#wow this post got long oops

[autisticaradiamegido]

hi thank you for all the aradia love this blog

do you have a favorite headcanon about her, even a very small/niche one?

day 284

well i assume u mean aside from the one in the blog title lol

a fun one is this dumb imaginary report card i imagine sometimes

obviously i interpret her as autistic, but i also think shes asexual, sssomewhere on the aro spectrum? and agender! which is all fun because her name also starts with a. call that a straight-A student

[mintedwitcher]

Putting aside the controversy of Thirteen's run, I think there's a very simple way that her tenure could've been massively improved, and that's to just cut down the number of companions.

Chibnall has a habit of overloading his casts, and it's objectively awful each time. (Staring directly at you, Dinosaurs on a Spaceship, six leads what were you thinking?!)

What I would've done, personally, is split up the "fam" early on. Let that first episode be the same, introducing these characters to the Doctor. But here's where I'd change it:

When offered to travel, Graham and Ryan say no. They're grieving, they've just lost a family member, one that they both loved so much. That loss brings the two of them closer, but they don't need a big fancy adventure to cement that. They say no, and they stay home.

Yaz, however, says yes. Partly because the Doctor is a new mystery, and as (excuse me while I gag) a policewoman, Yaz is going to be drawn to that. But also because she's bored of her life. She's working a job that's sticking her with low-level calls (understandably, she's new), and she's just so bored of it, so when the Doctor promises a trip and that they can get back "in just five minutes," Yaz agrees.

First series companion: Yaz. Just her and the Doctor. This gives them more time to build a genuine friendship and bond, unlike the actual canon which was... surface level at best all around. Let them understand one another, have Yaz bring out the Doctor's sillier, feminine side (since she was most Definitely masculinised to try and appeal to the fanbase). Let them have some fun adventures, some thrilling ones, some dangerous ones, and let them become the Besties we know in our hearts they should've been. (We got bits of that in series 13 before the cast was bloated again, but like. Imagine a full series of that dynamic. The sheer badass potential. I crave it.)

Next series, something happens closer to home, and Yaz decides to become a part-time companion instead, choosing to stay on Earth more frequently than dashing off with the Doctor, staying with her family, working her normal job with the satisfaction of knowing that she's not cut off from the Doctor for good. (More akin to the 11/Ponds dynamic, rather than the Doctor's usual practice of vanishing on past companions.)

As for who would 'replace' her as a full time companion, I'd like it to be Ryan for a time, but not Graham yet. As much as I adore the granddad/grandson dynamic of Ryan and Graham, I think Graham had a tendency to overtake quite often, and Ryan was often the afterthought. I'd love to see Ryan really step up into that role, having gotten through his grief over his grandmother. (During this, I'd like to think that Graham somehow meets and befriends Dan, because he really does need a friend who is not his grandson or his grandson's old school mate, Yaz.)

Ryan and the Doctor could have a lot of really great moments, and I think that having the Doctor travel alone with Yaz first would've prepared her more for the intricacies of social interaction this time around, so she's more adept at handling Ryan's story, and more open to him on an emotional level, almost taking on a parental type role with him.

I think, then, it'd be fitting to have a split-season model (like series 7a and 7b), where Graham finally comes aboard in the later half, convinced to go on "just one trip" with his grandson. We get the family dynamic there between Graham and Ryan, on much more solid ground now that they've had time off-screen to put in the work for their own relationship and grief. We also get Graham taking on a sort of brotherly, almost paternal role towards the Doctor, too, because she looks so young despite her real age, and Graham is just as protective of her as he is of Ryan, and the Doctor is equally protective towards the both of them.

Then, give Thirteen a few episodes fully on her own. Give her the space to take what she's learned from her latest companions and internalise it, give her room to work on her own, either by choice or by necessity. Really delve into this 'new' incarnation of the Doctor, what she's capable of. Three episodes, I'd say. Then, have her go and pick up the 'fam', because she's learned how to ask for help this time around, and she knows she needs her friends by her side for whatever is to come. Along the way we can have her meet Dan, a one-off companion, and a handful of the rest of the bloated cast (seriously how were there so many main characters in a NINE EPISODE SERIES jfc I am taking your pens and keyboards away from you, CC), and etc etc etc.

Just by breaking up the companion structure, suddenly the plot and the characters have so much more room to breathe and become a cohesive unit by the end of it. I understand that Chibnall wanted to shake up the typical formula by having three simultaneous companions, but it just fell flat, and the end result was that none of those characters - even the literal lead of the goddamn show - had any space to develop. Genuinely, if you asked me to recount a single line by ANY of those companions, I couldn't give you an answer. Not a single one. Ask me to do the same for Clara, or Amy, or Rory, or Donna, Martha, Rose, hell even fucking Astrid, and I'd be able to give you a few each, probably verbatim, because those characters were developed.

Sometimes, the formula of a show needs to be shaken up. But sometimes it's been the same for a long time because it works. This is one of those cases.

[sibillascribbles08]

Regardless of What Happens

Whaaat it’s 2023 what if I wrote some Bad Future Jasonnie

Gonna just go ahead and give the heads up for implied sexual content and offscreen canon character death. I’m gonna get crunchy with it like I haven’t already with literally every other bad future thing I write.

Even if the conversation ended with another joke from Leo and both of them laughing, dread still hung like a lead weight at the base of Donatello’s chest. It was such a risky plan, a miracle he even convinced Leo to go along with it. Hacking into Kraang tech, even with all his research he knew it could go backwards so fast. He may not be able to over power it.

In less than twenty-four hours he may not be alive anymore.

Dying didn’t entirely scare him. He accepted death a long time ago.

He just hated the idea of what he might leave behind.

He hadn’t discussed the plan with Mikey yet. He’d have to, or Leo would do it for him. He’d already talked about it with April which ended with them screaming at each other. He’d apologize later, but still announce he was going through with it. She may never forgive him. He understood that.

A lot of people might not forgive him if this idea failed. Including Mikey. Including Casey. Including Leo.

Including...

Donatello glanced in the main computer room. Jase sat in there, like he often did, water bottle in hand as he scrolled through recent drone data. The purple dragons had become allies not long after the invasion started, though there was a ton of friction between them for a while. The need to survive eventually came around to friendship, despite how much Donnie would still bicker with them all from time to time. They didn’t do much field work, but their work with the programming and tech was a life saver on many occasions. It kept some of the workload off Donatello and meant they had backups if something happened to him.

And Jase knew Donnie’s tech better than any of them. Not long after becoming friends, Jase quit following at Kendra’s heels and often turned to Donatello instead. Late nights working on tech became so routine that, even on their nights off, they’d often hole up in each others rooms just to talk.

Donatello often denied the feelings that developed from that. After losing Raph, the idea of letting it become anything more terrified him. Because something could happen to Jase, or something could happen to him, and wouldn’t that just make the loss all the more painful.

But then again...

“How long are you just going to stand there staring?”

Donatello straightened up and glanced at Kendra who stood next to the door now. Right, she was also in the computer room. He absolutely hadn’t been paying attention.

“Lost in thought.” He crossed his arms and met her glare before sparing a glance in Jase’s direction. He turned in his chair, eyebrow raised, but then soon got back to work.

Kendra followed his gaze. “Uh huh, one guess to what you’re thinking about.” She flicked him on the nose.

Donatello snapped at her hand. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She gave him a smirk when she rolled her eyes, then turned her head. “Hey Jeremy, wanna go get a snack?”

Jeremy leaned up from his work. “Huh? But we--”

Kendra must have given him a look because he suddenly straightened up. “Oh, yeah, sure, you want us to bring you something Jase?”

Jase just gave them a non-committal hum and kept scrolling.

Kendra’s smirk remained on her face as she stepped past Donatello and then shoved him through the doorway. He clenched his fists, about to try and insult her when the door closed in his face.

What was the big idea?

She couldn’t possibly know could she?

Donatello chose to ignore it for the time being as he walked up behind Jase’s chair, looking over the screen himself. All activity normal, from the look of things. A nice reprieve from how things were less than a week ago. Still, he didn’t trust it to last. Quiet moments like this often meant the Kraang were poking around for a weak point to strike. They’d learned to grow patient when the war lasted more than one Earth year.

Jase finally got to the bottom and turned away from the screen. “You need something, Donnie?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, trying to search for the words. It seemed like a bad idea to just start with the whole “hey I might be dying tomorrow” topic.

Jase studied his face for a second before standing. Not like it did much. All these years and Jase barely gained another inch while Donatello sprouted up over a foot and a half. Jase didn’t even reach his shoulders now.

“Donnie?” Jase tilted his head. “Everything okay?”

“I...” He ground his teeth together for a second. “No. Not entirely.”

“What’s wrong? The drones aren’t reporting anything worth noting.”

“It’s not them it’s...” His arms tightened across his chest. He really didn’t know where to begin with this. “I finally got Leo to approve of a desperate plan of mine.”

Jase’s eyes went wide, only to narrow a second later. “What kind of desperate plan?”

He ground his teeth again, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m going to try and hack into Kraang tech.”

“What?” Jase snapped, trying to stand on his toes just to get closer. “Donnie, I know you’re joking. We talked about that dozens of times before. Even if it’s possible the risk is--”

“I know what the risk is.” Donatello snapped. “But look at us, Jase. Ever since Casey--Cassandra dropped our numbers keep dwindling. All our plans are coming up empty. People who were once our allies keep getting turned on us. If I can make this work it could change everything.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Jase’s voice cracked and he finally grabbed Donatello’s coat in order to pull him down. “What happens to you then? You also just become one of their pawns? They could--”

“I’m aware.” Donatello took in a shaky breath. “That’s why Leo’s going to be there. So if I fail he can--”

“Are you serious!?”

“Jase--”

“No. No.” Jase shoved him back. “I’m not letting you do this.”

God damn it, this was going about as well as his talk with April did. “Jase, we’re running out of options.”

“That doesn’t mean we should jump straight to something like this. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the statistics of you getting out of this alive.”

Donatello tried to turn his gaze, but he couldn’t hold it. Rather than focusing on Jase’s eyes--so dark brown they were almost black--it kept moving to his messy hair, or the scar on his ear, or the thin line of stubble that made it clear he hadn’t bothered shaving in a few days.

“Donnie.” Jase insisted.

Donatello took a deep breath and forced his eyes to focus. “About seventeen percent.”

“That’s nothing. You can’t be serious. I’m not letting you do this until you can at least get that number higher.”

“We don’t have time for that.”

“You’re just giving up, aren’t you?” Jase’s voice crack again. “That’s what this is.”

Air got caught in Donatello’s throat before he could deny that.

“I’m not stupid, Donnie. I’ve picked out the things you’ve said over all those late night conversations. You’ve thought this war was pointless for years. That if--”

“If it lasted more than a year, we had no chance of winning. I know.” Donatello snapped back. “But I kept going, didn’t I? If I wanted to give up I would have years ago but I didn’t because...”

Because Raph. Because Mikey. Because Leo. Because April. Because Cassandra and now Casey. Because...

Gods, he knew why they were all so upset with this idea. He knew why they kept trying to convince him otherwise. How could he possibly explain to them that he wasn’t scared of dying if it gave them all the chance to turn this whole thing around. The only thing he was scared of was...

He reached out and held Jase’s faced in his hands, so suddenly that his friend’s sharp anger gave way to shock.

“Jase, I’m so sorry.” His breaths felt so unsteady, like he’d forgotten how to do it, like there just wasn’t enough oxygen in the air.

“For what?” Jase bit his lip to keep his voice from stuttering. “For being an idiot?”

“Yes.” The word barely left his lips when he exhaled. Then he pulled Jase into a kiss.

His friend went rigid under his grip, and he thought, briefly, that maybe this had been a very stupid idea.

Then arms were being thrown around his neck and Jase kissed him back, hard. The sudden tug almost had Donatello stumbling forward, so he responded by moving his hands and lifting Jase off the ground.

The motion forced them apart, but only for the length of a breath. Now looking down at him, Jase kissed him again, somehow even harder than the first time. Teeth and lips pinched together. Jase’s hands couldn’t seem to find a place to settle as they ran over Donatello’s cheeks to the back of his head, constantly bumping into his goggles. He was about to toss the damn things to the side. Not close enough. Somehow they weren’t close enough.

He tugged that thought back. A sliver of logic managed to slip through the haze that rapidly took over his brain. He pulled away from this kiss, and Jase started to follow him before he must have also regained his senses.

His cheeks, already bright red, somehow got darker as the color spread to the tips of his ears.

“Oh my god.” Jase’s hands moved to Donatello’s shoulders. “What am I doing?”

Donatello couldn’t help but smirk. “I thought that was obvious.”

Jase managed a glare as he lightly smacked the side of his goggles. “Don’t be such a smart ass, Von Ryan. What are you doing? What are we doing?”

“Well, I was kissing you.” Donatello dropped his grip just a bit so the pair of them were at eye level. “Because, I confess, I’ve wanted to for a few years now even if I tried to pretend I didn’t.”

Jase breathed out a laugh. “Huh, I guess we really are doing the same thing.” He leaned close, peppering kisses from the corner of Donatello’s mouth up his cheek. “I just always figured I wasn’t... That you were so far out of my league...”

Donatello snorted and turned his head to meet his lips. “So smart but so stupid sometimes. Out of your league? Really?”

“Shut up and just look at yourself.” Jase kept kissing him. “The most brilliant mind of our time, strong, tall, gorgeous--”

“Oh?” Donatello raised an eyebrow. “You think so?” 

“Don’t sound so smug.” Jase shot him a glare before his hand ran up Donatello’s neck and then rested on his cheek. His thumb pressed against the corner of the turtle’s mouth before tugging his lip down. “But yes.”

Oh. Oh. That finally made a lot more sense. “Wait, is that why you kept staring at my mouth whenever I grinned at you?”

“What can I say? I like ‘em sharp.”

“You’re such a freak.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Donatello tried to lean in for another kiss, but Jase’s hand held him back.

“But jokes and flirting aside,” his tone shifted. “This better not be some stupid confession made because you know you aren’t making it out of this stupid scheme of yours.” 

“Um... not entirely?” He tried to smile. “I just... I denied it for so long because after losing Raph it felt like... Like if I let myself have this I’d just be asking for it to get ripped away from me.”

“So you decided to do that to me instead.”

The impact of those words hit him so hard he almost dropped Jase on the floor. The lead weight in his chest dropped to his stomach. “I...”

“You’re such a bastard.” Jase mumbled as he kissed Donatello again. “Such a bastard and I love you. I don’t want to lose you.” His voice cracked again. A sob briefly escaped before he took a deep breath to tug all of it back in. “And I also hate myself for not saying anything sooner. I hate myself for not even being friends sooner. I hate that it took the world ending for us to become friends. I hate...” Another shaky breath. “I hate thinking that if this never happened, if the world was peaceful, would we still hate each other? Would we still be enemies? I don’t... I don’t know what world I’d prefer to live in if that’s the case.”

Donatello studied Jase’s face, once again his mind screaming that they weren’t close enough.

“I want us both to survive this.” Jase pressed their foreheads and their noses together. “I want us to win and try to get back to some kind of normal life again. I want the two of us to... I want...”

Another firm kiss, and this time when Donatello returned it, Jase moaned. Nails lightly scrapped against the back of Donatello’s neck, making him shiver. Jase parted his lips and Donatello followed suit.

Not close enough. Not close enough.

Jase barely moved away when he stopped, breath brushing past Donatello’s cheek when he spoke. “Your room or mine?”

The haze in his brain returned ten fold, but that sliver of logic fought to stay on the surface. “Are you sure about that? We--”

Jase’s hands practically slapped against his cheeks before he smooshed Donatello’s face. “I know I’m not going to stop you from doing this stupid, idiotic, reckless idea of yours. And if this really is some stupid, last minute, desperate confession then let me have this. Your room or mine.”

He said that last sentence so forcefully that the sliver of logic finally vanished in the haze. Donatello barely kept himself from pinning Jase to the nearby desk. “Yours.”

---------------------

Donatello must have dozed off. Not too surprising, considering the past few sleepless nights due to the stress and well... what just happened.

Jase lay curled up under his arm, pressed against his chest, not quite asleep but definitely not all awake either.

Donatello didn’t want to move. He really didn’t want to move. He at least allowed himself another few quiet seconds, pressing his nose to Jase’s forehead.

But then he rolled over, looking for wherever he placed his gauntlet on the nearby desk to check the time.

Yeesh, it’d almost been two hours since he and Jase first started talking back in the main computer room. He couldn’t waste too much time laying around. He had to prep some things before tomorrow. He had to talk to Mikey, and April, and--

Jase shifted behind him. Then two arms wrapped around his stomach as his friend--boyfriend--pressed up against his shell.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Jase mumbled.

“Not yet.” Donatello left the gauntlet next to the pillow as his hand rested on Jase’s wrist. “But I can’t stay here all afternoon.”

Jase tightened his grip. “Will I see you again tonight?”

Donatello wiggled himself loose, just enough to roll back over. “Most likely.”

“Good.” Jase kissed him on the collar, then the throat. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Donatello smirked. “Hm, dare I ask what that means.”

“Use your imagination.” Jase trailed a few more kisses, but slowed to a stop. “You are going to try, right? To stay alive, I mean.”

“Of course I am. But you know me. I have to be realistic. No matter how hard I try it may not...”

He didn’t finish the thought, couldn’t. Instead he reached up to hold Jase’s face, making sure his boyfriend was looking at him. “Regardless of what happens, I love you. No matter where I end up, I love you. One way or another, I’ll see you again. And one way or another, I’ll be sure to leave you a part of me you can carry with you.” He sealed that promise with a quick kiss.

Jase looked at him, almost star struck, before it fell back to his usual smirk. “Wow, where did you find that sappy piece of dialogue?”

“Oh shush.” Donatello smiled back at him as he tugged the pillow down over Jase’s head. Not a very comfy one, full of old clothes they’d scavenged for, but better than rocks.

A beep from his gauntlet had to ruin the moment. He rolled over to check it again, knew it was an incoming call from the noise. Leo.

Donatello forced himself to sit up and snapped the gauntlet back on his wrist before answering it. “Yes, Leo?”

“Donnie, where are you? I’ve been looking all over the base for you. Main computer room says you’re still in here.”

“I am.” He wiped his eyes. “I’m in Jason’s quarters.”

His brother’s silence made him realize what he just said. His palm slapped against his forehead.

“Wait. Is that why Kendra is insisting I owe her ten dollars?”

“Huh?” Donatello shouted into the gauntlet and saw Jase trying to hide himself under the covers. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god, oh my god, no. I swore up and down you two would never--”

“You had a bet?”

“Dude, half the family does. I should get your own recordings and show you just how you two constantly stare at each other. Like, fifty times I swore I was going to vomit.”

“Okay, where are you?” Donatello tossed the covers off his legs and started to scramble for his clothes. “I’m coming to kick your ass right now.”

“Hang on, I have to give Kendra ten dollars before you do.”

“Nardo!”

-------------------

Jason didn’t know what he expected.

It was late a night when he saw Donnie again. He looked lost, then frustrated, then lost all over again. Evidently talking about the plan with the others didn’t go over too well. Part of Jason hoped that would discourage Donnie from trying it.

It didn’t.

So Jason clung to him like it was the last night on Earth, like if his lips left his, he would suffocate. Words were whispered back and forth, so quietly, but he remembered every one of them.

“I’m so sorry for doing this to you.” Donnie mumbled at one point. “I’m still not sure what’s worse. Telling you now at the risk of leaving, or you never knowing at all.”

At the time, he didn’t have an answer to that.

He didn’t think too hard afterwards, drifting off to sleep, because he assumed he’d see Donnie one more time in the morning.

But when he woke up, his arm reached out to find nothing. He groaned and sat up, opening his eyes to still find nothing. Just crumpled sheets and something round and grey sitting next to the pillow.

Jason fumbled for his glasses and put them on. Damn lenses that would never be clean again. They couldn’t spend the resources making fancy new ones.

He could see the object more clearly now. A simple speaker with one button on it. Donnie often used them to leave messages when bases had to be abandoned, leaving coded messages for other resistance members to follow.

But why was it here?

Jason swallowed before giving into his curiosity and hitting play.

“Regardless of what happens, I love you.” The words from yesterday afternoon played back to him. “No matter where I end up, I love you. One way or another, I’ll see you again. And one way or another, I’ll be sure to leave you a part of me you can carry with you.”

Jason stared at the speaker in his hand.

Is this what he meant when he said that?

Suddenly an uneasy feeling twisted in his stomach.

He scrambled out of bed and put on his uniform. With everything ready he sprinted out of his quarters and towards the main computer room. No one else was inside yet, too early perhaps? He hadn’t even looked at the time. He wouldn’t. Vitals. He needed to check vitals. His palm swiped across the screen until it showed the correct list.

One of them was flatlined.

One of them was--

He hit the play button.

“Regardless of what happens, I love you.”

He hit it again.

“Regardless of what happens, I love you.”

Jason swallowed back the lump in his throat and forced his gaze to move over to the name next to the unwavering thread of life.

Again.

“Regardless of what happens, I love you.”

“Regardless of what happens--”

What happened?

Jason took off again. Leonardo. He had to find Leonardo if he was in the base. He’d know exactly what happened, right?

Did Jason even want an answer to that?

Most of the cave tunnels remained empty. Sometimes he passed by some rooms where people lingered, but none of them called after him.

He kept moving. Heading for the med bay. That’d be a logical place to look, right? He saw the doorway to it, saw April standing inside with her back turned. He opened his mouth to call out to her when his chest struck something metal. He would have fallen back if the culprit hadn’t caught him.

His hands rested on Leonardo’s prosthetic before he glanced at the turtle. His eyes were red, cheeks damp, but his expression was firm.

“Leo.” Jason tried to catch his breath. “What-- What happened? Where is he?”

Leonardo flinched, but his gaze only faltered for a second. “Jase trust me you don’t...” He swallowed. “You don’t want to go in there right now.”

“What happened?” He demanded as he pulled free. “What--” Only now with this distance did he get a good look at Leo’s sword. The red mask on the hilt was now perfectly complimented by the deep red stains that still lined the blade.

He felt so numb. Static formed in his palm where the recording pressed against it and slowly traveled up to his shoulder. This couldn’t be real. Maybe he was just having a nightmare. Any minute now he’d wake up in the real world and Donnie would still be right next to him, whispering a proper goodbye before he headed out on this doomed mission.

“Did he even try?” Jason choked the words out.

Leonardo grit his teeth, clearly struggling to speak for a second. “He gave it everything he had. It just wasn’t... enough.”

And what could he even say to that? The devastation was plain on Leo’s face. It’d probably be plain on April’s as well, and Mikey’s and even young Casey. Jase knew he wasn’t the only one being crushed by this, he never was when other reports of lost members came flooding in after a mission. He never was when he and his team watched those flat lines crop up one by one. In some ways this one should hardly be any different but the pins and needles in his arm hurt.

“Jase?” Leonardo took a step toward him. “Jase, I’m sorry--”

Why was he apologizing? This wasn’t his fault. It was Donatello’s stupid, stupid plan.

“Look, you should--”

As soon as the turtle reached out, Jason flinched backwards. His hand tensed around the device, causing him to hit the play button once more.

“Regardless of what happens, I love you.”

Leonardo’s eyes went wide.

“No matter where I end up, I love you.”

“Jase... where did you--”

“One way or another, I’ll see you again.”

Leo’s shoulders went tense before his left hand covered his face, clearly trying to hide his tears.

“And one way or another.”

Jason took off in the opposite direction. He couldn’t be doing this to Leo, shouldn’t be. The recording already wrenched his own heart in two, just what was it doing to Donatello’s twin?

“I’ll be sure to leave you a part of me you can carry with you.”

Jason kept going, all the way back to his quarters where he slammed to the door shut before sliding down onto the floor.

He hit the button again.

“Regardless of what happens, I love you.”

He double tapped this time, rewind.

“I love you.”

Again.

“I love you.”

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Jason failed to hold back his sob this time, loud enough that it drowned out the rest of the recording as it played from his hand. 

“I’m still not sure what’s worse. Telling you now at the risk of leaving, or you never knowing at all.”

Jason still didn’t have an answer to that. Was one truly worse than the other?

Or did they just hurt in different ways.

Again.

“Regardless of what happens, I love you.”

[micha-lapin]

ok, so! I've never been able to be big on coloring books, no matter how much I wanted to. I'd get too bored or tired or something and I could never even finish coloring a page. well, when my mom was going through stuff, she found a few old things of mine. one of which being a halloween hello kitty coloring book!! and, idk what it is about this book, but I've colored in multiple pages already!!!!!!!! :D my hands are kinda sore but I'm having fun, coloring with a video playing in the background. I've I've colored in some pages I guess I had started on in the past but seemed to of given up on. either way what little there was at my coloring attempt was HORRIBLE!!! but I made it look better and finished the page! :3

[ablazeinhim]

I went out with my childhood bestie's friend group the other night and it really made me realize that I'm very picky about my friends. 😂

***

As I've been reflecting on it the past couple days I've put a few things together about like who somebody was and stories my friend has told me. And girl, some some of these situations and some of these people's actions and attitudes, like... I find it a little hard to believe that these are my friend's type of people.

***

And maybe they were all just having really bad days/times in life when those things happened and they acted that way, but some of them I'm like yeah I would be pulling away hard. I would always rather have fewer friends and know they're supportive and dependable and honest and loving, than many friends who aren't a perfect fit. And often that means I do shit alone, because my friends are busy people, or they live far. And I'm ok with that.

I don't wanna mask in front of my friends, or watch what I say, or be scared to talk about what I believe. I need open communication and mutual respect.

***I rambled about the night and decided it was distracting from what I actually wanted to say so I cut that part out of the middle and put it here in case you want to read the post in it's og form:

I can fall in love in an instant and vibe with people so hard, so it's not that. Like the other week I was in Ohio for a friend's wedding and I got to meet his twin brother and childhood friends and fucking loved them all. The vibes were excellent, the energy exquisite. Me and one of them laughed constantly when next to each other. No awkwardness at all. We took stupid group pictures in the yard. I left longing to be their friend.

That was not the vibe of the other evening. I didn't have a bad time, but I didn't gel with any of them. My friend and I carpooled, so on the way home she did tell me that it was kind of a weird night.

But I don't think it would have made a difference.

It was clear a couple of them were "partiers." I love a party, and I *am* a good time. But I don't drink and it was clear that was typically a big aspect/the main activity. My idea of a fun night out is a light dinner(so I don't have to worry about leftovers. Definitely snacking later at home) followed by something entertaining (my top choices would probably be a drag show or an arcade) and then dancing. I NEED dancing. Please God get me in the room with the queers and the neurodivergent DJ. I could skip all the other things as long as I can vibe on the dance floor with my loved ones.

We went out to dinner and to the gay bar. Both things I like!

And there was no dancing! One of them was adamant, "I don't dance." WHY. Why would you deny yourself the joy of movement. The embodiment of sound. Why would you declare it like it's something you can't wait to spit out of your mouth.

Why was there so much talk of past times getting fucked up (and presumably that was a positive experience for them). [This also probably wasnt discussed a TON, but it was multiple times and since I'm not into that personally it really stood out to me--like if you wanna tell me about the party that's great, but like can you tell me a funny story from it or something, instead of just how much your bar tab was?]

One of the people was abrasive and aggressive (in energy) in a way that did not make me feel safe or at ease.

Maybe it's because they're an established group and it was my first time with them. Maybe it's because I'm neurodivergent and introverted. Whatever it was, it just wasn't my scene. And that's ok. None of them were mean.

Someone we ran into that night is not really someone that my friend likes, but despite that, my friend still buys this person's art and still is considering doing a group activity with them before this person moves like an hour away. And internally I was like...why? Why would you spend time with people who send you mixed signals and act in an emotionally abusive manner???

[asumofwords]

Unsought Betrothal - Part 2 - Part One Here

Dark!Aemond x Reader Velaryon x Cregan Stark

Summary: After attempting to humilate your betrothed by laying with Lord Cregan Stark the night before your wedding in the hopes that Aemond would call the wedding off, you find that not only is he determined to still wed you, but also to punish you for your indiscretions. Part One Here

Pairings: Dark!Aemond x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Cregan x Aemond

Warnings: Arranged marriage, threats of violence, acts of violence, forced voyeurism, dubcon, elements of noncon, naked reader, clothed men, fingering, finger fucking, pussy slapping, p in v sex, creampie, pussy eating, cum eating, degradation, praise, voyeur.

Word Count: 13k oops... sorry

Notes: Wow, whelp, its been a while since I have posted some of my writing, and even longer since I wrote the first part of this abomination, but when you get the urge, you just gotta scratch it. Thank you all for all your beautiful messages of kindness as usual, I'm sorry I've been gone a while. I have had a bit of a rough time this year but hopes for a brighter future! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope I can write again very soon for you, hehe ;) Enjoy! <3

The wedding came just as it was planned. Just as it was arranged. Sleep had evaded you, anger and confusion clouding your mind with memories of the night before, ache still throbbing between your thighs. Your little attempt at stopping the engagement had no affect on your betrothed. No affect on the uncle you had grown up with. On the man you would now call husband. 

You had thought that if you could humiliate Aemond in court by flirting with Lord Cregan Stark that he would call off the engagement. That the embarrassment would be too much for the pious prince. That the shame would turn him away from you, making him demand to his mother that they call off the engagement. 

You had thought that maybe if you lost your maidenhead to the Northerner, Aemond would be so disgusted, so filled with rage, that he would call the engagement off, what with him being a dedicated follower of the Seven. 

But you were wrong.

And so you spent an evening limping back into the Keep, escorted by none other than the One-eyed Prince himself and Ser Crispin. The front of your bodice had been ripped by Aemond's hands, but thankfully your hooded cloak covered up your sullied gown, the bottom of it dirtied with mud from where Aemond had bent you over in the alleyway and taken you roughly. With each step you took, you felt his seed slide down your legs, sticking to your inner thighs tackily. 

When you got to your chambers, you used the small basin at your dressing table filled with water to wipe and wash away the blood and seed from your body, pain and a lingering dull ache causing you to jerk with each swipe. 

You didn’t get much sleep that evening, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The urge to run was strong, to just leave out into the night through one of the secret passages and onto your dragons back, but the urge to stay was stronger. You hated him, truly hated him, but the way he had treated you that night, the fire in his eye, it lit something inside of you. It almost made you want him. 

Need him. 

Yet, there was another urge to stay, to make his life hell. To humiliate him at every turn, to ensure that he knew that forcing the engagement to continue would ensure him a life long marriage of discontent and disharmony. 

You were not going to bend to his will. You were not going to bend to his needs, to bow at the husband, and say ‘yes’, and ‘thank you’, and ‘please’. You were going to be who you have always been. 

A Valaryian. 

Your eyes stayed open, watching as the ceiling eventually became light with the sun, indicating the break of dawn, and soon enough your maids were entering your chambers to get you ready to be wed. You were thankful that none of them asked questions about the dirtied ripped gown, or the bloodied rag in the basin, though you knew they were likely already aware. 

The doors to your chambers opened as they pulled your hair back, pinning it atop your head in masses of braids with gold pins, tips glowing red with circular rubies. The colour of your mothers house dripping from you. Footsteps moved through your chambers, your head lifting to find Rhaenyra coming towards you, wearing a dress of black. Her silver hair half up, half down, small braids weaving around the back of her head beautifully. 

A soft smile pulled on her lips as she came towards you, causing you to turn in your seat to fully face her. She looked sad and also lovingly devoted all at once. And whilst you knew it was not her greatest wish to marry you off to her half-brother, you also both knew that it was the only way to prevent bloodshed.

“My sweet.” Rhaenyra cooed, a slender hand coming to brush against your cheek dotingly, the scar on her arm from Alicent peeking beneath the cuff of her dress.

Blood already shed.

“Muña.” You smiled back, pulling her hand down into your lap.

Your mother leant forward and placed a kiss atop your head, “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Are you ready?” Her tone was gentle, as though she didn’t wish to startle you. As though she didn’t want to break the bubble that was the safety of your chambers. 

The last time in your chambers as an unwed woman.

You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and she could see it, “I must be.”

The small smile she had worn slid away, “This is not what I had intended for you. I did not wish to force you as I had been. I wish-“

“-I know.” You squeezed her hand, “I understand. It is my duty as your daughter to be wed to the Hightower’s to prevent bloodshed and war. To ensure your ascension to the throne. Let me perform my duty for you.”

“You know that we love you.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand back, “Daemon has almost gone mad with rage. He does not wish to see you be wed to him. Luc feels that it is his fault.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from either of them.” You stood, still clutching her hand.

Her violet eyes roamed down your body. 

The dress you wore was similar to the one she had worn for her wedding to Laenor, white with gold and licks of red in the lining. The dress sat below your collarbones and drooped against your shoulders, pearlescent beads sewn onto the short sleeves like dragon scales with a red silk peaking underneath.

“I wish this could be different for you.” She came to your side, placing a white cloak atop your shoulders, the Velaryon House sigil embroidered on the back, readying you to leave your chambers.

You looped your arm in hers, steeling a breath before you gave her a confident smile, “I don’t.”

-

Your heart rattled in your chest as you tried to stop the anxiety that churned nauseatingly in your stomach. Your hand was clenched tightly against Daemons arm, who slowly walked you down the many tables filled with people towards the man who would soon be your husband. 

“Breathe.” Daemon cooed softly in your ear, his hand attempting to soothe you with soft brushes against yours. 

Your eyes had not once left Aemond, who watched you with a dark glare. 

The second son stood before the table, Viserys slumped behind him in his chair, the barest of smiles on his rotted face, half covered by a golden mask as you came towards them all. Your mother and Alicent sat on either sides of the King, followed by your brothers, your uncles, your cousins, and your aunt.

Aemond stood stiffly as he always did, the perfect posture with his shoulders back. He was higher on the stairs so that he looked down his nose at you, which wasn’t different to any other time he did. Each step towards him was nerve-wracking, the Lords and Ladies who had travelled far and wide watching you with keen eyes.

When finally you were standing before him, Daemon let go, coming to stand between you and Aemond momentarily, breaking your eye contact for the first time since you entered the room. Your uncle Daemon’s face was a kind one, and one you had grown to love as a step-father. He did not offer you a reassuring smile like your mother did, nor did he offer a consoling one. Instead, he leant forward to press a kiss to the side of your face before standing straight, towering over the both of you in both height and size before he moved back towards the table, sitting beside your mother. 

And so the ceremony began. 

In the light of the chambers Aemond looked sinister, shadows cast across his sharp face as he continued to look down his nose at you, chin still raised high. The Prince’s hair was styled in the way that it always was; straight and down his back, with two plain pieces pulled away from the sides of his face, tied neatly behind his head. He wore all black, the lining and undershirt the deepest of greens that was almost onyx. A symbol of his mother and her war that she had declared on a night such like this, many years ago. 

The room felt hot, the back of your neck sweating as you stared at each other, all eyes pinned on you as the Septon’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Father, Mother, Warrior,” The old mans voice was so loud in your ear that you winced,  “Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows.”

You swallowed thickly, momentarily looking down at your hands before back into his sole lilac one, watching as his posture straightened further, surprised that he could even do so.

“I am yours, and you are mine.” Aemond’s voice dipped lower, “Whatever may come.”

Your throat felt dry, but your gut was filled with anticipation. You were frightened, but there was something else simmering beneath it all. A need for the danger he brought, a feeling of protection from him. Not from him and his anger, but from others.

A possessive desire.

The Septon looked at you impatiently to say your vows, and a small wave of quiet whispers spread across the room as you stood silently. The Prince shifted on his feet, muscles in his jaw clenching.

“I am yours,” You breathed softly, hands gripping each other tightly in front of your dress, “And you’re mine. Whatever may come.”

The purple of Aemond’s eye was half hidden by his lid, his gaze having softened at your short vow. You watched as the corner of his sharp lips twitched upwards lightly into a small smirk.

The Septon continued, “Here in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Man and Wife.

Wed to Aemond Targaryen. 

Your husband.

Now and forever.

An eruption of congratulatory joy spread throughout the room, the noise almost deafening as everyone celebrated what could be your demise. And though the noise around you was distracting, you could not look away from him, even as he shifted closer.

Aemond’s hand lifted and you flinched, the only people having noticed was your family seated behind you. His hand continued despite your shock to cup the side of your face and jaw, and as quickly as it happened, it ended. Aemond’s face grew closer as his eye slid shut, pressing his lips tenderly to yours in a brief moment before he pulled away, hand dropping back down to his side. The hand that had cupped your face grasped your hand for all to see, before he led you around to your seat at the table. 

-

The night of celebrations became a blur, too in shock to really enjoy yourself, but wine still flowing heavily. Most of your evening you spent ignoring your new husband, opting to speak mostly to your mother and brothers, as well as Daemon and his daughters, who threw you pitying smiles, yet words of encouragement. 

Aemond sat by your side, though he made no effort to join your conversations or create ones of his own. He had always been the quiet of his siblings, always sticking to the shadows and tomes of the library, never quite fitting in. 

Helaena leant forward towards you, Otto eyeing her warily whilst Alicent looked as though she was about to chastise her daughter. In your aunts hand was a beetle, all black, though when the light of the candles shone on his shell, it seemed to glow. Greens and blues, and purples and pinks, danced across the beetles wings as it crawled atop her hand. 

Your aunt had always loved insects, and had always been a sweet and kind person. You loved Helaena, and if there was anything that could help you endure living in the Red Keep alone without your family, it would be her. 

“He appears dark,” She breathed watching as it crawled through a gap in her fingers and back towards her palm, “But if you look closely, you’ll find that he’s not.”

You shuffled in your seat, your shoulder pressed to hers as you ducked your head to look closer at the beetle, “He’s quite beautiful.”

Healaena lifted her face towards you, as she smiled at you dreamily, “He is, if you let him.”

Frowning, you looked back to the beetle, “How do I let a beetle be a beetle?”

Helaena did not answer you, instead continuing to twist and turn her hand as the bug crawled around on it. 

Aegon watched from above the rim of his cup, drunk with red rimmed eyes. His hair was oily and wavy, unbrushed atop his round face. You could not help but feel a shiver crawl over you as he smiled.

“Our sweet niece and brother are finally married.” Aegon purred, Helaena barely giving him a second glance as though over the years she had attuned herself into pretending that he did not exist.

“A joyous occasion, uncle.” You smiled falsely back, picking up your own goblet of wine, ready to go back to talking with Helaena. Or the beetle.

Anything to escape Aegon.

“Do you know what happens tonight? After the celebrations of course.” Your uncles voice creeped along the surface of the table like a snake, so that only you and his siblings could hear. 

You swallowed thickly. 

Of course you did. 

You had done it last night.

Bar a bed. Or walls.

In fact, it wasn’t even in the Keep, and instead in a dirty alley in Flea Bottom, hidden amongst the shadows.

“I’m aware.” Your voice was clipped, which seemed to goad Aegon.

“And how does our sweet little niece know of such things?”

You swallowed thickly, head turning to look at Aemond, whose eye was trained on his brother.

“My Septa.” You tuned back to face him, “And your whoring.”

Aegon chuckled, filling up his goblet with wine once more, “I suppose then you know what to expect.”

“Yes.”

“Should you ever be in want of a demonstration-"

“-Leave her be.” Came Aemond’s voice, almost a growl. His hand was clutched tightly around his own goblet as he challenged his older brother to say something more. 

Aegon laughed loudly, eyes on his brothers clenched hand before looking up to watch him, “I only jest, brother! It is a night of celebrations!” He thrust his goblet towards the One-Eyed Prince, “It’s not everyday that my little brother is married off to such a beautiful princess. The daughter of the Realm’s Delight, no less. Do you think-“

Helaena shifted, turning her body towards you, “It isn’t so bad.” She spoke emotionlessly into your ear to distract you from Aegon, “It only hurts the first few times.” Your aunt paused in thought, lavender eyes still on the beetle as it moved, before looking at you, “Or when he’s angry. Or drunk.” She added as an afterthought, “But mostly when he’s drunk.”

Sorrow coursed through you for your aunt, your gaze immediately staring into Aegon’s angrily. How could he do this to her? How could he treat her like one of his whores? If not because she is his wife, but because she is his sister. Aegon seemed to sink into his chair after Helaena’s comment, soft anger simmering off of him in small waves.

But Aegon has never truly known when to stop.

“I am sure my brother here will barely draw blood.” 

“I am sure your interest in your brothers cock speaks loudly.”

Elbows sloppily placed on the table he leant towards you, “I tried to take him once you know, to a whorehouse.” His voice became more hushed, “He hated it. Made me think that maybe our dear Aemond was perhaps like your father, Laenor.”

Blinding rage shot through you, “Don’t speak about my father.” You hissed, “He was more man than you shall ever be.”

A cruel smirk pulled at Aegon’s lips, “I am sure he has had more men than I ever shall.”

Your hand shot forward to grasp your goblet, ready to hurl it across the table at him, peace be damned, but Aemond was quicker and snatched your wrist before the tips of your fingers could even reach the cup. 

A quiet fell over your table as all watched the interaction, your wrist in Aemond’s hand, Aegon smirking cruelly at you, and your face hot with anger.

“I pity you.” You quietly seethed, “Always so desperate to get a reaction out of the people around you, because if you didn’t you would simply cease to exist. Though you are the first son of Viserys, a peasant bastard from Flea Bottom would garner more respect.” 

Aegon’s gassed darkened, his mouth readying to fire back at you.

“Aemond.” Alicent called to her son, a questioning and yet chastising tone in her voice. 

Aemond looked at his mother, and then back to you, checking to see if you were going to continue on with your thought. But you had grown tired of the grip he had on you, his large hand squeezing your bones painfully as they shifted beneath the skin. 

“Don’t touch me.” You sneered at him, snatching your hand away as you stood, chair scraping loudly against the flagstones.

The throne room quietened, all stilling to watch as you stood at the table, seething down at your husband. The rest of your family all watched warily, except for the Rogue Prince who smirked broadly at you. Your chest heaved with anger as you looked down at Aemond, who stared up at you with similar rage. 

King Viserys sensing the tension smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, “Our young lovers wish to dance!” A distraction on his end, and a clever one at that. 

The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and the musicians in the corner began playing music loudly for all. Lords and Ladies stood from their seats and moved into the centre of the room to dance together.

Glaring down at your husband, your hands clenched into fists, waiting for him. Aemond slowly stood, towering over you, a large hand stretched out towards you, palm up. 

“Wife.”

“Husband.” You growled, taking his hand roughly, digging your nails into his skin as you led him down the stairs towards the people.

The court parted to the sides like a wave, creating a path for you straight to the centre as you lead Aemond down to it, almost like a dog. Each man and woman watched with excitement, either for the celebrations or the rising tension between the two of you. You’d be a fool to think that the court wouldn’t love a quarrel to arise so that they may whisper about it in corridors later to come. 

It could be a way to press the wound so to speak with Aemond later.

You stopped in the centre, finally letting go of your husband as you spun to face him. 

He stood as he always did, stiff, emotionless with a hint of arrogance, watching you with a cool glare. The court waited for you to begin, as the music continued to play, but even then you couldn’t push yourself to touch him. To feel his hands on you once more, alighting a fire within you that you did not know was possible, the embers still burning from the night before.

Would they be able to tell?

That he had already deflowered you in Flea Bottom?

In a dirty alley like one of Aegon’s whores?

In a way, you hoped they would. Let it bring him dishonour. Let it bring him humiliation from the court that his wife would take him in such a filthy, commoner way. You wished for his disdain, you wished for his anger, anything but the clear desire which seemed to move through him as he watched you from down his nose. 

“Well?” You snipped, waiting for him to make the first move.

Aemond came forward swiftly, much like he had in the alley, and you had to bite your cheeks to stop the gasp that would have escaped your mouth. 

It came to him so naturally to touch you, to hold you. One large hand immediately grasping yours by your side pulling it up, the other skating up your hip, over your collar bone, slowly down your shoulder, and down, down, down your arm. 

Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver running down your back as his other hand connected with yours, and slowly but surely, the dance began. Even with the noise of the room, the music playing, the talking, and laughter, and joy from the guests, you could still hear the small little gasps and breaths you let free as you danced with Aemond. 

It was likely one of the only times you hadn’t bickered after so long in his presence, let alone whilst touching him. The two of you stayed silent, moving this way and that, your gaze occasionally flitting to the table to your mother and Daemon, who watched with kind eyes. 

“Don’t let Aegon goad you.” Aemond finally spoke. 

His hand brushed against your shoulders, and round the back of your neck, a heat beginning to simmer in your gut from his touch. You turned to face him, watching as he observed you closely.

“He won’t stop if you show it bothers you.”

“He always bothers me.” You snipped, but this time with much less anger, “He is like a fly you wish to swat but can never reach."

Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you, turning around you slowly, “Mm.” 

“Mm.” You mimicked, turning away from him.

“Behave yourself, wife.” Aemond purred, irritation flitting through you momentarily.

“What? Like how behaved yourself last night?” 

“I could say much the same to you.”

“A shame then.” You sighed, moving to come chest to chest with him, your breath stilling in your lungs as you looked up at him. You would never get used to how tall he had grown over the years, “You bring much dishonour to your mother.”

“As do you. Whoring yourself to a Lord of the North-“

“-King of the North-“

“-In a dirty, whore riddled tavern.”

“A dirty, whore riddled tavern that you knew about.”

Aemond stilled, his head dipping towards you, “Did you think that I wouldn’t know of your movements in Kings Landing? Did you truly believe that I would be so foolish as to think that you would come to me willingly?”

You swallowed thickly.

“No.” He continued, sucking on his teeth, “You forget that I know you. You are much like your brothers. Getting into places where you don’t belong.”

“And what of yours?” You became defensive at the mention of your brothers, remembering how he and his would call you all bastards, “Loudly and brazenly whoring himself to any and all who would dare risk fucking him.”

“My brothers whoring does not concern me.”

“Then I suppose I am not a concern either.” You sniffed, “You needn’t worry, I am sure that he should find his way into our chambers one way or another.”

The hand on your arm tightened to the point of pain, your cheek twitching as you tried to hold in a wince, “I told you, he is not of concern.”

“I know Aegon. I have heard of what he does-“

“-And you know me. Know that he will not-“

“-He will not, what? Sully me? Taint our marital bed? It is already tainted. You made sure of that last night.” You stood closer to him, still as the others danced around you, your gaze peering up into his as your chest heaved, “But what if I want him to? What if I willingly invite him to take me? I’m sure you do not mind sharing after all, he is your brother.”

Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, before his head slowly ducked beside your ear, “If you think I am fool enough to stoop to your provocations then you must forget that we grew up together, side by side. I know your tricks.” The hand on your arm released its strong grip, coming to brush against the back of your neck, “I know that you despise him just as much as I. I know that you used to cry at the Godswood when he called you bastard.”

You bristled, purposely stepping back as you stared at him angrily. You hated that word. You hated what it meant for you and your siblings. You hated that he and his brother and his mother and the court whispered about all of your parentage. You hated that once, when you had been young, despite all of this, you had been friends.

Rage bubbled up inside of you, and before you could stop yourself you leant forward, hand coming to touch the side of Aemond’s face with his one seeing eye, the other covered by his leather patch.

You rubbed your thumb atop his cheek, “Imply that I am bastard once more, and I shall blind you with the purpose that Lucerys lacked.”

Aemond’s chest rose and fell jaggedly, inhaling breaths faster than yours, anger coursing through his veins. His sharp lips twitched as he watched you, “I wouldn’t dare. I know just how Strong you are, Princess.”

Your thumb moved fast, but Aemond was faster, anticipating your movements. His hand caught yours against his cheek, trapping your fingers between his hand so that they may not move further to pluck his remaining eye from its socket like intended. 

“People are watching, ābrazȳrys.” Wife, He purred, though there was a lick of danger behind it. 

A warning.

“Ivestragī zirȳ urnēbagon.” Let them watch, You sneered, “Nyke kessa laesdaor ao hae iā dīnilūks irudy.” I shall blind you as a wedding gift.

Aemond’s silver brow lifted, “Skoros iā sȳz irudy.” What a good gift, His eye turned dangerous, “Eman iā irudy syt ao, mēre nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot tepagon.” I have a gift for you, one I did not wish to give.

“Is it your death?” You countered cheerily, not wanting to show him that the way he spoke to you set your hair on end.

“No. I think it will be much better than that. We will both come to enjoy it.” The danger in his eye still flickered like a flame, “I was considering not giving it to you, but since you are behaving so wonderfully, I simply must insist.”

You turned away from him, moving to go back to your seat, “I want nothing from you.”

“And yet, you'll have everything.”

-

As the night grew long, your fears grew larger. And though he had taken you the night before in an alley, his subtle threat of what may come tonight lingered in the back of your mind. Each cup of wine was drained eagerly by your lips, hoping and wishing that you could somehow make yourself sick enough to not have the bedding ceremony. 

But it came all the same, just as the wedding had.

Aegon was the one who initiated the beginning of the end.

A large clap came from in front of you, the short haired Prince leaning towards you on the tables with his hands clasped together, silver and gold rings adorning them. A sinister smile pulled at his lips as he beamed at you and his brother. 

“The night is late!” He proclaimed loudly to the chambers, many Lords and Ladies turning their heads to watch, “I think we have held these two young lovers hostage for far too long!” Aegon smiled out to the room and then stood, lifting his goblet. 

His shirt was untucked, his gait unsteady and he swayed on his feet as he continued, “My brother is too polite to remove himself from festivities such as these! But brother,” He thrusted his cup towards you, “I can see that you wish to take your new wife to bed! The love these two share is a tale for story books, though they are too polite to say a thing.” He chuckled, and laughter followed from the Lords behind you, “Worry not! We will continue the festivities without you!”

Cheers were heard from about the room, though none came from your own table. Aegon sipped his wine greedily, eyes watching you from above the rim of his cup. The Prince took the goblet from his lips and clicked his fingers impatiently beside him, pointing at an uncomfortable Criston Cole who came to his side like a well trained mutt.

“Ser Criston, take these newly weds to my brothers chambers. It seems it is time for the bedding ceremony.”

Ceremony. 

Your blood ran cold. 

Aemond stood abruptly beside you, head on with his brother. 

“No need, Ser Cole.” His smooth voice icy, “I shall escort the Princess there myself.”

Aemond pushed his chair backwards as you continued to stare at Aegon, not quite ready to be alone with the Prince. 

Your husband.

You blinked, turning your head towards your family, who all gave you pained smiles. But it was your duty. And you had given your mother your word. Slowly you stood, letting your eyes scan the table, softly landing on your grandsire before meeting with a pair of large brown eyes. Alicent Hightower watched on with a nervous energy, her hands shifting on her lap as you assumed she picked at the skin around her fingers. The look in her eyes almost held empathy. 

Almost. 

You bowed your head to the King and Queen, ignoring Aegon’s shit eating grin. 

“Your Grace.”

Pushing your chair back you ignored the outstretched arm of Aemond and made your way down the stairs, Lords and Ladies watching as you made your slow exit from the room, taking false prideful steps through the court to delay the inevitable, giving all who watched smiles and nods of your head. 

The shifting of armour moved loudly behind you, before soon enough, Ser Criston Cole was overtaking your step to lead you out of the chambers and soon to Aemond’s. The white cape attached to his shoulders billowed behind him as he speedily kept on.

The skin on your elbow burned, a hand gripping it tightly as you were momentarily slowed as Aemond came to your side. You refused to meet his eye, feeling his gaze upon the side of your face as you exited the chambers, the sounds of cheering and laughter loud behind you. The chamber doors shut with a thump, the sound dampened and muffled, footsteps echoing down the darkened corridors of the Red Keep.

“Does Ser Criston not wish to watch you bed me?” You sneered, eyes flickering to the lit lamps on the walls as Aemond led you down a wing of the Keep you had scarcely been down. 

“I have instructed him to prepare my chambers for your arrival.” Aemond replied, his strides long and rigid as he almost hauled you with him. 

“Do not pull me.” You yanked your arm back, halting your steps, “I am not your dog.”

Aemond stilled, looking down his nose at you as he towered above, “Dogs are better behaved.”

The Prince’s head snapped to the side, pain spreading through your palm as you sneered at him. The side of his cheek bloomed an angry red, yet Aemond did not react to your slap, nor did he hit you back, instead, a slow smirk pulled at his lips. 

“I shall allow that, but only because I know you will regret it.”

Rising to your tiptoes you tried to make yourself come to eye level, “I regret nothing.”

“Mm.” He looked at you blankly, “I shall give you a choice.” Anger rose within your chest, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, “Come with me to the Godswood.” Your brows furrowed, “Pray to the Gods for forgivingness for striking your husband, kneel and apologise. Swear obeisance to me-”

“-If you think-“

“-And I shall let you go to your own chambers alone. No need for a bedding ceremony after last night.”

You flushed, swallowing thickly, “I would never lower myself to apologising to a second son. And especially not to a Prince who is owed no inkling of respect.”

Aemond watched you for a beat, eye scanning your face as his held flat, “Then we continue to my chambers.” The hand that pulled you began again, and your feet struggled to keep up with his, bruises no doubt to be on the tender flesh of your arm in the morning. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you felt yourself get closer to his chambers, his strides not once slowing down, though you tried to dig your heels into the flagstones to slow him. 

“You care not to have a woman enthusiastic in your bed?” You tugged fruitlessly at your arm, “You wish to drag me to a night of suffering, like a savage. Like your brother, Aegon.” You sneered, fruitlessly tugging your arm to escape his grip.

“A savage would have had you atop the table before all to see when you first defied me. I gave you a chance to apologise, remember that you scorned it.”

“A chance? What chance was I given? A loveless marriage with a man who is not my equal? A burden I am forced to bear as I am forced to lay beneath him!”

Aemond’s steps halted once more, almost causing you to crash into him, his fingers tightening against your arm as he yanked you against his chest angrily, “You needlessly make this more difficult. I extended an offering to you of peace, and you burnt it.”

“Peace?” You screeched incredulously, “You have done naught but provoke me! Naught but push and prod and goad me into reaction so that you may justify your sick desires.”

“Provoke you? I seem to recall you sneaking into Flea Bottom to try and lay with a Lord to spite me.”

“I was trying to save us from a loveless and cruel union.”

“Us? Or yourself?”

You paused, mouth feeling dry. Anger and fear swirled within your gut viscously as you stared at him. The both of you panting heavily at one another. Aemond shifted, moving away from the wall beside you, revealing two large wooden doors. 

You were there.

And you had not even realised.

“Wife.” Aemond purred sarcastically before pushing open the door, the smell of his room engulfing you. 

It smelt of him, but far more intensely. Of leather and smoke, and spices which he dabbed his skin with, and still, behind all of this, the natural scent of him. The smell that was only his and his alone. A scent that had wrapped around you in that alleyway the night before. 

The fireplace raged wildly, the room filled with dark mahogany furniture. There was a chaise, arm chairs, a table seated for six, a large bed on the other end, a reading desk with piles of books and scrolls, and candles sitting on every surface, lighting the room. 

The second thing you observed as your eyes roamed the space was that you were not alone. 

Your heart skipped in your chest. 

There by the bed, was a man sat in a chair. Arms tied down to it as his feet were tightly bound to the legs. His long dark hair was knotted atop his head as he stared at you in shock, and beside him, Ser Criston Cole.

“Cregan?” You breathed in shock, running towards the Northerner as you dropped to your knees, hand reaching out to cup his face as he only looked at you with sorrow, “Are you hurt?”

“I did warn you,” Aemond growled from behind, “That you would regret it. I had a plan, you see. A moment of mercy to let you apologise at the Godswood, for you to go-“

“-Let him go!”

“-To your chambers untouched and unscathed. I had given you a choice, and this is the one you have chosen.”

You turned your head sharply to face Aemond, “What have you done?”

“This man was caught conspiring against the crown. He planned to take the Princess’ honour and humiliate her betrothed. A Prince.” His lilac eye held Cregan’s icy blue ones, “I have done my duty by capturing this traitor to the realm.”

Fear began to bubble inside of you, eyes looking back to Cregan. The left side of his face was bruised, small cuts littered across his cheek and brow. His soft lips were swollen and split, and dried blood had gathered in one corner.

“He is innocent.” Your knees ached as they dug into the stones below, your upper body turning to face Aemond again, “He knew naught of what I was doing. Punish me. Let him go.”

Aemond hummed and walked towards you, “Brave. Admirable if it wasn’t for nothing. No. I gave you a choice before, and you have made your choice. I gave you the option to apologise, to bend to me as your husband, to go to your chambers alone, but this is what you have chosen. This was your choice.”

“You gave me no choice!” You sneered, moving to stand, shielding Cregan’s body with your own, “All this talk of choices when all you have gave was an unknown ultimatum.”

“A choice nonetheless. Godswood or chambers. And so here we are. The consequences of your actions.” The Prince came closer, shadows cast across his face, “I told you that you would regret it.”

“You’re a savage! A foul beast.”

A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips, “Choose your words carefully, wife. I have no qualm with slitting his throat where he sits should you continue to defy me.”

Cregan pulled against his restraints, angrily sneering at Aemond, who simply hummed once more as he came to stand before you, looking down at you with false pity, “But, it is the night of our union, and the betrayal is still fresh and something I am willing to move past. I shall give you another choice. One that I feel may be far too lenient.”

Tears began to well in your eyes.

This was all your fault.

“The Lord of Winterfell shall sit where he is, and watch as I fuck you in ways that he never shall-“

“-You disgust me!”

“-Or he shall be tried and hung for treason.” Aemond came closer, his chest almost brushing against yours as he stared at you, “The choice is yours.”

You sneered upwards at your uncle, tears gathering in your eyes, “I would rather die than let you touch me again.”

“I recall you seeming to enjoy it, wetting my cock in that filthy alley as you begged for it.” He purred, hand lifting to brush hair from your face as he sighed, “I don’t mind what you choose, I could simply slit his throat myself right now? If you'd prefer it?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek as you turned and held Cregan’s gaze, his brows furrowing as he saw you come to your decision. 

“Y/n, don’t-“ Cregan’s head was jerked back roughly, Ser Coles hand in his hair as he stuck a blade beneath his chin. The edge of the blade nicked the skin lightly, a small bead of blood travelling down his neck. 

He would die.

He would die and it would be all your fault.

“Please, Aemond.” You begged, “Please do not do this. Let him go. Let him go and I swear to you I will obey your commands. Let him free and I am yours.”

The silver haired mans head tilted as he cooed you, “I am sorry, my love. But it is too late to beg for my mercy as I offered it to you before. What kind of man would I be if I excused such treason?”

You stepped forward swiftly, “A strong one. A merciful one. A man who can see the error of my way. That I am repentant.” You tried to cajole him, “I promise you I will be good. I will perform my duty and do what is expected of me.”

“You are sweet when you beg, but it is too late.”

“Uncle, please! I will do anything! Anything you ask of me. I swear to the Seven.”

Aemond smiled at you, “I know you will. And that is why you will do this.” Aemond swallowed, eye roaming down your wedding gown hungrily, defiantly. 

Angrily. 

“Strip.”

“Aemond-“

“-Strip, or he dies.”

Tears rolled down your cheek, your stomach rolling in disgust and fear. 

“Please do not make me do this.” You sobbed, arms limp by your side as you looked down at the flagstones, feeling defeated.

Your husband tutted you, long slender finger brushing the tears that fell from your eyes away, “Do not waste your tears on him, my love. I can be gentle, and soon you will come to love my touch. This, I promise you.”

Pain bloomed in your jaw as you ground your teeth together, wary to not trigger Criston’s excitable hand. Short breaths puffed from your nose as fury and sorrow rose within you like a tide, little by little building in a wave. In your periphery, Aemond stepped back, a pale hand presented in front of you, palm outstretched for you to take.

Slowly, you let your gaze meet his, heated glare ignoring his offering as you refused to move. One last act of defiance. And one Aemond did not take lightly. Pain bloomed in your shoulder as you were roughly yanked forwards, and thrown backwards against the bed. Cregan shouted from behind you, the chair creaking beneath him. 

“I said, strip.” Aemond growled.

Your eyes flicked to Cregan, and then up towards Ser Cole who watched with conflicted eyes.

“Please,” You begged softly again, keeping your eyes on Ser Criston, “Not him too. Not Ser Cole.”

A shifting of armour moved from behind Aemond, and a small ‘Your Grace’ fell from the knights lips. 

Aemond spun, momentarily ignoring you as he turned to the knight standing awkwardly beside Cregan Stark, “You may leave, Ser Cole.” Aemond sniffed, “I am certain our guest will behave accordingly.”

Ser Criston’s eyes flickered to yours and then to the Prince as you tried to plead to him with yours for help. 

To help the daughter of the woman he was once sworn to. 

But no help came. 

The Dornish knight bowed his head and left without another word. 

“Let her go-“

“-Ah.” Aemond turned slowly towards Cregan, slow steps coming forward until he stood towering over the northerner, “Speak again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Kepus,” You stood from the bed, grasping Aemond’s elbow tightly, hoping, praying that if you asked once more that he could see reason, “Please, let him go. I am yours. I will always be yours.”

Aemond stared at you, his pupil dilated as he stared at you intently.

“Strip.”

You fought the sob that threaten to rise up your throat and slowly lifted your chin. 

You would not show weakness. 

You would be strong. 

With shaking hands, you let your fingers find the strings at the back of your dress, and slowly but surely you pulled the laces, keeping your eyes on your husband who watched with intent. 

The gown sagged against your frame, the soft material falling down your chest slowly as you held it for one last moment, hoping that it was all a test, that he would change his mind and stop this madness. 

But he didn’t. 

Breath held in your chest, you let the gown fall to the floor below you, leaving you in your thin shift before the two men. Cregan looked away, his eyes focusing on the stones of the wall in shame, his hands tucked into tight fists against the arm of the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

A shiver ran down your back as the cool of the chambers stiffened your nipples into peaks, brushing against the white of your chemise. Aemond took a slow step towards you and then another, hand lifting to brush under your chin, an attempt to direct your gaze to him. You turned your head defiantly; looking to the wall where Cregan’s gaze laid. 

“Y/n.” Aemond warned softly, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin as he turned your face towards him, “Look at me.” 

Reluctantly you let yourself, and all you saw was the black of his pupil as he devoured you with his darkened gaze, “You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, “My wife.”

You swallowed thickly, his hand slowly skimming down your neck raising goosebumps along your skin as his fingers came to rest against the edge of your chemise. The tips of his nails scraped softly against your skin as it slipped beneath, and with an even slower movement, he tugged the chemise down off of your shoulders, the thin material floating down to the floor below leaving you completely exposed to the two men in his chambers. 

“I will not harm you, though you would deserve it.” Aemond purred, his eye roaming your exposed body, your stomach and core clenching in anticipation, “I plan to make you beg for it.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but in the moment his long fingers came to brush under your breast, fingers teasing your nipple softly, your mouth clamped shut. You shyly glanced at Cregan, who’s eyes were scrunched tight. Aemond followed your line of sight, sighing.

“If you do not watch,” Aemond fully turned to Cregan, “I will take out your eyes.” 

Even at the One-Eyed Princes threat, Cregan did not lift his gaze from the wall. The Lord of Winterfell willing to risk his sight so that you may keep your dignity.

“Fine.” Aemond grunted, pulling the blade from his belt, “Then I shall take hers.”

Fear shot through you as you stared at Aemond tearfully, watching in your periphery as Cregan’s head turned towards you and yelled. 

“No!”

“Then,” Aemond sneered, “Watch.” 

With eyes filled with shame, Cregan looked up at you. You didn’t know what to do, what could make it better. What could make any of this not what it was, and so you tried to offer him a reassuring nod. A small promise that it was okay to look when all you knew was how very much it wasn’t.

“Good.” The Prince hummed. 

Aemond resumed his touch against you, hand coming to cup your breast fully as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. His touch sent sparks across your chest, shame washing over you in a wave. 

Aemond ducked his head towards your face, beckoning you to kiss him. Would he be gentle as he was when you were married? Would it soften his actions? Or would it only make him worse?

Deciding that you didn’t want to push what little patience he had, your eyes slid shut, breath stuck deep in your chest as you felt the heat of his body come closer, the hand on your breast skating around your ribs to pull you closer to him. 

When his lips pressed against yours it was light, gentle, almost cautious, your hands staying stiff by your sides. But that softness was short lived, and soon Aemond deepened the kiss, his teeth clashing against yours roughly. 

You gasped softly as his other hand wound into your hair, tugging you closer as he nipped your bottom lip roughly. Your hands instinctually came up to his chest, gripping onto his jacket tightly to steady yourself. Anger poured into the kiss, and from behind you could feel the reluctant glare of Cregan. 

Aemond pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. His lips were swollen, having turned a rosy pink as a blush settled across his cheeks. His chest heaved against yours, the stitching on his coat brushing roughly against your stiffened peaks. 

“Have you ever bed a woman, Stark?” Aemond asked smugly, brushing the back of your neck as you turned you to face the Northerner again, your back to Aemond’s chest.

Even as exposed as you were, Cregan’s eyes did not shift to look at your body, keeping his simmering glare on Aemond.

Clicking his tongue, Aemond continued, “I’m sure you’ve fucked wildlings and mudmen alike, being a man of the North.” An arm wrapped around the front of your chest, breasts squeezed beneath the toned arm of your uncle behind you, “Tell me, are Winterfells brothels full of sheep like the Vale? Or maybe they’re full of pigs since you’re both fond of the mud.”

The chair beneath Cregan creaked, his jaw tensing in anger as Aemond taunted him. His pale eyes narrowed, lips tensed together in a sneer as his nostrils flared, breathing heavily whilst his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

“No? Hm.” Aemond’s other hand slid across the skin of your back, travelling around to the front of your stomach slowly, brushing his fingertips along your hip bone as he continued, “You see, Stark, mudmen of the North have no place with the blood of Valyria. The Blood of the Dragon would never sully itself by laying with a Northerner. Nor would a Princess.” His hand continued to dip down, fingers brushing into the hair atop your mound. 

Your back arched in instinct, trying to escape his hand, but it only pushed your backside into his clearly hardened member, “Targaryens don’t fuck like animals,” His voice dipped lower, “We bring pleasure to our lovers.”

Aemond’s hand continued down, parting your folds with a finger, seeking out the heat and slick that had gathered at your entrance. Once found, Aemond’s chest vibrated from behind with an appreciative hum, dragging a long slender finger from your entrance, back up to your pearl. You jerked in his hold as he pushed lightly against it, slowly and torturously swirling the digit against your bud, your arousal aiding his movements. 

You watched Cregan curiously, the urge to hide yourself strong. His eyes never once left Aemond as he continued to bring you soft pleasure. The Stark’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he glared at the man behind you, who watched back with impatience. 

“I won’t tell you again.” Aemond purred, fingers dipping down to your entrance as he suddenly shoved one long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp at the small sting, “Watch her, or I blind her.”

Cregan’s eyes shut as he took a shaky breath, Aemond’s finger crooking inside of you, pressing against your front wall roughly. A whine fell from your lips causing the icy blue eyes to catch yours finally. Cregan swallowed thickly as you stared at one another, your hands gripping the sleeve of Aemond’s arm across your chest, twisting the material between your fingers as you shifted your hips back, pressing against him as he sped up his fingers movement. 

Cregan’s stare was hard, his eyes apologetic, watching you shift against your husband behind you as he began to fuck his finger inside of you, the sound of your slick filling the room. Your face flushed with embarrassment. 

“She’s quite reactive,” Aemond purred, slipping his finger from within you to rub at your bud again, causing you to jerk in his hold, his arm tightening further around your chest, “Her body knows what it wants, even when she tries to fight it. Do you hear how she needs me?” 

Aemond’s finger moved back to your entrance, but instead of one, he forced in a second, the ache from the night before settling within you again.

“Gods.” You whispered softly, pain and pleasure mixing into a confusing blend. Your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder as he sped up his hand, fucking his fingers inside of you roughly. All you could do was lean your weight back against him, his arm the only thing that held you upright as his arousal pressed into the small of your back.

A familiar warmth began to build within you quickly, a coil rapidly tightening within your gut as Aemond switched from fucking you with his hand, to rubbing slick circles against your pearl. You scrunched your eyes shut, mouth going slack as your breath hitched. You were so close, so close, to reaching your peak, but each time you would almost get there, Aemond would slow his hand down. 

You whined in his arms, shifting as you just wished it would end, wishing he would let you peak. It was torture. And with each time he did it, the frustration and desperation built, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.

“What is the matter?” Aemond cooed into your ear, his fingers slowing to almost a halt, “Did you need something?”

You huffed a breath through your nose, eyes scrunching shut as you tried to thrust your hips into his hand, anything to alleviate the pressure that was strung to snap at any moment. You didn’t care anymore, you just needed it to end. Aemond’s fingers stopped, hovering over your pearl.

You didn’t even want to think of what you must have looked like, bare, hair likely a mess, and body aching for release.

All while Cregan Stark watched.

“If you want something,” Aemond’s lips came to the side of your ear, pressing a ghostly kiss to them, “You need only ask.”

You bit on your bottom lip, willing yourself to not give in, to not give him what he wanted, but all you could think about was reaching your peak. Logically, you told yourself it was for Cregan’s sake so that it could all end quickly, but in reality, it was so that the throbbing in your core would cease, and the sweet feeling of relief could wash over you like it had the night before. 

“Come now, you’re not one to hold your tongue. Ask.”

You wet your lips timidly, keeping your eyes shut in shame, not wanting to see Cregan’s face as you begged for the man behind you to touch you again as he watched. 

A sharp sting shot through your centre, your eyes springing open as you gasped, you gaze immediately meeting the cold icy glare of Cregan, who’s fists tightened around the arms of the chair.

“Speak.” Aemond commanded, voice sharper in your ear as he watched Cregan tensing to the chair he was tied to.

Your mouth felt dry, and you licked at your lips once more before you softly whispered, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Cregan’s gaze looked back to yours, his eyes softened.

“Please,” You begged softly, “Touch me.”

You heard Aemond hummed from behind you, his finger slowly pressing into your cunt as he gathered slick from your entrance to drag back up to your bud.

“Like this?” He purred, slowly making circles against you, the coil within tightening again.

All you could do was nod, but that was not the answer that Aemond demanded. His fingers left your pearl as he waited, and you huffed in frustration.

“Touch me. Please, Aemond.” You weakly begged, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment, not wanting to see Cregan’s face. 

His touched resumed once more, but the arm wrapped around your chest shifted, his hand coming to grasp your chin as he lifted your head to look squarely at Cregan, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.

“All you needed to do was ask, sweet wife.” Aemond purred, the movement speeding up, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “I want you to wet my hand, and watch him whilst you do it. If you do not,” His voice dipped low, fingers pressing almost painfully against you, “I will know.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded your head in his grasp, feeling your peak begin to barrel towards you. Cregan watched your face, his own a soft pink and ice blue eyes half lidded. 

“Does this feel good? Am I making you nice and wet?” Aemond cooed, hand plucking pleasure from you in ways you didn’t know was possible.

You nodded weakly, “Yes.”

“You can do better than that. Tell him what it feels like.”

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flaring inside of you.

“Tell him or I’ll stop.”

“It-“ You paused, swallowing the last of your pride, “It feels good.”

“What feels good?”

“When you touch me.”

“How so?”

You exhaled shakily, shifting in his arm as his fingers softened their movements, “It feels good when you touch my cunt.”

“Sȳz riña.” Good girl, Aemond praised you, causing arousal to spark inside, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Does it feel good when I fuck you with my hand?”

“Yes, uncle.” You whined weakly.

“Tell Cregan that it feels good when I fuck you with my hand.”

Blinking at the man tied in the chair, you grit your teeth, “It feels good when he fucks me with his hand.”

Cregans nostrils flared as he shifted in his seat, and your head fell back against Aemond once more, “I’m close.” You panted.

You were so close, so, so close to just tipping over the edge, the smell of Aemond behind you suffocating you as heat began to rise through your body. The gaze of the man before you wavered, his eyes momentarily dipping to where Aemond’s hand was rubbing swift and slick circles. That was all it took for you to feel yourself fall undone.

You writhed against Aemond as your peak washed over you, the Northerner watching on as Aemond’s fingers became wet with your release, his gaze darting up to watch your face, jaw slack as he breathed shallowly.

“Shh, shh, shh. Good girl.” Aemond praised you, his hand finally stopping as he smoothed up and down your sides. 

A warm glow settled over your body and your eyes slid shut, head lolling to Aemond’s chest behind you as you breathed deeply, the pulsing of your cunt halting any and all thoughts that you had. 

But as quick as the calm had come, the quicker it left, your world tilting as you were spun and pushed back onto the bed. Your eyes shot open as you watched Aemond step towards you, Cregan observing with slight concern before you were yanked back down the bed towards the Prince by your ankles, legs splayed open. 

On instinct they tried to close, too exposed to the room, but your husband wouldn’t allow it, standing between them as he held them open with his hand, his lone eye commanding you to stay still from above. 

Would it be painful like the night before? Would he bring you pleasure as well? Or would it be something entirely different now that you lay down on a bed, the way that your Septa’s had told you it would happen, and certainly not inside a dirty alley in Flea Bottom?

But what your Septa’s had not informed you of was that your husband, who seemed to be more concerned with punishing you than bringing you any reward, began to kneel before the bed, his back to his prisoner.

“I need to taste how sweet you are, and then I shall fuck you.” 

With a broad swipe of his tongue, Aemond parted your folds from your entrance to your bud, collecting your release on it as he went. His eye closed as he hummed, coming to lap at your folds once more, pleasure sparking up through you. 

You gasped softly, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. It was more intense than you had thought it could be, but perhaps you were over sensitive from the release you just had. You watched Aemond, his lilac eye opening to look up at you with a smirk.

He pulled away from your centre, lips wet with your slick, “You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”

Aemond stood, towering over you as he began to pull at his belt and breeches, wherein he began untying them, lace after lace ripped from its eyelet until they sagged. His shirt was pulled away, revealing the pale skin of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair that trailed down from navel to pubis.

The Prince’s length strained against his breeches, the base of it just showing, a purple vein standing out against his starkly pale skin. You hadn’t gotten to see it properly the night before, and the sight of it made your core clench around nothing. 

Before he pulled himself from the confines of his pants, Aemond grabbed you once more and shifted you to lay sideways atop his bed, the plush green sheets soft beneath your skin. Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking at the soft canopy that lay atop before the screeching of a chair on stone caught your attention.

You snapped your head to the side, watching as Aemond effortlessly dragged Cregan by the chair closer to the bed, only an arms length away. He towered over the man from Winterfell who looked up at him with nothing but contempt.

“You’ll watch me fuck her,” Aemond began smugly, “And know that it could never be you. Know that it will never be you.” Cregan attempted to sit up higher in the seat, chest pulling at the ropes that held him back, “You’ll watch me bring peak after peak from her as she wets my cock and likes it, and you’ll remember that it was me doing it.”

“Aemond.” You tried to distract him, try to take the attention away from Cregan, who watched with burning eyes, “Please.”

The silver haired Prince turned his head towards you and smirked before looking back at Cregan, “You see? She already begs for more.” Aemond walked back towards you, only two short steps from the bed as his eye roamed your naked body, gaze settling into the crux of your thighs, “She only had me last night, and already she begs so nicely.”

With jerky movements, Aemond pulled his length from his breeches, the length and girth large and intimidating. The tip was a rosy pink, and long veins travelled up its length. A bead of arousal had begun to form on top, slowly leaking down the base as he knelt on the bed, pulling you down to meet his hips, and had you not already experienced it, you would have been filled with fear. 

Aemond thrust into you quickly and sharply, pain filling you before a feeling of fullness, his tip pressing at the end of your walls. You hissed softly, hands having raised to grasp his arms, nails biting into his skin beneath his shirts.

Your husband leant down, lips brushing against your cheek as it moved to your ear, “Do you like when I spear you on my cock?” He purred, his breath tickling your neck. 

With clenched teeth you nodded, willing your body to adjust to his size quickly.

“Use your words, you’re not a mute.”

“Yes.” You grit out, turning your head away from him as he loomed above you, arms on either side of your head as he lay between your parted thighs.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Aemond.”

“Close.

You swallowed, “Yes, Husband.”

“Good.” Aemond pulled out of you swiftly before he thrust back in, “Girl.”

You exhaled sharply, the angle so far different from the night before. He felt deeper, more intense, everywhere all at once. 

It was overwhelming. 

You scrunched your eyes shut as Aemond began to rut into you, your hands not once leaving his arms as you clutched onto him, shifting your hips to alleviate the way his tip pressed harshly against your cervix with each thrust. 

His hips clapped against yours brutally, speeding up, the movement shifting you up the bed as you squeaked with each impact, a warmth beginning to pool in your gut once more. The hair at the base of his cock brushed against your pearl roughly as his pelvis slid against yours, the stimulation winding that all too familiar coil again.

A moan broke free from your lips as Aemond shook a hand free, hoisting up one of your legs atop his hip, shifting the angle entirely so that his cock brushed against the small spongey patch within you deliciously, pleasure sending sparks through your limbs. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you could see stars behind them, your bottom lip gnawed between teeth. 

“Open your eyes.” Aemond breathed from above, his pace not once faltering. 

Your head tipped to the side, away from where Cregan sat, eyes still scrunched shut as you whined beneath him. 

“I said,” Aemond grunted, hand roughly coming to grasp your chin as he turned your head back towards Cregan, “Open.”His fingers squeezed painfully against your jaw, bruises likely to show in the morning, your eyes finally opening to find Cregan watching you already.

“Lord Stark knows how to follow orders. He’s not once taken his eyes off you.” Aemond purred, thrusting particularly sharply into you causing you to wince, “Do you think he wishes he were I?”

Your mouth felt dry again, and all you could do was watch as the blush on Cregan’s cheeks depend and his eyes momentarily flashed away form you before returning, remembering Aemond’s threat. 

“I think he does, sweet wife. I think he wishes that he was in your tight, wet, cunt as I am now. Don’t you agree?” 

Your breasts moved with each thrust, the sound of your slick sliding against his length loud as it was before as you huffed beneath your husband.

Aemond’s fingers tightened against your jaw, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

Another squeeze.

“I do.” You breathed, your face suddenly feeling flushed. 

The man on top of you pulled out suddenly, hands moving under your sides to flip you over onto your stomach.

“Do not-“ You began angrily.

“-Quiet.” Aemond snapped, grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto your knees, your hands fisting the sheets as you looked ahead, uncertainty filling your features before you felt the head of Aemond cock slide through your folds, and push straight back inside. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed as he began to fuck into you, “Gods.” The angle made you feel even fuller than before, but shallower too, his length constantly batting against your walls as his hips clapped against your ass.

You struggled to stay upright as he continued, his grip on your hips painful as he pulled you back onto him, the air being punched from your lungs each time, making you gasp out small little high pitched huffs. A hand in your hair wrenched your head back and then to the side, directing your face to meet the Stark’s who’s eyes were not on your own, but instead upon your body.

The heat of his gaze caused you to clamp down on Aemond’s length, the Lord’s roaming eyes watching as the Princes cock buried itself over and over inside of you, before slowly roaming back up your body, catching sight of your breasts below you as they moved, and then finally to your face. 

Seeing that he was caught, Cregan flushed, eyes casting down briefly before looking back up at you. He shifted against the chair, hands still tightly clenched against the arm, chest heaving, his thick muscled thighs clenching against the seat, and to-

Oh.

Cregan shifted again, knowing where your gaze had fallen, his hips trying to shift back against the wooden chair, but there was nothing to hide the hardening length within his dark leathered breeches, which pressed painfully to the front of his pants.

Your core clenched again, and from behind you heard Aemond grunt. 

You should have been upset, you should have been horrified, but all it did was set the heat that was already simmering in your gut ablaze, your nipples stiffening to peaks. Instinctually you arched your back, hoping to better the view, which got another grunt of appreciation from your husband, who’s pace was yet to falter, his stamina owed to years of hard work in the training yard with Ser Criston Cole. 

Cregan’s lips parted as he watched you, the pink of his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and that was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out loudly, keeping your eyes on Cregan as Aemond fucked you through your release, triggering his own. He came with a growl, his hips slowing to a halt as you felt his seed pulse inside of you. 

You collapsed against the bed, eyes half lidded as you watched Cregan shift again against his chair as Aemond slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. Warmth dripped from your folds and down your thighs as you felt the soft press of kiss against your shoulder blades. 

Your uncle manoeuvred you on the bed again, your body pliant in his hands as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for Cregan to see. The man’s pale eyes drifted down to between your thighs, watching hungrily as Aemond’s spend dripped out from within you. 

“Tell me Cregan,” Aemond stood by the bed panting, tucking his length back into his breeches whilst he brushed a loose hair over your shoulder, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck my wife?”

The taunt earnt him a sneer. 

“An honest question deserving of an honest answer. I thought Stark’s were known for the honesty and oaths?” Aemond pressed.

You breathed heavily as you watched Cregan’s gaze fell to you and only you in that moment as his answer was given. 

“Yes.”

There was no denying the edge of arousal that roughened the edge of his answer. 

“Hm.” A beat, “Would you like a taste?”

You brows furrowed as you looked up to your husband, who kept his eye on Cregan, his hand atop your shoulder brushing gently in thought. 

A taste?

Did he mean to-

Your heart leapt into your throat, watching as Aemond took his blade from his side and moved towards the Stark man. 

“Stop!” You yelled, watching as Cregan did not flinch when Aemond approached him. 

“Worry not, I mean no harm. I am feeling generous.” Aemond purred, lifting the blade towards Cregan, “He watched dutifully as I put my seed inside of you.” His lilac eye dropped to Cregan’s hardened member, “And it seems that he has enjoyed it.” The Prince turned to face you, “I only wish to give him a parting gift. Something to remember… to agonise over for years to come.”

With a swift hand, Aemond sliced the ropes that bound Cregan's chest to the back of the chair, the Northerner staying still in his seat. The tall Targaryen bent down and cut the ropes on the mans legs loose, one by one.

“Now,” Aemond stood to his full height again, pointing his blade towards Cregan’s wrists, still tied to the chair, “Know that I have your men in a holding cell, and should you try anything, I shall have them all cut into seven pieces and strung about the gates.” Aemond paused, his gaze hardening, “And then I will stay true to my word.”

Cregan’s chest heaved with anger as he watched the prince, still not speaking a word.

“Do we understand each other?” Aemond questioned him, one silver brow lifted in challenge. 

Cregan’s jaw clenched, a click audible to the chambers, “Yes.” He growled.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement and released his hands, taking a step back as Cregan stood slowly, rubbing at his raw wrists as he looked at you on the bed. His head turned back towards your husband, uncertain of what he meant. 

Impatiently Aemond thrust his arm towards you, blade still in hand, “Go to her. Taste how sweet she is, and know that you will never taste her again.”

Cregan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking to you for permission, for denial. 

You didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so instead, you widened your legs in invitation, feeling desire begin to stir in you once more. 

It was wrong. 

But Gods did you need it. 

“Clean her up.” Aemond commanded, and with slow and cautious steps, Cregan walked towards you.

The scent of Aemond was overpowered by that of Cregan’s. He smelt of cedar wood and fur, and the soft smell of musk beneath it all that just felt right for a Northerner. 

It felt as if each stepped dragged on for days. You shifted against the bed nervously, casting your eyes to Aemond, who watched with a desire of his own.

Cregan dropped to his knees, his hands twitching by the side of your hips on the bed, cautious to even touch you, a stark difference to the way Aemond simply took. The dark haired man looked up at you breathlessly as you gave him a nod, shifting your hips towards him again, likings the way his eyes dropped down to your centre and then back up. 

His large calloused hands grasped the soft meat of your hips, his eyes keeping on yours as he leant froward slowly, the heat of his breath fanning across your sensitive folds. Your mouth parted as you panted above him, watching as he wet his lips before finally pressing a chaste kiss to your core. 

A soft moan escaped your mouth, head dropping back momentarily, giving him a strike of confidence before burying his tongue between your folds. You dropped back onto the bed, hands coming to grasp his hair as he licked and suckled at your folds, lapping at both your and Aemond’s release which only served to spark your desire further, that same familiar coil winding rapidly.

You tilted your head to watch him, his eyes still on you as you began to come undone on his tongue. Your name pulled you away from his stare, and you turned your head to face Aemond who watched hungrily from beside, his jaw tensed. 

Already sensitive from such an intense night already, you writhed against Cregan’s mouth with a moan, his ministrations bringing you to your peak swiftly, your slick gushing into his mouth. You kept your eyes on Aemond this time, watching as he breathed deeply, his cock already beginning to swell in his breeches.

You panted and whined as the pleasure became too much, and only then did Cregan remove his face from between your thighs, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The chambers became still as you all breathed deeply, warmth spreading through your limbs as you couldn’t decide who to look at for longest. 

Your husband.

Or the Northerner.

All you could think about was what you had done. 

What had just transpired.

Your husband had trapped a Lord of the North in his chambers and forced him to watch you be fucked by him, and not only that, commanded that he cleaned you after. But what was the most confusing part of all, was that all in the chambers seemed to have liked it.

“Cole.” Aemond’s voice broke the stillness of the room, the door to the chambers opening swiftly. 

Cregan stepped in front of you to shield your body from Ser Cole at the same time Aemond did, his back turning to his knight as he grabbed the sheet of the bed to drape over your exposed body.

The knight entered, flagged by two guards.

Confusion flashed across Cregan’s face as he stiffened, body gearing itself up for a fight.

“Relax, Stark.” Aemond mused, not even bothering to look at the man as he observed the guards, eye landing on Ser Cole again, “Take Cregan and his men to the travel roads. Ensure they have food for travel and water for the ride. They are to leave Kings Landing immediately to return back to Winterfell.” 

Ser Cole nodded, as did the guards who swiftly approached Cregan, grabbing each arm as they began to remove him from Aemond’s chambers. The dark haired man looked back at you in confusion as you clutched the sheet your chest, unsure of what to do.

“Stark.” Aemond called out before the dark haired mans foot could cross the threshold. The Northerner stilled, eyes suspicious, “Expect a raven.”

Without another word, the guards pulled Cregan out of the room, Criston shutting the door behind them. The silence in the chambers was nerve-racking, and you turned to look at your uncle, who was already making his way to fill two goblets of wine. 

Your mouth opened, a myriad of questions ready to pour out your mouth, but as usual, Aemond seemed to be one step ahead.

“You’re my wife.” He began, the sound of wine filling goblets. He turned with them in hand, coming to stand beside the bed as he handed you one. 

You kept one hand with the sheets against your breast, the other shakily grasping the goblet, fatigue weighing your body down. Aemond spun to sit in the very chair that Cregan had been tied to, the ropes still on the floor in a heap.

“Our marriage is one of a prospect of peace, not love.” His words stung you in a way you didn’t realise they could, “Though, I do hope to change that one day. I wish to make you happy,” He paused, taking a sip from his goblet as he thought carefully, “And it would be remiss of me to say that what just happened didn’t spark something within me.”

You frowned, “I do not understand.”

“You looked like a Queen having him kneel before you.”

A beat.

“My Queen."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

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[dreamdazedworld]

YINGXING BRAINROT

Synopsis: Yingxing x Genshin! Youkai! Gender neutral Reader and the both of them are hopelessly in love.

Note(s): I was listening to 愛き夜道 on Spotify when I suddenly got this idea, now it won’t leave me alone. Anyways, I think that this is the first post I actually wrote, so yippie? Eat up, my children, you won’t be having these Yingxing crumbs for some while. This might actually turn into a full blown fic, though it depends on my motivation LOL

Warning(s): Both of them are hopelessly in love with each other, death mentioned (nothing serious, dw), oops now you have a Yandere! Blade chasing you around Teyvat

Art credit goes to my favorite artist, void/Re:era on X! Their art is really pretty, check them out if you can :o

Imagine a Genshin! Youkai! Reader who’s a fox/kitsune (like Yae), and fell in love with YINGXING, like it has all of the potential fr.

So! Of course, Reader here is from Inazuma, and their… clan (let’s all pretend that the Youkai has separate clans) feeds only on the feelings (and emotions), positive ones, to be precise, of humans (like the dementors from Harry Potter!). Negative ones are like poison to them- And the only antidote for this is the Sacred Sakura, however, there are lasting after effects. Once poisoned, the kitsune will be significantly weakened for a long period of time, ranging from a few decades to centuries on end, depending on how much the kitsune consumed.

Kitsune! Reader, unlike the others from their clan, doesn’t like feeding on humans (because it ends up driving their victim mad and they like humans). Of course they understand that it’s necessary for them to survive, they’re not dumb, they can feel their hunger growing with each day they refused to feed on humans. So, with no more options, decides to blend into human society by protecting mankind from the ‘evil’ Youkai, and occasionally feeding on people who are about to die (with guilt). Their love for humanity and stubborn determination to protect humans ends up earning them a Pyro vision that supplies them with some energy to keep them going, since visions are literally wishes with a physical shape, and wishes have positive energy.

One day, while resting on the Sacred Sakura, Reader accidentally finds out that the Sakura has clones, which are spread across multiple worlds by waking up in the Xianzhou Luofu. There, they meet young Yingxing, who’s still learning under that grandpa, when he stumbles into the area where the clone is located. There, they become friends, and as years pass, eventually drinking buddies as well. After Yingxing meets the High-Cloud Quintet and as years fade away, our dear Reader here realizes they’re hopelessly in love with….. Yingxing!? Instantly gives up on their love as soon as they realize, because they think he doesn’t see them in that light (honey, he does), and to rub salt to the wound, in love with Bai Heng, since Yingxing talks about her a lot. But of course it doesn’t go as easily as they want it to go, so the Reader just silently suffers with their emotions.

When shit starts to go down in the Quintet after Bai Heng’s death, Reader goes “Oh fuck, Yingxing’s negative energy is going to make him choose the shittiest life options, won’t it?” and starts to suck away his pain (by kissing him in his sleep because YES). Yingxing starts getting better in exchange for Reader’s health, and in the end, Reader fucking COLLAPSES, forced to go back to Inazuma to recover, Yingxing learns about everything they were keeping from him through a letter, depression hits and oh wow, Yingxing chooses the most shittiest life decision he has ever made by teaming up with Dan Feng to cause the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae, turning him immortal, and eventually into Blade. (I forgot to mention it but only the original Sacred Sakura has the ability to heal away the poison.)

As thousands of years pass, Reader fully recovers, though not exactly since they can’t let go of Yingxing. The Sakoku degree is lifted, and everything seems fine in Inazuma, until they come across a person who they thought were already dead- You guessed it, Blade! But not just typical Blade, Yandere! Blade who is on the brink of insanity and is hellbent on bringing Reader along with him. And so, the game of cat and mouse ensues.

[edwardslvrr]

༯ 405, TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x singer!reader

the one where rumour has it YN has a new boyfriend and Trevor has a new girlfriend

taglist if you’d like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment xoxo

last part main masterlist trevor zegras masterlist

ynupdates

via twitter

REPLIES

username imagine if she’s back together w trevor

username after that album? bro is sobbing in the corner

username would be such a YN thing to do tho

username what if new bf is old bf 👀

username so many paparazzi and no one thought tp take a picture of the dudes face???

username this outrageous behaviour, YN. we’re out here sobbing to her new album and she has been macking on some new dude

username no fr she has me sobbing here like a child for days now

username atleast she looks hella good

username cool and whatever but tour dates pls?

username YN it was suppose to be me next😔

username imagine it is jack hughes

username jack’s probably trying to shoot his shot w trevor now tbh

username she wasn’t interested in Trevor’s unemployed ass anymore lol

yourinstagram

los angeles, california

liked by jackhughes and 1.395.728 others

yourinstagram good riddance deluxe is out NOWW!!

view 19.738 comments

username oh wow- this is depressing

username “i hate the fact that i miss you around” MOOD

username jack really feeding into the rumours abt him and YN by liking this

username not people believing that rumour what??

username honestly the weirdest rumour i’ve ever heard

username y’all will believe anything atp

username WHAT DID U PUT IN 405 WHAT

username “how are you looking at me like a stranger” my heart bro??

username imma go call my therapist.. this is too much

yourbestfriend okay OUCH?

yourinstagram oops?

username ayo jack i see u dude

username the last picture such a mood

username too much pain girly

username “i loved you so hard for a time” trevor go sit in the corner and think about what you did.

trevorzegras

liked by colecaufield and 104.749 others

trevorzegras all summer long

view 1.284 comments

username in his tim mcgraw era?

username bringing up taylor swift any time he can in his personality

username uhm.. last picture?

colecaufield suspicious

username glad u seem to think so too

username cole spill what you know

username soft launch?

jackhughes winner

username wtf does that even mean

username ellen, get jack back on the leash pls

username pls let that be YN 🙏

username YN out w her new man, Trevor hinting his new girl. Can i please go cry..

username as long as it isn’t some tiktoker you got my approval.

username trevor just wants to be a tiktok star, leave him be

username he’s unemployed, he needs to get money from somewhere

username a lot of questions rn

ynupdates

via twitter

REPLIES

username that’s definitely jack

username bro u say that abt an ARM

username she isn’t a homie hopper dude

username could be trevor🤷🏼‍♀️

username why do i feel like her and trevor are back together, like there’s no way it’s a coincidence they both have a new partner at the same time

username how did people ever get to the fact she could be dating jack?! y’all are so weird

username nah after that album i refuse to believe she has already moved on

username she’s probs dating him again

username i mean the album was writing a while back tho-

username i refuse.

username yn probably panicked so hard when she realised she posted that

username she def cried

imessages

taglist - @ihrtdan

[ss-skyearn]

Walk With Me

❝In love with the idea of loving you.❞ 

PAIRING : Lee Minho x female!reader.

WORD COUNT : 4k.

GENRE : Smut, Fluff (wow no angst for once.)

WARNINGS/CONTENT : Past angst, established relationship, feelings and emotions, they're in love (to no one's surprise), Minho with long hair, mentioned Soobin.

SMUT WARNINGS : First time together, hair pulling (not the rough kind; minho realises he enjoys his roots being tugged at oops-, this bit inspired by this post by @tasteracha), voyeurism, public sex (late at night, so one witnesses it), unprotected intercourse, sweet lovemaking, so much love and feelings *sob*

A/N : Writting fluff is nowhere near what I'm good at, so feedback is really appreciated. Enjoy, lovelies. ♡

"Everyone can see."

It's a little too late for that now. 

But it's not a complaint, not a protest, an objection. It's a simple statement, divulgence of facts, a declaration made by your brain that has long since lost the ability to conjure lucid postulations. 

"Let them. Let them see," quickening of thrusts, desperation rearing its head in the most sinful of ways.

"Let me show them how much I love you."

"Meet me outside?"

The laughter of your girlfriends drowns out behind you as you weave your way out of the single room you've all gathered in, despite having been allotted seperate ones.

"Outside?"

"Yeah, outside," you don't need to be next to him to know that he's anxiously bouncing off the balls of his feet, rocking back and forth with his bottom lip caught between bunny teeth you flick your tongue across everytime you kiss him, without fail.

You'd have to make it a point to let him know of your adoration for them the next time he decides to take your breath away with his hot mouth.

And make no mistake, that's what kissing him is like, like losing your breath, like gaining your breath all over again; like being locked in an airtight, evacuated room, like being put on the ventilator with nothing but pure oxygen being pumped straight to your lungs.

It's dizzying either way. Whether it's being deprived of the gush of wind through your airways, or being forced to choke up on all the withheld supply of air all at once, it hurts.

It hurts to be with him. But you'll choose to be hurt, to be on the receiving end of the pain, if it means he's the inflictor, the hand on the trigger.

"Right now?"

"Yeah, if that's okay," he's nervous, something you both are a lot around each other from time to time.

"Uh, okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, good. That's good," you hear shuffling, and imagine him moving from one foot to the other, "I'll be waiting outside the dorms."

"Outside the— what if someone sees you?"

"They know anyway."

Which is the truth. Inherently the private person, you'd asked Minho to keep your newly budding relationship a secret from your peers, a request he'd agreed to almost immediately. Ever the understanding and gentle soul, he'd not once asked to go public with you, even though Hyunjin told you how he sometimes drunkenly mumbles about wanting to hold your hand when Soobin gets a little too close, about wanting to get you coffee on 7 A.M. Tuesday lectures when he knows you haven't slept for more than two hours, about kissing you under the lights on prom night when all couples got their fancy on and indulged in each other after a tough semester.

He wants, yearns, craves.

But you'd been cruel enough to deny him that. Trust issues and fear of commitment aside, you'd been afraid to tell people, to introduce him as your boyfriend, because saying that aloud would make it all the more real, and you'd no longer be able to control the flutter to your heart every time he appeared in your peripheral vision, you'd no longer been able to hold back the intensity of your feelings that seeming only grow with each passing hour, minute, second you spend looking at him.

It had scared you. Understandably so.

Caught up in over your head, you hadn't stopped to consider what it all meant for him, what he might perceive this as. He had no way of knowing what you actually felt, not unless you told him.

It all happened a week ago, when your phone dinged with a notification from Hyunjin. Instead of telling you, he sent you a video this time, a video of Minho slumped back against the wall of the speakeasy you both frequent, eyes shut with his head resting on the concrete.

dumplin [2:57 A.M.]

VID_3653833_219389.mp4

he's been like this for half hr

"I love this place," his intoxicated form had rasped in the video.

Hyunjin who was behind the camera had snorted, asking the reason for the sudden confession.

Minho had grinned, all toothy, bunny smile on display, "I come here all the time with my girlf—" only to stop dead in his tracks, eyes snapping open, neck suddenly ramrod straight with panic all over his drowsy features.

"Your girl..?" Hyunjin had prompted from behind the camera, barely stifling his chortle.

"Uh, my, my. Oh god, I don't know. I don't know what I was saying."

He always was a bad liar. Even in his hazy eyes, even through the shaky video, you could see the hurt, the pain behind his actions as he rubbed the heel of his palms against his eyes, chugged a bottle of water to sober himself up.

"It's okay, Minho. I know. We all know."

"Know what?" he had asked, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"We know you're dating the dance society president."

His eyes had widened, a fresh surge of agitation creeping its way onto his otherwise relaxed face.

"No. No, that's not true. Who told you that?"

Hyunjin had chuckled and told him he was the one who introduced you guys, and the other six seated on the table were among the very few people who did know of your apparently secret relationship.

"I don't know what you're talking about. She and I are just frei—"

The video had cut off there and half an hour later, you found yourself asking the local security guard for directions to 'The Late Bite'.

The bejewelled smile he cast your way as you entered the dining space lasted only a fraction of a second, him going back to pretending you were mere acquaintances and your heart had all but given up.

Marching to him, you had gotten him up on his feet. Ignoring the confused, almost frightened look to his face, you had for once asked your brain to shut the fuck up, and finally given in.

You kissed him. You kissed him on the mouth, swallowing the gasp he let out, ignoring the gasps the people in the diner let out, cradling his face with care befitting a porcelain doll, for truly, he was. As fragile as fine china, as delicate as the first rays of sun hitting the horizon.

Not the tough guy he pretends to be, the hard exterior, the unbreakable shell. You know him to be none of those things.

The dazed smile, the look of blatant relief he'd given you before collapsing on you, mumbling a small breathy, "thank you," was all you needed to know that you'd made no mistake. This was how it was supposed to be, always.

And so it had began.

He held your hand when Soobin got a little too close, he got you coffee on 7 A.M. Tuesday lectures when you were running on two hours of sleep, he held your nape and kissed you under the nightlights, because prom had passed by then but it didn't matter to him, he had kissed you, kissed you, and kissed you some more, till your head got fuzzy from the lack of air supply, till it was physically impossible to stay connected for even another second.

And that's how you find yourself here, making your way out of the girls' dorm in the quiet of the night, it being well past midnight by now— not before checking your reflection in the common bathroom once, fluffing out your hair, splashing some cold water onto your face.

He's standing under a street lamp with his hands into the pockets of his fleece jacket, unmatching with the track set he wears underneath.

He's the single most picky person you know when it comes to styling outfits, deciding what goes well with what, which colour compliments the undertones of another one. Well, besides you of course. Your friends teased you both about how you were practically cut from the same cloth, the same material but different textures, so alike in all the places that mattered, so different in all the places that didn't so much.

So the beige jacket atop the cherry red track set stands out a little too much, and your heart thumps a little too fast at the possibility of his eagerness to see you outweighing his need to look presentable at all times.

You shuffle forward, heart picking up its erratic staccato, the same way it does every time he's within a mile's radius, threatening to jump out of the confines of your ribcage, trying to lunge for what was once so out of reach, for far too long.

He's reclined against the street lamp, eyes closed, head thrown back against the cool metal pole, allowing the ombre light to fall straight onto his fluffy mop of hair. It's unstyled, freshly washed. The caramel tone compliments the muted yellow light streaming down his face, painting him, drowning him.

Your heart aches from running a mile a minute.

Or from feeling so full. You aren't exactly sure.

"Hi," you squeak tentatively, not wanting to disturb him when he looks so peaceful. And beautiful. God, he looks beautiful.

His eyes flutter open. Your heart breaks open with them.

He forgoes pleasantries in favour of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest, and you hold him back, hug him back, squeeze him like you never want to let go. Because really, you don't. Not now, not ever.

"Where's your jacket?" he mumbles into your shoulder, stroking his face back and forth against it, much like the stray cat that visits your dorm room at nights does.

"Mm?"

He chuckles, "It's cold out. Why didn't you put on a jacket?"

"Oh," you pull back, there's pink dusting your cheeks, and you really hope it passes as the consequence of the chilly night, "I guess I forgot."

He smiles wide, affectionate and all kinds of pretty, and the tear in the front of your heart deepens, curling a little to the back, threatening to split it into two.

It's not so impossible a situation, you suppose. Lee Minho is very much capable of shattering your heart into a million pieces with a single smile, then healing it back with a kiss to your temple, breaking it along new cracks, then moulding it back together with the same blowtorch he uses to melt sugar atop his Crème Brûlée, the blue flame made all the more hot with searing kisses, aimed at trapping you into this cycle where he plays with your heart, keeping it with him to do as he pleases.

And you'd let him. Let him have his way with you, to make you, unmake you, only to make you again.

You're his clay, and he's your artist.

You're brought back to the present as a sudden warmth engulfs you, and when you look over your shoulder to see the beige fleece jacket dropped around you, it warms you from the inside too.

"Hey, you'll catch the cold, you have an assessment tomorrow too—"

He shrugs, "I'll live."

"Minho, seriously I'm fine, here take it back—"

"It doesn't match my fit anyway," he entwines your fingers together and begins slowly walking, guiding you along.

It's then that it clicks. Glancing down, you take note that the jacket actually goes with your outfit, and you refuse to pick up on the reason for this coincidence, for certainly, it's not one. It's planned, thought out.

You'll ignore it all the same. For the well being of your poor heart that's working overtime, your senses that are on high alert, your hand, so so warm engulfed in his large one.

"Where are we going?" you ask instead.

"Just a night walk," he begins, and you've spent enough time with him by now to know that his voice sounds bashful, the little shy lilt to it endlessly endearing, "wanted to spend some time with you."

You clutch at your chest with the other hand, exhaling a deep sigh, and squeeze his hand, praying that it's appreciation enough, that it compensates for your inability to verbally acknowledge his thoughtfulness.

But if there's one thing that he's, without a doubt, mastered about you, is your tells.

He knows when you're too abashed to outright admit it out loud that you appreciate him.

He knows when you're too overwhelmed to downright confess you're having trouble staying focussed.

He knows when you're too exhausted to unequivocally divulge your reluctance to anything social.

He just knows. But you don't; you don't know what you did to deserve this, to deserve him.

You still don't think you do, truth be told.

When you snap out of your daze, you both are no longer on campus grounds, walking along a lone street you don't recognise, lit by flickering lights threatening to give out any moment, but in a moment of vulnerability that surprises even yourself, you find you're not scared. Because Minho is with you, and as long as that stands, as long as you're lucky enough for that to stand, you know you're safe.

"Where are we going?" you echo your previous question.

But this time, he grins with a mischievous glint to his eye, looks you over and his pupils dilate, as if merely looking at you is enough to kickstart his heart into overdrive, "You'll see."

And see you do. Twenty minutes later, here you stand, bare feet pressed into the wet sand by the shore, both arms wrapped around his bicep, head resting on the trusty shoulder, humming along to the sound the breeze makes as it whisks past you.

"Are you cold?" he whispers, despite there being no one except the two of you on the beach at this time of day, taking your hands in his and swiping his thumb over your knuckles, assessing the answer for himself, lest you lie to not worry him. "Mm. No, you're not," he hums to himself, guiding your head back where it rested against the crook of his neck, only this time wrapping his own arms around, engulfing you in an embrace that speaks of warmth, of comfort, of love.

But for some reason you aren't sure of yourself, you resist, not taking his lead in going back to your previous stance, instead just staring into his eyes with something you don't know, but it seems he does, for his facial expression turns from surprised to lovestruck in the matter of a second.

He leans in, granting your silent request. Really, you don't know how he does it, almost like you don't have to say anything at all, for he hears you loud and clear without you having to utter a single word.

If what people say about having a soul person is true, he is yours.

And as your lips slot together, the waves behind you crash the loudest they have today, as if the nature is rejoicing, the elements exuberating, witnessing the collision of two beautiful souls, their stitching together into a single bracelet in the form of two bright pearls.

He is the black one, burning passion and quiet peace.

You are the white one, inherent perfectionist and loud existence.

You compliment each other, matching almost every piece of clothing in the wardrobe, neutralising when the other gets too much, burning along when the other gets dim.

"I love you."

You don't know what love means, what it stands for, what it entails.

But you're in love with the idea of loving him.

"I love you," you echo into his mouth, forgoing the "too" at the end because it makes it sounds like a passive confession, a favour returned, when it's easily the truest statement you have had to utter in all the time you've spent thinking about him, him, him.

"I love you, I love you," and alas, once you say it, you can't seem to stop, you want him to know, you want the whole world to know. You want to write it on the stars for the universe to read, that you are his, and he yours.

"I love you so goddamn much."

It hurts, it hurts so much, more than it did an hour ago when you caught sight of him standing outside your dorms. Now that your heart is aware of the gravity of what it feels for him, it just hurts.

When he pulls back, it's to hold your chin in the care of his palm, making you look at him, his eyes glittering with the beginnings of perspiration.

"I love you," he says simply.

To any onlooker, it might have seemed tame, insane maybe, for you two haven't been saying anything except the same three words in the last ten minutes.

But you know, only you know that they aren't the same words.

The first time he said it was to test the waters, to see if you would run away.

The first time you said was to check for yourself, did you love him?

The second and third time you said it was to tell your heart that yes, yes you did, you loved him more than you did anyone before, and it's a wonder how it took him saying it first for you to realise that.

The final time you said it, it was to him, to let him know that you did.

The final time he said it was to say yes, he knows, he knows that you do, that he knows the first two confessions were for your heart more than they were for him, that he's proud you've let down your walls enough to let him in, that he's grateful you've chosen him.

You suddenly find yourself descended on the shore, your back pressed into the cool sand that tickles your nape, Minho hovering over you with a look that can only be described with three words.

I love you.

"Be mine?" he says with wet kisses trailing up your jaw, stopping after every one to take in a deep inhale.

It's silly maybe, to say that when you're already dating but you know what he means, for you feel the same.

"I already am," you say as your body cants upwards, up, up, up, towards him, towards safety.

His hands trail down your body to where the waistband of your sweats sits, tracing along the diameter it transcends, looping his arm to the back to lift you up a tad more.

"Can I?"

You don't know what he's asking for, your motor and sensory neurons having stopped working, still chanting the same words over and over, 'iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou'.

So you nod, letting him undo the knot that rests on your lower stomach, letting him expose you in a manner most intimate, letting him have you for him, surrendering to the onslaught of pleasure.

When he sinks down on you, stretching you open for the very first time, it's with a groan you wish you could record, paste onto your eardrum, for every time a sound reaches the tympanic membrane, it would vibrate, carrying with it the symphony of the voice you want to hear every second of everyday.

As the initial euphoria of letting him in wears off, with him buried to the hilt, you look up at him, his soft brown hair falling down like curtains on either side of his temple, spilling over his nape that's suddenly too narrow to contain all the strands. And it's then that you remember saying you loved it whenever he was too busy and pushed back going to the salon, his long locks a guilty pleasure, your indulgence.

You reach your hand forward, entwining it with his silken strands, just holding, feeling, "Did you grow them out for me?"

"Yes," he whispers without a beat, as though waiting for you to take note of it without him having to say it first.

This time, the tears do trickle down your eyes, staring up at what you only appreciated from a distance.

"I can't believe t-this—" you choke out the last word when he begins moving, ever so slightly pulling back, pushing forward with a little more force, a little more ardour, the veins in his neck all the more prominent with the strain it takes to hold himself back from going faster.

You tug at his roots, a sharp hiss emanating from somewhere deep in his throat, the roll to his eyes evidence enough of how there's now another reason for him to keep his locks long enough to pull at.

He presses his body closer to yours, coming down on his elbows, kissing down the trail of your hot tears on even hotter skin underneath. It's his way of saying he's listening, an unspoken encouragement for you to continue, but also that it's okay if you don't.

But today is the day you've decided to bare it all to him, to not coware back, to let him know what only you have for what seems like forever.

"I s-saw you on the day of the orientation," you barely get out, coherence slipping past your fingertips much like the fine sand particles you're currently making love atop.

He stills, looking into your eyes, searching for something, "The very first day of college?"

You nod, stretch your lips into what you hope is a smile for your tears are cascading down with a current, sweeping anything and everything that dares come in the way of your route to him.

"That was like, five months ago," he seems incredulous, unbelieving that you were, in fact, the first to notice him and not the other way around.

Entangling your other hand into his hair, fingers brushing the one already slotted in there, you chuckle, "Yeah, it was like, five months ago. I had my eye on you for quite a while, pretty boy."

He doesn't buy the distraction you only half hoped he would, tenting his eyebrows into an upside down V, "And?" he prompts, yet again knowing that there's more to what you're saying.

"It's silly," you mumble, turning away from his gaze that puts your well being at risk.

A gentle finger to your chin, a swift sway of your face to pin you under the same gaze.

"Tell me." Simple as that, with no way out.

Maybe you don't want one.

"I-I saw you on the first day, a-and… I just, god you were so pretty, I thought— I wanted you already, but I thought you were a little too pretty, you know? And, and that eveyone would want you too, and you'd have so many options, ones better than me, and I'd have to get in line, and then—"

A firm press of lips, locked together in love and lust, in lieu of reassurance that you know is still coming.

"It was you for me, always," he says when he pulls back, "there's no line, no one else, just you. And me. Just us, hm?"

"Mm," you hum, losing yourself in the rhythm of his hips that have begun moving once again, small whimpers escaping right into his ear that is pressed against your cheek. Whether it's deliberate or not, you don't know.

He grasps onto one of your ankles, winding it around behind him, the space thus created allowing him to push in all the deeper.

"Oh god, Minho—"

His pace picks up when you pull his hair enough to cause a faint sting on his scalp, in addition to being a direct result of the way his name keeps overflowing past your lips.

You gasp, fighting for air, clutching onto his shoulders, afraid he'd slip away if you let go, "Everyone can see."

It's a little too late for that now.

But it's not a complaint, not a protest, an objection. It's a simple statement, divulgence of facts, a declaration made by your brain that has long since lost the ability to conjure lucid postulations.

"Let them. Let them see," quickening of thrusts, desperation rearing its head in the most sinful of ways.

"Let me show them how much I love you."

Feedback and reblogs are very highly appreciated. They're what keep the community alive and help content creators stay motivated.

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

© ss-skyearn 2023. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting and translating any of my works is not allowed.

[socialfakes]

the devils in the details- luke hughes

chapter 4; part 5: fools in love

nhl x platonic!fem!reader

luke hughes x fem!reader

the masterlist

Liked by lhughes_06, bboeser, elblue6 and 7,125 others

yourinstagram | oops. finger slipped 🤷🏻‍♀️ but i don’t regret it at all. love you more than you could even imagine luke ❤   tagged: lhughes_06

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lhughes_06 i love you too ❤

bboeser congratulations on finally going public. you guys have such a solid relationship and it’s only going to get stronger as you get older ❤

user03 wow i love this

nicohischier honestly glad it’s always been him. he treats you exactly how you deserve to be treated and if that’s not the true definition of a ‘perfect boyfriend’ then i don’t know what is 😊  | yourinstagram ❤

_quinnhughes now aren’t you glad we got you back home? 😊❤  | yourinstagram absolutely ❤  luke is my home 🥰

user12 so glad someone loves luke as much as the fans do 😊

elblue6 my babies ❤

trevorzegras you managed to hook all the brothers on your line at some point, huh? respect 😉  | trevorzegras but in all seriousness, congratulations to the both of you. the journey to where you are now was far from perfect but you managed to get there and hopefully you’ll stay on that path for the rest of your lives ❤  | yourinstagram that’s the plan trev 😊

user07 can we get some context to the pictures? please?  | yourinstagram of course! first pic: the dinner where he asked me to be his girlfriend, second pic: us goofing off one night a while ago, third pic: a very recent kiss we shared & probably one of my favorites, fourth pic: the most gentleman thing luke offered to do was tie my shoe even though i can do it myself, fifth pic: thought we needed a random kiss pic, last pic: we were at a park and luke decided he needed a nap. he looks so cute, don’t you think? 😊

jackhughes picture perfect couple. so glad you finally posted about it. was starting to feel like i had to do it myself 😂

Liked by jackhughes, yourinstagram, _quinnhughes and 398,914 others

lhughes_06 | you have my whole heart and i plan on giving you the whole world next 🌎❤   tagged: yourinstagram

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jamie.drysdale the goofiest and also sweetest couple i have ever known 😊

jackhughes remember the rule, luke. break her heart and you’ll have to deal with me and quinn 😏  | lhughes_06 luckily i don’t plan on breaking her heart 👍🏻 besides, i am not scared of you. quinn maybe but not you 😂

trevorzegras the luckiest dude alive honestly 😏  | yourinstagram right? 😉

user12 i really love seeing this 😊

colecaufield was actually not expecting this but i love it

edwards.73 you guys are such a perfect couple

bboeser love this a lot. never seen either of you so happy before 😊

_quinnhughes you’ve got the best girlfriend ever so if you screw this up, i will never forgive you 😏

user04 the boys being incredibly protective of y/n makes me wish i knew someone like them 😔 they’re perfect

elblue6 soulmates 🥰

user08 so luke how did you finally make it official? we need to know  | lhughes_06 it’s a long story  | yourinstagram when i got back from vancouver, he made me a nice romantic dinner and he got me a ring i've been wanting forever. then he made a big speech about how much he loved me and he started rambling so i shut him up with a kiss and then he asked me 😊  | user08 awe so cute 😊

Liked by lhughes_06, yourinstagram, _quinnhughes and 399,817 others

jackhughes | you guys, this was BEFORE they started dating. we decided to take the boat out one night and they sat like this the entire time  tagged: lhughes_06, yourinstagram

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_quinnhughes they’ve always been super close so it can’t really be a surprise that this happened 😊

lhughes_06 in our defense, it was the first time in a while we had actually been able to see each other. i was not about to let the opportunity pass me by again ❤

edwards.73 they’re lucky they’re a cute couple

nicohischier 😊

trevorzegras if they weren’t such a cute couple, i would hate how lovey-dovey they are 😊

colecaufield this was the trip that you broke up with julia, wasn’t it?  | jackhughes yes. couldn’t stand her hating on my best friend anymore. had to be done  | yourinstagram oh so i'm your best friend now? how sweet 🥺🥰  | jackhughes oh don’t act so surprised. you've known this forever 🙄

user13 and people ask me why my standards are so high. i mean you broke up with your girlfriend because she didn’t like y/n, both you and quinn as well as a few other hockey boys are so protective of y/n and have threatened to kick luke’s ass if he hurts her, and luke does anything for her. she deserves happiness and you guys are doing everything you possibly can to make sure she feels loved. And that is why my standards are so high ❤  | yourinstagram they just do what any guy is supposed to do when they care. if nobody can show you that same amount of love, then they don’t deserve you. you deserve happiness too, love 😊❤

user09 i love that y/n gets along with not just the other hockey boys, but the fans as well. she is truly the best  | lhughes_06 the love of my life for sure ❤

taglist: @worldlxvlys @bunbunbl0gs @jacktoria4ever @callsignwidow

[traumxrei-archive]

【 stepping toe to toe with you 】

prompt #2: They were dancing together but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and now they were both standing here, awkwardly staring at each other (ft. jade leech, trey clover, ace trappola)

gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 860 words

a/n: hello it is so late i wanna sleep but i was also determined to post this today. so here we are. if there are spelling mistakes forgive me everyone, but i hope you enjoy :D

Jade Leech

Jade was never one for dancing, per se, but a very enthusiastic Prefect looking at him with puppy eyes was a good enough incentive as any.

"C'mon Jade-senpai," You said, tugging him to the middle of the hall. "They don't have parties like this everyday." And you were right, parties seldom happened in Mostro Lounge. But he was Jade Leech after all. He could indulge in you for a few minutes of mindless dancing.

That was until the music drastically shifted into a slow song. Jade froze. He swore that he saw Floyd standing near the sound booth with a smug smile on his face.

"Do you know how to ballroom dance, senpai?"

"Regrettably, I do not," Jade said shortly.

"Well, do you want to try?" With such an expectant smile on your face, how was Jade to refuse?

It wasn't long before Jade was flushing down his neck after stepping on your feet for the nth time.

"For someone who moves elegantly, your coordination is terrible," You teased and Jade was mentally preparing to roast Floyd on a spit.

"If you'd like to dance, Floyd would be happy to accompany you," Jade reasoned quickly. "He is more than competent dancer—."

"Senpai~" You drew out the last syllable, tugging till he was chest-to-chest with you. "It's you that I want to dance with, okay?"

And Jade shut up at that. His hand squeezed yours as he clumsily continued to blunder through the steps. Maybe dancing wasn't so bad, especially if it was with you.

Trey Clover

Trey had never been the one to listen to music in the kitchen, but you were. That was exactly why he was getting tugged along with you in a clumsy sort of dance. You laughed when he narrowly avoided bumping into a counter.

"Wow, senpai, where'd you learn those moves?" You asked, the teasing light on your tongue. He flushed lightly at the words, before grabbing your arm and pulling you into a spin.

"Give a guy a break," Trey mumbled, eyeing the clock. "I'm trying not to burn the cake."

"If it burns, then can I eat it?"

He sighed as you tugged him into another spin, "I spoil you too much."

That was when the music shuffled into a soft, orchestral tune. He froze in his spot, his hand lamely limp in yours are he looked everywhere but at you.

That was when you let go, bowing deeply, "Ahem, may I have this dance, Sir Clover?"

Trey took one look at the grin on your face and placed his hand in yours, "I hope you know how to lead, because I'm not well-versed in ballroom dancing."

You laughed, bright and colorful, "All you gotta do is hold on to me, alright, senpai?"

"Alright," Trey's reply was almost automatic, his heart fluttering. "I'll make sure never to let go." It sounded like a promise. And it was. It was a promise he was intent on keeping, after all.

Ace Trappola

Ace was having the time of his life. There was a smirk on his face as he entwined his fingers with yours, leading you through the crowd.

"Ace Trappola! We're– We just left all the others behind!" You scolded over the noise of the crowd.

"Oops, my bad," Ace said, clearly not feeling bad at all. "Those boring losers didn't even want to dance."

Your brows furrowed, "Those 'boring losers' are gonna end up getting kidnapp—"

"Relax," Ace drawled, pulling you into a spin. "Have some faith in Jack, will ya? 'Sides, it'd be a crime not to dance, Prefect." You looked two seconds from hitting him with a tirade of insults but he watched as your shoulders slumped.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Ace hummed the familiar tune, watching as you finally started loosening up. That was when he heard a voice booming over the speakers, "Alright folks, we got a request from Trappola Sucks to put on a slow song! Hope you enjoy it, Trappola Sucks!"

The song shifted to a slower one and you all but laughed, "Fifty thaumarks that it was Epel and Deuce."

"This is so not funny," Ace muttered, but he still pulled you closer. All the others around you had paired up, and he would be damned if a stranger came to take you away.

"May I have this dance, Mr. Trappola Sucks?" You asked, and he couldn't help but fondly roll his eyes.

His heart almost jumped up to his throat when he noticed just how close you were to him. Sevens, his palms were sweating.

You huffed out another laugh as you let your head fall on his shoulder, "Where'd all that bravado go? Don't tell me you've finally fallen for my charm?"

Ace pouted and before he could process what he was about to say, he blurted, "So what if I did? Are you gonna do anything about it?"

You hummed, squeezing his palm, "I would take you on a date?" And now Ace wasn't sure who was being swept off their feet. He was sure he confessed, but the way you took initiative made him speechless.

"Is that a yes, Trappola?"

"Fuck you. Of course it's a yes."

thank you so much for reading ! if you liked my work, go and check out my other writings in the masterlist <3

[aroacedm]

ok scum villain update

sorry it took so long i’ve been really busy

why is SQQ planning on “clinging to the protagonists thighs” just be nicer and don’t actively hurt him and you should be fine

ewww old man with young girl

lol easy mode why is that a thing

wow yeah these villains are dumb

why did he have to scare LBH like that couldn’t he have signalled to him it was part of the plan somehow

Ming Fan doesn’t seem to bad when he isn’t bullying LBH i feel kinda bad it’s just how his character was written

ok getting stronger makes sense

oop who's this

yikes that was creepy

so he was supposed to kill Liu Qingge in the original book?

just wanna say love the art style

ok so demons are attacking great

lol first thing he thinks after seeing them is “damn your feet must hurt from walking here barefoot”

ok 3 1v1s makes sense

SQQ is cool and not just because he looks like shi qingxuan

wait but why does LBH have to complete surely he wouldn’t want to

ok Liu Mingyan looks epic love the design

oh damn LBH is such a simp he won a fight because SQQ said he could

HE GOT POISONED?

without a cure is a dumb name

HE DIED????

ok i’ll make another post for chapter 3

[no1frogfan]

Picking Bokuto up from the airport

Bokuto Koutarou x gn reader

Tags & warnings: very mildly sexually suggestive

Word count: ~1.2k

Notes: Oops this started as a 500 word drabble and then I blinked. Attempt FOUR to post this, thank u tags

Your eyes drift from the sea of red tail lights ahead of you to the clock on the dash.

Ugh.

It was risky to take a nap right before you had to leave for the airport. You knew that. You knew you’d probably sleep through your alarm (like always), but who could blame you? You were so tired, and in your stupor, you convinced yourself that it would be fine. But of course it wasn’t.

When your eyes shot open long after your alarm sounded, you’d rocketed out of bed, scrambled to pull some clothes on, and sprinted out of the house 20 minutes later than planned. And in your rush, you’d left your fucking phone on the bedside table.

The cars inch forward a foot or two before coming to a stop.

You tap the steering wheel with an anxious frown, craning your neck to see around the car in front, as if that would help you figure out why traffic is moving at such a glacial pace.

Bokuto’s flight landed half an hour ago. He probably didn’t check any bags, so provided nothing weird happened, he should’ve deplaned and made it to your usual pickup spot by now, which means, as long as traffic thins, he’ll only have to wait an extra — your eyes flit to the clock — 15 minutes.

You can only hope he knows to stay there and wait, even though he’s probably worried about why you’re not answering your phone.

And what’s with all the airport traffic right now? Wednesday morning is hardly prime time for flights, or so you thought. What’s worse, with heavy traffic comes impatient drivers. You’d been almost side-swiped no less than three times already because god forfuckinbid anyone actually check their blind spot before merging instead of just gunning it and hoping for the best.

“-abe!”

The cars crawl forward again and you follow closely. Another couple hundred feet and you’ll be at your usual pickup spot.

“Babe!”

Thankfully, it seems like the congestion is finally clearing up. You keep up with the flow of traffic, one eye on the car in front, and the other scanning the sidewalk for your boyfriend’s distinctive silver-and-black spiked hair. Coupled with his height, he’s usually very conspicuous.

“BABE!!!!!”

Your head snaps toward the familiar voice.

Two lanes away on the sidewalk, jogging apace with your car, is your boyfriend. He waves at you energetically and you point forward, indicating you’ll pull over up ahead as soon as you’re able.

You observe him in the rear view mirror as you unbuckle your seatbelt, watching him dodge suitcases, luggage carts, and other passengers as he makes his way to you.

You’re already bursting out of the car as he runs up. He has just enough time to toss his duffel into the back seat before whirling around to catch you launching yourself at him.

“KOU!! I’m-” Before you can get an apology out, Bokuto’s arms wrapping around you squeezes the air right out of your lungs.

“Babe! I’m so happy to see you! Kariya and Osaka were amazing!” He blurts out, bursting to tell you about his trip, “We got to play a bunch of practice matches against the Stings and the Sunbirds! The Stings have this incredible setter Kawahigashi, his sets remind me a lot of Akaashi’s actually, but his personality is completely different, and the Sunbirds have some super strong outside hitters, Fujinaka especially — Do you remember meeting him when we were on the national team together? — and they also have this super young outside now, De Armas, and wow he’s…”

Cheek pressed into his chest, huffing a lungful of his body wash mixed with the slight tang of sweat, enveloped in the warmth that creeps through the thin, long-sleeve compression shirt he likes to wear for flights (if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was purposefully making himself look extra delectable), a dopey smile crosses your face while you listen to his excited rambling.

Taking one more deep breath, you cut him off with a kiss. “Missed you Kou.”

He flashes you a brilliant smile. “I missed you too, baby!”

“We should probably go. We’re holding up the line.”

“Ok but,” Bokuto proudly whips out a black gift bag from who knows where, “open this first!”

“How about I open it when we get home?”

Evidently, that’s not good enough because he reaches inside the bag himself, pushing aside glittery silver tissue paper to pull out some folded black material. You stare at it perplexed as he delicately unfurls the fabric, absolutely vibrating while he reveals the most exquisite piece of lingerie you have ever seen.

Bokuto holds it up for display. Only in the light can you truly appreciate the stunning combination of blacks — textured matte leather, smooth shiny silk, fine mesh panels.

He’s all giddy excitement when he urges, “Try it on when we get home?”

Before you can respond or even nod, your attention is attracted by some yelling nearby.

Instinctively, you turn, only to see an audience of people staring back at you, some laughing, some holding up their phones, some hooping and hollering. Slowly, slowly, your brain is spurred into motion, looking around, deciphering the shouts, the staring, the growing crowd, but it all seems like a normal day at the airport, so—

Oh god — you’re at the airport.

You snatch the lingerie out of Bokuto’s hands, “Oh my- KOUTAROU!” and hastily stuff it back in the bag.

“You don’t like it?” He shrinks, crestfallen.

“No! Yes! Oh my god, KOU it’s not- you can’t just- you can’t just pull lingerie out at the airport!”

“Why not?”

“Because!” You sputter, trying your best now to push him into the car.

About halfway in, his movements come to an abrupt halt and you see his eyes widen in sudden understanding. “Ohhhh.”

“Yes, oh.” You grumble. At least he finally gets it.

“I’m sorry babe. But don’t worry, I understand. Akaashi explained this to me before.”

Now you’re the one confused about how Akaashi could possibly know your boyfriend would do something like this. That is, until he continues solemnly, “He said that lots of people are self-conscious about their bodies, so I have to make sure to compliment you and let you know that I think you’re attractive.”

And with that, he takes a deep breath and cries out, “I THINK YOU’RE SEXY!”

The thing with airports is that they’re built with a lot of glass and steel and cement. A lot of hard surfaces. Hard surfaces that reflect sound very well, you discover, when his declaration continues to echo an almost comically long time after he’s finished shouting, after he squeezes your hand reassuringly, after he puffs out his chest, clearly proud of himself.

“Oh my god Kou, that’s not why- just- get in the car!”

You beat a hasty retreat to the driver’s side as cheers and applause break out.

When you eventually get on the highway, and your face stops feeling so flush, and your heart stops beating so erratically, you finally answer him.

“I’d love to try it on when we get home.”

Electricity courses through you when he reaches over, eagerly kneading the fat of your inner thigh in anticipation.

[rocketboots564]

Here is part one of my thoughts, notes, and reactions to Red Versus Blue Season 9 as a first time watcher!

Yes, I have heard the news about Rooster Teeth. No I will not let that stop me from binging this series one way or another!

The rest of each individual season will be posted separately instead of being a reblog of the first post… mainly because I saw how egregiously long my post on season 8 was.

Season 9 Part 1:

Epsilon… what do you mean nobody’s called you “Director” in a really long time? Sir, season 8 was probably just a couple months ago… I think…

I don’t know how much time has passed from S8 to S9

FIRST OF ALL TUCKER, CHURCH IS CABOOSE’S BEST FRIEND

Wait… how can you get winded if you’re an AI. I mean I know Epsilon is in a memory unit, but does that mean he relives everything in a human body too?

It does make sense that Epsilon doesn’t really know how to use a Rifle. Sure, Church (or Alpha? Imma stick with church) didn’t know how to properly use it either, but he did know how to adjust the scope.

“Torqued in my pants” pffft…

WOAH TUCKER?! You did WHAT IN ALONE TIME? WHAT THE HELL’S “ALONE TIME”? 😦

Erm… what the Metal Gear? I unironically love this stealth mission thing. And knowing South Dakota… I wonder how long it’ll take for this to go tits up…

I’m betting five to ten minutes

also, YESS THE BIG BUCKS BUDGET OF ANIMATED CG SCENES RETURNS.

South MY GOD LISTEN UP?! HAVE YOU NEVER PLAYED ANY STEALTH GAME?! Set up the MOTION DECTETORS!!!

As someone who’s had years of experience sneaking past light sleepers in the dead of night for snacks and video games… I could do this better than you South Dakota.

SOUTH THIS IS WHY WE SET OUR SOLITON RADAR!!! I mean motion detectors… sorry I got Metal Gear Solid on the brain

MY GOD THE ANIMATION?! THE TAG TEAMING?! What happened that got South Dakota to eventually abandon North Dakota?

I too could take 50 of them South… in a fight… definitely a fight

Oop I saw that in the background! Who’s that?!

OOH THEY BAITED ME WITH THE BLACK ARMOR! They almost made me think it Tex… it’s actually well… whoever this cyan lady is

Supportive Sarge? He WANTS to hear the blue perspective? He DOESN’T want to command and yell at his subordinates?

GRIF? CLEANING? Actually I could get behind Maid Grif.

“I actually like being talked down to” woah WOAH SIMMONS?! 🤨 real, me too…

I mean… at least Donut’s still kept his accidental yet somewhat intentional innuendos. And, also his diary apparently…

Damn SHUT UP SOUTH DAKOTA! SHUT UP!! NOBODY HEAR WANTS TO HEAR YOUR SHIT!

North? WHOAH ANIMATED FACES?! NORTH DAKOTA WITH THE CLUTCH!!

Medics = bad luck. Honestly… yeah for you guys they are.

THE PHOTOSHOPPED WET FLOOR SIGN AND MOP IS KILLING ME

The ultimate OTP battle: Caboose x Sheila versus Caboose x Email

Listen… Tucker… never in a million years will I ever call you Professor Fuck

Damn the Freelancer Program only has ranked mode? No wonder they’re all assholes

CONNECTICUT? SHE’S CT? Yeah I can see why you’re so mad about your low rank… you’ll get your shit rocked by Professor Fuck of all people. Fuck it… it’s a funny name

So like… you know you’ve got absolutely dogshit rizz when Caboose has a better shot at dating someone than you.

Speaking of which… Caboose is now in my top 5 of the most dateable guys in this show. Like take this quote from him:

“I just really want to meet someone nice. Someone who appreciates me for who I am not so much because I’m pretty but because they really want to get to know me…”

HOW HAS THIS MAN NOT WOOED THE HEARTS OF THOUSANDS?

Tucker has NO rizz…

Oh wow Epsilon, just drop the existential dread on your teammates like that with no warning. It is a damn good thing your teammates either don’t understand it or don’t care.

Huh… seems even in a memory unit in which everyone is different fate still finds a way to make Grif lazy and sarcastic again.

Then again, that’s kinda happening with the rest of Red Team as well, minus Simmons and Lopez

Also, LOPEZ IS BACK! And this time is immediately beefing with Simmons… or rather the other way around.

“I’ll show you who’s likable and funny, and who people like” SIMMONS BABY ITS YOU! YOUR THE ONE I LOVE! YOUR THE ONE I NEED!

I just like Simmons… a perfectly normal amount…

Conclusion: this season already fucking ROCKS I LOVE IT! HOLY SHIT THIS IS AWESOME!

[melanieph321]

Hiya, love your work so far and the other Ruben pregnancy piece. Could I please request one with Ruben where reader is pregnant and maybe someone has made a comment about her appearance and Ruben picks up on her mood and helps her through it, with some bump fluff? Thank you 🩷

I got you boo! ❤️ However it turned out more explicit than I intended. Oops🙈

Ruben Dias x Reader - Believe me

+18

Enjoy!

It was subtle and they thought you couldn't hear them.

"She's just with him for the money. I mean didn't she get pregnant after three months of knowing him?"

"I think just two months. I remember when Ruben started posting her on Instagram."

"Wow, in that case what a gold digger."

"And that dress she wore, like what was she thinking?"

"Right. I would never wear a dress that revealing if I was carrying a child, so unclassy."

It was funny how these fancy events sometimes worked, you thought. People would come up to you and Ruben, congratulating Ruben on his success with Manchester and you on your six months pregnancy. People would smile and be polite but as soon as you turned your back on them the whispers began. This time whilst you occupied yourself in the ladies restroom.

"Anyway it is a matter of time before Ruben will leave her."

"Right, he hasn't even proposed to her yet and she's carrying his child for god sakes."

You kept quiet whilst eavesdropping from your toilet booth. Once the two girls, complete strangers to you, left the restroom, you spilled out of the toiletbooth with tears in your eyes. You were quick to wipe them away though, knowing Ruben was waiting for you to return.

"There you are." He said as you returned from the restroom, make up in tact. "Ready to go?"

"Yes let's go home." You lead the way to the car.

"Should we pick up some McDonald's on the way?" Ruben said, whilst helping you fastened your seatbelt over your swollen belly.

You frowned "You don't eat McDonald's Ruben."

"I know." He chuckled. "But you do and you didn't seem to like the dinner they were serving tonight, so I thought..."

"I'm good Ruben. Let's just go home."

Silence fell in the car. Ruben looked to you with furrowed brows, but made the choice to ignore your foul mood. Perhaps he thought you were just tired from the long night. At least he was.

"Home it is." He said and put the car into drive.

Too bad for Ruben that your foul mood followed you home. You took forever in the bathroom removing your make up. But also shifting in the mirror yet to remove your, apparently, too revealing dress.

"Y/N?"

Ruben suprised you in the doorframe. He was already dress for bed, wearing his gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

"Yes?" You didn’t turn away from the mirror to look at him.

"I made you some sandwiches downstairs, if you'd like to have them before bed?"

You turned your head in suprise. "But I said I wasn't hungry?"

"I know what you said." He smiled. "But I also know that what you said wasn't the truth."

"Ruben." Somthing came over you, a warm feeling spreading warmth all over your body. Ruben knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

He stepped into the bathroom, leaning against the wall behind you, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

"Why are still wearing that dress?" He frowned.

You lowered your head and shrugged your shoulders.

"Y/N" He said, pushing himself off the wall.  "What's wrong?"

You shook your head. "Nothing."

"You sure?" He railed you in with his arm around your waist, pinning your back against his front, this way forcing you to meet your reflection in the mirror.

"I feel so out of place." You whispered.

"What?" Ruben tilted his head.

You wiped your nose that had begun to run. "I just wish it was just you and me sometimes. Just you and me, without the worlds judging eyes on us."

"Y/N, did somthing happen earlier tonight?" He truned you over to face him, your back now resting against the bathroom sink.

"I don't want to talk about it." You sighed.

"It would be better if you did." He said, wrapping his arms around you, bringing you in for a tight hug.

"I know, but I just don't want to. At least not now, not tonight."

"Okay." He whispered, lips caressing your ear. He pulled you back a little, letting his eyes drop below your chin.

"What?" You said, feeling a bit exposed with the big cleavage on your dress.

"Did I tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight?" He frowned.

"Yes." You nodded. "About a hundred times before we left the house and a hundred more times a the event."

"But did you believe me?" He raised a brow.

You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Well why not?" He frowned.

"Because..." You opened your mouth to say something more. Perhaps tell him about what those girls in the bathroom said about you. However you decided not to, closing you mouth to Rubens disapointment. He went back to wrapping his arms around you, almost smothering you with his tight hug.

"What must I do for you to believe me when I tell you that you look gorgeous?"

"I dunno?" You buried your face in the crease of his neck. "I don't think I'll ever feel gorgeous or sexy being the same size as a full grown seal."

Rubens shoulders shrugged as he chuckled. His hands went to rest on top of your belly, with his forhead brushing against yours.

"So that's what were having then. Not a girl, not a boy. A baby seal?"

"Yes, a baby seal" You smiled.

Ruben looked at you with alot of love in his eyes and suddenly whatever had caused you to be in such a foul mood tonight seemed to vanish in an instant, just like that.

"Does that make me a Papa seal?" He said, bending down to kiss your lips.

"Yes, a Papi seal." You pulled at his neck to bring him down for another kiss. You gasped as his hands suddenly went from your belly to your thighs, lifting you up to sit on the bathroom sink.

"Ruben." You groaned, chest rising with the sudden excitement.

"How would mama seal like to have here Papi seal?" He said, voice horase as his lips brushed against your neck.

"I would like to have him right here." You nodded. "Between my legs, in the bathroom.

"As you wish." He jerked your body forwards, his full fledged erection crashed into your center.

"Fuck Ruben." You moaned.

"Trust me, I'll fuck you." He said, raising his hips a little to tease you with his wood.

"Ruben please." You squinted your eyes and desperatly clinged onto his neck. Rubens hands disappeared underneath your dress to pull your panties down your legs.

"I want you in my mouth." He said, kissing your knee.

"Yes. Oh God please." You felt a throbbing between your thighs. It was getting worser with Ruben kneeling down to be eyelevel with the sink.

"Fuck."

He buried his face between your thighs without warning, causing your back to slumped down against the mirror.

"Oh Ruben."

You felt his warm tounge lick you in the right places, causing your legs to tremble. It was a bit embarrassing, but with Ruben you weren't able to contain yourself as you were with your previous boyfriends. With Ruben between your legs, the stars came over you quicker than you wanted to.

"Was it good for you babe?" He asked, wiping his mouth as he came up for air.

You dress had rolled down your body with all the tossing and turning that you did. And now you sat on the sink with a glistering pussy and swollen tits spillning out of your cleavage.

"God, you're a sexy seal." Ruben groaned.

"Shut up and fuck me." You said, pulling him by the t-shirt, helping him remove it over his head. Ruben grabbed your jaw and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. Everything was getting sloppier by the minute. Once he got to pulling himself out of his sweatpants, his cock was already leaking for you.

"Please Ruben, harder." You moaned as he slapped his palms against the bathroom sink, thrusting his hips against you with a force that shook the mirror behind you. Your hands trembled as they tangled themselves up in Ruben's hair, holding on to whatever strand that would hold you down. Once it came to the climax you both arrived together, relaxing against each other as you came down from the high of what you just did.

"Fuck, you're so sexy. So fucking sexy." He siad breathless. But it was nonsense you thought, excusing his words for the ecstasy of post love making. But then he brought you arms length just so he could utter the words again, this time meeting your eyes.

"You believe me don't you?" Rubens hair was tousled up like the twigs on a tree and his lips were plump red from kisses, however he had never looked more beautiful, you thought.

"Yes." You nodded. "I believe you."

[faust-the-enjoyer]

Black and Pink

- A fic inspired by @callsignvoid 's art/post 😍😍😍 please check out its art! (Written with permission ofc.)

"C'mon Keegan, it'll be fun!", you've been trying to convince him to let you paint his nails for the past five minutes, but alas, he's yet to agree.

"No.", his tone's frim. You let out an exasperated sound, "Please, just this once, please?". He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Fine, but this'll be the only time you do this to me, got it?", you nod and smile at him, setting the two nail polish bottles in front of you and instructing him to put his hands out and spread his fingers.

"Black and pink? You've gotta be kidding me. As soon as this dries-" "Yes I know I know, I'll wipe it off with nail polish remover, don't worry. Besides, they won't allow it anyway, old geezer.", you smile at him as you twist the black nail polish bottle open, you can tell he's not really mad at you, even though his mask is covering most of his face. As you start painting his nails, you take one finger, painting one nail, then leaving the next one, until you do both hands. "Made a little mess there.", you can tell he's smirking as he talks. He points to his thumb, where you accidentally got some on his skin instead of his nail.

"Oops, shit, here let me clean it up.", you quickly take his hand and a q-tip, cleaning around the edges with it as best as you can until it looks clean enough. As you twist the bottle closed and twist open the other one, you take his hand and inspect it up close, "Wow, I never expected you to be one to take care of your nails.", they're trimmed nicely and filed as well. He lets out a small chuckle, "I'm a man who likes to take care of himself. Besides, have you ever poked yourself in the eye with long nails before? Hurts pretty bad.", you laugh as he says that, starting to paint his other nails now, a bright pink, you're so sure he'd start whining about the color, but he's surprisingly quiet.

By the time you're done, you twist the bottle closed and put the nail products aside, checking if you need to clean anything up before letting his nails dry. "Was that so bad?", you ask him teasingly and he lets out a tired sigh in response.

He actually ended up leaving them on for the rest of the day under his gloves, you know he liked them, he knew he liked them, but he was just not willing to admit it. The next day, you helped him remove the nail polish from his nails, but on the weekend after, he asked you to paint his nails again.