#dropping subtle hints on more hidden ones..

[averycutesalamander]

what's our consensus on Boothill's thoughts on easter? if it exists in the hsr universe (which.. surely it must be known of in a historical sense, at least? i swear the MC refers to "easter eggs" at least once) it's probably totally detached from the religious background by that point, right?? im unclear on how earth connects to the rest of the universe lore-wise but whatever.

i think he would be delighted by it honestly. specifically the egg hunts. i can 100% see him meticulously hiding eggs in all sorts of crazy places. climbs up trees like a fucking monkey just to tuck them in the branches all the way at the top. does impossible parkour and hides one away out of sight. hides them in gutters and under rocks and in light poles and shit. considers the environments to pick the most similar colors to make them harder to spot. but also i imagine he's really considerate for younger kids that can't get to the most difficult ones, so he scatters plenty in more intermediate areas too.

simultaneously i really feel like he'd enjoy taking part in the hunts too.. the candy is not the priority though, he gives that away to the kids (or you 💖) for sure. his real goal is that HIGH SCORE BABY !!!! he'd get so competitive about it so fast lmao. immediately starts climbing all over the fucking place trying to find the most difficult ones and whining if he can't find any. he has a pretty substantial advantage with the enhanced eyes and everything, so you'd probably have to team up with someone to stand a chance at beating him lol

[levigarden999]

‪♡ quiet, sweaty nights ‪♡ levi x femreader ‪♡

theme : intimate fluffy smut , sweaty and fulfilling sex with levi warnings : smut , p!v sex , sweat , orgasm , missionary , only 18 and over notes : thank you all for the likes on my previous posts , i'm so happy you've enjoyed my writings ‪♡

levi wasn’t the biggest fan of intimacy. he was rarely affectionate towards you, it was usually just his delicate fingers lingering on your thigh or the faint feeling of his hand on your lower back. the subtle touches and hidden moments of love were his ways to show you how much he cared for you. but also how much he needed you.

even though levi didn’t get intimate often, it didn’t mean he didn’t want you. he was just so busy and focused on his work as the captain of his squad, not to mention the duty of being the strongest soldier. even though he hated that word, he knew he was important for the army and that he had a mission to fulfill. for humanity. for his loved ones. for you.

when he did get intimate, it was on those quiet nights. those quiet nights when the only sound that could be heard was the rain drops on the roof and the occasional sound coming from the wooden building materials of the hq. the moon would push its’ light in through the gaps between the curtains, illuminating beautiful shimmer against the plank floors and walls. shimmer where the small pieces of dust lingered in the now blue-ish air, as if magic was suddenly real and allowed you two to have this night without worries, stress or pressure.

the moon would cast light on levi’s face as well. there was single glistening drops of sweat on his forehead and a hint of a deep mysterious blue in his normally grey eyes as he moved on top of you. soft pants escaped his slightly open mouth with each thrust he did, the hovering black hairs on his face casting thin shadows on his skin.

”levi…” you panted quietly as you felt him do those deep, torturous strokes inside of you. the faint redness on his pale cheeks reminded you of the same lust, hunger and love your body was filled with right in that moment. you believed he felt the exact same sensations as you did. the skin between his hips and your crotch was wet and sweaty, so he had to move carefully not to make too sloppy sounds. there was a blanket covering you two, which made the situation even more intimate and hot.

sweat dripped down your temples as you laid on the soft mattress and you tightened the grip around his body. you held him close to you, his hot and steamy skin clinging against you. his other arm was wrapped around your thigh and it held your leg spread, allowing a deeper angle and a better position to manhandle you.

”m’ cumming…” you whimpered as you felt the hardness of his cock rub against your embarrassingly wet and plushy walls. you knew you had to be quiet since the others were already asleep in their rooms, so you held onto him tighter. levi looked down at you with a desperate frown between his eyebrows, and his other hand wrapped behind your head and tangled in your moist hair.

the heat of the blanket and his body was nearly overwhelming, but you hadn’t felt this close to him in a very long time. the thought made you yearn for even more.

”i’ll muffle those sweet moans f' you, love”, he cooed you. even though you were a strong woman soldier who slaughtered titans with practiced ease, you never managed to learn how to keep quiet. so levi had to help you.

he crashed his moist, swollen lips against yours and his tongue sunk into your mouth. it twisted and turned to the point it almost reached the back of your mouth, successfully muffling your moans.

”l-levi…!” you whined again, those sweet sounds of pure pleasure making his skin shiver with need to make you clench around him. he continued his deep thrusts even though he fastened his pace a little, hitting against that lovely spot over and over again. your hips began to tremble and soon your whole body squirmed as the sweaty, beautiful and longed orgasm crashed over you. levi’s mouth sucked in all your whines and moans and he fucked you through your orgasm, the slight grip on your hair making sure you didn’t pull away from the kiss.

[ingeniousmindoftune]

Hi i was wondering if you could write a fic about a virgin with either stack or smoke

“First Time for Everything”

Featuring Stack Moore (Michael B. Jordan) from Sinners (2025)

Reader Insert / Virgin Female OC Style / Modern day

Slow burn | Realism | Adult themes | Emotional depth | Emotional realism | Subtle intimacy

Words: 1,389

She felt the city’s pulse in her bones—the relentless drumbeat that lifted some and swallowed others whole. New Orleans in midsummer wore a heavy, sultry cloak: the air thick with steam, the low murmur of secrets slipping through cracked shutters, and tendrils of cigarette smoke drifting from open bar doors like gray ribbons. Tourists swarmed the French Quarter in camera-bright colors, never noticing the hidden heartbeat beneath the jazz. She did.

She savored the hush after midnight, when street lamps blurred into halos and the clatter of late-night traffic faded to a soft percussion. From the front desk of the Maison de Chartres—a peeling pastel building wedged between a smoky jazz lounge and a voodoo stall that only opened at dusk—she heard saxophone notes spiral down from a second-floor balcony, unwinding like warm jasmine perfume onto the sidewalk. Behind her desk of burnished mahogany, she was the silent anchor for a revolving cast of guests.

They came and went: weary salesmen in damp suits, backpackers with muddy shoes, couples in too-tight formalwear clutching plastic hurricane cups. None of them registered her pale face or the way her dark eyes tracked each arrival and departure. She was the fixed star in a sky of passing comets—always watching, never seen.

Then he appeared.

She didn’t know “Stack Moore” that first humid evening. All she saw was a man who inhabited the air around him as if he’d claimed it by right. He stood at the threshold, tall in a soaked charcoal overcoat, collar turned up against sudden rain, a wool scarf knotted at his throat. His gait was deliberate, silent—an echo of confidence that didn’t need volume to fill the room. His broad shoulders hinted at stories carved into muscle; his eyes, dark and unreadable, never gave anything away for free.

“You the night clerk?” His voice was low, a rumble she felt more than heard, like thunder through a wall.

She looked up from her laptop, mouth parting into a flicker of surprise. “Yes, sir—um, I am.”

He let a brief, crooked smile slip across his face, sharp as broken glass. “Don’t call me ‘sir.’ Ain’t earned it.”

Her fingers trembled as she swiped the check-in tablet. “Of course. Stack Moore?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You know me?”

“Just from the reservation.” Her voice floated in the hush between them.

He studied her for a beat too long, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “Good,” he said. “I like that.”

Over the next nights, he morphed into a living ghost. Always arriving just before midnight, alone, the hem of his coat dark with rain or something darker. Some evenings a bruise, pale and spreading, bloomed along his jaw; other times faint smears of dried blood crusted under his knuckles. She never asked. She simply slid his room key across the desk with the same controlled calm—her nod the ritual, his departure the final note.

He had money—of that there was no doubt. His matte-black car with tinted windows whispered power. Yet he chose this modest hotel: clean rooms, polished floors, an anonymity that let him slip through shadows. Maybe that’s why she watched, puzzled by his insistence on returning.

One night he lingered longer than usual, leaning against the cherrywood counter as she refilled the lobby candy jar. The tin echoed with each gumdrop she dropped inside. Outside, the street was slick with fresh rain, neon signs winking through puddles.

“You from here?” he asked, voice low.

She paused, lifting a handful of pastel mints. “Born and raised. Lower Ninth—before the flood.”

He nodded slowly, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his coat. “Most people run from something.”

“I’m not most people.” She didn’t look up.

He exhaled, a sound almost like relief. “That scares me.”

His patronage haunted her thoughts as she locked up each evening. What corners of the city swallowed him? Why did he always arrive with that look—eyes like ash, as if he’d just walked away from something burning?

Then came the thunderstorm that cracked everything open. She was about to turn the key in the front door when he burst in, drenched. Water dripped from his hair, his shirt clung to his ribs. A dark bruise marred his temple—angry, raw.

“You okay?” She stepped around the desk before she could think, heart pounding.

He met her gaze, tension coiling in his sternum. “You always this kind?”

She shrugged, cheeks warm. “Not always. Just with you.”

He paused, something in his expression softening, or maybe it was regret. “You ever been touched?” His voice went brittle.

Her breath caught. “What do you mean?”

He closed the distance, voice dropping until only she could hear. “You look like the type who’s never been kissed unless he asked real nice. You ever been with somebody, sweetheart?”

There was no cruelty in his question, only blunt curiosity. She swallowed. “No, I haven’t.”

He blinked, jaw flexing. “I didn’t think so.”

She could have shut him down—called security, turned him away. Instead, she said, “I’m not saving myself.”

His shoulders sagged in a silent concession. “I didn’t think that either.”

“I just never felt… safe. Not really seen.” Her voice was a whisper.

He reached out, brushing a wet curl from her cheek with a tentative thumb. “I see you. More than I should.”

She met his gaze, heartbeat echoing in her ears. “You scared of me?”

He gave a short laugh, bitter and low. “You don’t even know.”

That night they didn’t go to a room. They sat on the worn leather couch in the lobby, sipping mint tea from chipped porcelain cups, listening to raindrops drum against the skylight. He told her about a childhood shaped by alleys and hard choices; she spoke of books that became lifelines and dreams of distant cities. When his fingers found hers across the coffee table, she let him hold her hand.

Their first kiss came weeks later, not in a fevered rush but slow and certain, as if they’d been rehearsing in silence. He returned with styrofoam containers of oxtails and collard greens, a stack of vinyl records crackling with distant trumpets. He teased her about her first taste of spicy gravy; she laughed until her sides ached. He told her her lips made quiet seem holy.

“I want you,” she said one rainy afternoon, her voice soft but unshakeable.

He paused, eyes darkening. “This ain’t just a night. Not with me. I’m not built for perfect.”

“I’m not asking for perfect,” she replied. “I’m asking for you.”

He laid her flat across the bed in Room 307—white sheets smelling faintly of lavender—and tended to her with reverence. Each touch was deliberate. When she winced, he stopped. When tears came, he kissed them away. “You good?” he murmured.

“Never been more sure,” she whispered.

Afterward, they lay tangled in sweat and scent—his heartbeat against her ear, her fingers tracing the scar near his collarbone. He pressed her closer, voice husky. “You ain’t a secret now. You’re mine.”

She simply pressed her lips to his jaw and held onto the stillness.

But nothing golden ever lingers in New Orleans forever. At dawn, the air felt thicker, heavier. He stood by the rain-streaked window, their sheets pooling at his feet like a forgotten promise.

“I ain’t good for you,” he said, eyes on the gray morning sky. “You carry light. I got things chasing me that eat light.”

She rose on one elbow, brushing sweat-damp hair from her face. “Then stop running.”

He turned, pain flickering across his features. “You make it sound easy.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she replied, touching his cheek. “I’m saying I’m not afraid.”

He sank to his knees before her, voice raw. “You should be.”

She leaned down and kissed him—lips soft, determined. “I’m not. Not of you.”

Stack Moore was a sinner.

But to one quiet girl behind a hotel desk, he’d become a beginning. A first. A man who didn’t take but offered—a man who saw her not as something untouched, but someone worthy of careful handling.

Maybe the world wouldn’t understand.

She didn’t care.

Because when you’ve been invisible your whole life, the first person to truly see you becomes unforgettable.

And Stack?

He never looked away.

[yasministration]

heyy i’m the same anon who just sent the one abt james. i think i accidentally wrote spring instead of summer? i honestly don’t remember.. very sorry😭🙏

but also ngl spring could be cute with this prompt if it was like fake dating or smthn ("come on, you're my only option"). ok sorry for rambling! i love your work

only woman - James Potter

ʀᴀɪɴʏᴅᴀʏᴀᴛʜᴏɢᴡᴀʀᴛꜱ' 3ᴋ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ! summary: the first time you and james have a friendly conversation after your breakup leads to something more... (smut) wc: 1.6k+

James potter was not happy. No, not now, and not since an hour ago, when you’d cornered him with your beautiful smile — the one that made him fall in love with you in the first place. Sitting on the couch in the common room with his cock hard as a rock, James was forced to listen to the other marauders’ jokes while you insisted on hearing whatever gossip Lily had to tell you. James didn’t know how to pull you away from your shared group of friends, because since the two of you had broken up, you’d barely even been in the same room together.

It was only today that you decided you were ready for that next step in rekindling your friendship, calling out James’s name in the hallway as you caught up to him, hooking your arm through his and eagerly asking if he’d read the newest book in your shared favourite comic book series. James had engaged in your conversation with a wide smile, communicating how happy he was for things between you to finally be normal again.

But now, as he sat with a pillow over his lap, he was sure things would never go back to normal with you. He’d taken too many not-so-subtle glances down the front of your shirt, like he always did when he was your boyfriend. The only difference was that now, he couldn’t tug you closer to him by the hips, pressing desperate kisses against your lips until you were stripping your shirt off.

Your breakup was stupid, James now decided.

The both of you should have talked things out like adults instead of arguing and deciding on the spot that your relationship wouldn’t endure the inevitable long distance that would come due to your varying interests for further education. James remembers seeing your puffy face the day after the breakup, Lily leading you away from James and the rest of the marauders so you could have a somewhat peaceful breakfast. By not having an amicable breakup, you created tensions in the friend group. Awkwardness that had only begun healing two months after you’d separated. It took more than those two months for you to speak to each other, and nearly six full months after your breakup — today — you’d had your first friendly conversation.

And James was already regretting everything. He shouldn’t have broken up with you, he shouldn’t have spoken to you today, he shouldn’t have let his thoughts wander, because now he was stuck in this situation. This situation, with you glancing up at him from across the room with a friendly smile, though you had a mischievous glint in your eye he would recognise anywhere.

He had enough.

Abruptly standing, James grabbed his bag, which conveniently hung just in front of his hips, covering his unfortunate situation. “I think I’m going to go give Professor McGonagall the essay we started in class. I want to get her feedback on it.” James knew he didn’t have to direct any of his words to you for you to get the hint, his eyes having previously burned into you. And he stood correct, watching as you eagerly jumped up, grabbing your roll of parchment off the table. “I’ll come too! I just finished mine!” None of your friends suspected anything as you ran after James out of the common room, exchanging their gratefulness for your awakening friendship.

You hooked your arm through James’s as he led you out of the common room, though it wasn’t long before he was pulling you into a hidden room, its door wedged behind a statue. You called out your ex-boyfriend’s name and he spun to face you, a pleading look on his face. James dropped his book bag at his feet, and your eyes were instantly attracted to the bulge in his trousers. You suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to make its way onto your face, instead raising your eyebrows at James, putting both hands on your hips. “This is what you dragged me out here for?” You sassed, and James immediately retorted with “You followed me.”

Huffing, you spun on the balls of your feet and reached for the door, but a hand on your wrist stopped you from leaving. You held your breath suddenly, feeling the warmth of James’s body radiate onto you. “James.” You uttered in a warning tone, but the man only shoved himself in the tight space between you and the door, forcing you to look at him. “Please. I don’t know what overtook me but I’m just- please.” Stepping away from James, you looked him up and down. He came closer to you, finally placing his hands on your hips, lowering his volume as he pleaded “You’re my only option.”

Offended, you slapped one of James’s hands off your body, scoffing “Why? ‘Cause no one else will take you?” But the boy only shook his head, saying “Because you're the only one I want.” Your breath hitched in your throat and your face immediately softened for James, putting a hand on his face. You almost forgot how loving and sweet James naturally was.

Okay, enough playing hard to get, you decided, finally pushing yourself up against James to press your lips against his in a passionate kiss. A grumble sounded in James chest as he brought a hand up to cup your face, the other one securely wrapping around your waist. You sighed into the kiss and James pushed his tongue past your lips and into your mouth with a desperation that had an intensity thickening in the room. You tripped backwards over James’ discarded bag, but his hold on you immediately tightened, and he dragged you over to the window nook, where you fell onto your back when the back of your legs hit its edge.

Gripping James’s belt, you messily undid it, gasping when his hands trailed under your skirt to tug your panties down. The second you released James from his boxers, sitting under his leaking cock, he broke the kiss to grab hold of himself, biting his bottom lip as he blindly tried to find your entrance. You hooked your leg over James’s hip, and almost immediately, you felt his tip probe your wet entrance, desperately pushing into you. You gasped, moaning when James slammed his lips back onto yours and you snaked a hand into his hair, tugging softly at his loose curls.

James wasn’t going to last long. You could tell by the way his thrusts were unusually short and desperate, fast instead of hard. James whined into the kiss, his hips barely pulling out of you every time before thrusting in again, balls-deep. You gasped as his tip grazed that spongy spot that never failed to make you lose yourself in pleasure, wrapping your arms over James’ shoulders to pull him closer to you. James averted his kisses to your neck, sucking eagerly on your skin and biting whenever particularly strong moans overtook him. “I love you.” He suddenly panted, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, haven’t had sex since you.” You moaned at James’s unexpected words, throwing your head back onto the thin cushions behind you. “Fuck James!”

“Tell me you’re mine.” He begged, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he lifted his head up to hover above yours, his lips barely grazing yours. "’M yours Jamie! No one can fuck me — oh my god — like you.” James moaned, letting his forehead drop against yours as he shut his eyes. “Fuck, you like when I fuck you like this?” He asked, trying to snap his hips into yours with more power. You hummed out an answer, barely able to form a coherent sentence when James brought his hand down to toy with your clit. “Just you.” You mumbled, bringing your hand up to push James’s face closer to yours, finally connecting your lips in a kiss again. You bit down on James’s bottom lip, unaware that immediately, the sting of your bite would have his hips stuttering to release his load of cum into you. You gasped loudly as James moaned your name, willing himself to give you a few more thrusts that finally pushed you over the edge.

James’s breath hitched in his throat when your nails harshly dug into his skin and your thighs tried clamping shut around his torso. He stared at you lovingly as you arched your back, eyes bracing shut and your mouth falling open to let out a string of high-pitched moans. James brushed a few hairs away from your eyes, smiling at you when you finally caught your breath and opened your eyes.

“Fuck, I better be the only woman you fuck for the rest of your life, Potter.” You panted, wincing slightly when he chuckled. James pulled out of you, a tint of blush on his cheeks. “So, uh… You’ll be mine again?” He asked sheepishly. You sat up, putting a hand on James’s bicep. “I’ll be yours again if we can talk about what broke us up in the first place.”

When you re-entered the common room, Lily, Remus and Sirius weren’t surprised to find you were both friends again, but they were more than shocked to find the hickeys on your neck, and to discover that James had decided he would follow you anywhere in the world if it meant you were happy. At least they also found out that you’d knocked some sense into him and said his career was just as important as yours.

Who knew, maybe you two were perfect for each other: one blinded by love and the other to provide them vision.

[aeralux]

"Mine" - Aemond Targaryen

Summary: You find Aemond in the Keep's library one evening. You thought that maybe reading a few history books might bore you to sleep. Aemond knew another way to tire you out...

Words: 6.5k

Warnings: SMUT! but more specifically: targcest; degradation; name calling (slut, cocksleeve etc); he uses the term "princess" a lot; rough sex; possibly breeding kink (he does cum inside); mention of Jace and the word "bastard" (by Aemond ofc); fingering; squirting; dirty talk; just straight up filth yknow?

Other notes: Reader has long white hair in this story (reader is Targaryen) but no other physically descriptive words are included. English is not my first language so it may seem like I'm trying too hard at times to sound "real". If you wish you could always leave me a comment <3

-- aera xx

In the quiet library of the Red Keep, evening light poured through tall, narrow windows, casting an amber glow on the shelves filled with dusty books. The scent of old parchment filled the air, creating a nostalgic feeling of ancient knowledge. The soft rustle of turning pages added a gentle rhythm to the library, which was filled with whispered stories.

Aemond Targaryen, exuding a regal presence, sat in this historic space. His silver hair shimmered in the soft light as he read a thick book about the ancient history of House Targaryen. His sharp violet eye was focused on the tales within the pages.

When the door creaked open, it interrupted the library's silence. Aemond lifted his gaze from the book, recognizing your entrance. He closed the heavy tome with a soft thud, changing the atmosphere as he acknowledged you.

You stepped into the peaceful library, bathed in the evening glow, with a quiet energy surrounding you. Aemond nodded, a gesture that was both formal and restrained, before asking, "What are you doing here?" His voice was low and deliberate, breaking the silence. Each word carried authority and thoughtfulness. His one visible violet eye—his other hidden by a black leather eyepatch—lingered on you, silently prompting you to explain.

"I beg your pardon, my prince. I was unaware that visiting the Keep's library was not permitted for someone of my stature," you respond with a playful curtsy, gracefully toward the venerable history section. Your long, flowing white hair cascades behind you like a silken waterfall. While your floor-length night dress, rich with elegance, glides softly with each step. A delicate, deep blue shawl adorns your shoulders, offering a subtle shield against the evening breeze that whispers through the grand hallways. You gaze at the ancient tomes that line the shelves, for knowledge is a treasure worth pursuing, as said by your father many times.

Aemond's gaze followed your graceful movements, his one visible eye tracking you as you glide through the hallowed halls of the library. The sway of your silken garments and the shimmer of your hair caught the dim light, creating an almost ethereal aura around you. His lips curled into a slight smirk, intrigue and amusement playing across his features.

"A library, you say?" His voice, low and rich, echoed in the quiet space. "Since when has the Red Keep's library been open to anyone?" He rose from his seat, his tall frame unfolding with a fluid grace that belied his martial prowess. The click of his boots against the stone floor marked his approach, each step measured and deliberate. "Or perhaps," he continued, his tone taking on a teasing edge, "you've been granted special privileges that I'm not aware of?"

As he drew closer, the scent of leather and a hint of smoke clung to him, a reminder of his time spent training or perhaps riding his majestic dragon, Vhagar. His hand reached out, fingers grazing the spine of a nearby tome, the touch light yet purposeful. "Tell me, princess," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "what brings you to these hallowed halls? Surely not just idle curiosity." His one visible eye locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze palpable. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken tension. Aemond's presence filled the space, commanding and alluring, a blend of danger and magnetism that was unmistakably Targaryen.

You let out a soft huff, your lips curving into an incredulous smile as you surveyed the rows of books above you. The scent of aged parchment and leather filled the air, mingling with an undeniable sense of history. "Surely, I assumed this esteemed library would be accessible to all residents, particularly those of Targaryen lineage," you stated with poise. Your voice carried a subtle lilt of defiance, a challenge lacing your words as you turned to face the prince. "I fail to see why I should require written permission from the King to peruse the tomes housed within these walls. A noble mind seeks knowledge freely, after all." Your demeanour was resolute, fully aware that your words were a test of the prince's patience and authority.

A soft chuckle escaped Aemond's lips, the sound rich and warm, like aged wine. He closed the distance between you, his towering frame looming over you as you perused the bookshelves. The scent of leather and smoke intensified, mingling with the dusty aroma of ancient tomes.

"Ah, but there's a difference between being allowed and being… expected," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. His hand reached past you, fingers grazing the spine of a particularly old-looking book as he pulled it from the shelf. "Some things in life require… invitation, princess."

He turned the book in his hands, tracing the embossed title with a calloused thumb.

Aemond's gaze drifted from the book to you, his one visible eye roaming over your form with an almost palpable hunger. The air between you seemed to crackle with tension, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken desires that simmered just beneath the surface.

"Tell me," he purred, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, "what secrets are you hoping to uncover in these dusty tomes?" With a deliberate grace, you turned to face him, your eyes sparkling with a mixture of challenge and defiance. The air was thick with unspoken tension, and your voice, steady and composed, cut through it like a blade. "You dare to insult me, my prince. Do you truly believe that merely because I am a woman, I am devoid of the intellect to read and comprehend?"

You took a moment to let your words sink in, the candlelight casting flickering shadows around you. "For your information," you continued, your tone both firm and elegant, "I immerse myself in the written word far more than you may presume. Through hours spent in the quiet company of books, I have delved into the intricacies of the ancient language of High Valyrian."

With that, you leaned back gracefully against the towering bookshelf, the scent of aged parchment enveloping you, further emphasizing your knowledge and poise. Your stance was not just defensive; it was a proclamation of your strength and determination to be seen as more than just a princess.

Aemond's lips curled into a smirk, a dangerous glint in his eye. He leaned in closer, invading your personal space, his tall frame towering over you. The scent of leather and smoke enveloped you, a heady mix that stirred something deep within.

"Is that so?" he purred, his voice low and rich, like honey dripping from a spoon. "The ancient tongue of High Valyria, hmm? Impressive for a woman."

His hand reached out, fingers grazing your cheek with a feather-light touch. The calloused pad of his thumb traced the delicate curve of your jaw, a gentle caress that belied the intensity of his gaze. "But tell me, princess," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your ear, sending shivers down your spine, "what good is knowledge without the wisdom to wield it?"

Aemond's body pressed against yours, the hard planes of his chest a stark contrast to the soft curves of your form. The heat of his skin seeped through the layers of your clothing, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

As you linger in the hushed confines of the library, the air is thick with an almost palpable tension. Dust motes dance lazily in the moonlight that filters through the tall, arched windows, casting delicate patterns on the polished wooden floor. Your lips part ever so gently, the subtle movement accompanied by a playful flick of your tongue against your cheek—a gesture that hints at the complexities of your thoughts swirling within.

“What makes you say that? I believe you do not know me well enough to make such harsh accusations,” you murmur, your voice a silken whisper that cuts through the silence like a soft breeze. The starkness of the cold seems to conspire with the palpable tension in the room, causing your body to respond instinctively. You can feel a faint shiver suffusing your frame, and you —betrayed by your undeniable vulnerability—your soft nipples perk up in reaction. In a bid to maintain your composed facade, you fleetingly draw your thin shawl closer, attempting to shield yourself from the wintry draft and Aemond's intense gaze.

Your gaze, steady and unwavering, locks onto the source of the accusation. A lingering silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

Aemond's gaze dropped to your chest, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he noticed the way your nipples strained against the fabric of your dress. The air grew thick with tension, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of pages and the pounding of your heart.

"Oh, I believe I know you well enough, princess," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Well enough to see the hunger in your eyes, the desire that lurks beneath the surface."

His hand moved from your cheek to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your slender neck in a gentle but firm grip. The warmth of his skin seeped through your flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"You may hide behind your books and your knowledge, but I see the truth of who you are," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your ear. "A woman with needs, with desires that cannot be satiated by mere words on a page."

Aemond's lips brushed against your earlobe, a feather-light touch that set your nerves ablaze. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate shell of your ear, a teasing promise of the pleasures that awaited you.

"You seem to have lost track of yourself… my prince," you say, your voice flowing like velvet, rich with an alluring undertone that dances in the air between you. The candlelight flickers, casting warm shadows on the towering shelves laden with bound volumes. He arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Every woman has her needs and desires; I don’t believe I’ve ever denied that," you reply, your tone teasing.

You take a step closer, the scent of aged paper and polished wood swirling around you. "I truly came to the library seeking a few books," you assert, letting the words linger like a sweet melody as you survey the vast collection that surrounds you. "Yet, it seems fate has intertwined our paths, for it is you, who cannot seem to find satisfaction among the pages."

Your gaze locks onto his, and the air between you crackles with unspoken tension. The deep hue of his eye mirrors the mystery and allure of the old library, pulling you in like an enchanting tale begging to be read. You stand defiant, fearless in your challenge, as the study envelops you both in its quiet embrace, the world outside forgotten in the presence of such undeniable chemistry.

Aemond's lips curled into a wicked grin, his eye gleaming with a dangerous light. He leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through the layers of your clothing. The scent of leather and smoke enveloped you, a heady mix that made your head spin and your heart race.

"You're right, princess," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "I am a man with… insatiable appetites." His hand slid down from your throat to your chest, his fingers toying with the edge of your bodice. The rough pad of his thumb brushed against the swell of your breast, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

"And you, my dear girl," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips, "are a feast I am eager to devour." You observed his hand gliding gracefully across my body, each deliberate movement igniting a fire within you, while you struggled to maintain a steady breath. The air was thick with tension, a blend of desire and playful banter. "Do you truly see yourself as a dragon?" You teased him, your voice soft but laced with challenge. In the world of the Targaryens, such a title was often worn like a badge of honour, and most of them, like Aemond and you, embraced this fierce identity. There was a certain magic in declaring oneself a dragon, a symbol of strength and majesty.

As you gazed into his eyes, you could sense the latent power and pride he carried within him. At this moment, the noble essence of our lineage intertwined with the unmistakable charge of tension. Aemond's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his lips curling into a wicked grin. He leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through the layers of your clothing. The scent of leather and smoke enveloped you, a heady mix that made your head spin and your heart race.

"A dragon?" he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Oh, I am much more than that, my dear." The rough pad of his thumb brushed against the swell of your breast again, making heat pool between your thighs and your breath stutter. He murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips. "And you are the prey I am eager to hunt."

Your breath catches in your throat as Aemond's fingers graze over the sensitive peaks of your breasts, sending electric sparks racing through your body. You can scarcely believe the words tumbling from his lips, the raw hunger in his voice as he confesses his forbidden desires. "Aemond…" You breathe, your own need rising to match his. "If you've already caught me, then what's left to hunt?"

You lean into his touch, revelling in the feel of his calloused hands on my bare skin. At this moment, nothing else matters - not your duty, not your honour. There is only the heat building between you, the promise of pleasure and passion. "Prove it then," you challenge him, your eyes gleaming with mischief and desire. "Show me the depths of your obsession, the lengths you'll go to claim me as yours."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body aching for his touch. You know you should resist, should push him away and cling to the tattered remains of your virtue. But Aemond has awakened something in you, a hunger you never knew existed. And now that you have had a taste, you fear you'll never be satisfied again. "Oh, my sweet girl," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "The hunt is just beginning."

With a swift motion, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you towards the nearby table. The books and scrolls scattered to the floor as he set you down on the polished wood, his body pressing against yours, pinning you in place.

His lips trailed along your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. One hand slid between your legs, his fingers pressing against the damp heat of your core. "And I always catch my prey," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "No matter how hard they try to escape." You yelp as Aemond suddenly picks you up, laying you on the wooden table. His sapphire eye glints with a predatory hunger as he realizes your lack of small clothes, his fingers grazing over your slick, aching core.

A whimper escapes your lips, but you quickly clamp your hand over your mouth, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at how much you are enjoying his rough touch. Your body trembles beneath him, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he looms over you, his presence overwhelming, his desire palpable. You have never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and yet so eager for whatever comes next. Aemond's hands are everywhere, roughly skimming over your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Please," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Please, Aemond, I need… I need you" You gasped and moaned as Aemond's fingers plunged deeper into your sopping wet cunt, your tight hole clenching and fluttering uncontrollably around his thick digits. Clear juices oozed out, dripping onto the table below. You weren't a maiden, having occasionally "relieved stress" with your cousin Jacaerys, but you had never felt pleasure this intense before.

Your hips bucked and writhed shamelessly against Aemond's hand, lewd whimpers and whines spilling from your lips as he finger-fucked you roughly. You threw your head back, eyes squeezing shut, your mind going blank from the overwhelming sensations. "Ahh! M-my prince!" You cried out as Aemond's teeth closed around your sensitive nipple, biting and sucking the tender bud. Electric jolts of pleasure shot straight to your core, making your pussy clench even tighter. You were losing control, surrendering completely to Aemond's dominant touch.

Aemond's lips curled into a wicked grin as he felt your tight heat clench around his fingers, your wetness coating his skin. He could tell that you were no maiden, but the way you responded to his touch was intoxicating nonetheless.

"That's it, my little minx," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Let go and give yourself to me completely." He bit down harder on your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. You cried out, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. Aemond could feel your body trembling beneath him, your thighs quivering as you teetered on the brink of release. He added a third finger, stretching you further, his thumb circling your clit in maddening strokes. Your moans echoed through the library, the sound of your pleasure filling the air.

"Come for me," he commanded, his lips moving to your neck. "Let me feel you come undone on my fingers."

You sat up on your elbows, your breath quickening as you watched Aemond's skilled fingers playing between your thighs. The scene was so erotic that you couldn't help but let out a loud, wanton moan. "W-wait, this feels… weird," you stuttered, your voice shaking as he continued his relentless ministrations. The pleasure was unlike anything you had ever experienced, building in intensity with each thrust of his fingers. A strange tension coiled in your stomach, unfamiliar yet tantalizingly close to release.

Your head fell back, your long white hair cascading down your back as you arched into his touch. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the whimpers and gasps that escaped you. "Aemond, please," you breathed, your hips rocking against his hand. "I've never felt anything like this before. It's too much…" But even as the words left your lips, you knew they were a lie. It wasn't too much, and Gods, you didn't want him to stop.

Aemond's eyes darkened with lust as he watched you sit up, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. The sight of you spread out before him, your skin flushed with arousal, was almost too much to bear. "Weird?" he chuckled, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace. "Oh, my sweet girl, this is just the beginning."

He could feel the tension building in your body, the way your muscles tensed and quivered beneath his touch. He knew you were close, teetering on the edge of something profound and all-consuming. "Embrace it," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. You cried out loudly, your moans escaping in broken sobs as the intense pleasure overtook you. "N-no! S-stop!" You pleaded, but it was too late. Your climax hit you like a massive wave, washing over you with a force that left you gasping and trembling.

Your body convulsed with the sheer force of your release, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers. Clear, sticky essence gushed out of you, coating his hand and splattering onto the table below. The sensation was overwhelming, leaving you drenched and shaking.

As the final waves of ecstasy subsided, your arms gave out, and you collapsed back onto the table, limp and spent. Your core continued to twitch and spasm, empty and aching for more. You panted heavily, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch my breath.

At that moment, you felt utterly vulnerable, exposed, and at his mercy. The intensity of my orgasm had left you raw, your defences stripped away. You lay there, trembling and gasping, your body still humming with residual pleasure. You couldn't help but wonder what he would do next, how far he would push you. But one thing was certain - you had never felt anything quite like that before. Aemond watched with rapt attention as your body convulsed in ecstasy, your cries of pleasure echoing through the library. He felt your essence coat his fingers, your release dripping down his wrist and onto the table below.

He continued to work his fingers inside you, prolonging your climax until you were nothing more than a quivering mess beneath him. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your skin slick with sweat, and your hair plastered to your face. "Look at you," he purred, his eyes roaming over your trembling form. "So responsive, so eager for my touch."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "And we've only just begun, my love. There is so much more I want to show you, so many ways I want to make you come undone." "W-wait", you cried out as Aemond's fingers began to slip free from your sensitive, cum-soaked pussy. Your release dripping down your thighs, the table below you slick with your wetness. Your legs trembled uncontrollably, the aftershocks of your intense orgasm still ripping through you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks at the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

Your pussy continued to pulse and flutter around nothing, still recovering from your intense climax. But you knew you couldn't take anymore, not yet. You needed a moment to catch your breath, to gather your scattered wits.

"Please, Aemond," you gasped, your voice hoarse and desperate. "I need a moment. You've undone me completely." Aemond smirked at the sight of your tears, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. He knew that he had pushed you to the brink, that he had taken you to a place of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

But he also knew that it was too soon to stop, that he had to continue to push you, to mould you into the perfect lover for him. "Shh, my love," he murmured, his fingers gently wiping away your tears. "I know it's overwhelming, but you must trust me. I would never hurt you."

He leaned down, his lips trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck. His fingers continued their gentle ministrations, his thumb circling your clit with a feather-light touch.

"Just breathe, my darling. Let yourself feel everything." You whimpered as you felt his fingers brush against your over-sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't help but moan softly, your hips arching into his touch, seeking more, craving more.

"It never felt like this with Jacaerys…" You whined absentmindedly. You had never been so wanton, so desperate for another's touch. But with Aemond, you couldn't help myself. He brought out a side of you that you had never known existed, a side that craved pleasure and passion and the sweet oblivion of surrender. A low growl rumbled in Aemond's chest at the mention of your former lover's name. The thought of Jacaerys touching you, pleasuring you, filled him with a jealous rage that he could scarcely contain.

"Forget him," he snarled, his fingers tightening around your wrist. "He is nothing compared to me. I am the only one who can truly satisfy you, the only one who can make you feel like this." He leaned down, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. He poured all of his passion, all of his desire, into that single moment, claiming you as his own.

His hand moved lower, his fingers delving into your slick folds once more. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, still sensitive from your previous climax. "I will make you forget his name, my love. I will make you scream mine until the very walls of this library shake."

You whimpered as you felt Aemond's fingers delve into your sensitive folds once more, the obscene wet sounds of his ministrations filling the room. Your hips bucked involuntarily, trying to escape the overwhelming sensations even as your body craved more. "Aemond, please…" you gasped, your voice breathy and desperate. "I need… I need you inside me."

Your mind was hazy with lust, coherent thoughts slipping away like grains of sand through my fingers. All you could focus on was the heat building between your legs, the ache of emptiness that only Aemond's cock could fill.

"Please, my prince," you begged, your hips rolling shamelessly against his hand. "Does that mean I can't fuck Jace anymore?" You whined, biting your lip, your words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Aemond's eyes narrowed at your question, his grip on your wrist tightening to the point of pain. "No, you cannot fuck him anymore," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You belong to me now, body and soul. I will not share you with anyone, least of all that pathetic bastard."

He thrust his fingers deeper into your cunt, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit. He could feel your walls clenching around him, trying to push him out, but he refused to relent. "You are mine. Mine to fuck, mine to claim, mine to ruin."

He leaned down, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "And I will ruin you, my love. I will break you apart and put you back together again, moulding you into the perfect lover for me." You let out a broken whimper, your body trembling from Aemond's touch. His hands roamed over your naked form, igniting a fire deep within you. You had never felt such desire, such raw, primal need. "Please, Aemond," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you inside me. I need you."

You reached out, your fingers tangling with his, guiding his hand to the slick folds of your sex. He groaned at the contact, his eye darkening with lust and longing. Aemond's eyes darkened with lust at your desperate plea, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"As you wish, my love," he purred, his voice low and seductive. He withdrew his fingers from your dripping cunt, bringing them to his lips. He licked them clean, savouring the taste of your arousal. "Delicious," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

He stood up, quickly shedding his clothes until he was completely naked. His cock sprang free, hard and ready for you. He pushed you down onto the table, spreading your legs wide. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Beg for me to fuck you, to claim you as mine." You whimpered as you felt Aemond's hard, leaking tip tease your slick folds. Your body ached for him and craved his touch like nothing you had ever known before. "Please, Aemond," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I need you. I've wanted you for so long, dreamed of you claiming me as yours."

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy with desire, your lips swollen from his kisses. "I've touched myself thinking of you," you confessed, your cheeks flushing with shame and arousal. "Imagined you taking me, using me for your pleasure. Treating me like your personal slut." Your heart raced, your body trembling with anticipation. You had never wanted anything so badly, never needed anyone so desperately. Aemond was the only one who could satisfy the hunger that consumed you, the only one who could make you whole. Aemond's eyes darkened with lust at your confession, a feral grin spreading across his face.

"Such a naughty girl," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Touching yourself while thinking of me… I love it." He thrust his hips forward, burying his thick cock deep inside your slick heat. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. "I'm going to ruin this sweet little cunt of yours." He set a brutal pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon. The table shook with each powerful thrust, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room.

"Take it, you filthy slut," he snarled, his eyes boring into yours. "Take my cock like the whore you are." Aemond's hips pistoned faster, harder, driving his thick cock deeper into your aching cunt with every powerful thrust. "Ah!" You cried out, your inner walls clenching around his throbbing shaft, the delicious stretch and burn of his girth filling you completely. The broad head of his cock battered my inner barrier, striking that secret place deep inside that made sparks of pleasure explode.

"Hngh! Oh gods, Aemond!" You moaned wantonly, your body quivering like a leaf in a storm. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase on his sweat-slicked shoulders as he pounded into you relentlessly, the obscene slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the chamber. "Have you ever… mph!… ever thought of me like this?" I managed to gasp out between his brutal thrusts, your eyes glazed with lust. "Thought of me while you touched yourself?"

You gazed up at him with hooded eyes, your lips parted and kiss-swollen, silently begging for more, for everything he had to give me. At that moment, you were his completely - mind, body and soul. Nothing else mattered except the feel of him moving inside you, claiming you, branding you as his own.

Aemond let out a dark chuckle at your question, his hips never ceasing their brutal rhythm. "Oh, I've thought of you plenty, my sweet," he purred, his voice dripping with sin. "Late at night, alone in my chambers, with my cock in my hand and your name on my lips."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, claiming every inch of you. "I've imagined bending you over every surface in this keep, fucking you until you scream," he growled against your lips. "I've pictured you on your knees, choking on my cock, begging for more." He sat back up, gripping your thighs and spreading your legs even wider. He pounded into you with renewed vigour, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.

"And now here you are, my filthy little fantasy come to life," he snarled, his eyes wild with lust. "And I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

You bite my lip, hearing his words, whimpers of pleasure spilling out. "Yeah?" You breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you thought about using me in front of everyone, just to show them who I belong to? Who's the only one who gets to fuck me?"

Aemond's eyes darken, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully. "Poor you," you murmur, a wicked smile curving my lips. "You must have been so jealous of Jace…" You can hardly think, hardly speak, as Aemond's thrusts grow more brutal, more demanding. Each stroke sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Aemond's eyes flashed with rage at the mention of Jace, his thrusts becoming even more punishing. "That bastard doesn't deserve you," he snarled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "You're mine, do you understand? No one else can have you."

He pulled out suddenly, flipping you over onto your stomach. He kicked your legs apart, mounting you from behind. "I should take you in front of the whole court. Let them all see who you belong to," he growled, his fingers tangling in your hair. "I should fuck you in front of that smug bastard. Make him watch as I claim what's mine."

He slammed back into you, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that made you see stars. "Yes, my prince," you moaned, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Parade me around the castle like the fucktoy I am. Let everyone see how you've claimed me, body and soul."

"This cunt belongs to me," he snarled, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. "No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to fuck you. You're mine."

You let out a sharp gasp as Aemond thrust into you from behind, the head of his cock slamming against your cervix. The pain mixed with pleasure, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body. "Fuck, Aemond!" You cried out, your voice high and breathy. "Harder, please! Use me, ruin me! I'm yours, all yours!"

You had never spoken like this before, had never even imagined yourself capable of such lewd, wanton behaviour. But Aemond's cock was driving you mad with lust, turning you into a creature of pure, unadulterated desire.

You couldn't believe the filthy words spilling from your lips, the depraved fantasies unfolding in your mind. But you were too far gone to care, lost in the throes of passion, the heat of Aemond's body against yours.

"I'm yours," you gasped, my nails gripping the wooden table as he pounded into me. "Now and forever, I belong to you. Use me as you see fit, my love. My body is your plaything, your toy to break and remake as you please."

Aemond grunted in approval at your filthy words, his hips snapping forward even harder. "That's right, you're my fucktoy," he growled, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass. "My personal cocksleeve to use as I please." He reached around, his hand finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. Your back arched, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you.

"That's it, cum on my cock like a good little whore," he snarled, his fingers working you through your climax. Your pussy clenched around him, milking his length. With a roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock twitching as he filled you with his seed.

"Fuck, I love you," he panted, his forehead resting against your shoulder blade. "I love you so much it hurts." You creamed all over his cock, painting it white with your releases. You came with a loud scream of pleasure, your eyes wide with disbelief. You looked up at Aemond, your gaze searching his face, trying to read the truth behind his words.

"Do you actually mean that?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of shock and excitement.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the memory of your passionate coupling still fresh in your mind. You could feel the sticky residue of your combined releases on your thighs, the slight soreness between your legs a testament to your intense lovemaking.

But to hear Aemond say it out loud, to put words to the deed, made it feel somehow more real, more tangible. More forbidden. Part of you wanted to deny it, to pretend that it hadn't happened, that you hadn't surrendered to the taboo desires that burned within you.

But another part of you, the part that had been awakened by Aemond's touch, his passion, his love, couldn't deny the truth.

And as you lay there, naked and vulnerable before him, you knew that you would do it again in a heartbeat. Aemond pulled out of you slowly, his softening cock slipping free with a wet sound. He turned you over, his lilac eye intense as it met your gaze.

"More than anything," he said seriously, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "You're the only one who understands me, the only one who sees the real me beneath the arrogant prick everyone else knows."

He cupped your face, his expression softening. "I love you. I've loved you since we were children, playing in the gardens of the Red Keep. You were always my favourite cousin, the one I felt most connected to."

His thumb brushed away a tear you didn't realize had fallen. "I know I'm not good enough for you, not with my temper and rage. But I promise you, I'll spend every day trying to be the man you deserve. The man who can give you the life you want." He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smiled gently at the memory he conjured from your childhood, a soft glow lighting up your eyes. “You were such a sweet boy,” you said, your voice warm and reminiscent. With a tender touch, you caressed his hair, your fingers brushing lightly through the strands, evoking a sense of familiarity and affection.

Leaning closer, you continued, “I liked you from the very moment you helped me when Aegon tripped me.” The scene played in your mind like an old tapestry, vibrant and full of life—the laughter of children mingling with the rustle of leaves, the way he had reached out with such kindness.

A long-forgotten warmth filled your heart as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the heaviness of sleep gradually overcoming you, your eyelids fluttering as you struggled to stay present in the moment. With a soft sigh, you smiled at him, cherishing the connection that transcended the years—an unspoken bond woven through shared memories and gentle gestures, a bond that still felt as rich and regal as the day it was born.

Aemond chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound that resonated in the quiet room, his hand instinctively covering yours as it rested in his hair. "I was a boy who found trouble at every turn," he corrected with a charming grin, his violet eyes glinting with mischief. "Yet, despite my flaws, I always sought to extend kindness to you, even when my temperament faltered with others."

With a graceful sweep, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms and carried you toward the grand sofa nestled between the ornate cupboards. As he laid you down with the utmost care, he settled beside you, repositioning himself to envelop you in his warmth. His arm encircled your waist possessively, drawing you close so your head rested upon his broad chest, the steady rhythm of his heart echoing a soothing lullaby. "I shall always protect you," he murmured, his breath a gentle caress against your skin as his fingers traced intricate patterns along your back, each stroke imbued with affection. "No matter what trials may arise or who dares to come between us, I vow to remain steadfast by your side." With tender reverence, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a promise sealed in that delicate gesture. His breathing began to slow, a tranquil cadence as he held you close, a knight sworn to guard his cherished queen against the world.

[tender-rosiey]

keep up — ceo!gojo satoru x f!reader

it’s been a long week.

meetings piled on top of meetings, deadlines chasing each other like the ticking of a clock, and constant discussions about investments and strategy—things that should have come second to the one thing you can’t seem to escape.

him. gojo satoru.

you’ve known him for years, but it’s only recently that you’ve started noticing the way his eyes linger just a bit longer than necessary.

or how his words have an edge, a playful undertone that seems to suggest he’s after something more than a simple business conversation.

you’ve barely sat down in one of the plush chairs before gojo’s signature smirk is already spreading across his face.

today, you find yourself in his office again, the glass walls of the conference room revealing the city skyline, the lights twinkling below as the sun sinks below the horizon.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says smoothly, his voice carrying the usual arrogance, but there’s something more behind it today. the way his eyes flash, the subtle way he adjusts his tie—it’s all intentional.

he’s up to something, and you know it.

“what’s the deal, gojo?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest, trying to maintain the usual level of professional distance between the two of you.

but, as always, it’s hard to ignore the way he effortlessly commands the room with his presence.

“I just wanted to talk,” he says, leaning back in his leather chair with a playful grin.

“I feel like we’ve been working together a lot lately, but we haven’t really talked talked. you know?” he tilts his head slightly, clearly enjoying the way he’s messing with you.

“talked about what?” you raise an eyebrow. the idea of gojo satoru, the ceo of a billion-dollar company, taking time out of his day just to talk to you about something other than business sounds...unlikely.

“you know, personal stuff,” he says, his gaze never leaving yours. “like, what you’re doing when you’re not being all business-y and focused on your empire.”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. you knew this was coming. it always does.

“I’m doing exactly what you’re doing. running a business. growing something bigger than myself,” you reply, your voice steady, though your mind is racing, trying to think of a way to deflect the conversation before it goes any further.

you can’t let him distract you—especially not now, when everything you’ve worked for is on the verge of becoming something huge.

gojo chuckles, the sound low and smooth.

“you know, you’re even more attractive when you’re trying to act all tough. but I’m serious. what else do you do when you’re not closing deals or impressing the world?”

you roll your eyes, feeling the tension in your shoulders. “nothing interesting. I spend money quickly. that’s all you need to know.”

you say it lightly, knowing that would make him drop it. he’s never been the type to pursue something that doesn’t pique his interest, and surely, a comment like that will be enough to make him back off.

but gojo simply leans forward, his eyes narrowing in a way that sends a jolt through you. “you spend money quickly, huh?”

you nod, arms still crossed as you stare at him, half-expecting him to make a comment about it.

“can you spend it as quickly as I make it?” his voice is smooth, a subtle edge of amusement hidden beneath his words.

you blink, caught off guard by the ease with which he says it. the confidence in his words, the way he leans back in his chair like it’s just another ordinary day—it all hits you like a wave.

he’s not just offering something small. he’s making a statement. and he knows it’ll rattle you.

“I...” you falter, but your voice catches in your throat. you were expecting him to deflect, to make it a joke.

instead, he’s somehow turned the conversation into something personal—something that makes you question your own boundaries.

gojo smiles, not a hint of arrogance or cockiness this time. just a knowing look, like he’s figured you out in a way you didn’t expect.

“what’s the matter?” he teases, sensing your hesitation. “don’t think you can keep up?”

you shake your head, trying to regain some composure. “I’m not interested in your money, gojo,” you say firmly, trying to return to your usual calm.

you’ve never been someone who’s drawn in by flashy displays of wealth. you value ambition and drive more than anything else, something you both—admittedly—share.

but gojo doesn’t let up. he’s not the type to let things go when he’s gotten a taste of victory.

“I don’t think you’re interested in my money. I think you’re interested in me.” his grin is almost teasing, his confidence bordering on smug, but it’s not unwarranted.

he’s pushing you, just a little, to see how far you’ll let him go.

you stand up abruptly, pacing the length of the room, trying to compose yourself. you hate that he can do this—get under your skin with just a few words.

you’ve spent your entire career building a reputation based on control, but gojo has a way of making you feel like you’re the one who’s losing it.

“I’m not interested in playing games, gojo,” you say, trying to sound firm. “if you’re expecting me to be swept off my feet by...whatever this is, it’s not going to happen.”

he stands up as well, his movements smooth. “and why not?” he asks, his voice low, almost coaxing. “because you’re too busy? because you’ve got too much on your plate?”

you hesitate.

he’s right. you are busy. but it’s not just that. it’s the idea of getting tangled in something that might distract you from your goals. relationships, especially with someone like him, always seem to be more trouble than they’re worth.

but gojo doesn’t seem to take your hesitation as a refusal. instead, he steps closer, his hand resting casually on your shoulder as he peers down at you, his eyes locking with yours.

“you know, I’m not asking for anything from you, other than your time. I just want to know...if you’d ever consider being distracted for a change.”

a trace of sincerity threads through the usual playfulness. for the briefest moment, you wonder if he’s being genuine, if maybe—just maybe—there’s something more behind his words.

you look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his presence settling into the space between you.

“I’m not saying I’m ready to drop everything for you,” you say, your voice quieter now. “but...”

gojo smirks again, but this time, it’s softer, more knowing. “but?”

“but,” you continue, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I can’t pretend like I’m not at least curious about where this might go.”

his smirk turns into a smile, one that’s warm and confident. he leans in, brushing his lips against your cheek, just barely.

“I knew you’d come around,” he hums. his fingers brush against your jaw, lifting your face to meet his eyes once more, “we’ll see if you can keep up, miss l/n.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will cry

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[connorsui]

More than just a Brat

Rafayel x reader

Synopsis: In a rare moment of vulnerability, Rafayel drops his bratty facade and leans on you for comfort, revealing the softer side he usually keeps hidden.

Genre/warnings: fluff, Hurt/Comfort, rafayels ego, his attitude, being mean half of the time, warnings? ..nah just rafayel

Note: just got done doing rafayels route and he's such a comedic man ...I love him

w.c: 1,232

Rafayel leaned against the ornate balcony railing, arms crossed as the evening breeze stirred his lavender hair. The garden below shimmered in the moonlight, casting long shadows across the cobblestone path. You stood nearby, fiddling with your bracelet, pretending not to notice how his blue eyes, tinged with pink undertones, kept darting toward you.

“You’ll break it if you keep messing with it like that,” he muttered, voice tinged with mock annoyance. His signature smirk flickered at the edge of his lips, though his tone betrayed concern.

“Oh, didn’t realize you were so invested in my jewelry,” you teased back, glancing at him with a playful smile.

He rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Hardly. I just don’t want to hear you complain when it falls apart.”

You chuckled softly, stepping closer. Over the months, you had grown accustomed to his bratty attitude. His snarky comments and sarcastic quips had become something of a second language between you two. Rafayel rarely expressed his emotions directly, instead choosing to deflect with teasing remarks or mock disdain. But you had learned to read him—his soft glances, the way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t looking, or how he always managed to stay within arm’s reach.

Tonight, there was something different. The usual playful edge to his words was there, but the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other gave him away. He was anxious. It wasn’t obvious, not to anyone who didn’t know him as well as you did, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his fingers drummed restlessly against the railing.

“Right,” you said, standing beside him at the railing. “Wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

He tilted his head slightly, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. “You already are.”

Despite the words, his tone was softer than usual, the sharpness dulled. His eyes followed the stars above for a moment, and you could see the way his bravado slipped, just a little. It was subtle, but you had come to notice the small tells—the brief flicker of vulnerability behind his playful mask.

“You know,” you began, leaning just a little closer, “for someone who says they don’t care, you sure go out of your way to stick around.”

He narrowed his eyes but didn’t pull away. “I’m only sticking around because I need someone competent to look out for me.”

You grinned, knowing better. “Sure, Rafayel. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

His gaze softened, the faint blush on his cheeks betraying the snark in his words. For all his brattiness, you had seen through the act long ago. You understood that this was how he showed he cared, wrapped up in layers of ego and arrogance, but still there, in the way he always wanted you close.

The night deepened around you, the cool air carrying the scent of flowers and earth. The grand estate behind you seemed distant, the sounds of music and laughter fading into the background. Here, on the balcony, it was just the two of you—a peaceful moment away from the constant buzz of attention that Rafayel usually thrived on. You glanced over at him again, catching the way his eyes flickered over the garden below, but this time there was no smugness, no hint of his usual arrogance. He seemed… pensive.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “The act?”

His gaze snapped to you, surprise flashing across his features before he masked it with a huff. “What act?”

“The bravado. The teasing. Always pretending like nothing bothers you.”

He frowned, the lines of his face tightening for a moment before he shrugged, looking away. “Why? Is it bothering you now?”

“No,” you replied softly, “but it’s okay if you’re tired of it. You don’t have to put on a show all the time.”

He didn’t answer at first, just kept staring out into the night. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like the calm before something important, something real. Finally, Rafayel let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible over the breeze.

“I guess… sometimes it gets exhausting,” he admitted, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. “But it’s all I know how to do.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty. Rafayel rarely let his guard down like this. You reached out, gently placing your hand over his. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Rafayel. I know you better than that.”

He stiffened at the contact at first, his eyes dropping to your intertwined hands. For a moment, you thought he would pull away, but instead, he just stayed there, his posture tense but unmoving. You could feel the conflict in him, the way he wrestled with letting himself be vulnerable.

Before either of you could say anything more, you gave in to the urge that had been tugging at you all night. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. His eyes widened at the unexpected gesture, and for a second, you wondered if you had gone too far.

But then, something in him seemed to shift. His shoulders relaxed, and the usual tension that clung to him melted away, replaced by something softer, more open. He blinked, the blush on his cheeks deepening as he turned his head slightly to look at you.

“You’re such a sap,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. His eyes were soft, his usual smirk replaced by something more genuine.

“You like it,” you teased, brushing a strand of lavender hair from his face.

“Yeah,” he admitted, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. “Maybe I do.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, the night wrapping around you like a blanket. Eventually, Rafayel let out a long, slow breath, leaning in just a little closer until his head rested gently against your shoulder. It was a rare display of vulnerability, one he wouldn’t allow anyone else to see. But with you, it felt safe. Right.

You shifted slightly, allowing him to lean into your chest as you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Rafayel didn’t resist. Instead, he buried his face against you, his lavender hair brushing against your chin as his breathing steadied, his usual bravado completely absent.

As the minutes ticked by, you felt the tension ease from his body, his breathing slowing as the weight of the evening seemed to finally lift from him. It wasn’t often that Rafayel allowed himself to be this open, this honest. But in the warmth of your embrace, with the stars above and the soft night air around you, he let himself be just Rafayel—not the bratty prince, not the sarcastic flirt, but the man who had come to care for you more than he would ever admit out loud.

“Thank you ...” he muttered, his voice muffled but sincere.

You smiled, your fingers gently brushing through his hair. "I adore you ..."

For the first time since you’d known him, he didn’t pull away from the affection, instead sinking deeper into the embrace. And in that quiet moment, there were no snarky remarks, no bratty comebacks—just the two of you, close and content in the silence.

I really love him now ✨️

✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧

[rafayelgod]

🔞WARNING 18+ CONTENT! NSFW!🔞

Rafayel: Your Dominant Mermaid (Chamber Pet)

You are a princess of the kingdom of Philos, and your father, King Bern, has given you a very rare and beautiful gift: a male Lemurian, a mermaid-like. You are enchanted by his beauty and have him placed in the pool in your chamber.

The creature, now shimmering in the custom-built pool in your…chamber (calling it a cell felt wrong), was breathtaking. Dark, almost midnight purple hair cascaded around his shoulders and down his sculpted chest. The iridescent scales of his tail shifted with every subtle movement, catching the light and throwing rainbows across the stone walls. He was, quite simply, otherworldly.

For three days, you visited him, bringing platters of the finest kelp cakes (apparently a Lemurian delicacy) and narrating your day. You told him about court intrigues, your disastrous attempt at embroidering a tapestry, and even the gossip about Lord Elmsworth’s toupee being slightly off-kilter. He remained silent, his violet eyes watching you with an unnerving intensity. You began to wonder if he even understood you.

Then, on the fourth day, as you were lamenting the lack of decent books in the royal library, he spoke. His voice, a low, melodious rumble, sent shivers down your spine.

"The histories bore you, Princess?”

You nearly dropped the kelp cake you were offering. “You…you can speak? I thought…”

“That I was just a pretty fish?” A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “My name is Rafayel.”

And just like that, the barrier crumbled. Over the next few weeks, Rafayel became your confidante, your advisor, your friend. He was witty, intelligent, and possessed a dry sense of humor that often left you gasping with laughter. He told you tales of his underwater kingdom, of coral castles and shimmering grottoes. He taught you about the ebb and flow of the tides, the language of the sea creatures, and the secrets hidden in the ocean depths. You, in turn, shared your dreams of a more just and equitable Philos, your frustrations with court etiquette, and your secret love for stargazing.

You found yourself drawn to him, not just by his beauty, but by his sharp mind and his gentle understanding. You started spending hours in your chamber, the cool, salty air a welcome escape from the stifling protocols of the palace. He, in turn, confessed to being captivated by your spirit, your kindness, and your unwavering determination to make a difference.

He was falling in love with you. And, truthfully, you were falling right back.

One starlit night, you found yourself restless and unable to sleep. The weight of your crown, of the kingdom, felt unbearable. You slipped out of your work room and padded down the halls, your bare feet silent on the cool stone. You found yourself outside your chamber. The moon cast an ethereal glow on the water in his pool.

Without a second thought, you pushed open the doors.

Rafayel was waiting for you, his eyes filled with a longing that mirrored your own. He reached out a hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

"Princess? Still awake? I heard you have to attend a ball tomorrow...” he whispered, his voice husky.

“I know,” you breathed, your gaze locked on his. “But I want to spend this night with you.”

He didn’t argue. He pulled you closer, his skin cool and smooth against yours. He helped you shed your nightgown, the silk whispering to the floor. He guided you into the water, the temperature shockingly pleasant.

“Have you ever learned how to truly swim, Princess?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I’ve dog-paddled,” you admitted, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your skin. “Allow me to show you the Lemurian way.” His voice was soft, musical, like waves crashing against the shore. You nodded.

He wrapped his arms around you, his tail brushing against your legs. He showed you how to move with the water, how to use your body to propel yourself forward. You laughed, a sound of pure joy, as you splashed and played in the moonlight.

And then, the playfulness faded. The air crackled with unspoken desire. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze drifted to your lips, lingering there for a moment before meeting your eyes again. The space between you felt charged with electricity. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. His breath ghosted over your mouth.

"You.. too.." you whisper.

A faint blush colored his iridescent scales as you mirrored his compliment. His heart raced beneath his shimmering chest. With a soft, tentative smile, he closed the remaining distance, pressing his lips gently against yours. The kiss was tender, exploratory, sending tingles through both your bodies. His lips soft and warm against yours. You kiss him back, your bodies pressed together in the water.

As the kiss deepens, Rafayel's hands begin to explore your body. You feel a shiver of pleasure as he touches you, and you can't help but moan. Rafayel responds by pulling you closer, his tail wrapping around your legs.

Finally, you can't take it any longer, "Raf..." He gently showed you his penises and your eyes widen, one which was more prominent. It was a delicate, slightly pointed appendage, more sensitive and slender. Beneath it hid the second one—larger, stronger, and built for mating. "Princess.. i can't hold it anymore.." You look into his eyes "Don't hold it then..."

His eyes darkened hungrily. He lifted you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Stay still Princess.. i will put it inside.. you.." Your cheek turn red, and your heart is pounding, you wait until you feel something touching your cunt. "Mmh.."

His smaller penis found your entrance easily, sliding inside with no resistance. You moaned softly, throwing your head back. "A-ah...Princess.."He caught your breast in his mouth, sucking gently. His larger penis hardened, ready for mating.

He started to move, his smaller penis thrusting in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly. His larger penis pressed against your opening, slowly pushing inside. "Ah..hn.. Rafayel.." You stretched to accommodate him, a scream of pleasure escaping your lips. He was filling you completely, hitting places you didn't know existed.

"A-ah.. It's how we manage in the water.. ah.. Is it... too much Princess?" He moved slowly, carefully, sensing your body's response. His smaller penis continued its steady rhythm while his larger one pushed deeper with each thrust. "The second one... does it hurt?" His voice was concerned but strained, clearly fighting for control. "Nh.. that feel so good.. Raf.. just.. a little bit strange.. nngg!"

He breathed out in relief, his pace quickening slightly. "Mmh.. only the males have them, Princess. It's a blessing and a curse. Ahh...ah- We can give our females immense pleasure but..." He grunted, his larger penis hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside you. "Mmh.. it requires a lot of.. hhh..control... ahh"

His larger penis flexed inside you, pulling back slightly before surging forward again. It was designed to draw in fluids during mating, to pull in the female's essence and hold it inside. He could feel you squirming, trying to adjust to the unique sensation. "Princess..."

He wrapped his tail around your waist, pulling you even closer. His larger penis sucked in again, pulling you onto it. "R..raf! mmh" He could feel you trying to wriggle away, but his tail kept you trapped. He was dominating you, his body taking what it needed, what it was designed for.

He couldn't stop. The primal urge to mate, to claim you completely, was overwhelming him. He squeezed your legs with his tail, keeping you open and vulnerable to his onslaught. His larger penis pulled and sucked, drawing more of your essence inside him. "Ahhh... Princess..."

"W..wait Rafayel.. ahh-!"

His tail tightened around you as he felt your body convulsing with pleasure. The sensation of you cumming sent him over the edge. His larger penis throbbed and released a warm, pulsing fluid deep inside you, while his smaller penis continued to thrust, adding to the overwhelming sensation.

"Mm..mh Rafayel enough- ah.." He could feel your weak attempts to push him away, but it only made him grip you tighter. The larger penis continued to flex and release more seed, completely filling you up.

His pink-purple eyes met yours, intense and possessive. He knew he was being too rough, too dominant, but this primal part of him couldn't stop. The way you looked at him with those vulnerable eyes only made his desire stronger.

He gently pulls out of you, his semi-hard member slipping free with a soft squelch. He notices the trail of his seed leaking from your well-used hole and a satisfied rumble emanates from his chest.

He smiles softly, his eyes reflecting the moonlight shimmering on the water's surface. "Princess.." he murmurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. "It's an old Lemurian saying, 'The moon's reflection on the water is the path to the divine, and the entwined bodies of lovers are the divine's reflection on earth.'"

He pulls back to look at you with a warm gaze still panting. "When a Lemurian male breeds like that, marking you with his seed, it makes you his mate. His one and only. He will never take another female." He grins softly, "You're stuck with me now." Your face turn bright red.

He notices your blush and chuckles softly, running a thumb gently over your cheek. His expression more softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I love you more than anything Princess. Lemurians mate for life, but the love that grows between them is what makes the bond unbreakable. I love you fiercely, possessively, and eternally. Even if you don't love me now, I will spend my entire life making you fall in love with me. A Lemurian male doesn't give up on his mate so easily. I will be patient, caring, passionate, possessive - whatever it takes to earn your love. I will make you to be my bride..." he lean to your ear and whisper.

"I love you, my beloved bride.."

- The End - 🌚❤

© Melody (Follow for more story) 🌚💦

[joocomics]

1k followers celebration event — ⌞⌗ p1h drabble⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 bf!jiung x fem!reader

genre: smut ( 18+ ) ── 0.6 words

request: “did you wear this just for me?” + “you heard me. i want you to sit on my face.” + lingerie kink

✎… established relationship, sub!reader, exhibitionism kink, (public) oral sex (f!rec), lingerie kink, pet names, face sitting

( event masterlist | p1h masterlist )

It feels like you and Jiung are the only people left on Earth.

The spot he picked out for your picnic date is far enough to make the city feel like a blur. The only sounds around you are the playful chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves.

“Did you wear this just for me?” He nudges your knee with his.

The action feels teasing but his eyes are watching you with a lazy kind of affection that has your heart fluttering.

You nod in response, seeing his lips stretch in a well familiar smile.

“You know how to spoil me.” He murmurs softly still resting on his side while you sit across from him.

His dreamy gaze drops to your lap once he catches your hands fidget with the breezy fabric of your sundress.

“These too,” you say, providing him with a view of your new lace underwear. “Got them just for you.”

Jiung’s gaze remains upon the seductive panties for a moment; long enough to bring a certain type of tension in the spring air.

“Pretty,” he whispers and lays a hand on your thigh, drawing patterns with his thumb. He looks around to make sure the area is still as deserted like it was when you arrived, then says: “Show me again.”

Slowly, you reveal your lower half; legs separating as you don’t mind leaving nothing to his imagination. This time, you move the dress way up, holding it around your waist as Jiung’s gaze takes in the view.

“Every part of you is so beautiful, baby.” His eyes flicker up at you before returning to your panties.

His hand shifts to feel the fabric; two of his slim fingers slide up and down your clothed pussy folds, bringing warmth across your bare skin. The feeling is subtle, until he’s suddenly turned onto his stomach - inviting his mouth between your open thighs.

“Jiung!” You mutter quietly - as a warning but it barely comes out as such. Not when you grip on the roots of his hair, inviting him closer. “Someone can see.”

Surprisingly, Jiung doesn’t seem to mind. His mouth leaves open mouthed kisses on your cunt; tongue grazing against the lace material only for his teeth to pull on it right after.

“Why don’t you sit on my face?” He asks, heating you up further with warm breaths. The tip of his tongue sneaks out again, drawing a circle on your hidden clit.

“What?” You breathe out a chuckle; the sound quickly turns into a brief moan as the muscle presses flat against your sensitive spot.

“You heard me.”

His voice comes out low, with a hint of mischief which for a second has you thinking he might be joking. But then, you notice how deliberately he repeats his words; how deliberately he looks up at you while pushing the lace to one side.

“I want you to sit on my face.”

And so you do.

Instead of continuing to tease you with the kisses from earlier, Jiung begins to thoroughly explore you - sensual, measured strokes of his tongue run against your folds, shooting buzzing thrills of pleasure through your veins. Every motion collects more of your sweet taste, and he hums from bliss simultaneously dipping into your entrance so he can have more.

All you can do is sit still, leaking aroused onto his dancing tongue, with thighs locked around his head, quivering whenever he brings back his focus on your clit; sweating the more your peak approaches.

Each move from his glossy lips weakens your system more and more - soon, you won’t have any strength left in your body.

“Baby, I’m going to cum...” Your breathless moans migle with the warm breeze caressing your skin.

Jiung groans as a respone, pressing further between your folds. His grip, unwavering, tightens on your sides, ready to hold you down when your composure completely shatters.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @antoncore

[fayelero]

— CRAWLING BACK TO YOU ! bokuto kotaro

➥ syn : the volleyball captain finally realizes his feelings for you and confess in a…crawling way

➥ wc : 3.4k

➥ tw : just a crawling to the windows bokuto :)

➥ a/n : I FOUND A BIG IDEA even if I was in a lack of inspo since…days. Lmaooo enjoy reading ;)

The routine started innocently enough, just another day at Fukurodani Academy. The gymnasium buzzed with a symphony of sounds - volleyballs smacking against the polished floor, sneakers squeaking, and the cacophony of voices echoing off the high ceilings. Amidst this controlled chaos, one voice rang out above the rest, unmistakable in its enthusiasm and volume.

"Hey, hey, hey! Did you see that spike? It was like 'whoosh' and then 'bam'!"

Bokuto Koutarou, the ace and captain of Fukurodani's volleyball team, stood at the center of it all, his arms spread wide as if to embrace the entire gym. His hair, defying gravity in its trademark owl-like style, seemed to quiver with excitement. His golden eyes sparkled with an almost childlike glee that was infectious, spreading to his teammates like wildfire.

You couldn't help but smile as you leaned against the gym's entrance, your bag slung over your shoulder. This daily visit had become a cherished part of your routine, a moment of brightness before the long school day ahead. What had started as mere curiosity about the boisterous volleyball team had evolved into something more, something that centered around the whirlwind of energy that was Bokuto.

As if sensing your presence, Bokuto's head swiveled towards you, his face breaking into an even wider grin. "Hey! You're here!" he shouted, waving enthusiastically.

You waved back, your heart doing a little flip in your chest. It was time for your daily ritual.

Sauntering over to where Bokuto stood, you took in his appearance - the way his practice shirt clung to his muscular frame, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his hair somehow remained perfectly styled despite the rigorous practice.

"Morning, Bokuto," you said, infusing your voice with a teasing lilt. "I see your hair is defying the laws of physics as usual. What's your secret? Super glue?"

Bokuto blinked, then let out a booming laugh that reverberated through the gym. "Nah, it's all natural! Cool, right?" He ran a hand through his spikes, preening slightly. "Maybe I was just born to be a star!"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Oh, definitely. You're practically glowing." Your tone was playful, but there was a hint of sincerity in your words that you couldn't quite hide.

However, as always, the nuance seemed to fly right over Bokuto's head. He beamed at you, taking your words at face value. "Thanks! I did have a good breakfast this morning. Gotta fuel up to be the ace, you know!"

You nodded sagely, fighting back a fond smile. "Of course. Can't have our star player running on empty."

This was how it always went. You'd drop a flirtatious comment, and Bokuto would respond with endearing obliviousness. It was frustrating at times, but you couldn't deny the charm in his innocent reactions. There was something refreshing about his straightforward nature, his inability to pick up on subtle cues. In a world of complex social dynamics and hidden meanings, Bokuto was an open book - one that you found yourself wanting to read over and over again.

As the days passed, your flirtations became bolder, your compliments more direct. Yet, Bokuto remained blissfully unaware, accepting your words with the same enthusiastic gratitude he showed when receiving a perfect set on the court.

One particularly memorable morning, you decided to up your game. Bokuto had just executed a powerful spike, the ball slamming onto the other side of the court with a resounding 'thwack'. As his teammates cheered, you caught his eye and gave him a slow, deliberate wink.

"Nice kill, ace," you called out, your voice low and appreciative. "You know, you're pretty amazing when you're all fired up like that."

Bokuto's chest puffed up with pride, but his response was as innocently enthusiastic as ever. "Thanks! I feel like I could take on the whole world right now!" He pumped his fist in the air, oblivious to the double meaning in your words.

You sighed inwardly, equal parts amused and exasperated. It was like flirting with a particularly cheerful brick wall.

It wasn't until a quiet afternoon, when the usual bustle of the gym had died down, that things began to shift. Practice had been particularly grueling that day, and even Bokuto's seemingly endless reserves of energy seemed depleted. He sat on the bench, absent-mindedly toweling off his sweat-dampened hair, his usual vibrant demeanor subdued.

Akaashi Keiji, the team's setter and Bokuto's closest friend, observed him with a mix of concern and curiosity. It was rare to see Bokuto so contemplative, and Akaashi knew from experience that a quiet Bokuto often preceded either a brilliant insight or a spectacular mood swing.

"Something on your mind, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi asked, his voice calm and measured as always.

Bokuto looked up, seeming almost surprised to find Akaashi there. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, his brow furrowing in concentration. Finally, he blurted out, "Akaashi, you're smart about people stuff, right?"

Akaashi blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "I... suppose so. Why do you ask?"

Bokuto ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that betrayed his nervousness. "It's about [y/n]," he said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "She come around a lot, right?"

Akaashi nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had noticed your frequent visits and the way you interacted with Bokuto. Unlike his captain, Akaashi was perceptive enough to recognize flirtation when he saw it. "Yes, she does," he confirmed, wondering where Bokuto was going with this.

"Well," Bokuto continued, his words coming out in a rush, "she always says these things. Nice things, you know? About my hair, or my plays, or just... me. And it feels different from when other people say nice things. It makes me feel all..." He gestured vaguely at his chest, struggling to find the right words.

Akaashi's smile grew a little wider. "Warm? Fluttery?" he suggested gently.

Bokuto's eyes widened. "Yeah! Exactly! How did you know?"

Akaashi took a deep breath, realizing that he was about to open Bokuto's eyes to a whole new world. "Bokuto-san," he said carefully, "have you considered that [y/n] might be flirting with you?"

The look of utter bewilderment on Bokuto's face would have been comical if it weren't so genuine. "Flirting?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "Like... trying to be my friend?"

Akaashi couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Not exactly," he explained patiently. "Flirting is a way of showing romantic interest in someone. It's like... testing the waters to see if there's a mutual attraction."

Bokuto's jaw dropped, his eyes growing impossibly wide. "Romantic interest? You mean... [y/n] might like me? Like, like-like me?"

Akaashi nodded, amused by Bokuto's childlike phrasing but touched by his innocent reaction. "It's very possible. She's been giving you a lot of compliments and attention. Those are often signs of flirting."

Bokuto fell silent, a rare occurrence that Akaashi knew signaled deep thought. He could almost see the gears turning in Bokuto's head as he replayed every interaction with you in this new light.

After a long moment, Bokuto spoke again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Akaashi... I think I might like her too. Like, like-like her."

Akaashi felt a surge of affection for his friend. For all his bravado on the court, Bokuto could be endearingly vulnerable when it came to matters of the heart. "That's great, Bokuto-san," he said warmly. "Have you thought about telling her how you feel?"

Excitement flashed across Bokuto's face, his golden eyes lighting up with newfound understanding. "Tell her? Of course! Why didn't I think of that before? This is gonna be great!"

Akaashi blinked, a bit taken aback by Bokuto's sudden enthusiasm. "You're... not worried about how she might respond?"

Bokuto let out his signature booming laugh. "Worried? Nah! I'm the ace, aren't I? I've got this!" He puffed out his chest, his earlier doubts completely forgotten. "Besides, [y/n] is always saying nice things to me. She's gotta like me, right?"

A small smile tugged at Akaashi's lips. This was the Bokuto he knew - confident, enthusiastic, and ready to take on any challenge. "Well, if you're sure, Bokuto-san. Just remember to be respectful of her feelings, whatever she may be."

"Hey, hey, hey! Of course I will!" Bokuto exclaimed, jumping to his feet with renewed energy. "I'm gonna sweep her off their feet with my awesome confession! It'll be like my best spike ever, but with words!"

As practice wound down and the team began to disperse, Bokuto's mind was buzzing with excitement. He replayed every interaction with you, seeing them in a new light. The compliments, the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to seek him out - it all made perfect sense now.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, matching Bokuto's mood as he practically bounced into the gym. His enthusiasm was palpable, radiating off him in waves that his teammates couldn't help but notice.

"Someone's in a good mood," Konoha remarked, raising an eyebrow at Bokuto's even-more-exuberant-than-usual demeanor.

"Of course I am!" Bokuto exclaimed, his grin threatening to split his face. "Today's gonna be awesome!"

As the team began their warm-ups, Bokuto's eyes kept darting to the gym entrance. Any moment now, you would walk in, and he would sweep you off your feet with his amazing confession. He had it all planned out in his head - he'd stride up to you confidently, flash his best smile, and tell you exactly how he felt. It was foolproof.

But when you finally did appear in the doorway, something unexpected happened. Bokuto felt his words die in his throat.

You stood there, backlit by the morning sun streaming through the windows, and Bokuto felt as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your hair caught the light, creating a soft halo effect. Your eyes sparkled with warmth as they met his, and your smile - that smile he'd seen a hundred times before - suddenly seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

"Morning, Bokuto!" you called out cheerfully, completely unaware of the internal crisis you'd just sparked in the volleyball captain.

Bokuto opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. His mind, usually filled with thoughts of volleyball and little else, was now entirely occupied by you. He noticed things he'd never paid attention to before - the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the gentle curve of your neck, the grace in your movements as you walked towards him.

"Bokuto?" you asked, your brow furrowing in concern as you approached. "Are you okay? You're being awfully quiet."

Bokuto nodded dumbly, still unable to form words. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be confident, charismatic, sweeping you off your feet with his awesome confession. Instead, he found himself struck silent, in awe of your presence in a way he'd never experienced before.

From across the gym, Akaashi watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. He'd never seen Bokuto so flustered before, especially not in front of you.

"Earth to Bokuto," you waved a hand in front of his face, your tone a mix of amusement and worry. "Did you lose your voice or something?"

Bokuto shook his head, trying to snap out of his daze. "N-no, I'm fine!" he finally managed to stammer out. "Just... thinking about... volleyball stuff!"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but decided to let it slide. "Okay, if you say so. Well, don't let me interrupt your practice. I just wanted to say hi before class."

As you turned to leave, Bokuto felt a surge of panic. This was his chance, he had to say something! But all that came out was a weak, "Bye!"

You glanced back, giving him a slightly puzzled smile before heading out of the gym. Bokuto watched you go, his heart pounding in his chest.

emo mode activated.

Once you were out of sight, he slumped to the floor, burying his face in his hands. "Akaashi!" he wailed, loud enough for the entire team to hear. "What just happened?"

Akaashi jogged over, crouching down beside his captain. "I believe, Bokuto-san," he said gently, "that you just experienced what it's like to be truly smitten."

Bokuto peeked out from between his fingers, his golden eyes wide with confusion and a hint of fear. "But... but I had a plan! I was going to be all cool and stuff! Instead, I just... froze up!"

Akaashi patted Bokuto's shoulder comfortingly. "It happens to the best of us, Bokuto-san. Sometimes, when we realize how much we care about someone, it can be overwhelming."

Bokuto slowly lowered his hands, his expression shifting from distress to determination. "Then... then I'll just have to try again! Yeah! I won't let this setback defeat me!"

As Bokuto jumped to his feet, his usual energy returning, Akaashi couldn't help but smile. This was going to be an interesting journey for his captain, and he had a feeling it was far from over.

"Alright, everyone!" Bokuto shouted, his voice echoing through the gym. "Let's practice hard! I've got a confession to nail!"

The team exchanged confused glances, but shrugged and got back to their drills. After all, this was Bokuto - and with him, anything could happen.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet streets. Bokuto trudged home, his usual boundless energy depleted after an especially grueling practice. He'd pushed himself harder than ever, trying to work out the frustration of his failed confession attempt.

As he walked, his mind wandered back to you. The way you'd looked in the morning sunlight, the concern in your eyes when he'd fumbled his words, the gentle curve of your smile as you'd said goodbye. Each memory sent a flutter through his chest, a sensation he was still getting used to.

Suddenly, Bokuto stopped in his tracks. A memory hit him like a spike to the face - that time you'd walked home together because he'd discovered you lived in the same neighborhood. Without a second thought, he pivoted on his heel and broke into a run, his exhaustion forgotten.

The streets blurred past as Bokuto sprinted, his heart pounding with a mixture of exertion and anticipation. He skidded around corners, narrowly avoiding a stray cat, until finally, he found himself on your street.

Panting heavily, Bokuto approached your house. The lights were still on in what he remembered was your bedroom. For a moment, doubt crept in. What was he doing? It was late, you were probably getting ready for bed, and here he was, about to...

Well, he wasn't entirely sure what he was about to do. But he was Bokuto Koutarou, and backing down wasn't in his nature.

With the agility of the ace spiker he was, Bokuto began to scale the side of your house. He'd never been more grateful for his athletic prowess as he carefully made his way up, using drainpipes and window ledges as handholds. 

Finally, he reached your window. Through the glass, he could see you sitting at your desk, engrossed in a book. You were wearing soft-looking pajamas, your hair slightly mussed, and Bokuto felt his heart skip a beat at the sight.

Taking a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles against the glass.

The effect was instantaneous. You jumped in your chair, the book flying from your hands as you whirled to face the window. Your eyes widened in shock as you recognized Bokuto, perched precariously outside your second-story window.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the absurdity of the situation rendering you both speechless. Then, snapping out of your shock, you rushed to open the window.

"Bokuto?!" you hissed, your voice a mix of concern and disbelief. "What on earth are you doing? Get in here before you fall!"

You helped him clamber through the window, your hands gripping his arm tightly as if afraid he might tumble backward at any moment. Once he was safely inside, you stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Okay, explain," you demanded, your brow furrowed. "Why are you climbing through my window at..." you glanced at your clock, "11:30 at night?"

Bokuto stood there, suddenly very aware that he was in your bedroom, with you in your pajamas, looking adorably rumpled and confused. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, words failing him for the second time that day.

"I... uh..." he stammered, his usual confidence deserting him once again. His eyes darted around your room, taking in the volleyball posters (including one of him, which made his heart leap), the neatly organized bookshelf, the stuffed owl on your bed that he'd won for you at a festival last year.

You sighed, your expression softening. "Bokuto, are you okay? You've been acting strange all day. First, you barely said a word this morning, and now you're scaling buildings in the middle of the night. What's going on?"

Something in your tone, the genuine concern in your eyes, seemed to flip a switch in Bokuto. He stood up straighter, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"[Y/N]," he said, his voice steady and filled with his usual enthusiasm. "I like you!"

The words hung in the air between you, Bokuto's chest heaving as if he'd just finished a five-set match.

"I mean," he continued, the words now flowing freely, "I really, really like you. Akaashi made me realize it yesterday, and then this morning you looked so beautiful I couldn't even speak, which never happens to me, you know? And I've been thinking about you all day, about how you always come to watch our practices, and how you laugh at my jokes, and how you make me feel all 'gwah' inside."

He paused, taking a deep breath before flashing you his trademark grin. "So yeah, I like you. A lot. And I climbed up here tonight because I couldn't wait another minute to tell you. Because you're amazing, and I want to spike all my tosses for you, if you know what I mean."

As his words sank in, your shocked expression slowly transformed. A blush crept across your cheeks, and a smile began to tug at the corners of your mouth.

"Bokuto," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "I like you too. I've been trying to tell you for months now."

Bokuto's eyes widened, his grin growing impossibly wider. "Really? That's... that's awesome! Hey he-"

His exuberant shout echoed through your quiet room, and you quickly placed a hand over his mouth, your eyes wide with alarm.

"Shh!" you whispered urgently, your heart racing. "My family is sleeping, and they definitely don't need to know that a boy climbed into my room tonight!"

Bokuto's eyes widened in understanding, and you felt his lips curve into a smile beneath your palm. Slowly, you removed your hand, your fingertips grazing his lips in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," he whispered, his voice unusually soft. "I got excited. But can you blame me? The girl I like just said she likes me back!"

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, even as you glanced nervously at your bedroom door. "I do like you, Bokuto. A lot. But maybe next time, try confessing at a more reasonable hour? And preferably through the front door?"

Bokuto grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away. But hey, it worked, didn't it?"

As you both stood there, smiling at each other in the dim light of your bedroom, the full absurdity of the situation hit you. Here was Bokuto, the boy you'd been pining after for months, standing in your bedroom in the middle of the night, having just confessed his feelings for you in the most Bokuto way possible.

Your heart swelled with affection. Despite the late hour, despite the risk of getting caught, despite the unconventional method - or perhaps because of all these things - this moment felt perfect. It was so utterly, completely Bokuto, and you wouldn't have had it any other way.

"So," Bokuto whispered, his golden eyes twinkling with mischief and joy, "what happens now?"

You glanced at your clock, then back at Bokuto, a mix of excitement and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. This was just the beginning, and you had a feeling life with Bokuto was going to be quite an adventure.

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[zepskies]

A Subtle Invitation

Pairing: Éomer x Fem!Reader 

Summary: “You needn’t be so formal,” Éomer said. His lips moved against the shell of your ear. “I am Éomer, especially when we are alone.”

Another short episode in your arranged marriage to the Third Marshal of the Mark, in the hopes of renewing political ties between Rohan and Gondor.

AN: Here's a little sequel to As Tradition Dictates, essentially an arranged marriage AU for Éomer!

Posted on Patreon: 6/13/2025

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. A bit of jealousy, angst, fluff, sharing a bath, smut (v. fingering)

The second morning after your wedding day, you bid your family goodbye. It was a bittersweet parting, and you hugged your mother and brother with all your might.

It would take them a week’s ride to travel back to Dol Amroth, the Gondorian city by the sea. Ruled by Prince Imrahil, it was a small, beautiful coastal palace, but ever did it live in the shade of Minas Tirith.

The wish to renew the friendship between Gondor and Rohan began in the mind of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. But of course he wouldn't deign to send either of his sons to marry Éowyn.

No, the responsibility fell on Prince Imrahil to send a suitable match from his household. He had felt his only daughter Lothíriel was yet too young to marry Théodred Prince, a grown man of forty-one years to her mere sixteen. So Imrahil called upon your family, upon you, his next closest relation.

You were meant to be...an appeasement bride, of sorts.

Lothíriel was promised to wed Théodred in two years’ time. And so, you had been sent to wed Éomer in the interim. The king's first nephew, Third Marshal of the Mark; his standing was still far above yours. You felt the match was unequal in that respect, but you also secretly hoped that he did not see it that way.

After finishing well wishes with your family, you were approached by Amrothos, the third son of Prince Imrahil, who had also accompanied your party to Rohan. He had been your friend along with Lothíriel since you all were children. You three were the closest in age and so had gotten into many hijinks together, for which your older brother too often needed to get you out of.

Today, Amrothos was more serious than you had ever seen him when he kissed your hand in parting.

“My dear lady,” he said, “I wish you every happiness.”

You caught a hint of grief and longing hidden behind his eyes. You knew why he suffered, but even with sadness throbbing in your chest, your heart could only love him as a friend. And so, that was how you must say goodbye.

“And I you, my friend,” you said. “Please give my best to Elphir and Erchirion, and tell Lothíriel I will write to her soon.”

“Of course,” Amrothos said. He bid you a final farewell with a deep nod of respect. He hesitated, but finally let go of your hand and stepped away from you. Incidentally, he met eyes with the Third Marshal as he returned to your brother’s side.

Éomer watched Amrothos go while standing behind you in the large hall, with his armor-laden arms clasped before him. His face was almost unreadable…but not entirely. Éowyn noticed the path of her brother’s gaze, so firmly trained on Amrothos as the entire party took their leaving. She hid a smile.

However, it soon dropped when she also noticed you being approached by Grima, the King’s advisor.

“Even in sadness, you retain your bridal glow, my lady,” Grima remarked.

You turned to him with a thin smile, trying to be polite. You could not place it, but there was something about the man that unsettled you. His voice slipped about like an eel, leaving a proverbial film of grease in its wake. 

Éomer tensed, but Éowyn sent him a pacifying look that said, Leave it to me.

She slipped between you and Grima. Giving him a polite excuse, she led you away by your arm to ask if you would help her tend the garden of Meduseld.

“My mother started it long ago, but admittedly, I myself have no hand for growing things,” she confessed with a laugh. You smiled along with her. “However, I thought you might be up to the task.”

Before you and Éowyn left the great hall, you gave your husband a parting smile as well as a nod of respect. He did the same for you, though he left without a word. You noticed the sharper eye he gave to Grima before he took his leave.

You wondered if Éomer too disliked the man, but you had no time to contemplate it just then. Éowyn’s steps were brisk and you needed to keep up with her.

The truth was, your heart swelled at the opportunity to tend the garden. Éowyn had caught you there more than once, touching the dry, deadened leaves with a frown. You remembered your own modest garden by the sea at Dol Amroth, full of lilies and lemongrass, wildflowers and white roses. It had been painful to leave your hard work behind in coming to Rohan.

“Yes, I would be honored, my lady,” you replied. “It is a pastime that brings me great joy.”

“Good,” said Éowyn, with a bright charm in her blue eyes. She squeezed your arm congenially as she led you through the long and cavernous halls of the keep. “Except you must call me Éowyn.”

You began with clearing the wild and overrun weeds and dead plants from the pit that once was a garden. It lied in a quiet room made of stone, so different from the pointed wooden walls that made up most of Meduseld. But high above, there was a wide, square gap in the ceiling that let in the sun, the rain, and the heavens shining down.

You evaluated the soil and what flowers and plants would bloom in time, using Éowyn’s knowledge of what grew here in Rohan. Éowyn and one of her ladies helped you clear the debris, even though you told her that she needn’t do so. She was the Lady of Meduseld, after all.

She waved away your concern and told you that she would rather help you than waste her day idling. By the time the sun began to set beyond the horizon, bathing the room in a dimmer golden glow, the three of you had accomplished quite a lot.

Also, you were now in dire need of a bath. When you took your leave, more eyes followed you than usual. No doubt they were noting your disheveled hair, the dirt staining your clothes and under your nails. The keep’s other maids and attendants whispered to each other, likely scandalized that you, the so-called noble lady of Gondor, had done the work yourself.

Good, you could not help but think in satisfaction. This would give them something better to gossip about. You had heard the whispers from the start.

The lady looks as if she is made of glass. Can she even move her head?

How complicated she wears her hair. Is that the style in Gondor?

She will never last a Rohirric winter.

How haughty is the tilt of her chin. No doubt she thinks us a bunch of wild savages. The Marshal will have his work cut out with her.

Surely, he wishes he could have chosen a bride for himself.

Those thoughts fell heavier upon your shoulders as you made the trek back to Éomer’s chamber…the one you now shared with him. You tried to keep your shoulders straight, your chin parallel with the floor. You did as your mother had always impressed upon you to do. Keep your true thoughts from your face, and show only what you wanted others to see.

However, that expression of aloofness fell the moment you fully entered the bedchamber. You heard the mild splashing of water before you realized—before you saw Éomer washing himself in the bath. The luxurious marble tub built deep into the ground, over in the far corner of the room. The fireplace crackled warmth into the room along with the water’s steam, enveloping you with a comforting air.

You knew your husband had been out on patrol today after leaving you this morning. No doubt he had ridden long and hard throughout the West Mark, perhaps alongside Théodred Prince.

Éomer looked up when the heavy door closed itself. You forgot to grab it so that it shut more softly. He turned to you, his eyes widening a fraction.

“My lord,” you greeted with a quick bow of your head. Your cheeks warmed in a blush. “I am sorry, I do not wish to disturb you.”

“You are not,” he replied, as he eyed you. A subtle invitation, perhaps.

He picked up the soap once more and continued to scrub along his arm. You were drawn to him, and to the sight of wet-slick muscle. Your gaze roamed up the length of his broad arm and shoulders, his chest and collarbone, his damp blonde hair clinging to his skin.

Quickly, your eyes rose and fell on his bearded face. His lips began to twitch upward, but it became hidden from you as he twisted to try and reach his back.

Your blush deepened as you stepped closer. “May I help you?”

He hesitated, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“If you wish.”

You knelt down at the edge of the stone tub. You took the bar of soap from him to help wash his back, though you noticed the more serious veneer that fell over his features.

“Am I doing something wrong?” you asked.

Éomer seemed to return to himself. He blinked up at you and lightened up a touch.

“No…no, thank you,” he said, taking the soap from you. Besides the softness of your touch, he was thinking of his patrol this afternoon. His Eored noticed signs of orcs west of Meduseld. He already informed his cousin Théodred, but tomorrow Éomer would ride out again and hunt them down. He would not trouble you with that, however.

While his back was turned, you saw a scattering of scars you had only glimpsed yesterday in the dim of candlelight. You touched him between the shoulder blades, and his muscles twitched. Your face warmed, but you were gentle in tracing the marks. Éomer paused, allowing it for the moment.

“Do all men in your Eored possess such scars?” you asked quietly.

“Many do,” he said. “The hazards of our occupation, and our duty.”     

He turned and grasped your hand to keep you from dwelling on those thoughts, or from fretting over him. Your eyes met his, and his lips curved. His free hand came up to brush some dirt from your cheek. "What's this?"

“Gardening,” you supplied with a blush.

“I see,” he said, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Care to join me then? The water is still warm.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He could tell that he’d caught you contemplating the very idea.

“It would conserve water,” you replied.

It succeeded in making him smile. That was something he had noticed about you.

Always concealing her desires behind practicality, he thought.

He tugged you closer by your hand to help you out of your clothes, but you cinched up the soft violet gown yourself. Éomer watched as you raised it over your head, the hem of it catching in your hair. Anew he took in your every curve with pleasure to his eyes. 

You were beautiful. Beautiful and kind. Again, he was reminded of how easily your match may not have come to pass.

Rather than cursed, as he may have felt months ago, he now felt mostly lucky to look upon his bride with the certainty that you were his alone. For him, it was worth the price of being yours in return, even if all that ever grew between you both was friendship and fondness.

He helped you into the bath, and the water rose to meet you when you settled in. Flashing him a somewhat shy smile, you reached up to loosen the complicated twists from your hair, taking out pins and unraveling the strands.

It was a delicate thing you did, and Éomer found himself attracted to the way your nimble hands did it…even though he preferred your hair as it was now: unbound and trailing damp between his fingers. 

He led you into a seat beside him on the ledge, submerged by the water. He washed your back, your glistening shoulders, and your arms, moving the soap over your skin in a gentle, but delicious pressure.

When he reached your neck, he slipped the smooth bar over your shoulder and more gently along your collarbone, dipping slowly between your breasts. You could feel his warm, solid chest against your back.

You breathed out a sigh, grateful, contented, and aroused in equal measure. His free hand found the curve of your waist under the water, and you felt the brush of his thumb along your skin. His hand slid higher, skimming the underside of your breast. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Thank you, my lord,” your voice escaped in a whisper.

“You needn’t be so formal,” Éomer said. His lips moved against the shell of your ear. “I am Éomer, especially when we are alone.”

He set down the soap and rose to sit on the edge of the tub. He drew you up with him by your hips, guiding you to sit in his lap. You felt every firm ridge of him against you, including his hard, heavy manhood kissing the cleft of your rear. His strong thighs underneath you were your foundation, his arms your unshakable support.

You sucked in a subtle breath, holding onto his left arm for balance, especially when his right hand dipped below your belly, brushing your skin, traveling down and down to cup your mound.

“Éomer,” you breathed, just as two of his fingers sought what they wished between your legs. A gasp caught in your throat. Your thighs, already shaking, opened up for him.

Calloused finger pads slipped through your folds and found delicious friction, rolling the swelling bud above your entrance until you began to whimper and writhe against him.

His lips trailed rough kisses along your neck, your chin, soft bites along your jaw. Then those same fingers plunged into you, deeply, finding slick familiarity in your sensitive channel.

Amidst the sounds of quiet splashing, your toes curling in the water around your ankles, your breathing shallowed. Desperation mounted. You reached back and scrapped for purchase, raking your nails through the wet darkened strands of his hair.

He held to him with an arm like an iron band. His hand molded to your breast, rolling the achingly hard nipple between his fingers. All the while, his sword-wielding hand worked you over, those thick digits sliding back and forth inside your quivering walls.

Until finally, a choked cry escaped you. Your core muscles clenched and spasmed around his hand, down to the knuckles. Still, he stroked inside you until you fell back against him with a shudder. Self-satisfied at bringing you pleasure, yet painfully aroused, he watched your breasts rise and fall with your breaths.

“Well done,” he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

You giggled softly, tightening your hand around his. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught his smile.

He guided you by your hips to turn around. You were all too willing to do so, straddling his lap with a slow ease. Maybe a tinge of lingering modesty had your face warming in a blush, but you smiled back at him.

Your hands slipped up his arms as he gathered you against his chest, until merely a whisper lied between his lips and yours. The air began to chill your wet skin, but you were warm wherever he touched you.

“Perhaps we could dry ourselves and move to the bed, where I might return the favor,” you suggested.

Éomer rose a brow, but the idea pleased him, as did your boldness when your hand disappeared between your bodies to stroke his aching cock. A grunt fell from his lips, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips.  

“You are learning quickly,” he uttered.

He earned your sweeter laugh. Then you welcomed him into a devouring kiss.  

At least we are compatible in this, you thought, before you weren’t able to think of much else.

AN: There we go, another little snapshot of these two! 💜

I'd like to do a few more of these at various points in their marriage (eventually). I guess you could consider that a kind of series, since it was meant to be from an actual Éomer x OFC series. 😆

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They receive a love letter with your lipstick mark

Sae, Shidou, Aiku and Sendou | masterlist

۶ৎ Sae Itoshi

Sae finds the letter in his locker or training bag and immediately raises an eyebrow at the lipstick mark. His first thought isn’t flattery, it’s annoyance. Public displays of affection, even in written form, are unnecessary distractions to him.

He views romantic gestures like these as shallow, especially when they come from someone he doesn’t know well. “What a waste of paper,” he mutters, folding the letter without reading more than a few lines.

Unless it’s from someone he already respects, Sae would likely toss the letter aside, unaffected by the gesture. If it’s from you, someone he has hidden feelings for, his reaction would soften. He might still roll his eyes, but there’s a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

If touched, he wouldn’t respond overtly. He’d instead drop subtle hints through actions, like being more attentive to you during conversations or sparing time he normally wouldn't for anyone else.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Ryusei Shidou

Shidou bursts into laughter the moment he sees the lipstick mark on the letter. “Damn, they really went all out!” he cackles, holding the paper up for others to see without a hint of embarrassment.

He loves the audacity behind the gesture and finds it amusing. Shidou doesn’t care about tradition or propriety, so this bold approach is right up his alley.

If the sender intrigues him, especially if it’s you, he would be thrilled by the letter. “Took you long enough to notice how great I am” he’d tease, though there’s genuine interest beneath the bravado.

He’d confront you directly, possibly holding up the letter with a wild grin. “So, what’s next? A date or a game of one-on-one to see if you really like me that much?” His chaotic charm makes every interaction unpredictable.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Oliver Aiku

Aiku raises an amused eyebrow at the lipstick mark, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Guess someone’s got style” he murmurs, intrigued rather than shocked.

He flips the letter over, examining the mark as if deciphering a secret message. His experience with flirtation makes this feel familiar, but he’s curious enough to want to know the person behind the gesture.

If the letter feels genuine and thoughtful, his playful demeanor gives way to sincerity. If it’s from you, someone he respects, he would carefully consider how to respond.

Aiku wouldn’t reply with another letter; instead, he’d catch you in person, leaning in with a teasing grin. “So, about this letter… Should I be flattered or worried about what’s next?” His charm masks his real interest, but his words carry weight.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shuto Sendou

Sendou’s face turns bright red the moment he sees the lipstick mark. “Whoa, what the-?!” His brain immediately goes into overdrive, wondering if the letter is even meant for him.

He fumbles with the paper, reading the letter carefully while glancing around nervously to see if anyone noticed. Despite his embarrassment, he’s touched by the effort behind the gesture.

If he knows the sender is someone genuine, especially if it’s you, his nervousness melts into excitement. He appreciates direct expressions of affection and would feel both flattered and motivated by it.

Sendou would try to respond in person but stumble over his words. “Uh, hey, about that letter... It was, uh, cool. I mean, I liked it! A lot!” His sincerity, though awkward, shines through, making the moment genuine and heartfelt.

[kiemiu]

things matt does that makes you question your friendship | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. unestablished relationship headcanons wc 911 (library) + (request)

bestfriend!matt who finds excuses to talk to you. he'll randomly call you in the middle of the night to ask for help with something he already knows how to do just because he missed the sound of your voice. other times he'll randomly bring up a controversial topic that he knows you feel strongly about just to hear you rant and rave about it for hours on end. if you ever feel the need to apologize for talking too much, matt always shuts it down with his own heartfelt confession. "no, don't apologize. i love the sound of your voice."

bestfriend!matt who jumps at any offer to help you. you need a ride somewhere? don't worry matt will take you, he had a few errands to run anyway. you need help carrying groceries inside? no? well, that's okay, matt will help you anyway. day or night, at any place in the world, you can always depend on matt being there to help you even when you don't need it. he'd honestly prefer if you went to him for help, finding something so intimate about how intently you pay attention to him when he's explaining something to you, especially if he gets to do it hands on and guide you through it. nick and chris complain about it pretty often, always mentioning the 'pretty girl privileges' you obtain when it comes to matt.

bestfriend!matt who sends you not-so-discrete tik toks. tik toks that always have an underlying meaning, always entailing romance in one way or another. slideshows vids with a caption that says 'us' with pictures of puppies cuddling or rubbing their noses together, or vids with your initials paired together claiming you're soulmates in every universe. the range of subtleness is nearly nonexistent. the most subtle of the bunch being short vids of places that look romantic such as cafes or light shows that are in your area that he sends, hoping that you'll want to go with him. he thoroughly enjoys whenever you reciprocate his energy and send back alike tik toks, staying up till 4 in the morning smiling at his phone at the flurry of tik toks the two of you exchanged in the dead of night for hours on end.

bestfriend!matt who over analyzes everything. he rethinks every conversation you've had together whenever he gets the quiet time to do so. always overthinking if you were subtly flirting back with him or dropping hints that you didn't like him like he liked you. every now and then when he's on social media, he'll scroll through your most recent insta or tik tok posts. rereading the caption of your insta post and judging the song choice for your tik tok, wondering if either of them have hidden meanings that relate to him in any way like what he does for you. thinking back to the time you mentioned you liked how he looks in a beanie and his next three insta posts he uploading were him adorned in a beanie. or how you mentioned that you couldn't get a song stuck out of your head, so his next monthly tik tok he uploaded he used that song, singing it word for word.

bestfriend!matt who mimics you. he doesn't do it to mock you, it's just the slightest quirks you do that he's taken notice of and are things he unconsciously picked up and now does out of habit. sometimes scrunching his nose up the way you do when you laugh, rolling his eyes when he hears a corny joke, hiding his smile behind his hands, and even picking up some of your lingo. his brothers tease and call him out for it all the time. "matt since when have you started using the word period?" "since now, what about it." "what a catty bitch, he's been hanging around y/n too much.."

bestfriend!matt who can't help but get jealous when someone takes a special interest in you. he know he has no right to get jealous over the new male friends you make, he himself is only a friend to you and nothing more, yet he can't ignore the undeniable rage he feels course through his veins at the sight of another man looking at you the way he does. if he isn't ignoring your friend his responses are short and bitter, showing he has no interest in conversation, overall becoming extremely passive aggressive to your friend to the point the interaction is unbearably awkward, only stopping when he's able to get you alone again.

bestfriend!matt who seeks you out. in every casual setting or event with friends, matt is always looking for you, craving your presence at every waking second. he isn't the type to outwardly ask for your attention, he'll just subtly tug at your sleeves when you're not paying attention and show you a tik tok he found funny, repeating the habit until you're leaned on his shoulder and just scrolling through the app together. there'll be times when he discreetly interlocks his fingers between yours, away from everyone's wandering eyes. he claims that it helps ground him when he starts to feel anxious at big gatherings, but your willingness to hold his hand gives him enough confidence to do it when it's just the two of you alone in his room.

bestfriend!matt who has fallen for the person he never knew he was meant to love.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🌱: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrissweetheart @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @dominicfikeenthusiast @sturnslutz @le4hsblog

[nottangerine]

Chrysanthemum

Levi x reader

Warning: none

Levi closed the heavy front door behind him, the metallic click of the lock echoing in the entryway. The house, larger than he was used to, was quiet, its marble floors reflecting faint traces of moonlight that slipped through the drawn curtains. As he shrugged off his coat, one of the housemaids briskly walked over. Taking the jacket from his shoulders without a word, only offering a small, respectful nod.

He glanced around, eyes adjusting to the different lighting. The grand hallway stretched before him, lined with portraits and pale blue vases of flowers. The maid's voice, soft and formal, broke the silence. "The Ms. is in the kitchen."

Levi nodded, muttering his thanks, and made his way toward the subtle glow coming from down the hall. The kitchen lights were dim, just the lamp over the stove and a small one by the window. He found (y/n) at the table, elbows propped on the dark wood, her face half-hidden behind a mug of tea.

He walked over and gently rubbed her shoulders. "You don't have to wait up for me, (y/n)," he said quietly, his voice more tender than he usually let it be. She turned to look at him, tired eyes softening. This was routine by now, her waiting, his late returns. "It's past midnight," he added, glancing at the clock on the wall.

She gave a faint, tired smile. "I know. I always waited for Erwin." There was a pause. Levi just nodded, remembering all those nights Erwin would tell him he needed to get home because she was waiting for him.

He reached for her hand. Without another word, he led her upstairs, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The house felt even bigger at night, every creak and distant sound amplified.

It's been five months since Erwin died, but the grief was still fresh. Levi remembered every detail of that night, coming home, the weight in his chest as he searched for the words to tell (y/n) that Erwin wouldn't be coming home. The last thing Erwin had said to him was to take care of them, something he said to Levi constantly, a promise he never expected to actually happen one day.

In the softly lit bedroom, Levi helped (y/n) settle into bed, propping up the pillows just the way she liked them. He pulled the covers up to her chest, tucking them in gently. She shifted, and he placed his hand over her stomach, feeling the slow, reassuring movement of her breathing. "Don't wait for me if it gets too late," he said, voice low. She put her hand over his, squeezing gently. "For the baby. Try to rest while you can."

She had been four months pregnant when Erwin died. Since then, Levi had thrown himself into work, opening a restaurant with Artur Braus, an old friend from their time in the military. Artur's wife, Lisa, was expecting too and needed a way to support their growing family. The restaurant had been more successful than they thought it would be, busy enough that they had needed to open a second location just to handle the crowds. The profits meant Levi could afford this six-bedroom house for (y/n) and the baby, a gesture she insisted was unnecessary. She had teased him about spoiling the baby, claiming the baby didn't need two bedrooms, when he told her one was meant to be a playroom.

(Y/n) let out a tired sigh, squeezing his hand again. "Stop coming home so late and I'll be in bed before midnight," she teased, though there was a hint of worry behind her smile. She drummed her fingers softly against her belly. "Little one's room is almost done. Carla helped me paint today."

Carla Jaeger was their doctor's wife, also pregnant, and she had become a regular presence in the house. The first time she'd visited, it was with her husband Grisha for one of (y/n)'s checkups. The two women had hit it off almost instantly, and Carla now dropped by often, bringing a sense of normalcy and cheer that (y/n) desperately needed.

Levi gave (y/n)'s stomach a gentle pat and whispered goodnight before quietly closing the door behind him. He made his way to his own room, exhausted, and after a quick shower and changing into fresh clothes, he collapsed onto the bed. As he stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts drifted to Erwin. 'I'm taking care of them, Erwin,' he thought silently, hoping that tonight, sleep would come a little easier.

-

(Y/n) sat out in the garden with Carla, both women bundled in thick sweaters as the pale autumn sun tried its best to cut through the crisp, chilly air. Peaceful afternoons have become more common after the war had ended. Carla stirred her tea slowly, the cup steaming in her hands. "The time is getting closer and closer." she said, her voice filled with excitement. "I have four more months of this." There was a warmth in her eyes as she watched (y/n), a subtle reassurance that she understood exactly what these last months feel like.

(Y/n) let her hands rest on her swollen belly, fingers splayed protectively over the curve. She smiled, the expression soft and tired. "I'm ready to get this baby out of me," she admitted, laughing quietly as she shifted in her seat to get comfortable. Her back ached, and the baby seemed determined to remind her every few minutes that space was running out. It was already the second of November, and the due date had come and gone. She was worried when it passed the date but Grisha reassured her that everything was okay and it's not uncommon for that to happen. Any day now, the baby would arrive.

Levi was inside, pretending to read in the front parlor, (y/n) could sense his anxiety through the walls. He had been working late as always, but ever since her due date passed, he made a point to come home a bit earlier every night. She knew he paced the floors after dinner, double-checking everything and making sure the maids were nearby. He tried to look calm around her, but she could tell he was on edge, waiting for the moment.

Carla set her teacup down on the table, her hands lingering over the delicate porcelain. "I don't think I ever asked you," she said, tilting her head, "are you hoping for a boy or a girl?"

(Y/n) hesitated, tracing lazy circles over her stomach. "I always wanted a boy, and Erwin..."Her voice faltered just slightly at the mention of her late husband, but she continued on. "He wanted a girl. I still hope for a boy, though." Her smile was sad, touched by memories of them playfully going back and forth about it. Carla reached over and squeezed her hand, and in that quiet moment, (y/n) realized how much she had come to value Carla's friendship. It had been a few years since she had someone to talk to like this, another women and not just about work like she used to.

A chilly wind picked up, scattering dead leaves across the stone path. Both women shivered, gathering their sweaters tighter before heading inside. As they stepped through the back door, Levi appeared in the hallway, his eyes lingering on (y/n) just a moment longer than necessary. Before she could say anything, the doorbell rang, and Levi opened the front door to greet Grisha. Carla smiled, gathering her things as her husband waited for her, and the two left together, waving goodbye.

The rest of the day slipped by in quiet routines. (Y/n) curled up in her favorite chair with a book, though she barely turned any pages. She spent some time sewing tiny clothes, occasionally stopping to check and re-check things around the house. Every so often, she'd wince as the baby kicked, sharp, insistent reminders that it was almost ready. Grisha had warned her that the baby could come at any moment and that she shouldn't overexert herself, so she tried to stay inside, resting whenever she could.

As evening settled over the house, (y/n) finally went to her room, hoping for a few hours of sleep. Levi checked in on her before going to bed himself, lingering in the doorway with a worried look. She smiled at him, assuring him she was fine.

It wasn't long before chaos disrupted the quiet house. Just as Levi was beginning to doze off, a frantic knock sounded at his bedroom door. One of the maids stood there, breathless and wide eyed. "Sir, Ms. (y/n) is in labor."

Levi's mind went to Erwin, how he was so happy telling Levi that he was going to be a father. He doesn't remember any other time Erwin was that happy, besides his wedding day.

Levi felt a sudden squeeze on his right hand, so tight it startled him. He glanced down at (Y/n), her knuckles white with effort, sweat beading on her forehead. The maids darted around the room. Sheets were changed, towels and water fetched, supplies readied at a fast pace. Levi had never seen them work so quickly.

(Y/n) had been pushing for what felt like hours, Levi had lost all sense of time. He hadn't left her side once. He kept his eyes on her, offering what comfort he could with a steady hand and quiet words. He squeezed her fingers gently, murmured encouragements.

The room was filled with the sounds of frantic activity the soft instructions of the maids and (Y/n)'s labored breathing. Then, one of the maids leaned over, voice gentle but urgent. "You're almost there. Just a little more."

A moment later, a shrill, piercing cry. The maids quickly gathered around, tending to the newborn, doing their best to clean the baby up. The baby's cries filled the room, insistent and alive. "Strong lungs."

(Y/n) finally released Levi's hand, her entire body sagging with exhaustion. She let out a breathless, shaky laugh. "That's probably the hardest I've ever worked in my life," she managed, her voice barely more than a whisper. A slight smile broke out on Levi's lips, a genuine softness on his face that he rarely showed to anyone. "You did well," he said quietly, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair away from her face. His touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary.

He pulled his hand back, almost self conscious. He could not remember when he had started becoming this soft with her. Sometimes, when he caught himself being gentle with her, a strange guilt crept in, as if he was crossing some invisible line. Yet she never seemed to mind. She never pulled away, never stiffened at his touch. If anything, she seemed to welcome it.

A soft sniffle broke Levi from his thoughts. He looked over to see (Y/n) cradling her baby close to her chest. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she smiled through them, eyes shining with emotion. "It's a boy," she said softly. Levi knew without asking what she was thinking. Erwin should have been here for this moment. Levi felt the ache in his heart for his friend.

One of the maids, Mary stepped forward. "Have you chosen a name for him?" she asked, voice low so as not to disturb the fragile peace in the room now that the baby boy's cries stopped.

(Y/n) nodded, still gazing down at her son. She and Erwin had spent countless evenings discussing names, tossing ideas back and forth, sometimes changing their minds a dozen times in a single conversation. For a girl, they'd settled on Sophia, after (Y/n)'s mother. For a boy, after much debate, "Armin," she whispered, "That's his name."

So cute

I'm trying to write an Armin x mermaid reader and a dating show one (bc i've been watching love island recently. Neither are going well right now, but i will get to eventually.

Thank you for reading💜

[unreleasedwrites]

Caught You, Again

“You’re eyes seem to be wandering yet again, and your cheeks are redder than rubies.. You just never get tired of me, do you?

summary: You and Gun have been in the same class since the eight grade, and you developed a little crush on him that same year. Once the ninth grade started and you two had been paired as seat mates, you started to drop subtle hints here and there with the idea of your little crush on him for the past year. Gun notices this and takes it as an opportunity to constantly tease you about it jokingly— until, he was no longer joking, and made a move by asking you out which then ended with you becoming his first and last girlfriend, because he made you into his first and forever wife. Yet, he never fails to see you in the not so hidden act of admiring him, which has him calling you a “simp,” and he continues to tease you for it.

character(s) included: Park Jonggun x fem!reader

cw: fluff, teasing, playful and flirtatious gun, gun is nice, swearing, use of Y/N, mentions of physical fights gun gets into, mentions of blood/bleeding/bruises, couple nicknames, kissing, established relationship, idk much about weddings, VERY SUGGESTIVE TOWARDS THE END!! this is really long tbh 😭😭

unwrapped on: Saturday Night, December 03 2023

wrapped up on: Sunday Evening, April 28 2024

published on: Sunday Evening, April 28 2024

“Need something?” Your seat mate suddenly questioned you as he shrugged a brow at you, who was blankly staring at him, obviously lost in your thoughts.

“O-uh— No!” You quickly replied and zoned back into reality, “Sorry, I was just thinking, I didn’t notice tha-” You added before he cut you off and said,

“If you like me, you could just say so’ You wouldn’t be the first girl to confess to me this school year.”

“Wha-! Talk about confident, also it’s literally the second week of the ninth grade..” You scoffed, a little nervous considering you have liked him since the eight grade so he technically wasn’t wrong.

“That isn’t a no~” He replied with a tint of his usual smirk.

“Wel-” You tried to speak right before he interrupted you once more “Enough with the excuses already, it’s boring.”

…

“Well?” He added and you responded with, “Well.. What I was trying to sa-” Ding, Ding, Ding— You were interrupted once again, but this time, by the bell. And it was now lunch time, so you two went your separate ways.

That was one of the occasional conversations you had with Gun, it just so happens that you two have been paired as seatmates since the eight grade and therefore, had to have spoken to one another atleast a number of times by now. They were just meaningless and short interactions that was just another way to kill time for him, yet those little conversations and interactions meant the world to you.

Fast forward into the school year and currently, it’s almost the fourth month of school— all of your classmates along with the new/transfer students have gotten to know each other, and it just so happens that you and Gun have started to talk more aswell. From little “Hey, about the homework-”, “Since were the next pair who’ll discuss, how about we-”, and “Could I borrow an extra pen, if you’ve got one?” To “What did you get for this number..?”, “Let’s hang out at my place, we could also plan our discussion for english tomorrow.”, which also turned to him simply grabbing things out of your bag when he pleases.

The formal little questions he’d usually ask you were starting to turn casual and friendly, not only his words but his tone is shifting as well.

You never thought you’d be invited to his place so casually and he’d lend you his jacket whenever you two are hanging out. Although, he insists you keep all of them since he loves the way it looks on you. It was weird. It was all so weird. So many girls like him, he’s constantly got girls dreaming to be around him as much as you get to be. Now, if you think about it— you never actually see ANY girls approaching him or hanging around him at all, aside from you, that is. People are constantly telling you about how you two must be dating, well you aren’t, but he’s never actually denied it either. He continues to tease you almost everyday and it just has you falling for him even more.

“Y/N?” Gun suddenly called out to you while you were walking out of the classroom to go home.

“Hm?”

“Dinner, just you and me. This Friday at 7 o’clock, how’s that sound?”

“Wait, what?” You rose a brow at his sudden invitation, “What do you mean, by dinner with just you and me?” You briefly added.

“A dinner date, with just the two of us.”

“That was a little, out of nowhere.. Don’t you think?”

“..Yeah.” He responded, “My bad. Maybe it was a little too soon, never mind about what I sai-” He added before you cut him off, “Wai- wait! it wasn’t too soon at all! Sorry, I was just taken a back— since I really wasn’t expecting this from you.” You said, visibly happy.

“Well then..?” He nervously asked and you responded with, “Are you kidding? That’s all I’ve ever wanted!! I’d love to, Gun.” It was evident just how excited you were. Suddenly all bubbly and red in the cheeks, Gun found that to so adorable. “I wasn’t expecting such enthusiasm from you,” Gun said as he laughed, “You’re probably in love with me, aren’t you?” to which you replied, “You asked, I answered! And would you have wanted a no for an answer?” “A no from the girl who’s head over heals in love with me? I highly doubted that response.”

Gun might’ve said those words so casually and care free but he really was surprised with how quick it took for you to say yes. Throughout the course of your friendship, it did become obvious that the two of you do like each other. But it was much more evident on your side, with how much people knew you like Gun and how you spoke about him and how you were whenever you were with him, versus how you were when you were with some other boys that were rumored to like you. Of course, Gun was slightly taken aback when he learned about all this— how could someone like you, a beautiful and simple sweet heart who doesn’t even like contact with people or going out that much, like him, a guy whose name is insanely problematic and all the rumors spreading about him are mostly true and have something to do with his violent side and the things he does outside of school, a guy who people quite literally fear.

But Gun didn’t really like thinking about any of that. All that mattered to him was how you felt and the adorable reactions that come out of you whenever he teases you about apparently liking him so much.

A few months passed since your first date and the two of you started dating after a while, even more time has passed since then because you two were now in your final year of high school. Despite going further into your friendship to turn it into a relationship, nothing much has really changed.

You guys were at your place this one time and you begged him to do skin care with you. He was reluctant at first but with your puppy dog eyes and some touchy convincing, he finally agreed.

“Stay Still!!” You scolded your boyfriend who kept moving when you were trying to apply a full mask onto his face.

“How am I supposed to? It’s so wet and slimy, kinda reminds me of something..” Gun replied.

“Oh shut it, I finally finished applying it, now we have matching masks on!! Come look at the mirror!” You exclaimed, “Tada~!”

He looked at the mirror blankly and slowly turned to you, who was overflowing with joy.

“Awh, don’t you like it?”

“It’s.. something, that’s for sure..”

You looked at Gun with your usual pout, to which he caved in and finally went along with the whole thing, saying it’s not that bad.

“Hehe, my baby looks so handsome, just as he always does~” You said as you admired Gun while squeezing his cheeks.

“You’re such a simp, you know that, right? Gun said, slightly muffled as he looked down at you with his usual smirk.

“Hmph! If you don’t want my love then you could just say so!” You said as you let go off his cheeks and crossed your arms with a grouchier pout on your face.

“Baby, there’s no need to be a brat.” He then grabbed your chin to kiss your lips (you were tiptoe-ing). Gun always knew how to deal with the unpredictable pace of your mood, given how you can go from absolutely simping over him to a pouting girl who doesn’t wanna talk about it at all with him.

“Your eyes sure as hell love to wander, dont they?” Gun teased. You went all pouty again so he coated you in some more kisses to make up for the teasing about you being a complete simp.

Those were the moments that ultimately led to the situation you’re currently in. Beneath the sunset in your favorite place, dressed in an astonishing wedding dress, paired with an elegant pair of heels, just the right amount of steepness for you to walk in, given your veil and dress that was trailing on your back. Holding an extravagant boquet with all of your favorite flowers wrapped in such delicate material.

It was all so ethereal. Gun, your soon to be husband hasn’t seen you. You were queued to walk down the aisle so very soon, which had you shaking in both excitement and fear. It’s finally the day you’ve been waiting for so very long. You knew you really liked Gun the moment you two became closer, yet you’re still stuck in the point where you were admiring him from technically— not afar because he was right beside you the entire time. But still, you were just an admirer in awe. And now you have the same last name as him and do tons of things together— cooking? hell yes, shopping? without a doubt. hopping in the shower and bathtub together? you don’t even notice him coming in until you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around you and start to wander across your body.

Another thing is that Gun may seem like a “cold” or reserved person on the outside, but he really does care about people that matters to him and knows how to observe. One of the things he observed about your “infatuation” with him was how you looked at him. He really saw right through the eyes you looked at him with— they only expressed one thing. That one thing was actual love, and it was not at all short-lived as people say what infatuation is.

It truly surprised him to see how your eyes never got gloomy or even got tired of looking at him that way even when time passed.

If anything, they became brighter and loving with every moment that passed with you looking at Gun’s dark eyes, wondering why he would ever want to have anything to do with a girl who’s had a huge crush on him for so very long.

He realized just how much importance those little details hold. As they say, the eyes don’t lie. And he sure as hell was able to experience that for himself.

He may not have wanted to admit it at first, but he slowly fell for you, in the way where you fell first but he fell harder. His entire mood and demeanor would change the exact moment that you’re around him. He could be beating up people and see that you’ve come to check up on him because he specifically told you that he was just going out to get something from Goo, but ended up taking way too long— hence, why you went to find him. He changed in an instant. Leaving behind the scene and making sure you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about it. And according to Goo, the way he talks about you is just “agitating”— which pretty much translates to “amazing” in your vocabulary, given that Goo doesn’t care about these types of things.

You’ve heard from various of his friends that he really does love you, because he doesn’t prolong any of his fights due to the very fact that he wants to make sure that he can get home to you asap. Especially when it’s late at night, he knows you like to sleep but he wants to be the one to tuck you in and cuddle and place gentle kisses on you to sleep. So even though he loves fighting worthy opponents that gets him turned on, no one can top you— he just loves that matching pj’s set that you tend to wear, with the small pink lace ribbons and the silk fabric, the short and small shorts with the sleeveless top.

Gun told you all about what he does for Charles Choi when he fully trusted you and you guys were already dating, and he didn’t expect you to stay. He was scared to tell you with there being a big chance that you’d freak out and leave him, call the cops, and do other things he wouldn’t have ever wanted you of all people to do to him.

Despite all of his fears and bad expectations of what you might do when you learn of the “bad” side of his, he still has you and always will. He really cant believe that you stayed after everything and still look at him the exact same way you did when you first met him. You somehow still retained the same feelings and love you have for him despite everything— and he is insanely in love with you for that. He loves teasing you about it though.

Going back to the present situation you’re in, you were now walking down the aisle as Gun absolutely stared at you in awe. Enthralled by how amazing you looked in white and how such a gorgeous woman was walking down the aisle to meet eye to eye with him and to hold him hand in hand.

The ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful, flowers of all sorts were surrounding the venue with just the right amount of lights that have been set upon with candles and dim lighting. The details in fabrics, decorations, covers, and even the architecture of the venue was simply incredible.

All of this “extraness” as Gun would call it, was for you. Gun wasn’t the type of person to have such a big wedding despite the small number in guests, but he knew you loved all of the things he had made to be included for the special day.

And even though Gun was relatively smart with his money, he was more than willing to go all out on this short event.

After all the agreements and words that the officiator had asked the two of you, you guys finally reached the most important part of the day, the one you have been dreaming of for who knows how long.

The officiator spoke once again, “Do you, Y/N, take Park Jonggun to be your lawfully wedded husband— To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

You looked deeply into Gun’s eyes, “I do.”

The officiator turned over to Gun, “Park Jonggun, do you take this woman to be your wife— to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?

Gun held eye contact with you with a subtle yet sincere smile, “I do.”

He then carefully placed the beautiful ring on your finger, which was followed with you doing the same with his. Just after that was the unity ceremony which was such a bliss.

Of course, once that had passed, came the pronouncement— After more words and hundreds more that you didn’t pay much mind to, the officiator finally looked at the two of you deeply and stated, “I now pronounce you as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

And so you guys did kiss, for a pretty long time— With Gun’s hands placed on your waist and one of your hands on his shoulder, and the other nestled against his face. The crowd cheered for the two of you as it all happened.

It was all so, so, so, incredibly divine.

Once the ceremony has ended and the after party was finally about to begin, you kept chatting with the guests, more particularly your closest friends who were also your bridesmaids. It genuinely made them wonder how you could be so in love with someone. The way you talked about him was absolutely adorable considering they’ve met Gun before, and think of him as the luckiest guy on earth, and you as the blindest girl.

And despite not knowing many of Gun’s friends that he invited, they were still so kind to chat with you. They told Gun when he came by that he really was one hell of a lucky guy to have someone so head over heals for him. To which he only agreed with them before he went to attend to the other guests.

“I don’t understand how you could like him so much, he’s garbage..” Goo said as the other guys were talking amongst themselves at the same table you and Goo were at.

“Maybe to you he is— but he is just the sweetest to me, and he’s hot as hell too.” You replied, obviously lost in your thoughts, imagining Gun once again.

“Woman, what the hell do you see in him for him to be considered as sweet? Do you have any idea how much people he’s arranged the organs of?” Goo questioned.

“Oh please, how much have you?”

“Hey. I don’t like getting my hands dirty as much as Gun does.”

“Rightttt..”

Goo came closer to you and whispered in your ear, “Did you know that Gun has liked you before you even attended the same school together..?”

“..What?”

“Yup. You may have been led to believe that you were the first to like him all these years, but he’s just never told you that he’s actually a creepy stalker deep down.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Nope! And you could figure it out for yourself!” Goo exclaimed.

“Oh please! If he hasn’t told me all this time then he wont tell me now, why don’t you just tell me more about it?”

“Fine, buttt! You can’t tell Gun or even give him hints that I was the one to tell you all this, alright?”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that,” you replied.

“Alright-y then! I’m guessing you know Gun as someone you became classmates with in the eight grade, and became friends with in the ninth. Butttt, he actually first heard of you in the seventh grade, and although he wasn’t in your school that time, he transferred the next year so that you two could be classmates. He first saw you walking out of that school and he told me all about how pretty you were and how he’d like to be friends with you,” Goo explained.

“I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or not..”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, just know that I am telling you the truth and it’s up to you to take it or not.” He said with a smile spread across his face.

Like all things, the wedding eventually came to an end, it may have been short-lived but it was truly memorable. Of course, what comes after the wedding is the honeymoon.

You guys went on a trip to somewhere tropical for your honeymoon, which resulted in Gun wearing almost nothing most of the time, and if he was wearing something, it’d be boxers or swim trunks, or a more formal outfit that just looked sooooo good on him.

There was this one instance where you guys were about to go to bed, and Gun would usually have on some loose pants or shorts, but this time.. He was wearing absolutely nothing, not even boxers or briefs of some sort. He casually walked over to your shared bed while you stared at him.

“Need something, babe?” Gun asked he tucked himself into the blanket you were also tucked in, but you were both still sitting up.

“Well.. No, but um…” You replied nervously, obviously pent up from the view you had right in front of you.

Gun looks at your eyes then down to his naked body (and mind you, you were wearing a cute yet small and slightly revealing matching- sleepwear set), “Hm? You’ve seen me naked countless times before, and it’s not like you’re a virgin.” He teased as he brushed some of your hair to the side.

“Yeah b-but..” You managed to utter as you were still straight up staring at his body, fresh from the shower.

“But what? Does my wife need help with her words?” Gun teased as he leaned in closer to you and slowly lifted up your top to place his hand on your chest. To which you got very tense and nervous.

I’m sure you already know what followed in the next moments..

But moving forward with a few more days that passed, Gun caught you staring— maybe even admiring one of the pictures that you took together recently, specifically zoomed in on him. You hadn’t realized or even noticed his presence so you were just looking at the picture like some teenage girl, obviously crushing on him.. As if you didn’t just get married to him to him last week.

You were cheekily smiling at the picture, even giggling to yourself at some point when you swiped through some of the other pictures of him and you. You just loved him so bad, that even though you had him right with you, you still resorted to pictures. Gun thought that was adorable. The woman he fell in love with, sat on a chair facing away from where he was sneakily stood at, was swiping away at pictures of him when you didn’t even know that you had him wrapped around your finger.

“What’s my dear wife up to this evening?” He spoke out of nowhere, suddenly startling you. This caused you to have the phone slip out of your hands, but he swiftly caught it and took a closer look at the photos you were staring at.

“What are you doing with pictures that you can’t already to with the real deal right beside you?” He asked as you got increasingly nervous by the seconds passed and you were starting to fidget.

“I was just looking at what photos I wanted to keep.. And what I didn’t want to keep, y’know what I mean..?” You replied.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, my dear oh dearest husband,” you said mockingly— “Why are you interrogating me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Little miss stalker,” Gun said as he sat on the chair across from you, obviously enjoying himself.

“Stalke—? Oh wait-! That reminds me,” your husband’s brow rose at your sudden statement, “Your close friend, Jonggoo, told me a little something when him and I were talking during the after party.” You added.

“And that is..?” Gun asked, skeptical of what you might’ve learned, knowing Goo very well.

“Well,” you shuffled around as you tilted your head and finally spoke, “Is it true that you only came to the school I go to in the first place because you saw me walking out there one time and.. yeah—?”

“That bastard— But, yeah. That is true.” He said without a change in expression and emotion.

You gave him a teasing smile and a soft “hehe” as you looked at him. For some reason, finding out that was true only seemed to make you fall in love even more.

“Oh hush, I don’t understand how much a person could like someone—” He said and he stood up to lift you into his arms for teasing him.

“Hey! Why are you carrying me?” You suddenly yelped. He dropped you gently on to the bed and he climbed on top of you.

“Woman, it’s not good to start something you can’t finish.”

“Tsk! My nickname is now woman?” You pouted.

“My apologies then, my wife.” He said somewhat mockingly to which you pouted even more, so he finally said it in a more sincere manner and gave you a kiss.

“Well?” He asked you as you were still in the same position, with him on top you.

“Well what?” You clarified while your eyes shamelessly wandered through his body, flustered with the position you were in and the teasing he was doing to you.

“You’re eyes seem to be wandering yet again, and your cheeks are redder than rubies.. You just never get tired of me, do you? Gun said in a teasing tone as he leaned in closer.

This honeymoon sure as hell will be going on for a long time.

notes: I think ill prolly put out a masterlist and about me post in like a month or two who knows, also this request has been with me for so long 😭 I am so so so sorry to this anon, please forgive me 😵‍💫 Also, I really hope that this wasn’t too bad and can live up to what you were expecting and requesting, I am so sorry if it doesn’t, I really tried 😭 ANDDD I accidentally deleted the actual request because I got a little lost with trying to navigate tumblr because I accidentally clicked the Queue button and yeah.. I don’t think I really proofread this tbh

- With or without proper credits, please don't try to steal or claim any of my works as your own

I genuinely appreciate opinions, feedback, likes, and reblogs

Once again, I hope this isn't too bad for a request, and I'll be doing more characters in lookism so feel free to request!!

[mayasaura]

one problem with a theatrical adaption of tlt is htn, where the reveal that Gideon lives on works because of the change of second person to first.

the only way i can think of it working is that the actor playing gideon works backstage, like the lights system (but is hidden from the audience aside from subtle hints)

the biggest hint is when when wake breaches pal's river bubble she 'breaks' the lighting system and the stage goes dark. harrow is ushered into the wings by pal so she doesn't see anything, but the lights flick back on just before the curtains drop for a scene change, and pal looks directly up at the light box in surprise and smiles. if the audience is quick to turn around they can see a flash of a black robe.

Oh boy my friend, have you come to the right place!!

So, fun fact about ninja. Bear with me, I am going somewhere with this. The image of a ninja covered head to toe in black, with a hood and mask, comes from Kabuki theatre. It was originally a stagehand uniform. Like stagehands in modern theatre, stagehands in Kabuki would wear all black to signify that they were not really there, and whatever effect they were causing (carrying a prop, creating a breeze, ect.) was to be taken as happening on its own. Basic stagehand stuff, a lot of productions in many styles around the world do it, especially if they don't have fancy rigging systems.

Someone (I don't remember who now, or in what play) had the idea to dress the ninja in a production up as a stagehand. In the convention of the theatre, this made them invisible. The audience was already so used to ignoring stagehands, they didn't know any more than the characters that the ninja was present, despite the actor being clearly visible on stage. Which meant when the ninja struck, it was as if out of nowhere. I can only imagine the uproar in the theatre the first time it happened. It worked so well as to become commonplace, and the rest is history. The popular image of a ninja is still a kabuki stagehand.

So, back to the stage play of Harrow the Ninth. I think you've hit almost exactly on how to incorporate the Gideon twist into a theatrical production. But not as a lighting tech. Gideon is a stage hand. Maybe there would be more than one stagehand, maybe she would be the only one, but she would operate in full view of the audience, literally setting the scenes. I think it works best if she's the only one, but if the production needs more, she should subtly stand out in some way. As the play went on, we would notice that this one stage hand... increasingly interacts with Harrow, though Harrow never acknowledges it. At first it might look like she's playing Harrow's necromancy, because that would be the main special effect she would need to help with. When Harrow is unconscious at the end of a scene, it's always the same stagehand carrying her out. But we all know she's not really there. Until Palamedes acknowledges her. Turns to look right at her, and speaks to her. I can see the scene clearly. He would look at her, stunned, until Gideon finally took off her mask. The line "Kill us twice, shame on God," would be addressed to Gideon, and then he would turn back to Harrow, kiss her on the forehead, and tell her to go. Gideon, always out of Harrow's line of sight, would guide Harrow away while Harrow looked back at Palamedes.