a word. His hands deftly shed his clothes, now rumpled and twisted, before discarding them on the floor in a heap. Your bottom lip catches so hard between your teeth at the sight of him it's a miracle you don't draw blood.

Even in your most vivid fantasies there's simply no way you could capture just how gorgeous he was, and you can feel your eyes widen as they settle on the sight of his now freed cock. The tapered tip, flushed red and needy, glistening with precum, the girth of him enough to make your eyes water, and the length promising that he can easily kiss that spot inside you that turns your vision to static.

You could start drooling from how badly you need him inside you, a fresh wave of overzealous longing battering against your mind like waves against a rocky coastline. As he leans down, supporting himself on one forearm beside your head you meet his eyes again, seeing an amused look on his face that made you squirm in embarrassment at being caught so openly admiring him.

The scent of arousal and sweat is so thick in the air even you can catch it, it must be driving him insane. The thought nearly makes you giggle but the press of him against your entrance cuts off any sound you could hope to make, mouth left hanging open as he starts the slow press inside. Tears instantly push against your waterline, threatening to spill both from the painful adjustment to his size and because nobody has ever made you feel so full before.

He's barely midway inside and you're already panting, chest heaving as you mewl out his name and grab onto his shoulders like he's the only stable thing in the world. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, snowy fur and as his swollen, fat knot settles against your entrance you feel a rush of the most perfect bliss. Like you two were made for each other.

The delirious thought takes root as he kisses his way from your lips to your jaw, down your throat before giving you a few gentle nips with his teeth just to make you gasp and tighten your grip on him before he begins moving.

His pace is slow, almost loving, as you feel every vein as he pulls out only to inch back inside you with ease now thanks to your excess of arousal mingling with his saliva. You can't help the way your toes curl against nothing but the air as you move to grab onto your own thighs, desperate already to feel him deeper and once again, Lycaon follows your whims dutifully.

You can't help but cry out incoherently as he presses into you again and again, the head of his cock hitting so far inside you it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

But it's still not enough, and you feel that coil resume it's firm windback into position, almost ready to spring.

"Please, feels so good," you gasp out, "need more- harder -" you squeal with a particularly deep thrust against your cervix and ever the gentleman he doesn't make you ask again.

Groaning low and gravelly he cages you fully with his forearms, burying his snout into the side of your neck as the obscene sounds of skin slapping and the squelching of your greedy cunt drown out anything else. Distantly you hear his claws ripping through the sheets but you can't be bothered to care, not when he's got tears running down your cheeks and your pussy clamping down on his so hard, desperate to keep him inside.

You can feel him throbbing as you curl your fingers deeper into his fur, crying out his name as the tension inside your belly reaches a head, making your eyes screw shut and your head press back against the pillows.

His own ragged breathing doesn't register to you, so lost in the throughs of your own orgasm, but his teeth are gritted, bared in a silent snarl feeling the way you clamp down, the way your walls rhythmically try milking him for all he's worth and in an instinct driven haze his hips move in an even more brutal pace, sure to leave bruises against your tender flesh as the maddening need to cum inside you overwhelms him.

There's no way he could stop himself now and he muffles your cries with sloppy, apologetic kisses, tasting the tang of saltwater as his knot finally pushes it's way in, sitting securely against the ring of muscle at your entrance and he can't stop himself from saying your name against your lips, again and again like a mantra as thick, warm spurts of cum drown your womb.

You remain locked together, you a mess of hiccuping moans and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm and him grinding against you as if he could still fuck more of his cum even further inside you.

Your ankles shakily lock around his hips and one of his arms slides under your back, hand finding it's way down to grope and squeeze your ass as he whispers to you, words of thanks for indulging him and for allowing him to be of service that swirl dreamily around in your head as your fingers start gingerly stroking against his silky fur, soothing the spots you had twisted and tugged.

In a far away corner of your mind you recognize that this is the first time he's ever used your name to address you. It makes you smile, small and twinged with sleep. You know once he's no longer inside you he'll adamantly clean you up, move you to a different space and ensure you can sleep comfortably while h tidies your wrecked bed.

But another part of you wonders if you could convince him to forgo it all and just stay like this, warm and tangled together.

Maybe if you ask sweetly.

[honeytonedhottie]

pretty girl handbook⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁

♡ double cleansing in the evening for gorgeous skin

♡ body glitter

♡ exfoliating ur skin on a weekly basis (2-3x) for baby soft skin

♡ incorporate pretty words into ur vocabulary

♡ sweet smelling body butters and oils and lotions

♡ sunscreen on ur face and body (neck, hands, chest etc)

♡ buy a cute journal and journal with scented glitter pens and stickers

♡ carry around ur favorite lipglosses because glossy, soft lips 24/7 is an absolute MUST

♡ jewelry makes you GLITTER. things like belly rings, waist chains, bracelets, earrings, nose rings, nail gems etc

prioritize sleep (sleep 8-12 hours a night)

drink at least 1L of water a day

eat a fruit or veggie with every meal to glow from the inside out

use coconut oil/castor oil on ur lashes and brows every night

facial massage everyday and practice mewing

move your body in a way that feels natural (for example, i go to a school where we have to walk a lot bcuz the campus is big so subconsciously i do LOTS of walking without even thinking of it)

if ur wearing ur hair up/in a protective style, use a hair mask

HOW TO GLOW ;

♡ prioritize hydration

♡ sleep 8-12 hours of sleep a night

a hot tip...from me to you, in the morning as soon as u wake up have a glass of lukewarm water and before bed drink a cup of spearmint/peppermint tea. also another good drink for skincare is chlorophyll. i drink a 16oz of chlorophyll a day or sometimes i'll just have a little chlorophyll shot and its good for ur skin…💬🎀

♡ apply lotion onto slightly damp skin, not completely dry skin. also if u have, use a body oil before the body lotion

♡ smile, duhh :)

♡ try slugging ur body + face before bed

♡ take ur vitamins/supplements. i recommend collagen for hair skin and nails and other vitamins like vitamin C and E. take ur wellness shots and dont eat garbage

SQUEAKY CLEAN ;

♡ double cleanse ur body when showering. the way i do it is i use a bar soap/dr bronners and then i use a liquid soap

♡ when ur washing and exfoliating ur feet do not and i repeat DO NOT. use the tool that looks like a cheese grater. idk what its called but it makes the skin on ur heels grow back 10x harder so just stick to the exfoliating rock thingy

♡ dont sleep on oil perfumes, personally i find them to be very rich and SO LONG LASTING?? they're absolutely amazing

♡ when applying fragrance onto ur body dont ever rub, bcuz then ur just blending in the scent notes

[bigwishes]

A Bubbly Boost

Eddie had signed up to a new supplement trial a few months ago and heard nothing back, he had almost forgotten about it entirely until this morning when a package arrived for him at his door. It was small only slightly bigger than a ring box and when he opened it up there was a small vial filled with a clear fluid. He checked the box for the instructions.

drink and report how long changes tank using qr code

It was all it said, it seemed simple enough. Eddie swallowed it down without a second thought. It was disgusting and tasted like bubble mixture and was thick like glue in his mouth.

After swallowing it Eddie quickly rushed to get a glass of water to wash the taste out. Quickly gulping down the glass his stomach felt straight, light and hot, and a little bloated. It was a weird sensation that he couldn't describe.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

Eddie suddenly let out a huge belch he didn't even feel coming. After he felt his stomach get heavy as it began to make a large gurgling noise.

BUUUUURRRRRRRP

Eddie felt it that time but couldn't stop it

"aw fuck.." UUUUURRPPP

After the third a sensation began to spread across Eddie's body, like he had just spent 6 hours in the gym doing a full body workout, his body was tight. His stomach felt like it was expanding outwards. Eddie rushed over to a mirror and saw he was in fact bigger, like he had gained 10 pounds of muscle in the last 5 seconds,

he felt the sensation creeping up his neck

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPP

Eddie watched as his body expanded with each passing belch. He began to panic but couldn't look away.

At first his shoulders grew wider

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPP

then his chest and lats inflated with mass

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

His arms blew up so large his bicep would make a basket ball look like a tennis ball.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

His legs began expanding and he had to adjust himself as his massive thighs pushed his dick and balls awkwardly forward.

Eddie began to feel a powerful sensation brewing in his stomach. The gurgling sound rung out through his house and he placed both hands abs feeling the vibrations as he braced himself.

His face grimaced as he felt extreme discomfort brewing under his abs

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP

UUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPP

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP

UUUUUUUUUUURRRrrrp

Eddie began to panic as he watched his perfect abs begin to bloat out into a roid gut

"AW FUCK WH-WHATS HAPPENING TO ME"

Eddie stared in the mirror, his body was ruined, he just wanted a pound or two, not two hundred, and he didn't look anything close to natural, the big growth hormone gut and the small stretch marks that appeared on his pelvis near it made that abundantly clear...

6 Months Later

Eddie couldn't drop even a pound of muscle no matter what he tried, he even took 2 months off from the gym and went on a diet but nothing...not a pound down. However after a bit it started to grow on him, he liked how much he could move in the gym, he liked that he could eat whatever he wanted and it didn't impact how much fat he carried, he liked nobody ever tried to take his seat at house parties, mainly because nobody wanted to sit on sweat soaked fabric but there was one perk he had fallen in love with, something he didn't expect to be such a turn on all the time....

Eddie got home from the gym, dropping his his gym bag and 3 bags of take out trash on the floor, he striped down and left his sweaty gym clothes in a line trailing to his couch. Over the past month Eddie had stopped caring about picking up after himself, it didn't matter anyway he was always sweaty better to embrace it...

Eddie sat down on his couch hearing the thing bend under his weight and watching the sweat from his thighs bleed into the fabric. He put his massive sweaty feet on the coffee table feeling the relief as the massive amount of weight he carried shift onto the couch.

His stomach let out and aggressive gurgle, he placed his hands on his roid gut rubbing his abs feeling them stretch outwards and become tighter. A loud glugging noise rung out into the room

Eddie threw his head back and moaned in response as the tight bloat reached its limit

"ah fuck yeahhh" Eddie lifted his head and smirked feeling the pressure rush up his body

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!

[ashwhowrites]

Hey you!

I have an Eddie fluff request - he's in love with his best friend and has no idea she secretly feels the same, too chicken to tell her, but one night when she sleeps over at his, in the same bed he whispers everything he can't say in words, no idea that she's actually awake, hearing everything. So she starts "falling asleep" everywhere to have him tell her more about how much he loves her and when he voices concern about her being so tired "perhaps you need some vitamins supplement?" she confess that she has only pretended to hear him tell her he loves her, because she was chicken too

Very cute fluff! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Bedtime whispers

Eddie fell in love with his best friend over the years. They met in high school and connected instantly. Eddie felt safe around her and she was his protector. Whenever he got bullied, she saved the day. It was hard not to be smitten with her.

But he would never admit that to her. He finally had someone in his life that he refused to lose. She meant more than a friend to him. He valued their friendship and would hate himself if he ruined it. She was an amazing girl and he wanted to keep his claws in her.

Everyone else saw what he saw, which meant he had to bite his tongue whenever she dated someone or was interested in someone. It made his stomach drop and everything inside of him hurt. Luckily, the boys never lasted, he might have been the reason but she didn't need to know that.

With how close they were, they always had sleepovers. It was one of Eddie's favorite things they did together. They talked all night, watched movies, and ate everything Wayne bought that week. He loved laying next to her and feeling her warmth. He loved tangling their legs together underneath the covers and her head on his chest. He couldn't help but wish it lasted forever. As she dreamed, he daydreamed of marrying her and growing old.

~

Eddie turned off the lamp as they cuddled into bed. His back hit the mattress and she cuddled into him. Her head was on his chest as she sighed in delight. There was a comforting feeling Eddie provided and his smell was like a hug.

Eddie heard her breathing get softer and her body gets heavy. It was normal for her to fall asleep first. Eddie always struggled but he didn't mind laying still for her to cling on to. He looked down at her and softly ran his fingers through her hair.

"Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret from your other half?" Eddie whispered. She was asleep and he needed to say everything on his chest so he could sleep.

"It's hard. When I look at you, I wish I could say what's on my mind. I wish I could tell you how I fell in love with you and keep falling."

Y/N hoped he couldn't feel how fast her heart was racing. She didn't want him to know she was awake, so she stayed still. After a few seconds, he began to softly snore.

~

Y/N never stopped thinking about Eddie's confession. She felt the same as he did but was always too scared to say something. She thought it was funny that they both felt the same and were too chicken to say anything about it.

She wanted to hear more, she wanted to hear every thought Eddie had about her. So, she decided to "fall asleep" a few times to see what he had to say.

"Tired?" Eddie asked, Y/N faked a yawn and placed her head in Eddie's lap. The movie she already had seen a thousand times played in the background. She didn't mind to miss it as she closed her eyes.

"A bit," she lied, humming softly when Eddie began to play with her hair. Y/N tried to slow down her breathing to show that she was asleep.

She listened to the movie as time passed.

"You asleep?" Eddie whispered

Y/N stayed silent and tried not to smile as Eddie softly touched her face.

"You have the prettiest skin, I always think about caressing your cheek, and placing my lips on yours. It's hard not to stare and think about it when you apply lip gloss. Your lips memorize me." Eddie whispered as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

~

Y/N kept it going.

Week after week she "fell asleep" to listen to him.

"Your eyes are my favorite"

"I love how easy you fit in my arms"

"You have the sweetest perfume and I love that it lingers on my sheets"

"I get jealous when guys ask you out"

"I'm in love with you and I always will be"

"No one comes close to you"

"If I ever got the courage, I'd ask you to marry me"

~

"Tired again? Do you need to see a doctor or take something?" Eddie asked, he was concerned by how much she seemed to need to sleep.

"What?" Y/N laughed as she looked up from Eddie's lap.

"You've been tired lately. I'm concerned somethings off with your health." Eddie explained, his hands working through her hair.

"Oh, I don't think it's anything to stress about," Y/N tried to brush him off but he looked worried.

"Is there something going on at home?"

Y/N sighed and sat up.

"Eddie, look," she said, "I've been pretending to sleep because I like hearing things you say about me."

Eddie looked like a deer in headlights. The terror was clear to see on his face.

"I love you too, and I've been too scared to say it. And hearing you confess everything to me, even if you thought I was sleeping, I want you to know what I love about you." She said as she placed herself in Eddie's lap.

He swallowed and nervously wrapped his arms around her.

"I love your hair, your soft eyes, I've dreamed of kissing your lips," her thumb traced his bottom lip, "I love your jokes, your dirty mind, and how creative you are. An-"

But Eddie heard enough, she confessed she felt the same and he didn't want to wait another second. He placed his hand on the back of her head and brought her lips to his. He moaned as she finally felt the feeling of her lips against his. She tasted like a dream.

Y/N whimpered as she lost her hands in his hair, the kiss deepening as Eddie took control of the kiss. He picked her up and moved her on her back. Their lips connected as he settled on top of her and slipped his tongue into her mouth.

"Fuck," Y/N moaned as Eddie pulled away, their lust-filled eyes staring at each other.

"Agreed," Eddie panted out

"Do it again," Y/N demanded as she pushed Eddie's head back down. He gladly listened, his tongue working inside of her mouth as his hands moved up her thighs and landed underneath her shirt. His fingers caused goosebumps to rise on her skin.

Eddie tested the waters as he rocked his hips into her, his cock twitched as she whimpered and moved her hips back. They were so lost in each other, their bodies hungrily moving against each other. Their tongues battled and Eddie grabbed her free hand to bring it down to his pants. She got the hint and rubbed him over his sweatpants.

"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

The couple jumped apart, Eddie gulped as Wayne stood over the couch with his hands over his eyes. Y/N refused to look at him, staring at Eddie.

"I'm glad you two figured this out finally, but please Eddie keep it behind your bedroom door." Wayne declared before he walked off into his room.

Eddie looked down at Y/N with a nod, "So bedroom?"

Y/N scoffed as she reached and smacked Eddie with a pillow. "You are an idiot."

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: We’re going deeper and darker on this one, with an ending you might not expect...

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. TW: attempted sexual assault (not successful), violence, character death, drug use, and a twist.

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Part 5: Eminence Front

Your last conversation with your mother was on a Sunday morning, in hospice.

You sat at her bedside and held her hand. Chris and your father were downstairs in the hospital food court, ordering sandwiches. You hadn’t had much of an appetite for three days.

“I had your father call the whole family so they could watch the music video with you and Soldier Boy,” your mom said. She wore a proud, if weak smile. “He even recorded a few tapes of it. He sent one to your aunt, another to your cousins, and another to our friends Leah and Stan.”

“Pretty sure that’s illegal piracy, Mom,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t care. You’re my daughter, and you’ve worked incredibly hard to get here,” she said. Her eyes misted over a bit in memory. “We’ve all worked hard.”

You stilled at that. You didn’t know what memories she had filtering through her head, but you were sure your perspective behind the lens was…different.

In your mind’s eye, you saw yourself at twelve years old. Chris had been pestering you all day, as big brothers were wont to do sometimes. With a slap on his arm, you’d screamed at him to leave you alone.

He didn’t speak to you for a whole month. He didn’t go to your piano recital or your choir concert, where you had the best solo. He didn’t talk to you until you touched him again, grabbing his arm, pleading with him.

"Please, whatever I did, I'm sorry. Just talk to me!"

He startled as if he’d woken up from a dream.

Your parents had shared a look, and they’d known then that their gamble had worked.

You remembered being sat down by your mother and told that they had spent their entire life’s savings to make you a hero. So you were going to spend the rest of your young life training to be one.

“We’re investing in your future, but we’re also investing in ours.”

You remembered sleepover invites rejected and summer plans canceled on your behalf. Your mother used her meager retirement fund to sign you up for vocal lessons from a former opera singer. Your high school football coach father drilled you to condition your body like an athlete.

You never had a moment that wasn’t scheduled. You were always exhausted, taking whatever “supplements” your parents gave you to keep you going. (Often it was Adderall, until it started giving you insomnia, among other delightful side effects.)

You were miserable. Then again, you’d be surprised by what you could get used to.

The end goal was always getting into Payback. It was where you’d garner the most fame and make the most money, and therefore, make the most returns on your parents’ investments.

So your father later took out a loan to get you some basic combat training from an ex-Vought employee. Your parents wanted you to be well-rounded and prepared for anything when you got onto the team—and it was always when.

If was not part of the story.

Any small commercials and modelling gigs you landed throughout middle school and high school helped pay for your family’s bills, and later for college, where you double majored in Vocal Performance and Marketing. You would learn how to become your own brand.

Through it all, you always remembered what your mom had said to you on the set of your first commercial. You were crying because the hours were long and you missed your friends, and even your brother.

“Come on, let’s wipe those tears. You don’t want to smudge your makeup,” she’d said. When you couldn’t be consoled, she guided you over to a quieter corner of the set. “Listen, sweetheart. Don’t let them see you upset. You'll get a reputation for being difficult to work with.”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to do this anymore,” you said, sniffling badly as you scrubbed at your eyes. Your mother sighed sharply.

“You’re just starting out. Of course there are going to be growing pains,” she said. “Showbusiness is a cutthroat world, and yes, you’re so young. Maybe too young.”

She wiped your face with gentler hands, then she laid them on your shoulders and made sure you met her eyes.

“But you’re going to be better prepared than most superheroes. You can literally read men. You know what’s in their hearts, and you can control them. As a woman in this world, do you know how damn powerful that is?” she said.

She squeezed your shoulders.

“That’s why you’ll be smarter than any of them, and you’ll only show the world what you want them to see.”

What you want them to see…

“We don’t have to talk about that right now,” you said at last.

Your mom nodded and stroked your hand. Her eyes fell closed in rest. She looked so small and frail in her bed.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” she said. “Always remember that.”

Your lower lip trembled, and your eyes stung. You couldn’t help but feel hollow. What was there to be proud of? You’d failed. All your hard work was meant to give your family a better life, not…this.

“You’re so beautiful and talented,” she continued. “And you’ll get your father out from under these medical bills I put on him, won’t you?”

Deep in your soul, a painful ache twinged.

You ignored it and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take care of Dad, don’t worry.”

Your mother died the next morning. You wrote a statement about her passing to explain your absence to your fans. It went through Madelyn Stillwell and Arthur before they released the press release and even had it covered in Vought News. Then you spent the next week entrenched in funeral arrangements with your father and brother.

When you eventually returned to Vought Tower after the funeral, it felt like another part of you had chipped off.

Your room was filled with flowers and gifts from your fans, which managed to make you wide-eyed, and even tearfully touched. So this was the power of fame, then?

But there was one vase filled with beautiful scarlet roses. Attatched was a handwritten note:

Welcome home.

You thought you recognized the scrawl. A small smile graced your lips.

You gave into the desire to venture up to the penthouse floor, and knock on Ben’s door. He opened it himself. He was dressed down for once in the afternoon, in a normal sweater rolled up to his elbows and tucked into his slacks. Once he saw you, he was a little surprised.

You held up the note for his view. “Was this you?”

He smiled slightly, but he didn’t answer you. He just welcomed you inside. You followed him into the living room area and sat heavily on the couch. An album was playing on his record player. You recognized Sinatra’s smooth voice singing “My Way.”

“You want a drink?” Ben asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied. He rose a brow, but he fulfilled your request.

While he was busy, you grabbed his forgotten half a blunt from the ashtray on the coffee table, and you lit up. You didn’t often partake in drugs because you didn’t like being out of your lucid mind. You preferred being in control.

Today was different. You needed a distraction. Maybe that was why you were here to begin with.

You accepted the glass he handed to you and took a generous sip, though you coughed at the burn on the way down. And you took a puff, the smoke irritating your throat even more. You practically coughed up half a lung, until he sat down beside you and reached out his hand. You passed the blunt back to him. You two traded off hits until it was more than halfway down to the roach, and he eventually put it out on the ashtray.

“My offer still stands, you know,” he said.

You turned to him. Even in your “enlightened” state, you could feel his intentions. The way he roamed your body with his eyes was unmistakable, but just then, you had a moment of clarity. You couldn’t be bothered to play this game, or hide your true thoughts for that matter. You smiled to yourself, and you stood.

Ben got up with you, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Thank you,” you said, “for finally showing me who you really are.”

His lips slowly pulled into a frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“My mom died,” you said. “I know you knew that, but you couldn’t even muster up a basic ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ or whatever the fuck.”

You even laughed through the spark of tears. You wiped at your face. “This place is exactly what I thought it would be.”

The man was silent while you finished the drink in one long gulp. You slammed the glass on his counter, and you left his apartment.

It wasn’t the first time Ben watched you walk away from him, but despite his outward stoicism, it was the first time he felt the sting of it.

You knew it would be difficult at Vought, but you were finding it more and more challenging to keep focused as the months went by.

On one mission, Ben threw a man out of a three-story apartment. He lived, by some miracle, but shattered almost every bone in his body.

On another, Black Noir choke-slammed an escaped convict so hard, her esophagus caved in. And it was a good day if the TNT Twins even zapped the right culprit.

You were increasingly wary of the collateral damage and violence you were being complicit in, just by being there. You had to keep reminding yourself of why you were here. You needed to take care of your father, who was still swimming in your mother’s medical bills and funeral costs. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do this, with or without Ben’s help.

Even so, a day you were called to a full team mission made you more anxious than excited.

It was a drug ring that the police had been trying to dismantle for nearly a decade: Los Reyes. They were the "kings of cocaine," and they were brutal in their retaliations, locked in a turf war with one of the Italian mafias. As Stan Edgar had explained, the police were grateful for any help that Payback could provide.

You guys were sent to a warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen. According to law enforcement intel, it was the base of the Reyes gang's operations.

Infiltrating it was the easy part. Countess blasted right through the front doors, revealing your entire team to the group of men huddled around entire tables and crates filled with product.

When a man aimed a gun at you, Ben threw his shield. It hit the man, who then crashed into a support beam and broke his back in half. Your eyes went wide in horror at seeing his lifeless ones. You gaped up at Ben.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked in alarm.

"Would you rather get shot?” he said coolly.

The others picked off a few men in the room, but the rest of the gang scattered into other rooms within the large building. Ben barked commands for who should go in which direction.

“Sirena, you’re with Swatto. Head east towards the alley and cut off any rats,” he commanded.

You wanted to take issue with being partnered with Swatto. You glanced over at him. After how you compelled him a few months ago, he still had a grudge against you as well. But you two knew better than to argue with Soldier Boy on a mission.

You and your partner ducked out the east side into the alley. Sure enough, you saw blood splatters on the wall from a handprint, and drips of blood leading down the concrete path. After sharing a nod, you and Swatto followed the line of blood.

You turned the corner into a dusty construction site, where a new skyscraper was only partially built. Some walls were up along with the foundation, but it was mostly dirt, bare concrete walls, and piles of brick.

When you turned a corner, you and Swatto stopped short as bullets rained your way.

“Oh, fuck!” Swatto shouted. He pulled out his gun and decided to fly above. You heard more shots and men screaming, and then, it was quiet. You cocked your own gun, though you hoped you didn’t have to use it. The problem with your powers was you needed to be close enough to touch someone to actually compel them, man or woman.

Your last resort was your actual siren song, a power you rarely used. Mainly because it was lethal to any man who heard it. For that reason, it had to be your in case of emergency break glass tactic.

So you crept around the corner to see what Swatto had done. You were surprised to find that he fought well. He managed to kill a few of them, but one large man was still alive. He was on his knees in the dirt with his hands folded behind his head.

“See? Ain’t so fuckin’ tough now, huh?” Swatto taunted. “Get ready to get fucked in the ass in jail, Paco.”

You grimaced in disgust. “All right, that’s enough. Just—”

Before you could realize what was happening, the man raised up from the ground and swept the gun from Swatto’s hands. It flew across the clearing and hit the wall, setting the gun off. A bullet ricocheted and grazed Swatto in the side. 

“Aw, fuck! I’m fucking hit!” he yelled in alarm. His wings expanded from his back, and he raised off the ground in flight. Your eyes widened.

“Where the hell are you going?” you shouted.

“I’m hit! I need a hospital!” His voice grew smaller as he flew away like a fucking coward.

It left you alone with a man twice your size. He seized you up with a smirk.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “You’re the new one, right?”

You raised your gun and fired, but you were too late. He evaded and grabbed the gun from your hands. You held your ground after the first punch, but the second and third made your legs shake. You were more durable than the average human, and you were well trained. Unfortunately, you didn’t have super strength like most of your teammates.

You blocked when you could and gave blows of your own, but this man was large enough that it didn’t slow him for long. He wore a sweatshirt with long sleeves, so you couldn’t easily compel him with a touch.

Okay, this warrants an emergency, you thought in alarm. When you opened your mouth to sing, he shot out a sharp blow to your throat. Maybe he thought you were going to scream for help, but it had its intended effect of choking you into silence.

He grabbed you and proceeded to beat you down, until you felt the sharp breaking of ribs and blood and dirt in your mouth. Every time you tried to slip away or get to your feet and escape, he knocked you back down. He was toying with you, and having fun with it too. You could sense his sick enjoyment.

But then, you felt his intentions shift. Darker, and more carnal. A more intense fear coiled in your stomach, rising up into your throat. A gasp got stuck there as you tried harder to crawl away.

He grabbed your ankle and dragged you back towards him. He took your wrists when you tried to claw at his eyes, or even just touch his face to try and enforce your power over his.

Just a scrap of skin. That’s all you need.

A whimper escaped you as you struggled, but you kneed him hard between the legs. That managed to stop him for a moment as he grunted and cursed. He got a hold of a meaty hand around your neck. Your eyes glowed in desperation.

Suddenly, the man’s weight lifted off you.

You panted for breath and raised yourself up on your elbow. You watched with wide eyes as Ben slammed your attacker’s face into the dirt until he couldn’t breathe. Ben glanced at you, taking in the sight of your bloody face and cut lip, your arm wrapped around your battered ribs.

His frown deepening in displeasure, he bent the man’s arm until it broke in at least two places. His howls of pain echoed into the night. Ben cut it off by twisting the man’s neck, until it released a loud crack.

He threw the body to the ground in disgust. He barely even wiped his gloves before he stood straighter. Then he went back to you.

“You all right?” he asked gruffly.

You stared up at him with tears shining in your eyes. You tried to answer, but it hurt your throat. It was also painful for you to move your body. You tasted blood in your mouth and knew it had dribbled down your chin.

With a rough exhale through his nose, Ben lowered down and slid his hands underneath your body. You cringed and cried out when he moved you, but you were grateful. You were embarrassed. And you were exhausted.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you folded your arms over your battered middle. You couldn't help but lay your head against his chest.

The rest of the team was waiting at the other end of the clearing, except for Swatto. Even Countess was quiet as she watched Ben carry you out of the construction site.

You spent a couple of days in the hospital. There you were surrounded by Vought security fielding off any journalists or tabloids, and you were accompanied by your dad and brother.

Chris especially was angry for you, not to mention worried, but you tried to hide your pain and reassure them that you would be okay. This was just par for the course when taking down the bad guys.

Yeah, that one sounded hollow, even to you.

You were grateful when you got out of the hospital and were sent back to the Tower. Even so, the doctor had you mostly on bedrest until your ribs healed up. You weren’t proud of it, but you wallowed in your embarrassment and a bit of self-pity while you watched a marathon of Cheers and ate from a box of assorted chocolates. You dug around for your favorites, but you kept getting the weird shitty filling ones.

“Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came,” sang the TV show theme song. “You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same. You wanna be where everybody knows your name…” 

“Bullshit,” you muttered aloud. Such was your grouchiness that you had half a mind to change the channel. This godforsaken sitcom was too damn cheery, no matter how much you loved Ted Danson’s fine, rugged ass.

God. Maybe I do have a type.

That was when a knock at the door threatened to disrupt your solitude.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

You’d now recognize that smooth, deep voice anywhere. Sighing, you closed the box of chocolates and hid them under your pillow before you turned off the TV.

“Come in,” you said.

Ben stepped into your apartment and soon found you in your room. It was the first time he’d ever been in here, and he took a subtle look around. He wore his suit and tactical gear.

“Just come from a mission?” you asked.

He nodded and approached your bed. He smiled slightly.

“Eating your feelings in Whitman’s, huh?” he teased, tapping his nose. He could probably smell the chocolate.

You blushed and crossed your arms on reflex, but you grimaced when the motion made your ribs twinge sharply. You made a sound of discomfort and lowered your arms back to your sides. You shifted in the bed as slowly as you could. You’d been in this position for a while.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m peachy,” you groused. When you looked up at him though, you realized that he hadn't needed to come visit you. He was here of his own free will…and there was something you had yet to say to him. You sighed and met him with sincerity.

“Look…thank you, for saving me,” you said.

Ben inclined his head. He lowered down and sat beside you on the edge of your bed.

“You may not like how I run things here, but this is the way of it,” he said, holding your gaze. “This is the real fucking world. If you’re going to stay here, you need to get with that program, or this place is going to chew you up and spit you out.”

That fell between you two for a moment. The more you turned his words over in your mind, the more you realized that he was right, to a point. If you stayed, this was your life. You couldn’t keep handwringing. You had to be smarter.

“I’m sorry, I’m not looking very camera ready,” you said eventually. You meant it to be joking, but your voice was heavy. “I wouldn’t blame you for averting your eyes.”

You half expected him to make a joke about your black eye and torn lip. But to your surprise, Ben picked up your hand with a kind of gentleness. He raised the back of it up to his lips for a kiss. He gave you a reserved smile.

“Rest up,” he said.

He got up and strode out of your apartment. Not for the first time, he left you feeling unbalanced…and this time warm.

It took a few weeks for you to fully heal. You agreed to do an interview with Jason Carver, the anchor of Vought News. It was a bit intimidating being in yet another studio, and this was live.

The cameras aren’t there. This is just a stage like any other. You’re just…having a conversation, you coached yourself. You sat in an uncomfortable leather chair across from Jason at his desk.

When he got the green light from the producer, he kicked off the show by introducing you as his special guest.

“Can I just say, Sirena, we’re all very glad to see you’re all right,” he said, with a very convincing note of sincerity. Your abilities allowed you to read the truth.

Only show them what you want them to see.

You gave him a grateful smile.  

“Thanks, Jason. I appreciate that. It’s just…hazards of the job description, you know?” you said. “But I’m doing much better, and I’m very thankful that my team was there to support me.”

“Yes, the rest of Payback really stepped up to not only apprehend your attacker, but round up the entire Reyes gang. Is that right?” he said.

You nodded, reading the teleprompter. You were meant to go on a mini monologue about how great your team was, and how grateful you were to be a part of it. It was a script approved by Madelyn, and even Stan Edgar.

You paused, glancing over to where Arthur and Madelyn stood in the dark with the rest of the crew. They were both looking at you encouragingly, but expectant.

You took a steadying breath, and you decided to go a bit off-script.

“Well, actually, it was Soldier Boy who saved me,” you said. Jason’s brows rose at your shift in direction, but he reacted with all due interest.

“Really?” he prodded.

“Yes, he did,” you said. The memories of that night filtered through your mind with harrowing detail, including the way Ben stepped in and brutally handled that man. “He didn’t even hesitate. He just threw himself into the fray…and when it was over, he carried me to the hospital himself.”

That part wasn’t exactly true. He’d carried you over to a Vought-owned SUV, and the director of the camera crew drove you over to the hospital. You decided to gloss over that detail, and many others.

“Wow,” Jason said. He shook his head in wonder. “He truly lives up to the legend, doesn’t he?”

You smiled. “He’s more than that. Believe it or not, Soldier Boy was the first one to take me under his wing. He knew I was new to the city, so he guided me all over New York to see the sights like a tourist. Stuff I’m sure he’s seen millions of times, like Top of the Rock and Times Square. Oh, and he was also very gracious when my nephew came to visit. Got me some major brownie points for ‘Best Aunt in the World.’”

That earned you a congenial smile from your host. Your expression faded with a kind of weight in your heart.

“Ever since I got here, he’s been the one to tell it like it is, with that deep, authoritative voice of his,” you said, laughing a little when you tried to imitate Ben’s voice. It got you a laugh, even from those in the studio. “In a way, he’s the one who’s looked out for me the most. I’m very grateful for Soldier Boy, and of course for the rest of my team.”

When you finished, Jason nodded and clapped along with everyone else in the studio.

“Well, that’s just wonderful. Well said,” he said, and he looked straight into the camera with two fingers poised at his temple. “Soldier Boy, if you’re watching, we all appreciate you. And we salute you.”

Ben watched the clip from his living room with a small, incredulous smile on his face.

He wiped the remnants of white powder from his nose and sneezed. Blinking the bleariness out of his eyes, he refocused on the screen while you talked about him. He knew you had to be playing it up for Jason and the cameras, but you also seemed so sincere.

“He’s more than that.”

After the segment was over, he enjoyed the climax of his high while sitting back on his plush sofa. He tossed up an old baseball from his collection up towards the ceiling, this one signed by Babe Ruth. He caught it when gravity pulled it back down towards his face.

That was how Donna found him when she let herself into his apartment. She was out of her suit and wearing a little red dress, one of his old favorites. She graced him with a sultry smile.

“Busy?” she asked.

“Evidently,” he said.

She pouted, almost like a little girl. She went to him and curled herself under his arm and against his chest, draping a smooth thigh over his.

“I miss you,” she purred.

He smiled wryly and turned off the TV.

“Really now?” he drawled. “Because by my calculations it’s been…what, a few months since we’ve fucked?”

Donna paused, the smile slipping from her face.

“And I’m not counting that hand job a couple weeks back. That shit was pitiful, and a little chafing,” he said.

For the past few months, he’d been wracking his brain to remember what it was that had attracted him to this woman, besides the obvious outer packaging. He knew the difference now.

In the beginning, she idolized him. Worshipped him. Loved him. These days, she only came to him when she wanted something, and he had gotten bored. Bored of her.

As if sensing his shift, Donna moved her leg off his lap and sat up with a frown.

“Well, then let me fix it,” she said, as she slid a hand up his thigh. Suddenly she was all too willing to use those red-painted lips to service him. 

Ben couldn’t help but envision those lips as yours, a sinful red, while your mouth did sinful things. He’d gotten off more than once to the thought of it alone, ever since he shot that goddamn music video with you.

So he grabbed Donna’s wandering hand and looked at her coolly.

“Look, for whatever reason, I know you’re not happy,” he said, waving dismissively with his other hand. “Neither of us are. So let’s just stop wasting time.”

Her eyes widened. “What’re you saying?”

Ben’s brows furrowed. “Am I speaking fucking English? It’s time to call it quits, sweetheart.”

Donna’s jaw worked as she fought to keep herself under control. He had a feeling she’d be angry. She always was a little spitfire.

Her body was coiled like a spring when she withdrew her hand from his and got to her feet. She gave him an icy look.

“This isn’t going to last,” she claimed, with a prideful tilt of her chin. “In a month, a week, you’ll get tired of her. And you’ll remember that I’m the one who looks best by your side.”

Ben huffed in amusement before he laid back again. He continued to toss up his baseball.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said dismissively. 

Donna let loose an aggravated breath, but she kept most of her reaction inside. She turned on her heel, prideful as ever, and left his apartment.

When her fingers landed on the doorknob, however, she turned back for just a moment. Silence greeted her.

It wasn’t until then that her tears finally bubbled over.

Days later, a knock on your door drew your attention out of pulling on some jeans. You were intending to go on a walk through the city, take some time to get out of the Tower and just be you for a change.

That had better not be Madelyn at the door again. She had chastised you for going off-script at the studio twice already. She made the point that she and Stan had gone over those talking points for weeks, and agreed that framing your rescue as a team effort would cover Swatto as well.

He was still laid up with a broken leg, long after the scrape of the bullet had healed. He was tight-lipped about how he’d broken said leg, but you’d heard from Tommy that he’d shattered it…somehow.

Arthur had smoothed things over about your adlib though. He pointed out that talking positively about Soldier Boy helped the whole team. He was the leader, after all.

So yeah, you hoped this visit wasn’t another passive aggressive dress down from the head of PR. You sighed and went over to get the door. You were thoroughly surprised to see Ben.

And a Ben that was wearing a regular suit, for that matter. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Hugo Boss catalogue, steeped in charcoal gray with a long black coat draped over his arm. Your mouth parted in soft shock, especially when he produced a single rose from behind his back.

You took it with tentative fingers and a blush rising hotly in your cheeks.

“Okay, what—”

“Let me take you out,” he said. “One night. You’ll get to see what it’s like to be with the most famous man in the world.”

What an opening line that was. You sensed he was in full Charm City mode, complete with a suave smile. Yours was more amused, even though you twisted the flower's soft petals lightly on your chin in contemplation.

After a few seconds to think, you gave him a patient look.

“Ben, nothing’s changed for me. I told you, I–”

“Countess and I are done, for real this time,” he said.

Once again, you were taken by surprise—mostly because he was telling the truth. You felt it.

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “When did this happen?”

“Recently,” he shrugged. “But like I said, it hasn’t been working for a while. It was a mutual thing.”

You weren’t so sure about that, but… 

This is what I wanted, you reminded yourself. In fact, it had been half what you’d hoped for when you went off-script. You just couldn’t believe it had worked this well, so soon. As much as you probably shouldn’t, part of you began to feel bad for manipulating him. For lying to him.

But it’ll be good for my career.

“…Okay,” you agreed, glancing down at your plain shirt and jeans. “Just give me some time to change.”

He raised a brow. “How much time?”

You gave him a slightly cheeky smile. “An hour, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

He sighed, but he agreed.

“Just don’t keep me waiting all fucking day,” he said.

“Come on. What’s a little delayed gratification?” you teased. Then you gave him a more sincere smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Ben nodded, with some added charm in the look he gave you in return.

You slipped back into your apartment and shut the door. You paused there when a thought struck you.

Shit, now what am I going to wear?

AN: Did you see that one coming?

A lot of darker angst and drama in this one, sorry for that. But I think you may like what's coming up...

Next Time:

You slid your hand over his on the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, his body tensing up at your touch. You frowned when you saw the glint of wariness cross his face.

“I won’t compel you again, Ben. I promise,” you said. As long as you don’t give me a reason to.

Your hand traveled up his arm, soothing along his neck, your palm finally resting against his cheek. His green eyes stared into yours.

Soon enough, his wariness bled away into desire.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 6

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New Gym, New Life

*This is my first story ever and english is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy it!* -Rafi💚

Daniel and Alex had been together for five years, living happily in their cozy apartment in the city. Both in their late twenties, they prided themselves on staying fit and healthy.

When a new gym opened just a few blocks away, they decided to check it out. The gym, named "Sahara Fitness", had a unique and exotic vibe, with its rich gold and deep red color scheme, intricate geometric patterns, and Arabic calligraphy adorning the walls.

As they walked in, they noticed that all the staff and trainers were Arab men; tall, muscular, and radiating confidence and masculinity. They greeted Daniel and Alex with warm smiles, their deep voices resonating through the gym. Despite the clear cultural influence, the place seemed modern and well-equipped.

"Welcome to Sahara Fitness," one of the trainers, Malik, said in a thick accent. "You two look like you already know your way around a gym, but we like to offer something special to our new members. A gift to help you get the most out of your workout."

He handed them each a small, ornate container filled with a dark, powdery supplement. "This is a traditional blend, used for centuries to enhance strength and endurance. Try it out during your workout, and you'll feel the difference."

Daniel and Alex exchanged a glance. They were a bit skeptical but intrigued. They had tried all kinds of supplements before, so they figured it couldn’t hurt to try something new. Thanking Malik, they headed to the locker room to change.

Dressed in their usual gym gear, the couple mixed the supplement into their water bottles and sipped. The taste was strong, almost spicy, with a hint of something they couldn’t quite place. Shrugging it off, they began their workout routine, starting with some light cardio before moving on to weights.

As they started lifting, both noticed an unusual burst of energy coursing through their bodies. The weights felt lighter, their movements smoother. They exchanged a surprised look but continued their sets, pushing themselves harder than usual.

After a while, they noticed something even stranger. Their bodies began to feel different—stronger, more powerful. Alex glanced at his reflection in the mirror and did a double-take. His usually slim frame was starting to bulk up, and his muscles were swelling with each rep. His fair skin seemed to be taking on a slightly tanned hue, and his facial hair usually trimmed and light, was darkening and thickening.

"Dan, are you seeing this?" Alex whispered, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

Daniel, too, was undergoing a transformation. His once smooth face was shadowed with a thickening beard, his jawline sharpening. His normally light hair was darkening to a rich, deep brown, and his skin was also taking on a more olive tone.

They both felt a strange warmth spreading through them, almost like a fire igniting from within. Their minds began to feel fuzzy, thoughts of their usual life together growing distant. Instead, they were filled with an intense, almost primal desire to lift more, grow stronger, and assert their newfound masculinity.

As they continued working out, their transformations became more pronounced. Their bodies grew more muscular, their chests broadening, arms bulging with veins as their biceps swelled. The hair on their bodies thickened, and their once soft features became rugged and masculine. The changes weren't just physical; their minds were altering too.

Daniel, now with a full, dark beard and intense eyes, glanced at a group of women working out nearby. He felt an overwhelming attraction towards them, something he'd never experienced before. The thought of Alex, his partner, seemed oddly foreign, replaced by a burning desire to dominate, to conquer.

Alex, too, felt a shift. His mind, once full of love and tenderness for Daniel, was now clouded with lustful thoughts. But he wasn't thinking about Daniel; it was women with soft curves and alluring smiles. The idea of being with a man seemed almost laughable now.

They both finished their workout, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from their now muscular, tanned bodies. The gym’s atmosphere, once just a backdrop, now felt like home, where they belonged and could be their true selves.

As they headed back to the locker room, they caught sight of themselves in the mirror. Gone were Daniel and Alex, the cute, loving couple who had walked in earlier. In their place stood two Arab alpha males, their bodies sculpted and powerful, exuding raw masculinity. Their eyes were dark and intense, their gazes filled with a new hunger.

Malik appeared behind them, a knowing smile on his face. "Ah, I see the supplement has worked well. Welcome, brothers. You are now part of our tribe, our brotherhood. The old you is gone. You are reborn, stronger, and more powerful than ever."

Daniel, now calling himself Daoud, and Alex, now Ali, looked at each other and nodded. They felt no fear, no regret only acceptance and excitement. They had been transformed, not just physically but mentally. The bond they once shared as lovers was replaced with a new bond, brotherhood. And with it came a shared obsession, a desire for women that burned within them like never before.

"Bro, I can't believe how good this feels. I don't even know why we were ever together like that," Ali said, his eyes flickering with a new, primal energy.

Daoud smirked, flexing his arms, feeling the surge of power coursing through his veins. "Yeah, man. What were we thinking? This is what real life is about. We were just... confused before." He looked at the women working out nearby, his gaze filled with hunger. "Now, it's all about the chase, the thrill."

Ali nodded in agreement, his thoughts aligned with Daoud's. "Exactly, bro. Chicks, muscles, and dominating life. That's what we were meant for."

Daoud clapped on Ali's back, their bond now one of brotherhood and shared desires. "Let's go, man. Time to show the world what real men are made of."

They dressed in new clothes provided by the gym. traditional but modern arab-inspired attire that accentuated their muscular frames. As they walked out of the gym, they felt like kings, ready to conquer the world outside. Women turned to look at them, drawn to their confidence and masculinity. And as they exchanged a knowing glance, they knew that their lives had changed forever.

No longer the gentle, loving couple they once were, Daoud and Ali were now straight, Arab studs, obsessed with their newfound masculinity and the thrill of chasing after women.

[hermajestyimher]

This Is How We Will Own 2023:

We're less than a month away from the New Year, and as such, it is important that we begin to set the foundations and plans we have to not only succeed, but make 2023 a memorable year.

Regardless of how 2022 went for you, regardless of how many goals you were able to achieve, a new year marks a new beginning. Do not beat yourself over how things went, focus on how you can improve them moving forward.

In 2023 we're:

Spending less time being passive scrollers online. The pandemic is over, the world is back in action and so must we. It's time to stop letting our minds be consumed by the opinions of thousands of people on the internet. More often than not, the things we read online come from the psyche of mentally unwell individuals, and given social media's tendency to prompt out the voices of the most unhinged, it gives people that shouldn't have a platform a false sense of authority. In 2023 we're getting off the grid as much as we can and reconnecting with the real world. We will not allow this online façade to swallow us into its void any longer.

Spending more time learning and engaging in high-end activities and hobbies that can elevate our social circle and our taste. Things like polo matches, pilates, ballet, opera, piano classes, poetry, political forums, martial arts, and high-intensity sports, among other things. It is crucial to cultivate a persona that engages in a variety of fulfilling activities that can bring us joy but also help us grow as individuals.

Prioritizing our health and fitness. No more excuses, it's time to cut down on added sugar and refined carbs, time to eat more nutrient-dense whole foods, drink plenty of water daily, invest in vitamin injections every other month, take supplements to improve our body's collagen production, and overcome feelings of laziness by pushing ourselves through fitness goals. 2023 we will make of the gym our sanctuary.

Living below our budget and investing as much as we can. If you haven't already, get a financial advisor, develop long and short-term financial goals and get organized with your income. It doesn't matter if in the past you've felt like your financial habits have not been the most adequate, it's never too late to take control of them and be responsible. We owe to ourselves to spend wisely to have the peace of mind financial security brings. Never go broke trying to impress others.

We're no longer entertaining inadequate men. I must admit I'm guilty of this myself. After years of not dating, getting back into the dating scene has felt extremely disappointing and tiring. Most prospects are simply not up to par with the standards I have and what I want out of my life partner. Sometimes we allow ourselves to become desperate to build these types of romantic relationships that we begin to overlook the things that we really want deep down. In 2023, we're refocusing our attention on living our best lives and being as active as possible in real-life events as touched upon previously, and trust that the right dating prospects will present themselves when we least expect. We attract, we don't chase.

Finally, we're overcoming negative self-talk patterns that hinder our growth. We're investing in therapy, we're unlearning the limiting beliefs that keep us in bondage to people, routines, and views of the world that are not good for us. We have to put an end to the insidious lie of the scarcity mindset, overcome past traumas, and look forward to the good things that are yet to come.

There are many more things I could add to this list, but for now, these are the things I and I know many of you will find helpful on improving on for the year to come. These lists can come out as intimidating to some people, but we have to remember that we are not expected to become the ideal version of ourselves overnight. Growth is a marathon, not a sprint, and it requires consistency. Each day that you wake up and choose to do one or two things differently you're making stride towards that better you. No improvement is ever too little.

Let's make 2023 a memorable year, and every year afterwards.

Daphne.

[fakeboytofemale]

A partner that seems so supportive of your transition, but really he's trying to turn you into a good slut for him!

"Be careful babe, your binder is really tight, you probably shouldn't bind at home since you do it all day at work."

"That skirt I bought you makes you look totally gnc! No it's not girly, men can wear skirts too!"

"Plenty of men like their chests played with baby, let me feel you up, you're so sexy."

"Long hair is so hot on men babe, you should grow it out again. No it's not feminine, boys can have long hair!"

"You look soooo good in guyliner babe, you should wear makeup all the time, you'd look really pretty- I mean handsome!"

"I wanna do some nipple play with you babe, cause you're so sexy when I'm playing with your tits I mean your chest. Yeah, here, let me hook you up to this breast pump, it'll be great."

"Plenty of guys are into being told their partner is going to breed them, it's a state of mind! So let me cum in that cunt raw."

"I don't know what you're talking about baby, I know you found the empty bottle of lactation supplements and estrogen pills, but I don't know why you think I swapped them with your vitamins! Are you feeling okay?"

"You know, I'm kind of into twinks more and more these days. You should shave your body, especially that pussy of yours. Plenty of men shave, stop stressing about it, it'll make me so happy..."

"What? Gay men call each other girl all the time, it's like a term of endearment, I'm not misgendering you!"

"Have you considered using she/her pronouns, like, in a gay way? I saw you reblog that post about she/her gays, and honestly I think they'd really fit you."

Until you show up on his arm, milky tits on display, face full of makeup, in a mini skirt he bought you and introduces you to his friends;

"This is my girlfriend, we've been together for so long she's almost like a whole new person!"

You still think he's being supportive, but HE knows hes successfully broken a delusional girl back down into being the perfect girly slut for him!

[littjara-mirrorlake]

From my in-progress homebrew D&D 5e supplement, Plane Shift: Mirrodin/New Phyrexia: playable Myr!

They've been beloved in playtesting, with no fewer than three myr PCs appearing in the party over the course of a 3-year campaign. They are one of two new playable races in Plane Shift: New Phyrexia, along with the core-born Phyrexian.

Constructed Resilience and Sentry's Rest are abilities that previously appeared on the Warforged in Eberron: Rising from the Last War, and Regenerative Repair is a less restricting version of the ability Healing Machine from Astral Adventurer's Guide.

Text from the image under the cut!

Metallic, beak-headed myr inhabit Mirrodin, scampering at the feet of larger humanoids and largely considered below their attention. Few know of their true origin as creations of the mad wizard Memnarch, designed to be mechanized servants and his eyes across the plane. Following Memnarch’s fall, the myr found themselves with sapience and free will, though their core values of duty, community, and knowledge remain.

Myr Traits

Type. You are a Construct. You are also considered a myr for any prerequisite or effect that requires you to be a myr.

Ability Score Increase. Your Intelligence score increases by 2, and your Dexterity score increases by 1.

Age. As constructed creatures, myr don’t grow old in the traditional sense, and they are able to live indefinitely if well-maintained. You are immune to magical aging effects.

Size. Myr average about 3 feet tall. Your size is Small.

Speed. Your base walking speed is 25 feet.

Constructed Resilience. You have resistance to poison damage and immunity to disease, and you have advantage on saving throws against being poisoned. You don’t need to eat, drink, or breathe. You also don’t need to sleep, and magic can’t put you to sleep.

Darkvision. Your constructed senses grant you superior vision in dark and dim conditions. You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can’t discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.

Bonus Proficiencies. You gain proficiency in one skill and one tool of your choice. The tool you chose is integrated into your body and cannot be removed while you live.

Networked Minds. You can communicate telepathically with other myr within 120 feet of you.

Sentry’s Rest. When you take a long rest, you must spend at least six hours in an inactive, motionless state, rather than sleeping. In this state, you appear inert, but it doesn’t render you unconscious, and you can see and hear as normal.

Regenerative Repair. If the mending spell is cast on you, you can expend a hit die, roll it, and regain a number of hit points equal to the roll plus your Constitution modifier (minimum of 1 hit point). Spells such as cure wounds and spare the dying which restore hit points or preserve life, and normally don’t affect constructs, function as if you were a humanoid.

Languages. You can speak, read, and write Common and one other language of your choice.

[huramuna]

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets. 

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another. 

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply. 

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that. 

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely. 

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway. 

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole. 

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior. 

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there. 

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted. 

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.” 

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.” 

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive. 

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket. 

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point. 

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.” 

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball. 

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep. 

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.” 

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.” 

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?” 

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.” 

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape. 

“I need space. I need to think about this.” 

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.” 

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.” 

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.” 

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.” 

“Please— don’t go. I need you.” 

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out. 

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence. 

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option. 

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond. 

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him. 

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter. 

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were. 

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him. 

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water. 

You had to move out— you had to get away. 

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly. 

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now. 

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none. 

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?” 

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now. 

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?” 

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

– 

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic. 

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat. 

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself. 

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat. 

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.” 

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.” 

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.” 

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.” 

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.” 

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door. 

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!” 

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it. 

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not. 

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago. 

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in. 

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped. 

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.” 

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned. 

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets. 

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink. 

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying. 

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision. 

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever. 

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.” 

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.” 

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.” 

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly. 

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted. 

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable. 

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave. 

“Is that… alright?” 

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest. 

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” 

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan. 

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close. 

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur. 

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be. 

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep. 

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one. 

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work. 

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him. 

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell. 

“A new collar?” 

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing. 

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling. 

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?” 

[johnbrand]

Call of Duty: Next Potential Chief

With @mrrharper

Inspired by nothing but boredom, Craig booted up his older brother’s console. If he found out that Craig was touching his stuff, his brother would have easily put him in the hospital. The two often fought, being on either end of the masculine spectrum. Craig, the liberal, more effeminate gay, had nothing in common with his conservative, ultra macho douchebag of a brother. Their fights were more or less his older brother shouting slurs at him for being girly, “a pussy” and “a fag," before landing numerous kicks and punches.

The home screen of the console displayed an array of games, most of which were the standard first person shooters. One however caught the short, slim boy’s eyes: Call of Duty: New Potential Chief. He was unfamiliar with any of the COD titles, but this one appeared to be new. At least, that’s what the small “NEW” banner above the icon hinted at. Intrigued, Craig decided to engage, opening the application. It took a while for the game to load, but eventually he was brought to the main menu. 

Complete the Entry Campaign before joining online.

Craig assumed that was reasonable; he would have to endure a tutorial if he wanted to play the game properly. As soon as his finger accepted the prompt, a piercing electric shock paralyzed his entire body. Frozen, Craig now sat completely still as the screen continued forward, ready to engage its program.

Entry Campaign activated, downloading Physicality package…

The screen in front of Craig began to display multiple bars with different characteristics. 

HEIGHT - 68/77 Units

WEIGHT - 152/200 Units

ADIPOSE TISSUE - 16/15%

MUSCULATURE - 23/85%

FEET - 8/15 Units

PHALLUS - 5/9 Units

The standardized inputs confused Craig at first, who although unable to move, still held some consciousness to the situation around him. After the first bones began to crack however, he began to understand the situation a bit more. Fearfully, Craig desperately attempted to move any portion of his body while tendons and ligaments shifted and expanded. As his HEIGHT bar slowly ticked further, Craig could literally hear himself stretching larger and larger, eventually reaching a height of 6’5.

Craig began to plead internally for escape as his muscles proceeded to bloat. His lanky body was quickly evolving, broadening with power. His calves and upper arms swelled, thickening with strength and testosterone. His quads widened, bolstering incredible durability along with his newly-prominent muscle gut. Craig’s seat expanded beneath him, plumping while his hardware opposite upgraded into a juicy 9 inches. Although still paralyzed, Craig’s legs were forcibly separated to accommodate the masculinized bundle, his soles inflating into obscenely large monsters.

Physicality package downloaded. Installing required MASCULINITY data points…

VOCAL HEIGHT - C5/D#4

VOCAL DEPTH - C#3/D2

FACIAL SHAPE - J

FACIAL HAIR - 2/61%

STRENGTH - 21/85%

AGGRESSION - 14/95%

Craig’s head naturally arched back as an emerging Adam’s apple distended from his neck, his vocal chords sculpting an uncommonly deep bass. His jaw was restructured as it jutted forward, stretching his nose and accentuating his brow along with it. A beard quickly grew in to cover the squaring shape, with dark hair flowing through Craig’s pits, down the sternum, across his crotch, and along his arms and legs.

Still fighting for release, Craig felt his inward ambition grow stronger, more offensive. In his mind, he had begun cursing the game, swearing to do unholy things to it and its creator once freed. His language and manner became cruder, brasher, and brutish–akin to his older brother’s demeanor that he had typically admonished. Craig's less analytical behavior distracted him from the the final set of downloads that were being made.

Finalizing Subordination supplements…

INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT - 145/60 Units

INTERPRETATIVE ANALYSIS - 97/10%

EXECUTIVE SUBORDINATION - 0/100%

Initializing GAMEPLAY package, uploading TF4971-Wolf onto virtual network…

Without realization, Craig’s protests slowly became weaker and less deliberate. His specific remarks began to loosen, his targeted opinions evaporating as the progress bars ticked towards their end quotients. While his aggressive demeanor remained, Craig gradually lost the language he wished to use. Eventually, even his reasoning was wiped away, diluting his directed anger into simplistic barbarism. 

Once his numbers matched the game’s standards, Craig’s brain was completely devoid of any independent thought. His head was cluttered with only the required media truly necessary. Images of loyal men, bulky men, masculine men in specific uniforms established only one precedent. Instructions on how to shoot, when to shoot, and who to shoot became his only scripture. His mind absorbed the gameplay, understanding its commands.

Now unable to process anything but the mission, TF4971-Wolf did not comprehend his teleportation into an online match in the game. He stood at one end of a battleground, surrounded by other men with the same objective. They all wore the same camo utility pants, thick jackets, and beige caps. They held the rifles they were all programmed to easily operate.

TF4971-Wolf did not question who he was, where he was, or even why he was as he proceeded towards the battleground. He was nothing more than a strong, masculine soldier NPC with permanent instructions to follow the COD programming and win the next match.

[beatrixstonehill2]

Willow stared at her growing breasts in total disbelief. They weren't stopping. This felt half like a dream come true and like a nightmare for her. She was a therapist, and needed to maintain a certain level of professionalism with her clients, she wondered how they'd react seeing these monstrous, growing breasts. She teased the idea of letting her male clients play with them to relieve stress, hell, maybe she'd make a killing! All she knew was there was no going back to her old self.

About a year ago she met her future husband, Liam. He was suave, older than her, and very fit. He had his own Condo in Manhattan, working as a stock broker. The man was everything Willow wanted and more out of a guy. Six months after their first date he proposed. A month later the had their wedding by the waterfront, and Willow didn't have a second thought. On their honeymoon, he confessed his fantasy, handing her a bottle of breast growth pills, telling her how much he always dreamed of a woman growing out her breasts for him....

She was only a B-Cup and thought it couldn't hurt to try. But she didn't understand this bottle of pills activated something in a woman's DNA..... These weren't simple, innocent supplements you could stop, they were a very expensive program that hit a switch inside a woman's genes. The switch told the body to make the breasts grow, and it simply wouldn't stop. Her husband already joked that after her breasts cover the bed in a couple years, they could be reduced back down to MM-Cups or 'something manageable'. Though they'd only grow again.

Willow salivated, watching them inflate every day, all of her clothes not fitting. Her husband constantly bough her new things, though they both knew soon she wouldn't fit in much of anything. How could her clients possibly adjust? Dealing with their dark fantasies and porn addictions, only to step into a room with a therapist who used to have small breasts, now with a pair spilling onto her lap. She pictured herself trying to act casual and go about her day, her breasts getting heavier and more cartoonish by the day. There was nothing she could do, even if she for some reason left Liam, which she'd never dream of. She'd forever have turbo-charged gigantomastia. She smirked, admiring them spilling from her dress, thinking to herself she could always do her sessions by Zoom, sitting in her bed, her breasts covering their king-size bed, surrounding her. The thought made her blush, but she couldn't deny how hot it made her, too. By then she'd be so pregnant, she could hardly wait to see how much milk she'd produce.....

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Process Heavy

It started off so simply. A friend emailed me a link to a YouTube video promising to teach me about how to get some quick muscle. We had been swearing for months we were going to get on a consistent schedule to go, we just never did. I watched the 20 minute long video quickly. I hardly even noticed when it was over. But I felt energized enough to go on a run. That’s how it would start. I would watch the next video in the series and time would simply slip away. 20 minutes. 30 minutes. An hour. I started noticing changes, little things out of place. My water bottle half drunk in my car. Tee shirts in the laundry when I swore I washed them. Some new supplements I didn’t remember buying. It wasn’t until I popped one on Friday night and came to Monday morning fresh from the shower that I really started to get concerned.

At that point, I began noticing the physical effects. My previously smooth body had begun sprouting hair all over: my chest, my face, my arms, my ass. My voice easily dropped two octaves, deep and bellowing. And the muscle. They were not joking about growing muscle quick. My arms swelled as biceps, triceps, and forearms strained against my taught skin. Abs formed a cobblestone path down to a deep V. Firm pecs we’re established, but not for long. They continued to swell and stick out, heavy and juicy. They were almost hypnotic, the way they would jiggle as I walked. But that was nothing compared to my butt. Bubble would hardly describe it, they were pillow-like. A soft mix of muscle and fat filled out a rear that you could bounce a quarter off. Every part of me swelled and filled with power. That was when the smell really set in. No matter where I was, what I was doing, or how much I would wash I would catch this smell coming off of me. It wasn’t bad, in fact it was deep and masculine in a way that I couldn’t quite describe, but it drove me wild none the less. And I wasn’t the only one. Other bros around me would kind of drift off into their own worlds, with a distinct outline pushing against their pants. I’m not kidding dude, my boss drug me into a meeting last week. He started complaining about how my work was slipping but after just a few minutes he was basically in his own world as he just kinda leaned back in his chair and let it all hang out. I asked if I could go and he just kinda waved me off. There was a faint moan behind me as I closed the door.

At this point whole days were slipping by before I even registered they had started. It was this weekend that I somehow came to during one of my episodes. I was in the sauna in a gym I didn’t recognize. Two bros were in there, zonked out of their minds on my scent. But I realized that wasn’t all. In their state, laid back, sprawled on the bench, mouths hanging open, I saw a stream of liquid dribbling out of one guys mouth. Thick and viscous, I immediately knew the sight of jizz. I stumbled out of the room, leaving my towel behind. I texted my friend who sent me the videos in the first place. I hadn’t seen him since this had all began and I needed answers. I felt my scent catch up with me, tickling at my brain to go back into whatever trance I had been under. I wrapped a fresh towel around my nose and threw on the stringer top, shorts, and sandals I had in my locker. When had my feet grown so big? Free balling, I stormed out to my car and drove towards my friend’s place. When I arrived, the door was almost suspiciously unlocked. Who greeted me inside though was not the curly-haired, lanky, nerdy friend I knew.

He was ripped, oozed confidence, and passed a beer into my hands before I could even process.

“What, not what you were expecting? You didn’t think I would let you have all the fun did you?”

I knew then that this was all his design, his plan for me. I wanted to leave but, every small twitch of this man mesmerized me. Instead, he pushed me onto the couch, covered in his sweaty workout gear, and I began to sip on my beer. He looked me up and down, assessed me like a piece of furniture he wasn’t quite sold on.

“Well, I think you’ve processed long enough. I think it’s time to see what all that training has done.”

He pulled his shirt off and sat facing me in my lap. I was glued to my seat as this man tore my top off of me and pressed our exposed bodies together. My mind tried to to resist but my body betrayed me, as he raised my chin, slid his hand around my neck, and pulled my lips to his. I was enraptured. Our tongues danced as he began exploring my body with his hands. Quickly, he had my arms thrown behind my head as sweat trickled from my pits. He buried his face in and gave them a good sniff.

“Fuck babe, you’re ripe. Not as ripe as these though.”

He threw an arm back and guided my face to his pit. If my scent was good his was pure heroine. It consumed my mind as I felt my cock strain against my shorts. As I worshipped that stench, it kept growing and throbbing. My mind shut down, giving into raw pleasure. Nothing else mattered, I could live on this high alone. In this state, he pulled me out of his pit and asked:

“You want to live like this? You want to be controlled by your master’s scent?”

Fuck I did. Anything, I begged him, please. He gave me one last kiss as he walked out of the room, a video now playing on the TV.

“Then watch”

I felt myself slowly draining. A familiar voice droned out of the speakers, and I was throbbing for the release he would give me. In moments I was floating on nothing but the instructions of my master, and the scent of his used jockstraps lying around me…

Anyone who met you now would have never guessed how you started. A scrawny guy, stressed day in and day out at your corporate job, and cripplingly lonely. Any memories you had of that life were left somewhere in an apartment, nothing but dried cum on the floor and wall. The new you was sexy, outgoing, and confident. You worked out non-stop and did everything your master said to. You are dumb and obedient, with not a thought behind that flirtatious wink. But above all, you are horny. And guys can smell it. They can’t do anything but relax and submit, prostates being milked as they moan for more. The best get brought home and watch a few videos before being sent out into the world. Flex, fuck, propagate.

[bethanythebogwitch]

I am a survivor of Florida, having gone to college there for 4.5 years. There's a lot (a LOT) to not like about Florida, but the wildlife is not one of those things. So for this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'm gonna talk about the most famous Florida resident, the manatee. And why stop there? I'll discuss all the sirenians in one go.

(image: three manatees facing the camera. They are rotund, resembling a potato in shape. Their heads are smaller and end in squarish snouts. They have two flippers at the front of the head. The tail is flat, wide, and round. They are grey all over)

The sirenians are a taxonomic order of marine mammals consisting of 4 living members: three species of manatee and the dugong. They are the only herbivorous order of marine mammals, a trait that has given the the nickname "sea cows". The name Sirenia comes from the sirens of greek myth. In the original story, the sirens were bird with the heads and breasts of women, but later stories turned them into mermaids and that's the version that's stuck. There are unconfirmed stories that European sailors (the most common story uses Christopher Columbus) mistook manatees for mermaids, which is why they're named after sirens.

(image: a manatee facing the camera. Its face is visible, revealing two nostrils on a broad, flat shout covered in whiskers. It's eyes are located above the snout and are small and black. It is grey, but has patches of greenish algae growing on it)

Sirenians all have a pretty similar body plan. They are fusiform (bulky in the middle and narrower at the ends) and very bulky animals not built for speed. They don't ned to be fast (though are capable of short bursts of speed) because unlike other marine mammals, they are herbivorous. The vast majority of a sirenian's diet consists of sea grass and most of the rest is other aquatic plants. All species have been known to supplement their diet with invertebrates, mostly during times of poor food availability. When feeding, they move their snouts through the sediment, letting sensory bristles detect plants. They then use their flexible and muscular lips to pull up the sea grass, roots and all. While an individual can eat up to 15% of their body weight a day, they are known to seek out seagrass patches with higher nitrogen content instead of eating everything they can get. This reliance on seagrass limits the range of sirenians to shallow coastal areas, rivers, and estuaries in warm climates. Hearing and touch (with the bristles that cover their bodies) are their main senses. Their eyes are weak, making them almost blind. Sirenians are large, with the largest ever known, Stellar's sea cow, growing up to 10 meters (33 ft) and 11 tons. Mature sirenians are large enough to have no natural predators. Like all marine mammals not named sea otters, sirenians have a thick layer of blubber to keep them warm. Their bones are extremely dense and likely act as ballast to counteract the buoyancy of the blubber. In the marine mammal breath-holding competition, sirenians do pretty bad. They can hold their breath for about 15 minutes at max.

(image: a dugong. It is similar in appearance to a manatee, but skinnier. Its tail is a fluke with two points. Its head is larger and the snout and mouth point downwards)

Sirenian reproduction is somewhat poorly-understood. They only have a single calf at a time (with a gestation period of about a year) and mothers will raise them for one to two years. Calves mature quickly, reaching sexual maturity in around 2-5 years in manatees and 8 years in dugongs, though most females do not give birth until between 6 and 15 years. Their nipples are located behind the flippers, making a nursing calf appear to be sucking its mother's armpit. Sirenians are solitary animals who typically only congregate in groups when females are in estrus. Males are believed to compete for the right to mate and may engage in lekking. Lekking is when a male will claim a territory and mate with females in this territory while chasing opposing males out. Sirenians live long lives, with the oldest known individual being a female dugong that lived to 73. Despite how long they live, each female will only get pregnant a few times in her life.

(image: a manatee mother with calf. The calf looks like a smaller version of the mother and is suckling, making it appear to be biting the mother's armpit)

As with all marine mammals, sirenians are descended from land mammals. The study of sirenian evolution has led to a surprising conclusion: the closest relatives of sirenians are elephants. It sounds weird, but there is substantial DNA evidence supporting this conclusion. In addition, the tusks of a dugong (see below) and flexible and prehensile lips of sirenians are based on the same structures as the tusks and trunks of elephants. It gets better, the next closest relative of both groups are the hyraxes, who look more like rodents than anything that should be related to an elephant or a manatee. All three are part of a clade called paenungulata, which is part of a clade called afrotheria. The other main group within afrotheria is afroinsectiphilia, which consists of aardvarks and various shrews. The afrotherian family reunions must be wild.

(image: a scientific diagram showing a cladogram of afrotheria and the groups within it. source)

The dugong (Dugong dugon) is the last surviving member of its family, which also included the now extinct giant Stellar's sea cow. The easiest way to tell a dugong apart from a manatee is its tail, which is shaped like a dolphin's fluke instead of the round tails of manatees. Internally, there are also multiple differences, many of them relating to the skull. The skull has a very distinct shape, with the upper jaw bending down at a sharp angle. The tip of the upper jaw has two short tusks emerging from it. These tusks are found in moth males and females, but develop differently. In males, they emerge when the calf reaches sexual maturity, while those of females only emerge later in life and sometimes not at all. It is believed that these tusks are used by males to fight over females, as males are often found with scars matching the shape of the tusks. Dugong teeth as simpler than those of manatees, being simple pegs. While manatee teeth will be replaced continuously through life, dugongs only get one set and have to make it count. Dugongs reach an average length of 3 m (10 ft) and 420 kg (930 lbs). Dugongs have the largest range of any sirenian, stretching from east Africa to the Solomon islands east of Australia. This range is fragmented rather than continuous and dugongs are separated into multiple isolated populations. The largest population is believed to exist in northern Australia.

(image: a dugong feeding on seagrass, seen from the front. It's snout is being dragged through the sediment, leaving a cloud of dirt behind it. Small yellow fish surround it)

The west Indian manatee (Trichechus manatus) does not live in west India. It lives in North America. I dunno who named it, but you had one job. The species is divided into two subspecies: the Florida manatee (T. m. latriostris) found in the Gulf of Mexico and east coast of the United States, and the Antillean manatee (T. m. manatus) found in the Caribbean and down south to Brazil. The Antillean subspecies is much more poorly known compared to the Florida subspecies. The Florida manatee may be the most well-studied of all manatees due to the extensive conservation efforts regarding them since the 1970s. Like other manatees, the WI manatee has a round, paddle-like tail and fingernails on its flippers. Their diaphragms are divided into two hemidiaphragms, each of which contracts one lung. They have the northernmost territory of all manatees, which comes with some consequences. They are susceptible to stress and even death when exposed to water under 20 degrees C (68 F). They travel south during winter, usually to southern Florida, but conservationists still have to rehabilitate manatees harmed by cool water every year.

(image: tourists in transparent kayaks observing a west Indian manatee swim below them)

The Amazonian manatee (Trichechus inunguis) is the only sirenian that lives entirely in freshwater, residing in the Amazon river basin. They move seasonally inhabiting flooded areas during the wet season and lakes during the dry season. They fast during the dry season, subsisting off of their fat stores. There are believed to be multiple relatively isolated populations of Amazonian manatee, but studying them is difficult due to them preferring to live in areas away from humans. The Amazonian manatee is the smallest sirenian, reaching between 160 and 230 cm (5 ft 4 in to 7 ft 7 in) and 120 to 270 kg (265 to 595 lbs). Scientist Marc van Roosmalen has proposed the existence of a related species, the dwarf manatee, that lives only in one tributary of Aripuanã river, which is in the habitat range of the Amazonian manatee. Their existence is debated, but most manatee scientists think that they are misidentified juvenile Amazonian manatees.

(image: an Amazonian manatee with calf, seen from ahead and below. they have the same body plan as the above images, but are a darker grey with a white patch on the stomach)

The African manatee (Trichechus senegalensis) is the only species found in the old world, in west Africa from Senegal to Angola. They occupy the largest range of habitats of all sirenians, from tropical islands to flooded forests, to offshore sand flats, to lakes and rivers. They will swim up river during the wet season and back down during dry season. Some isolated populations live exclusively in rivers, never venturing out to sea. They are the most omnivorous of the sirenians, seeking out invertebrates to eat and stealing fish from nets. Many cultural groups in their range consider the African manatee sacred, some saying they used to be people and that killing one requires paying a penance. Mami Wata, a water spirit revered in throughout west, central, and south Africa, has been identified with manatees by some folklorists.

(image: an African manatee seen from the side in an aquarium. It looks almost identical to the west Indian manatee)

All sirenians are classified as vulnerable by the IUCN, except for the Antillean manatee, which is endangered. As they have few to no predators as adults, the primary threats for all sirenians come from humans. Boat strikes and getting tangled in nets kills and injures many individuals, possibly more than die of natural causes. This is not helped by them lacking fear responses to predators, meaning they don't flee from humans and boats. All species were historically hunted for their meat, blubber, and bones, reducing their populations. While all species are now legally protected, poaching and legal hunting by indigenous groups still occurs. They are also threatened by habitat loss as coastal development, pollution, and climate change reduces the range of seagrass. Damming has also reduced their ability to travel up rivers, cutting off valuable feeding ground. Learning about freshwater ecology will make you despise dams. In the United States, the west Indian manatee has become an icon of conservation, especially in Florida, where they have extensive legal protections. Controversially, the US government reduced their legal protections in 2017, much to the ire of many conservation groups. The manatee is the state marine mammal of Florida, presumably narrowly beating out dolphins and meth heads wandering around the everglades.

(image: two juvenile manatees who were abandoned by their mothers. They are being bottle fed by employees of the Cincinnati zoo. Ideally, they will be able to be released into the wild once weaned)