#and hateful ones are driven by lack of love

[maranull]

anyway, Elden Ring is about love and hope

Marika burns everything she has build out of sorrow

Ranni banishes the Outer Gods and also fucks off the Lands, giving agency back to the normal beings of the Lands

Fortissax endlessly fights Death for his friend/lover

Melina burns herself and Erdtree in hopes of a better world in the hands of the Tarnished

Blaidd fights against the very reason he was created out of love for his sister

Ranni and Rykard always keep an eye on their mother, protecting her

Radahn evokes so much love from his troops that they organise a whole festival to give him a honorable death even in his madness

Radahn learns an entire new school of magic in order to still ride his favourite horse

Boc's love for his mother, his mother's love for him

How all but two endings are build on the hope that this new era (whatever it might be) will be good

Miquella attempting to create an whole new world-tree to host the forsaken and the damned

Miquella turning on the faith he was raised and even believed in to an extent, when it was unable to cure his sister's curse

The Cleanrot's loyalty to Malenia and their endurance of the Rot, only to stay in her service

Malenia marching through the entire continent in search of her brother

Finlay traveling all the way back on her own, carrying the incapacitated demigod on her back

Tanith's love for Rya

Dialos' entire questline

Edgar being driven mad after his daughter dies

Vyke embracing, to a point, the Frenzied Flame in order to save his finger maiden

or you know, that's just how I see it

#elden ring #i'm simplifying a lot in this #but that's the story #to me #it follows the pattern of the ds series too #where the world was miserable and depressing #yet the main theme was hope and perseverance #with elden ring we got so many more characters and as such love began playing a bigger part too #and you can't really have interesting characters without their actions being driven by love and hope #or lack thereof #even power-hungry characters are driven by the hope of reaching the power “level” they want #and hateful ones are driven by lack of love #or so i think

[ct-hardcase]

In terms of Inquisitor stories I'm hoping that we potentially get someday, I'm looking forward to seeing how the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother's dynamic got established. While we don't know much about them as a duo before rebels, it's been established that if they're in the same room, they're near each other (be it fighting or just in each other's presence), and they also hate the other's guts. We also know, based on their sparring together in Vader (2017) and their appearance in Rise of the Red Blade (also sparring together and/or Seventh heckling Fifth while around Iskat) that they've been at it since 19BBY and kept it up until 3BBY, which, especially considering the backstabby nature of the inquisitorius, is a long time!

I do ship them, so clearly my questions about/view of them has a bit of a romantic and/or sexual tinge to it, but even completely in the context of a platonic relationship, the question of why those two gravitate to each other fascinates me, given everything else we know about them as characters and how they interact with the other inquisitors.

There's quite a bit of evidence for this on Fifth's end—he doesn't take shit from Reva or Iskat, and the only inquisitor he shows true fealty/respect to is the Grand Inquisitor. Seventh, whether or not you take stock in the numerical rank system, doesn't outrank him, and she'll also openly confront him, so there are similarities among her, Reva, and Iskat in that none of the three of them are doormats. Notably, one could also assume Fifth's attitude skews a bit misogynistic, as he doesn't seem to have the same issues with Eighth or Tualon based on what little we get of those dynamics, but that's a different post.

We've gotten less of Seventh's dynamic with a variety of inquisitors given her comparative lack of content compared to him (not that I'm bitter), but she's clearly headstrong, smart, cruel, and isn't afraid to push others under the bus in order to gain the upper hand in a situation for revenge. Given all this, it's notable that despite their arguing, she consistently works with Fifth and spars with him (which, even Iskat notes that sparring with Seventh is sort of terrifying). Clearly, Seventh's willing to put up with him as much as he's willing to put up with her. Since she isn't that different from Reva and Iskat, all things considered, what was The Thing that did makes Seventh and Fifth tolerate, and even gravitate toward, each other?

Obviously, I have my own ideas for why (up to and including "they want to jump each other's bones about it"), but in terms of guessing what canon may do? I'd estimate that when the two first meet (and they're probably among the earliest to do so/the earlier initiates), Seventh takes Fifth's surliness less personally than the other inquisitors and makes it more into banter, keeps pushing him back. This pisses him off, but the fact that she doesn't back down draws him in, both as a rival and otherwise. Given the fact that he's dyed-in-the-wool committed to the inquisitor cause and less fazed about evildoing, her propensity for cruel and unusual violence may not bother him as much as it would the others. The two of them coming as a set may be process of elimination as much as it is being drawn to the other, honestly.

This bit also didn't really fit anywhere else, but what cements their dynamic as different to me is something I noticed while watching Rebels, where despite the fact that Seventh almost always takes point on missions (and in notable contrast to owk, he usually lets her), the two have what seems to be an unspoken agreement that Fifth is the one interacting with imperial leadership and Vader. By the end, they clearly know each other, even through pointed barbs.

#star dorks #inquisitorius tag #r: always two #idk their dynamic is so good and despite evolving canon and more characters always rings as one of the most interesting #and honestly I was wondering to myself that if Iskat and Tualon are an item does that diminish them? #but honestly I love pitting Seventh and Fifth in contrast to them #each couple works as a foil in multiple directions #(fifth and tualon loving their dangerous women and being led by them #seventh and iskat taking power in knowing this is true #fifth and iskat being power-hungry volunteers and driven but with the loyalty to the cause being their fracture. #fifth SEEING iskat and knowing what she has with tualon and thinking they're so unbearably stupid but envying it so much it aches #tualon and seventh both having been irrevocably fucked up by the process on nur/HQ but being good inquisitors despite it all) #and iskat and tualon could eventually put love to their words #I think fifth and seventh did keep an ember of hate generally stoked #they never loved as deeply and it's what kept them alive #something something the opposite of love isn't hate it's apathy #crossposted from twitter but this has director's commentary due to lack of character limit #the fact that they were included in rotrb is a relief bc I was genuinely wondering if dlf was going to leave their dynamic in the dust #sw headcanons

[hajiberry]

VOICE-MEMOS THEY SEND WHEN THEYRE DRUNK

Kirishima- “baaaaaaabe, hiii I’m out and well I mean I’m not really out anymore I’m on my way home. In an Uber cause no drunk driving duhhhhhh but actually I’m not even drunk so I actually could’ve driven but somebody I won’t name names was being a bit of an asshat and wouldn’t let me drive. But oh my god I love yousomuch like you know I love my guys but god I miss you every time I go out. And yes I know I’ll see you when I get home but your gonna be sleeping and I’m gonna be sad but honestly might wake you up because I wanna kiss you. Okaaay pulling up to to the cribbb noww BYYE”

Deku- “okay let me start by saying I’m only slightly under the influence right now. Like honestly barely, I didn’t even drink that much but sometimes I feel like because I never had a college experience to build my tolerance up I’m still a lightweight at 24 but anyways I’m on the way home and I keep thinking about how much I love you and I miss you so much and oh my god I don’t know what I’d do if we ever broke up. Not that I want that to ever happen but like oh my god how could I even function? I’d probably drop from number 1 to like in the hundreds 'cause I’d be that useless without you.” *starts crying and the rest of the audio message is him crying*

Todoroki - “y/n, I’m currently in midoriyas car because he’s driving me home because I accidentally drank too much at the after-party for the award show. I’m so sad you couldn’t come, like I know the anniversary party for your parents is really important that’s why I’m flying out tomorrow to be there for it. Shit, that was a secret. I hope you don’t listen to this because then you’ll know I’m on a plane coming to see you in like 3 hours. Honestly don’t know how I’m going to function hungover on an airplane but I think I’ll manage, I mean it’s not like it’s a commercial flight so I should be good. Damn it well I was originally going to say I love and miss you. Which still stands but I’m gonna go now because I think I’m going to throw up” “TODOROKI NOT IN MY CAR PLEASE”

Bakugou- “fuck. I’m so drunk right now and I hate even admitting that but that’s how shit-faced I am right now that I can even admit that I’m drunk. This is why I should never go out with my idiot friends, they make me drink and then I end up talking about you and that’s so beyond embarrassing. Not that you’re embarrassing I just don’t need them to know my business like that. Kirishimas driving me home right now which I feel like speaks volumes about my lack of good judgment right now. I don’t even know what the point of this message is I just wanted to say you’re one of the most tolerable person I’ve ever met and I really fucking love you. Okay bye this idiots smiling at what I’m saying and it’s creeping me out.

#my hero x reader #my hero headcanons #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia fic #kirishima eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima headcanon #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #deku x reader #deku x y/n #deku fanfic #deku scenarios #izuku midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki headcanons #todoroki fluff #izuku x you #izuku midoryia x you #izuku midoriya imagine #todoroki x y/n

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part one

part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: none

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: coryo is the type of person i sincerely hate and i'm glad that there are no such arrogant people in my life, who think they are better than others and who in crisis situations only care about themselves and to save their own arse. but at the same time i'm aware that young snow could be someone i'd catch a crush on at school. so why shouldn't i hate him even more?

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: you told me to tag you everywhere, so i'm back to doing it again; @wolfmoonmusic

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The problem with snow is its tendency to melt, mirroring the way we once thought our feelings would endure forever. Yet, shouldn't emotions, particularly those nestled in our hearts, last longer?

You had known Coriolanus since childhood, and your families had always been close. You had grown up together, surviving the hardships of the war-torn Capitol side by side, and now, in the post-war era, you were still inseparable. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you going above a simple friendship. Your connection ran deep, like the roots of the oldest trees in the Panem's forests.

Coriolanus was an intriguing character, a puzzle you had been solving together since you were children. He was the embodiment of Capitol charm, with his perfectly tailored suits, polished manners, and charismatic smile that could sway even the most skeptical of Capitol elites. But you knew that beneath that carefully constructed facade was a mind as sharp as a blade and a heart that carried the weight of his family's fallen reputation.

Yet, when he was with you, it was as if a different side of him emerged. The hard lines on his face softened, and his icy demeanor melted away. With you, he could be himself, unburdened by the expectations of Capitol society. It was a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask, and you cherished those moments even more than your favorite jasmine tea and the cat you found shortly after the war had ended.

You couldn't help but admire his intelligence, his quick wit, and his relentless determination to succeed in a world that often seemed stacked against him. His family's name might have been tarnished, but Coriolanus was determined to reclaim their lost glory. He was driven by a burning ambition that flickered like an eternal flame, and you were his unwavering support, the one who fanned that flame to keep it burning bright.

In your eyes, he was more than the sum of his flaws and ambitions. He was the boy you had shared secrets with under moonlit skies, the man who had held you when the world crumbled around you, and the person who knew you better than anyone else. With him, you felt safe, cherished, and loved in a way that no one else could replicate.

Your love for him was boundless, and you were content in the knowledge that you were his confidante, the one person he could be truly vulnerable with. Your relationship with Coriolanus was the envy of many in academy, a seemingly perfect match of two souls intertwined by fate and affection. You were the golden couple, a shining example of love and devotion in a world that often lacked both.

But you wished you had known sooner that it's often the things we love most that destroy us, as Coriolanus Snow's world was about to collide with that of a girl named Lucy Gray and you were not ready for it to happen.

As the day of the tribute's arrival approached, you had been by Coriolanus's side more than ever. The weeks leading up to this moment had been filled with your unwavering support. You had reassured him countless times, sitting together in your cozy bedroom, his head resting gently on your thighs while you combed your fingers through his soft blonde curls. It was a calming gesture, one that had become a comforting routine. You listened to his concerns, his fears, and his ambitions, and you were sure that everything would be fine, that he would be just perfect as a mentor, and that his scholarship and dreams of continuing his studies at the university were within reach.

Your words were like a soothing melody to him, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this daunting new role. He would look into your eyes with his cold ones, filled with gratitude, and you could see the weight lifting from his shoulders, if only temporarily. And in those moments, you felt like his anchor, the one who kept him grounded amid the chaos of his own thoughts.

Now, you both stood at the nearly deserted train station, the oppressive heat of the day hanging heavily in the air. The scorching sun beat down relentlessly, casting shimmering waves of heat across the empty platform. It seemed that most of the Capitol's citizens had chosen to stay indoors, seeking refuge from the sweltering weather.

The only other souls present were a handful of stoic peacekeepers, their pristine white uniforms stark against the dull backdrop of the station. The silence was broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond, a reminder of the bustling Capitol life that lay just outside the station's borders.

Coriolanus tightly held a single white rose plucked from his grandmother's garden, a symbol of his intent to make a lasting impression on his tribute. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of your academy uniforms. The simplicity of the white rose spoke of his sincerity and dedication to this new role as mentor.

With no clear timetable for the tribute train's arrival, the two of you stood patiently, pretending that the day's weather didn't bother you, the weight of uncertainty hanging over you like a heavy cloud. Coriolanus shifted his gaze between the tracks and the single white bloom in his hand.

You observed him closely, and when his gaze finally met yours, you offered a reassuring smile. “Remember, Coryo,” you murmured, “no matter what, you'll be the mentor she needs; your sincerity and kindness will shine through.”

“I hope you're right, Y/N,” he replied softly, his voice filled with a hint of doubt. “I need her to survive on the arena as long as she can,” he added, as if the idea of a group of vulnerable youths engaging in brutal competition in just a few days were the most ordinary occurrence in the world.

But that was precisely what it represented for the Capitol residents – the Hunger Games, an annual spectacle of entertainment.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly under the unrelenting sun, and the station remained eerily devoid of any signs of life. It felt as though hours had passed, but in truth, you couldn't be sure. Beads of perspiration formed on your brows, and you could feel the heat radiating from the platform's surface.

You and Coriolanus were on the verge of giving up and returning to the cool embrace of your penthouses when, at long last, the distant rumble of an oncoming train reached your ears. The sound grew steadily louder, and you looked at each other, exchanging tired glances.

Coriolanus's grip on the white rose tightened as he turned his gaze towards the approaching train. As he rose from the bench where you had sat, his anticipation peaked. You stood beside him, wanting to be his support, but you had no idea that your role was about to change very soon.

The train pulled into the station with a hiss of steam and the screech of brakes, billowing clouds of moisture and smoke into the scorching air. The two of you watched the machine in silent, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the moment when you would come face to face with people from the Districts, individuals whose lives were so far removed from the opulence and extravagance of your own. It was a rare and humbling experience, one that left you with a slight quiver in your step as you clung to Coriolanus, seeking solace in his reassuring presence.

For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. The train's doors remained sealed shut, as if holding its cargo of tributes in a reluctant embrace. The only thing that reached you was an unpleasant stench wafting from the carriages, a stark reminder of the grim reality that these young souls were about to face.

Finally the impatient peacekeepers took matters into their own hands. They descended upon the train, their authoritative presence enough to scare the tributes out of their temporary sanctuary. One by one, they were herded onto the platform, their expressions ranging from fear to defiance.

And then, your eyes locked onto a figure unlike the others. A girl stood there, her presence a stark contrast to the muted palettes of others tributes. She wore a rainbow-colored dress that shimmered with vibrancy, a flare of color and individuality amidst the sea of old attire. You recognized her immediately from the television screens, a girl whose name had already become a part of your daily life even before this encounter.

Lucy Gray Baird.

The very name whispered in the hushed tones of Capitol citizens as they watched her on the screens, intrigued and fascinated by her enigmatic presence from the Reaping. Her gaze swept across the platform, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked onto each other's.

You couldn't help but break into a warm, welcoming smile. With a cheerful wave of your hand, you signaled to her that both you and Coriolanus were eagerly awaiting her arrival, hoping to ease the initial tension of this life-altering moment.

Lucy Gray's response was a hesitant yet appreciative smile in return. Her steps were slow and cautious as she walked slowly toward you, a palpable sense of curiosity radiated from her, her eyes flitting between the unfamiliar faces that lined the platform.

Your gaze briefly shifted to Coriolanus, a subtle expectation in your heart that his eyes would mirror the warmth you felt. But when you looked at him, you noticed something different. It was as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to Lucy Gray, locked onto her with a nearly unwavering intensity that bordered on fixation. Those eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now held an expression you had never quite seen before. It was as though he had stumbled upon a priceless museum exhibit, left captivated, awestruck, and undeniably intrigued.

A soft, knowing smile played at the corners of your lips, silently acknowledging his reaction to the girl before you. You gently squeezed his hand, a gesture of affection and solidarity. You understood that this moment bore immense significance for him, that he was on the corner of a journey filled with unforeseen challenges. Lucy Gray was the keynote of this new chapter in his life, and you couldn't help but admire her from a distance, captivated by her unique presence and the aura that surrounded her.

Before you could utter a word, Coriolanus took a determined step forward, his eyes still locked on the girl. He extended his hand, offering her the pristine white rose he had clutched throughout the wait and with a subtle nod, he greeted her in a tone that resonated with formality and welcome.

“Welcome to the Capitol.”

part two »

#do you hear that? it's the sound of snow falling #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games headcanon #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #10th hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow scenario #established relationship #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games headcanon #hunger games x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #x reader #x y/n

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinkmas (11)- The Grinch Who Stole Her Heart

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary: When a certain witch discovers your hate for Christmas, she can't help but try her best into convincing you to love the festive season.

Word Count: 10.8k 

Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Christmas Fluff, Flirting, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Christmas Decorating, Gingerbread houses, Ice Skating, Snowball Fights, Soft Smut, First time, Inexperienced Wanda/Experienced Reader, Fingering, Praise, Confessions, Aftercare 

Kinkmas Masterlist

---

Gentle chatter and a tranquil, festive atmosphere wrapped around the common room of the compound like a warm, cosy blanket, most of the team bunched up on various sofas with snacks ready in hand, waiting for Wanda to finally press the play button to start Home Alone on the big screen.

The witch, however, was not ready to start the movie, her eyes flickering over the content and excited faces of the team, searching for one individual in particular.

You.

Where were you?

"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked, puzzled, the soft murmur in the room going quiet, curious and confused gazes meeting one another at the brunette's question, apprehensive to tell the truth.

Natasha carefully placed down the bowl of popcorn that was in her lap, inadvertently stopping Clint from stealing more of the treat which made him grumble a little, the redhead looking between the rest of the team, not wanting to dampen the young woman's mood.

It had become abundantly clear over the last few days and since the start of December that Wanda was in love with the idea of Christmas and all the festive traditions, the team having tried their best to keep you away from her, despite the witch subconsciously seeking you out, her mind unable to explain why her heart would flutter in your presence, her mood always being lifted by you.

"Y/n isn't a 'fan' of Christmas," Natasha cautiously phrases her words, not wanting to ruin the mood that was so gratefully appreciated in the room, the uplifted mood of Christmas enabling the mighty Avengers to have some time to relax and spend together as a family.

"What?" Wanda's tone signalling her confusion at how someone could possibly not like Christmas, her head tilting in her usual manner, Pietro speeding from the sofa to stand with his sister, seemingly just as baffled.

"How can she not be a fan of Christmas?" Pietro adds, just as obsessed with the festive season as his sister, his love for it being driven by the sheer amount of food and presents though.

"She just..." Natasha trails off, thinking how to explain your lack of jolliness, her eyes flickering to Clint for a little help. The archer simply shrugs, her leg kicking back at his shin for his lack of usefulness, a small yelp escaping him as he grabs the popcorn bowl, deciding that the food would be a sufficient apology from her.

"She hates it," Tony bluntly puts it, everyone's head turning from the sofas to the billionaire in the kitchen, fixing himself a ridiculously large hot chocolate in the beautifully decorated kitchen, annoyance written across Steve and Natasha's face as they wanted to keep it a peaceful evening.

"She doesn't 'hate' it," Steve tries to reason, his blue eyes flickering towards Sam and Bucky who are disinterested in what's going on, most likely bickering between themselves over who gets more room on the sofa.

"Oh come on Capsicle," Tony teases, Steve's cheeks darkening at the nickname the man uses for him, mumbling under his breath an 'oh god' at the billionaire's mischievous tone. "She hates it. End of. We've all tried to get her to like it but she just refuses to enjoy the Christmas spirit," he says whilst placing his steaming mug down, flopping onto his section of the sofa and asking Friday to lower the lights, wanting to watch the film now. "Now, are we going to watch the film or not?" He asks, clearly not bothered by your absence.

"Not all of us have tried," Wanda says after a moment, tossing the remote to Natasha, hoping she'd somehow keep the boys in check, knowing the chaos the entire team could cause without her magic there to stop objects flying across the room. "Start the film without me," Wanda calls out, walking out of the room, determined to find your room and figure out a way to persuade you into falling in love with the magical season.

Despite not figuring out a plan, the brunette knocks on your door with purpose, waiting outside for you to open up, various thoughts flooding through her mind as she impatiently plays with the rings on her fingers.

Eventually, you open your bedroom door, your brow raising at her current outfit, a smug smirk creeping onto your lips. The Christmas themed pyjamas amused you as you let your eyes wander down the various festive items decorating the fabric, the red and green chequered pants slightly too long for her as they pooled around her ankles, the fluffy socks further entertaining you as you stood in a simple, thin shirt and joggers, a stark contrast to her holiday themed get up.

"What-"

"Why do you hate Christmas?" she asks, enticing green eyes gazing into yours curiously, your eyes widening at her forward question, a soft chuckle escaping you, Wanda unable to stop the swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the sound.

"Why do you love Christmas?" You counter, leaning against the door frame as you see various emotions flicker across her face, your features softening at her adorably annoyed state.

"Why do I love Christmas?" She repeats almost shocked, still baffled at the whole ordeal, "It's just magical," her tone laced with the love she has for the time of year. "It's a time to spend with family, to give gifts, to have fun with silly traditions," she lists, watching closely to your reactions as your soft expression remains uninterested.

"Just seems like a lot of effort to me," you casually say, her brows furrowing at your words, mouth parting and closing, unsure of what to say. "Is that all you wanted to ask? I'm currently in the middle of a mission report," your tone is annoyingly soft and calm, determination brewing in Wanda to show you how amazing Christmas was but still unsure how.

"No, I..." she trails off for a moment, tilting her head marginally to the side as she thinks hard about how to convince you. "Do you really hate it?" She asks, tone trying her best to hide the disappointment that filled her, your smile softening, body pushing yourself off the frame of the door to look at her properly, still amused at her clothing.

"It's just not for me, Wanda," your tone apologetic as you gathered how much she loved the season, your heart clenching a little at the despondent look that took over her face, wishing you could ensure a smile was always on her lips, only ever wanting her to be happy.

"Ok," she whispers, slowly nodding at your words and turning around to retreat to where the rest of the team was, a sudden idea entering her mind as she hears you shutting the door. "Give me one week," her tone desperate and rushed as your hand halted, opening the door with a confused look, laughing softly as she quickly walked back over to the door, fluffy socks sliding a little on the smooth floor.

"What?" your tone matches the curiosity engraved on your face, smile widening at the glint of hope in her eyes.

"Give me one week to show you how magical Christmas is," she explains further, her enchanting green eyes almost putting you under a spell, part of you contemplating giving into her despite your dislike for everything about December 25th. Your face shows your conflicted state, Wanda taking your delayed response as a win, her nose scrunching up in a way that has your heart beating wildly in your chest, an inexplicable onrush of affection flowing through you. "Please?" she adds, excitement creeping into he tone as you sigh out heavily, unable to resist the soft spot you had for her, a smile gracing your features.

"One week," you begrudgingly say, a smile still present on your face though as her lips stretch into a wide grin, joy filling her as various ideas flood through her mind, ready to warm you up to the season.

***

"I'm not so sure you're trying to convince me," you mutter, lifting the heavy box of decorations and trudging your way towards her room, "I feel like you're just using me for slave labour," you grumble, peaking over the box to watch your step, bumping into the corner of the door frame before dropping the box onto the floor, a rattle of baubles filling the room.

"If you stopped complaining and acting like the grinch this would be a whole lot easier," she teases, crouching down and opening the box, looking up at you with a small smirk that has you rolling your eyes, happiness taking over your chest as you follow her command.

"The grinch is an icon," you mumble, flickering your gaze away from the aesthetic decorations in the box and into her alluring green, finding them far more interesting than the shiny plastic objects.

"Yeah? And why is that?" Her tone is playful and cheerful, eliciting an involuntary smile from you as you struggle to maintain your composure near her, the crush you thought you had gotten over seeming to resurface, her brow raising expectantly as she waits for you to continue.

"He lives in a mountain with his dog, away from people, sounds like heaven to me," your tone slightly sarcastic, earning a soft laughter from her, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. Her gaze drifts away from you as her own heart starts to beat wildly in her chest at being able to spend time with you, her lips pulling up into a shy smile. "And he's green," you add, a humorous grin taking over your face, cracking her composure.

A giggle leaves her lips at your tone, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her laugh, her eyes meeting yours with an amused glimmer in them, your smile widening as warmth floods through you in a tender manner.

"What's so special about the colour green?" She manages to ask when she stops laughing, entertained by your words, reluctantly turning her back away from you as she moves towards the tree in her room with a bundle of lights, beckoning you over as she untangles them, wanting your help to decorate her room as she hadn't had time to do it yet.

It's the colour of your eyes is what you initially think of saying, a small blush appearing on your cheeks as you rethink an answer, grateful she wasn't looking at you as you thought it, her head soon looking back over her shoulder as you don't answer.

"I don't know," you unconvincingly respond, shoulders shrugging, "It's just a cool colour." Wanda chuckles, clearly not believing your vague answer as she looks at your form over her shoulder, playfully shaking her head before continuing to wrap the lights around the pine tree while you gradually make your way over to her, your attention flickering over to her desk.

"Oh my god," you laugh out, admiring the framed photograph of Wanda and Pietro dressed up for Halloween in Sokovia, chuckling at their ridiculous outfits. "Pietro looks like Fury with that eye patch," you snicker out, Wanda rushing over to you and sliding the photo out of your hands, embarrassed by her toothy grin in it, a smile still on her face as she hears your genuine laugh, her gaze moving to the photo of her and her brother that she always loved.

"He wanted to be his own version of a pirate," she explains with a nostalgic tone, placing down the photo while you just admire her features, getting lost in thought again, the feelings you tried to bury trying their best to take over you as you simply smile at her softly, a tender expression taking over her face at your enamoured gaze.

"I bet he was just as annoying as a child as he is now," you tease, making her laugh again, your heart melting at being able to hear the sound again, the brunette placing an ornament in your hand to stop you procrastinating, sensing your attempt at stalling her plans.

"Even more," she jokes, her fingers brushing over yours softly, the touch engraved in your memory as they pull away from you, Wanda snapping you out of your thoughts as she continues. "Now come on, we have a tree to decorate," her tone adding excitement to it as you let out a displeased grumble, still smiling at her though.

Maybe, just maybe, the next week wasn't going to be as bad as you thought.

***

"I hope you know I'm only here because you promised me food," you mumble whilst your hand supports your head as you sit at the kitchen island, eyes wandering around the various decorations littered around the room then towards the woman in front of you, observing how she rolls out the gingerbread.

A soft, genuine smile takes over her face in amusement, her gaze lifting to meet your form watching her attentively, chuckling softly as she continues to measure out the dimensions for the house she intended on making, a playful and teasing expression taking over her angelic features.

"Is that so?" she asks, slicing through the dough she's rolled to create the walls of the house, your eyes trained on the deft way her fingers move, gaze lifting to watch her concentrate, in awe of her working. You knew Wanda loved to cook and bake, but to watch her properly, almost intimately, made you truly appreciate her love for the hobby.

"Yep," you say while popping the 'p', smiling at the way she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, a streak of powdered sugar visible against her skin, your teeth biting down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing at her cute state.

"Well if someone wants to eat they have to help," her tone reprimanding you for not helping her at all so far.

"I've helped," you say, pretending to take offence as she uses her magic to softly push you off the stool at the kitchen island, a small groan leaving you as you eventually wander around the kitchen to stand next to her. "Does moral support not mean anything anymore?" you mutter as she hands you a spoon, your fake mood crumbling away at the way she peers up at you with a raised brow, the streak of sugar making you smile.

"What?" she laughs out when you end up staring at her forehead too long, a nervous expression on her face as you grab a cloth from the countertop and delicately wipe away the mess on her skin, her cheeks a similar colour to her magic as she tries to control her emotions, a shy smile taking over her features as you meet her gaze with an affectionate look.

"There's my contribution," you joke, tossing the cloth back onto the countertop as Wanda sees the small smear of powdered sugar on the fabric, the wave of embarrassment never coming as you continue to smile at her, her head shaking at your antics.

"You're not getting out of it that easy," she chuckles out, setting up the bowl for you to make the icing in, handing you everything you'd need before checking on the gingerbread that was in the oven, making sure everything was going to plan.

After you've made the icing and the dough is baked to perfection as well as having cooled down, Wanda starts to put together the house with your help, deciding to ask Friday to help encourage the festive spirit by getting them to play the witch's Christmas playlist, an amused glint present in your eyes as you picture her listening to the music on her own, most likely dancing to each tune.

Your fingers carefully hold the wall of gingerbread, Wanda delicately piping the icing along the edges to help stabilise the structure, the smell of the freshly made treat making your mouth yearn to taste the delicious flavours, the other woman humming the tune to the song that was playing as you assembled the house together. Quicker than you expected, you had the house made and just in need of decorating, your gaze now on Wanda who softly sang the lyrics to 'Last Christmas', a mischievous smile taking over your face.

As if sensing your gaze on her, she met your admiring stare, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she lifts the spoon from the icing bowl, using it as a microphone as she keeps her enchanting eyes on you.

"Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?" she sings, her voice angelic as you can't help but watch in awe as she subtly dances near you, walking behind your body and enticing you to follow her. "Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me," her gentle voice sounding around the room, blessing your ears as she sings the iconic song, "'Happy Christmas', I wrapped it up and sent it, with a note saying 'I love you' I meant it, now I know what a fool I've been." Her words further lure you into being amazed by her, your body turning once again to follow her movements, her body next to yours as she places the bowls she's just collected on the countertop, her eyes lifting up to meet your enamoured gaze, "But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again." Your breath hitches at the way her eyes subconsciously drift to your lips before flickering back up, the soft, loving glint evident in her eyes as the gaze lingers, her only breaking the gaze when the desire to kiss you becomes too strong.

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day-"

"You sold it on ebay," you interrupt, a teasing smile on your lips as you steal the piping bag from her, a laugh spilling from her lips at your immature behaviour. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to Marks and Spencers," her hand lightly slaps your arm as you 'ruined' the chorus for her, her smile almost reaching her ears though at the pure joy you managed to fill her with, your arms raising in surrender as you see wisps of magic flicker at her fingers, knowing how she could torture you with ticklish sensations like she did a couple days ago when decorating the tree. "Ok, ok," you laugh out in surrender as the red tendrils brush over your skin, "Tesco extra instead of Marks and Spencers?"

She simply smacks you lightly once again on the shoulder, her hand lingering against your body before pulling back, rolling her eyes at your amused and smug smile, cheekily squeezing a little of the icing onto your finger to taste it.

"Mhmm delicious," you softly moan at the sweet treat, exaggerating your love for the simple food you made, Wanda stealing the bag back from you and pointing it at you like it was a weapon.

"Stop eating all the decorations," she mutters, using her magic to push away the bowl full of sprinkles, laughing softly at the way your hand misses and hits the table, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Fine," you grumble as she hands you the piping bag back, letting you have full reign on decorating the gingerbread house, something she'd inevitably regret.

***

A couple hours later you're sprawled out against the sofa, a bowl of the broken gingerbread house in your lap as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, once again admiring her features while she was fully immersed in whatever was playing on the tv.

Your eyes focus on each delicate feature of her face, trailing over the slight dust of pink on her cheeks, a few strands of brunette locks framing her face perfectly and the gentle slope of her nose before spending a little more time admiring her plump lips and eventually settling on her mesmerising eyes. Your heart clenched a little at her beauty, your gaze eventually being torn away from her as you knew you shouldn't think of her as more of a friend, to get lost in fantasy of what it would feel like to be with her all over again as you remember the pain of pushing it all down.

The soft giggle that left her lips immediately knocked you out of your thoughts, the smile that seemed ever present near her emerging once again as you raised your brow at her when you met her gaze, her nose scrunching in that captivating manner as red wisps form at the tips of her fingers once again.

"I thought we were going to share the gingerbread," She teases lightly, using her magic to steal a piece from you, your hand wrapping protectively around your bowl of treats.

"Woah, this is mine Maximoff," you defensively say, using her surname playfully, addicted to the taste of the icing you used to cover most of the crisp gingerbread, the aim of your decorations to give you a sugar overload. "I decorated it," you mumble, squinting your eyes at her when she floats over a larger piece from the bowl in faux annoyance, your hands placing the bowl down as there way no way you'd be able to stop her magic, your eyes watching with interest how the red tendrils delicately flow through the air.

"And I made it," she counters, biting into the corner of the roof, a pleased noise escaping her at the taste of it, the festive spirit further consuming her as the taste brings back many memories of past Christmases, a nostalgic look taking over her face momentarily.

"I thought you were trying to convince me to like Christmas," you joke as you lean back against the sofa, eyes trained on her as she raises her brow at your relaxed manner, continuing to eat her piece of gingerbread.

"I am, is it working?" She asks, smiling at you hopefully, her enthralling green solely focused on you making it hard to think straight and come up with your usual sarcastic remark. You pause for a moment, Wanda's head tilting in curiosity as you remain silent, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you gather yourself together.

"It would be if I got to eat all the gingerbread," you tease eventually, switching your gaze to something other than her alluring beauty, eyes landing on the various sweets stuck on the white icing.

"Is it actually working though?" She asks again, voice holding a more serious and intrigued tone compared to her joking tone, her green containing a hint of nerves as she really hoped it was.

Your mouth opens and closes to respond, unsure of what to say. If you were being honest, you didn't love the festive season any more, you simply enjoyed the last three days because you were with her.

"It hasn't changed my opinion on Christmas," you say softly, her face dropping a little making you continue, "But, I have had so much fun over the last few days, I... I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you fix her mood instantly, a blush taking over her face this time, her gaze flickering away from you, teeth biting down softly on her lower lip to try and contain her smile.

"Yeah?" she murmurs out a little timidly, gathering the courage to meet your softening gaze once more, the two of you smiling at each other, unaware of the swirling emotions in both of you. "Well still I've got four more days to fix that," she says, tone determined and adamant that she would persuade you, your smile growing that little bit wider at her confidence, part of you hoping she was right just to see that smile on her face.

***

"I'm not so sure about this Wanda," your voice a little shaky as your fingers grip the edge of the wall as tightly as possible, the ice skates you were wearing sliding on the ice in a manner than unnerved you, your eyes lifting to find Wanda only to see her skating off skilfully, turning back to you with a teasing look.

"Come on, I promise it's fun," she calls back, swarms of people brushing past you, further adding to your nerves as you hated how unstable you felt, her green eyes meeting yours through the crowd, sensing how uncomfortable you felt.

You watched a little embarrassed as she effortlessly skated over to you, the sound of screaming children nearby and the scratching of ice being blocked out as she comes closer to you, a different kind of anxiety flowing through you at her little smirk.

"Is the infamous Y/n, world hero and Avenger, scared of ice skating?" she teases softly, your eyes rolling at her comment. Just because you were an Avenger didn't mean you enjoyed activities like this.

"No..." you trailed off, your foot slipping slightly, Wanda watching how your body immediately tensed, knuckles bleeding white at your grip on the edge of the wall, her hand moving to your lower back to keep you stable, wanting to make sure you were alright. "Maybe just a little," you confess quietly, hoping she wouldn't find it a problem, her smile turning a little sympathetic. "It's scary ok? Steve got stuck in ice for like seventy plus years in it so it must be very dangerous," you explain, a genuine laugh slipping past her lips at your reasoning.

"It was only sixty six years," she corrects, your head shaking a little at her words, your mind processing where her hand was, a wave of butterflies taking over your body as your fingers adjust their grip on the cold edge.

"Do you trust me?" Her voice a gentle whisper, your mind focussing on her, only her as she looks at you as if you were the only thing going on in the ice rink, your head nodding as you couldn't muster any words to leave your mouth, far too nervous to not embarrass yourself any further.

Her hands gently clasp yours, her fingers intimately interlocking with yours, her soft gaze meeting your hesitant one, her feet guiding her backwards as she slides across the ice, pulling you carefully with her.

"Bend your knees a little," she instructs, trying to guide you into the best position so you wouldn't fall. You try to listen to her but the feeling of her impossibly soft hands in yours makes all common sense leave your mind, your body just about listening to her instructions. "Don't lean too far forwards if you don't want to fall," she playfully whispers, keeping you close to her as she can tell it's keeping you calm, her intoxicating perfume reaching your senses and further drowning you in the thought of her. "That's it," she praises softly, a small smile reaching your lips as you skate slightly on your own, still tightly gripping onto her, not that she minded.

The two of you did a few laps around the ring, your grip on her gradually decreasing as your confidence grew, the two of you stopping by a wall to relax for a moment, your cheeks and noses tinted pink from the cold room, smiles engraved on both of your faces.

Your smile widens when you see a child fall over, a snicker leaving your lips as you can't help it, Wanda playfully pushing you at your reaction, reprimanding your behaviour as the mother briefly looks over towards you two in annoyance, her child's face pulling into distress. Panic flashes across your face as you slip a little, your arm shooting out to wrap around hers, pulling yourself into her body, flush against her, making both of your blushes darken a little, her arm wrapping around you to keep you upright.

"Don't," you mumble when you feel her laugh against you, your body melting against hers as she keeps you stable and secure, her body also helping you keep warm.

"Don't what? Tease you?" She chuckles out, your head turning to meet her amused and mischievous gaze, breath hitching a little as you underestimated the space between you, your lips mere inches away from hers, both of your gazes drifting down to one another's mouths.

The heat that washes over you when her slightly darkened green meet yours causes you to straighten your back, pulling yourself further away from her face, your hand hesitantly reaching further down her arm to her fingers, interlocking them once again to try and keep your thoughts on anything but the longing to feel her lips on yours, a brief moment of courage washing through you when she doesn't pull back.

"I won't tease you," she whispers out once she's gotten control over her pounding heart, her cheeks still tinted pink as she smiles at your hand holding hers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, grateful for you being braver than her and initiating something. "But that doesn't mean I won't tell Nat," a soft laugh leaves you as you meet her eyes once more, sensing the mirth in them as she imagined the various ways the Russian would torment you.

"I'm never going to hear the end of it," you mumble, her nose scrunching at your tone, the action making you think it was worth any amount of teasing comments that Natasha could throw at you, the warmth that wrapped around your heart at her expression worth anything in the world as she drags you away from the wall again, skating with you, hand in hand.

***

A relentless pounding at your door has you reluctantly rolling out of bed, in dire need of a nap after the new workout Natasha wanted to try with you, your body ready to sink into your soft mattress and relax for just a little bit.

"You better have some more gingerbread," you mutter as you hear Wanda call your name through the door, your hand turning your door handle and opening, revealing the woman who consumed all your thoughts. "What-" A thick winter coat was thrown at you, your body not expecting the item making you take a step back, your eyes widening at Wanda in confusion as you properly took a hold of the clothing item, the coat a contrast to your oversized shirt and joggers.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sings in a teasing voice, a groan leaving your lips at the movie reference, a tired sigh leaving your lips.

"I just wanna sleep," you whine out as she simply walks into your room as you turn away, smiling at the way you still comply to her question, searching through your wardrobe for a thick jumper and pants, not wanting to freeze in the cold as snowflakes gracefully spilled from the sky, the grass surrounding the compound drowning in the white blanket of snow.

"You can sleep later," her tone amused at the way you shake your head at her, amazed at the way she has you wrapped around her finger as you shrug on the coat she tossed you, turning your head and sending a pointed look.

"This better be worth it," you mumble, her body coming closer to yours and fixing your hood as it was sticking out weird, her cold fingers brushing the back of your neck causing you to wake up a little more.

"Spending time with me is always worth it," she whispers, recalling how you confessed to her how you enjoyed being with her, a smile creeping onto your lips as you chuckle at her words, her eyes peering up into yours as you let her fix your outfit, unable to stop the warmth bubbling inside you.

"That is true," you murmur ever so softly, her smile widening as she lets her hands drift to your shoulders to smooth the coat out, growing in confidence near you after being together for the last four days constantly. "But sleep is pretty amazing too," you mumble, earning her signature nose scrunch, your heart beating that little bit faster at the enamoured look in her eyes.

"Come on," she sighs out, walking behind you and pushing you towards the door, struggling a little as you use your strength to keep you planted.

"Save me bed! She's trying to kidnap me," you call out dramatically, chuckling as she uses her magic to push you out of the door, you calling out of your bed once more, earning another string of laughter from her as she leads you out of the compound, walking side by side with you, letting your bodies brush.

A chill takes over your body as you trudge your way through the snow that's piling up, the sound of satisfying crunches and nearby birds filling the air as you let Wanda lead you to the best place to build her desired snowman. You watch with an affectionate gaze at her thick gloves and the scarf that's wrapped so tightly around her neck, the bobble hat that she stole from you moving with each step she takes, her head looking her shoulder at you, her smile almost reaching her ears.

You follow her until she stops, deciding this was the best location to build it, her eyes looking back at the compound and ensuring you'd be able to see it from the large window in the common room, unaware of the redhead and archer sitting peacefully together, curious as to what you two were doing, a glint of realisation flickering across Natasha's face.

Unable to stop yourself, you give into the temptation of crouching down in the snow, grabbing a handful of it and moulding it into the shape of a large snowball, trying to perfect the shape to make it easier to throw.

"Hey Wanda?" You call out innocently, lining up your shot as you wait for her to turn around, her eyes glimmering with joy before widening, unable to move out of the way as the snow crashes against her body, exploding into various fragments of white dust, a gasp leaving her lips.

You can't help but laugh wholeheartedly at her reaction, an uncontrollable laughter escaping you as happiness consumes you entirely, shock present on her face to begin with before revenge takes over, taking advantage of your distracted state and grabbing a handful of snow, ready to throw it back at you.

Your laughter is interrupted when she headshots you with the snowball, disbelief evident on your face as her smile grows smug, a dangerous chuckle leaving you making her smile slowly fade, mischief evident on your face. At your expression, Wanda starts to run, laughter spilling from her lips as she gets a head start, your legs swiftly moving to catch up with her.

"Oh no you don't," you call out, your smile engraved on your face as you chase after, using your abilities to help you catch up to her. You can't stop the genuine laughter that escapes you as you dodge the snowballs her magic throws at you blindly, your body gradually catching up to her, inching closer as the two of you trample through the snow like idiots, not caring about anything else in the world but one another. Eventually, your arm wraps around her middle, pulling her closer to your body as you grab a load of snow with your other hand, intending on dropping it on her head, your plan not working as you both go tumbling in the snow, laughter still sounding around the two of you. "Gotcha," you chuckle out as you land on top of her, her hands holding onto your shoulders as your body is flush against hers, your hand cupping the back of her head protectively and the other bracing your body above hers.

Her breath gently fans across your face as you both pant a little from the sudden running, your eyes getting lost in hers as she smiles up at you angelically, your gaze eventually drifting across her features, still stunned by her beauty. Your gaze settles on her lips, watching how she subtly wets her lower lip before her teeth gently bite down on it, your eyes flickering up to her softening green, building up to ask her the question you've wanted to for ages.

"Can.... Can I kiss you?" your voice a barely audible whisper, the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage deafening in your ears as you await a response, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering vigorously.

"Took you long enough to ask," she murmurs playfully, having heard your thoughts about her eyes all those days ago, piecing together that you may have felt the same way about her as she did towards you.

Her fingers fisted against the hem of your coat and pulled you down into her body, claiming your lips in the way you both longed for. You kissed her tenderly, her lips pressing over yours just as affectionately, the cold tip of her nose brushing against yours as you got lost in the moment together. Your eyes fluttered shut to savour the feeling of her mouth, how gentle and soft it was as you weren't guaranteed another chance, another kiss, so you forced your racing thoughts to stop for a moment as your lips moved against hers lovingly, wanting to engrave the feeling into your mind forever. The kiss was shy and timid, your lips remaining together for mere seconds, but the intimacy of it made your head spin with the thought of her. The thought of her body pressed against yours, her mouth pressed against yours, forehead leaning against yours and arms pulling you impossibly closer, it was all too much. You were utterly mesmerised by her. Everything just felt so pure, sogenuine, so... intimate that it made you sigh gently into her mouth, pulling back with nothing but love evident in your eyes as she matched your tender gaze, just as obsessed with you as you were her.

"I told you this would be worth it," she whispers against you, her lips gently brushing yours, enticing you into gently claiming hers once more, smiling into her mouth.

"It really was," you murmur lovingly against her, her head hiding against your shoulder as she can't stop the wide smile appearing on her face, her nose scrunching up once more as you melt against her body, joy coursing through you at what just happened.

She kissed you.

You actually just kissed her.

A wave of giddiness overtook you as you grinned at her when she pulled back from your body, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as her hands left your body, your mind paying no attention to it as she looked at you in that adoring manner, consuming your thoughts.

What you didn't expect was to feel snow hitting the back of your head, an adorable laugh leaving her at her playful actions, disbelief evident on your face. The feeling of betrayal immediately left you at the heavenly noise that spills delicately from her, your head shaking to remove the snow in your hair as she cups your cheek, guiding you back down for an apologetic kiss, the two of you unable to stop smiling.

Another individual who couldn't stop smiling was Natasha who watched the scene unfold through the window with Clint, glad that you finally acted on your crush and helped her win the bet with the archer. He grumbled as he reached for his wallet, searching for the desired note as a sigh of relief left the redhead when you started to walk hand in hand through the snow, finding somewhere else to finally build the snowman.

***

Humming to yourself, you found yourself in Wanda's room again, this time sprawled out of her bed, waiting for the witch to return with the snacks for the movie night she planned for you. It was going to be a Christmas marathon, starting with Home Alone one and two, then onto the Grinch so Wanda could tease you about your 'icon' and then finally Elf as she was sure you'd be asleep by then, having discovered how much you loved to lay in bed yesterday when you fell asleep during the first attempt at the marathon, much to her amusement. This time, however, she planned to keep you awake with food and potentially a cuddle as the two of you swiftly discovered how much you both craved physical touch, even if it was something small like holding hands, a smile growing on her lips as she enters the room, remembering the various instances of you subtly reaching for her hand and interlocking your fingers.

A soft chuckle leaves her lips at the way your head raises off the bed at the sound of the door shutting, your eyes growing curious when you see the bowl in her hands, instantly perking up and eager to know what she brought. When your eyes saw the popcorn in the bowl, your smile widened, moving around on her bed so that your back was against the pillow at the headboard, arm raising to welcome her body against your side, the other woman complying to your silent request.

The feeling of her body snuggling against yours caused a grin to break out on your face, your heart unable to comprehend the sheer joy you felt over the last few days, grateful for her making such an impact on your life.

"You're incredible," you murmur softly when she places the bowl into your lap, your lips pressing to her temple, the art of being affectionate with one another natural to you both.

"Are you only saying that because I brought food?" she teases, carefully picking up a piece of the sweet and salty treat and placing it into her mouth, her head tilting to rest against your shoulder as she uses her magic to bring the remote closer to you both, her hand effortlessly grabbing it and starting the first film of the night.

"No, I'm saying that because you are the most amazing and beautiful woman I know," you whisper against her hair, earning a blush at your charming words. "Who just happens to always bring me food," you add teasingly, earning a playful pinch to your side, a small yelp leaving you.

"Shhh, just watch the film Detka," she murmurs, your smile widening at the endearment, not commenting on it as she shuffles her body closer to you, her fingers playing with whatever part of your shirt she can reach as the two of you delve into the world of Christmas cinema, content with being one another.

As the film plays on, without even realising it, your hand rests on her thigh, tracing idle patterns against the thin fabric of her pyjama pants, Wanda's cheeks a similar colour to her festive clothing as her thoughts go down a sinful route. She can't help the warmth that pools between her thighs at your actions, your hand high up on her thigh as your toned body presses into her, her mind replaying the image of you working out earlier, the way your body effortlessly showed signs of strength and stamina, her eyes having a hard time from tearing away from your hands, watching as your veins showed slightly, further adding to the arousal that started to build within her as she got lost in thought.

Hesitantly, she tilted her head to rest at the crook of your neck, her lips softly pressing a kiss there as she knew you weren't paying attention to the film, your thoughts growing louder as you replay all your memories with the brunette, the overwhelming amount of happiness and love you felt allowing the witch to hear them. To try and gain your attention, she pressed another kiss to your neck, your breath hitching at the action as your hand freezes at her thigh, her lips burning against your skin as your body grows warmer at her suggestive move.

"Detka," she sighs out, her breath fanning across your skin as she pulls back from your neck, her green eyes meeting yours, desire but also nervousness shimmering them.

"Yes?" you whisper out, gaze subconsciously drifting to her lips, remembering how addictive they are, your own eyes darkening as your gaze lingers, unable to look at anything else.

"I don't think either of us are watching the film," her voice is barely audible as she murmurs the words, tilting her head slightly, the action causing her lips to inch closer to yours, the movement subtly seductive as you wait for her to make the move, sensing a bit of indecision from her.

"I don't think we are," your tone lowering a little, patiently waiting for her, not wanting her to do anything she'd regret.

"I wonder what else we could possibly do..." she trails off, smiling a little shyly, biting down on her lower lip and fuck, you don't think you've ever felt so hot before, the sight of her intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.

"I have no idea," you whisper back with a small smirk, tilting your head down so that your lips were brushing over hers gently, not applying enough pressure to give her what she wanted, your eyes watching how hers flutter shut, awaiting your mouth. "What do you suggest?"

"I think... I think we should kiss," she rasps out, moving her body so that she was facing you properly, your brow raising a little at her words as your smile grows, fingers moving to brush back a few stray strands of her hair back, eventually letting your hand rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw and bringing her a little closer.

Your eyes flicker over all of her features, admiring them all while waiting for her to lower her face, the brunette only doing so marginally, mirroring your actions and wanting to memorise every inch of your beauty.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's admired you enough and savoured the moment, she kisses you. She kisses you softly and tentatively to begin with as you explore each other's mouths, her actions soon growing a little more confident as the kiss grows hungrier, Wanda seemingly starved of you. It's intimate, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you dreamed it to be.

You can't do anything but give into her relentless mouth, hand clutching at her sweater to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.

A soft moan leaves her when you guide her to straddle your lap, heat immediately taking over her body, your touch burning into her skin as arousal pools between her legs at the feeling of your body pressed against hers, strong arms wrapping around her, a sensual sigh escaping you as when she pulls back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green, a shameless smile on your lips.

"I think we should do that again," you tease, leaning in for another kiss as she smiles against you, her confidence growing with every kiss, every peck in between laboured breaths as her hands move to your shoulders momentarily, gliding them down your back in a seductive way, a groan leaving you at the way her fingers press into the toned muscle satisfyingly.

Experimentally, you slide your tongue into her mouth, a sinful moan escaping her as she welcomes your advances, your hands toying with the hem of her jumper, not sure how far she wanted to go as your mouths move lewdly together, her back arching a little to press her body further against yours.

"Am I going too fast?" Your voice a gentle whisper as you pull back from the kiss, sensing a little bit of nerves from her, eyes gauging her reaction as your fingers had slipped beneath her clothing, feeling the warmth and softness of her bare skin, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she meets your enamoured gaze, not wanting to pressure her.

"No I just-" she cuts herself off, feeling a little embarrassed as your hands slide out of her jumper, snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to rest against your body, bringing her in for a soft embrace that she appreciates. "I never done this before," she confesses, a soft smile appearing on your lips as you guide her head back so you can meet her timid green, "I want to but I just... don't know what I'm doing."

"Do you trust me?" you ask, mimicking her words from the ice skating, your fingers raising to brush back another stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear affectionately as she nods. "I'll take care of you, I promise," you whisper, kissing her lips with nothing but love, conveying how gentle you'd be with her. "We can stop at any time," you reassure her, not wanting her to think she's committed to having sex with you, "Just tell me to stop and we stop. I don't care what's happening, all I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable with me." She smiles shyly at your words, tilting her head to kiss you once again, grateful for how caring and considerate you were. "We'll go at your pace, ok?"

"Ok," she murmurs back, smiling into another tender kiss as you do as you said, letting her control the way her lips move against yours, slowly building the hunger back up.

"Tell me what you want," you sigh out against her lips, feeling her hips subtly rock against your lap without her even realising it, your teeth softly nipping at her lower lip, earning a small moan as she flutters her eyes back open, meeting your patient gaze.

"I want...I just want you," she whispers, holding the intimate gaze before leaning back in, kissing you with a new sense of urgency, a small moan leaving you at her words. Your lips pull into a small smile as she slides her tongue hesitantly into your mouth, the kiss turning messy and causing a wave of arousal to flood through, Wanda's mind spinning at the intoxicating way you make her feel.

"You have me," your tone laced with love as she rests her forehead against yours, lips lingering open against one another, simply relishing in the intimacy. "Show me what you want from me," you encourage, sliding your hands from around her lower back to hers, letting her take a hold of your hands to guide them where she wants them, your lips parting from hers to pepper kisses along her jaw softly, her head lolling to the side to welcome your addictive touch.

She simply holds your hands for a moment, deciding what she wants from you, her mind freezing momentarily at the way your teeth scrape against her sensitive skin, a pleasant shiver running down her back as she curses lowly in Sokovian, the sultry sound causing a throb between your thighs.

When she's ready, she squeezes your hands softly, guiding them down her body to the hem of her sweater, hoping you understand her silent request. Your fingers slide under tentatively, feeling the way her stomach tenses and relaxes at your touch, the skin impossibly soft and enticing, your mind reminding you to wait for her as you caress the skin you can reach.

"Please," she murmurs out, one of her hands moving to your hair, threading her fingers through your silky locks and softly pulling you away from her neck, her lips pressing to yours with a hint of desperation as she grinds her hips with a little more purpose now, a wave of pleasure coursing through her.

"Off?" you mutter against her lips questioningly, her nodding into a sensual kiss as your lips meet gently, her sighing into your mouth as your hands grip the hem of her sweater, slowly, teasingly, pulling it off her body.

Her hands move off you to help you pull the item of clothing off, your gaze remaining on her face as she turns shy again, waiting for another nod before letting your gaze drift down her body, your breath hitching at her sheer beauty.

Her body is sculpted to perfection, crafted by Aphrodite herself to create the most beautiful woman you'd ever lay your eyes on, her delicate and smooth skin enticing your eyes all over her exposed body, her curves luring your hands to caress them softly, eyes flickering back up to hers, nothing but admiration and love in them.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" you whisper into a passionate kiss, her nerves immediately dissipating at the sheer honesty lacing your tone, another blush creeping onto her face at how amazed you were by her. "Any idea what you do to me?" you continue, wrapping your arms around her body and pulling her closer to hers, her bra covered chest flush against your body as she moans into your mouth, her body begging for more, needing you to touch her lower.

"Please Y/n," she sighs into your mouth, your hands creeping up her body and resting just under her bra, fingers brushing over the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. "I need you," her tone conveying how desperate she was, your worshipping touch only driving her towards madness, her body viewing them as teasing.

"Where do you need me, love?" the endearment spilling from your lips naturally, a wave of arousal flowing through her at your slightly husky voice, your lips parting from hers once more to kiss down her neck, sucking partly before moving to kiss her shoulder and collarbones, waiting for an answer.

"Here," she sighs out softly, her fingers wrapping around one of your wrists and guiding it down to meet the waistband of her pyjama pants, your head instantly leaving her body to look at her properly, the green in her eyes usually filled with love completely replaced by desire and hunger.

"Are you sure?" Your voice is full of care as your hand remains where she guided you, gazing into hers as your heart beats wildly in your chest, still stunned a little by the sight of her on top of you, the heat between your thighs incessant.

"Yes," her voice a mere whisper as she kisses you softly, deciding she wouldn't want anyone else to be her first, always having loved you without even realising it.

"Remember we can stop whenever you need to," you murmur before claiming her lips with a newfound purpose, wanting to give her everything she wants, fingers carefully sliding under her waistband.

"Fuck," she whispers out, voice a little shaky as her hands move to your back once again, clutching onto your t-shirt as your fingers brush against her core through her soaked panties, a groan leaving you at how wet she was for you. She was this desperate for you.

You move the pad of your finger against the wet fabric, teasingly sliding it up and down her core, earning a small, desperate moan from her into your mouth, her teeth biting down on your lower lip impatiently as you continue to work her body up, her hips bucking against your hand at the slightest of touches.

"Can I-"

"Please," she practically whimpers out, your lips tugging up into a smirk whilst your free hand glides up and down her back soothingly, your fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of her panties, a sensual sigh escaping her when you finally make contact with her core. "Detka," she pants out against your lips as you swallow the desperate noises that leave her lips as your finger swipes through the abundance of arousal that's pooled between her thighs, coating your digit as you explore her wet sex.

Pulling back from the kiss, your eyes observe every single reaction to your touch she offered you, drinking it up like an intoxicating substance as your finger spreads her slick around her, moving to circle her clit gently to begin with, slowly building in confidence as your touch grows firmer, intending to bring her as much as possible.

"You're so pretty like this," you mumble, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, teeth scraping the soft skin again to drive her mad, your finger sliding up and down her soaking folds before settling on teasing her entrance, a whine leaving her at your enamoured tone and taunting actions.

"Detka," she sighs out, tone conveying the sheer desperation she feels for you, needing you to bring her towards her release, her body needing your touch to satisfy her.

"Shhh, I'll take care of you," you murmur, tilting your head away from her neck to let your lips brush against her compelling ones, her breath fanning across your face as her lips part, your finger slowly sliding into her, your eyes in awe of her blissed out expression. "Tell me what feels good," you encourage, slowly curling your finger inside her beautifully, a moan spilling from her lips directly into your mouth as you claim her lips softly, slowly letting your lips slot over hers, her mind hazy with all the pleasure and heat flowing through her.

"Shit, there, right there," she groans as you curl your finger against her weak spot, the palm of your hand brushing against her clit as she rocks her hips against you, fingers gripping your shirt tightly.

"Yeah?" you husk out and the slight cockiness to your tone has her mind spinning even more with arousal, delirium taking over her as she moans against you once more, your name falling from her lips like a small chant as you thrust your finger in her a little faster, pleasure bubbling through her. "What if I do this?" your voice a teasing whisper, your thumb moving to brush over her clit, a choked moan escaping her as you move it in languid circles, doubling the pleasure fogging her mind.

"Y/n," she pants against you, the corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk at her desperate tone, the way her walls clench and spasm around you, her thighs tensing around your body as her hips buck harder when you time your movements right, a sudden wave of pleasure flowing through her. "Fuck," she sighs out sensually, parting your mouths as she's struggling to reciprocate the kiss, too busy focussing on the way you effortlessly slide in another finger, stretching her out perfectly.

"You're doing so well for me," you whisper, mouth moving to the shell of her ear and tone dropping, a slight rasp added to your voice further arouse her. One of her hands shoot up into your hair, messily tangling it into your locks as moans escape her, her hips trying to move a little faster and push her towards her nearing release, fingers gripping tightly making a dull pain wash over you, the action making you groan as the idea of how lost in pleasure she must be goes straight between your thighs.

"Detka," she sighs out, desperation and a hint of embarrassment lacing her tone, too nervous to ask you for what she wants as her hips indicate how close she is, your fingers still steadily thrusting into her and thumb occasionally brushing her clit, hips bucking harder against you. You immediately understand what she's asking for as she gently tugs your head back, lips pressing against yours passionately as she holds you close, back arching further into your body as she sighs into your mouth, a small whine escaping her as she teeters on the edge of her release.

"I've got you," you murmur gently, your free hand moving up her body and to her face, cupping her cheek intimately and deepening the kiss, a moan leaving her at the sheer amount of love you pour into the embrace. "Let go for me," you mumble between kisses, her eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to take over her.

"Y/n," she whispers out sinfully for a final time, body tensing against yours while your mouths refuse to part, muffling the desperate sounds leaving her lips while pleasure wracks through her body. Her legs tense around your body once more, her hands adamant on keeping you close as she keeps your head against hers, foreheads resting against one another as you slow the kisses down, pecking her lips in between laboured breaths. Your fingers slowed inside her, letting her walls clench and spasm around you as she rode out the last waves of her release, her body eventually relaxing in your lap and melting against your comforting body.

Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened your eyes, timidly smiling at you and claiming your lips once more in an innocent manner, her adorable expression causing you to reciprocate the action as your free hand moves to glide up and down her back soothingly, fingers pulling out of her when she was ready.

"I'm so proud of you," you whisper with nothing but honesty and care in your words, her cheeks blushing at the way you tenderly gaze at her, her fingers moving to fix your ruffled hair. She smiles at you softly as she tucks a few strands behind your ear, your lips meeting her cheek lovingly as she just wants to bask in the intimate moment for a little longer, the two of you simply locked in a lovers embrace as your arm snakes around her middle.

Many soft words and gentle whispers later, you had managed to convince her into going to the bathroom to get cleaned up, not wanting her to be uncomfortable later and also wash your hands quickly, the brunette blushing at the cocky smirk on your lips as she watches you, proud of yourself for being able to make her feel good and most importantly loved and safe. You let her find herself a new pair of underwear and some new pyjama pants, opting for the pair she first came to you in before searching for a new shirt to wear.

Once she had opted for an old shirt with her favourite sitcom on it, you offered her your hoodie you took off earlier, the jumper being an oversized fit which you knew she loved, Wanda taking it with a wide smile, unable to stop the butterflies in her stomach at how caring you were. She let her nose rest against the collar of it, able to smell your perfume on it as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, dramatically falling onto the bed with her in your arms, eliciting an even bigger smile from her and a nose scrunch.

She turned around in your arms so she was facing you as you pulled her body impossibly closer, smiling fondly at the sight of her in your clothes, her leg sliding in between yours to find a more comfortable position to cuddle in as your fingers drew idle patterns against her back.

"Thank you for being so gentle," she whispers a little shyly, your gaze softening more somehow as she moves her fingers to play with the baby hairs at the back of your neck.

"I'll always be gentle with you," you murmur, kissing her temple and letting your lips linger for a minute, building the courage to say what you wanted to. "Thank you for the last week, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you say, still trying to get to the three words you wanted to confess, her smile growing a little wider at your soft tone.

"Have I convinced you to love Christmas?" she asks curiously, the intimate gaze prolonged as you once again get lost in her eyes, smiling tenderly at her, thinking of how to phrase your words.

"I don't quite love Christmas yet," you whisper out, your words still giving her hope. "But, I...I know I love you," you confess, your heart beating wildly in your chest for the few seconds she doesn't reply, the way her nose scrunches once again in that adorable manner easing the worry of rejection.

"I love you too," she whispers back with fondness lacing her tone, her lips meeting yours once again for an intimate kiss as you can't help but grin into the kiss, a teasing comment finding its way to your lips.

"More than Christmas?" you whisper, earning a soft laugh from her as she moves her face to hide at the crook of your neck, your skin so warm and comfortable, lulling her into a relaxed state.

"More than Christmas," she chuckles out, wrapping her arms around your middle securely, your arms mirroring the action as your lips press a final kiss to the top of her head, the witch amazed at how you, a grinch, managed to steal her heart. 

#marvel fanfiction #wanda x reader #eventual smut #wanda maximoff #wanda fanfic #mommy wanda #wanda x you #smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #12 days of kinkmas #kinkmas #fluff and humor #fluff and romance #12 days of christmas #12 days of ficmas #12 days of smutmas

[luveline]

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤 —

i'm watching season two of criminal minds and getting very sad and frustrated about how no one is noticing spencer's withdrawals. could you maybe do one where bau!reader notices that he's not okay and confronts him about it? our baby boy deserves all the help he can get at this point 🥲 love you endlessly!

love you!! cw drug use

"What are you doing?" you ask. 

Spencer pushes his book toward you wordlessly, an intimidating tome of Russian literature. 

"No, like, what are you doing?" 

Spencer sits up. His sunken eyes look for your tell, a twitch in your lips like this might be a bluff, but there's no feigned emotion to be found. "I don't know what you're asking me." 

"Is it downers?" 

A spark of life behind tired eyes, his face contorted by anger, Spencer hisses, "What are you talking about?" 

"Oxycontin? Xanax? Half the time you're looking at us like you hate us and the rest of the time you're quiet." 

"I don't– you're being ridiculous," Spencer says. 

"Your hands are shaking, Spence." You cross your arms over your chest and take a step closer to his desk. While you'd asked him somewhere far from private, driven by a need for truth, you care about him —that's why you're asking. You know you've gone about this all wrong. "You're coming down," you whisper, "and it looks painful." 

Spencer just stares at you. 

"Why don't we go to the cafeteria? Get something warm to eat?" you suggest. He's lost weight he didn't have to lose lately. 

"I'm never hungry," he says. 

You take it for a confession, an admittance that he's been doing something he shouldn't be. Withdrawal and drug use alike can cause a lack of appetite. Maybe he's upset you've brought it up, just… 

"I can't watch you being not okay anymore," you say. 

His surprise is obvious. "I didn't think anybody noticed." 

You can't speak for the others or their motivations. All you know is that you care about him too much to pretend it isn't happening. You'd hoped Spencer would tell you about it himself, if he needed help. You hadn't realised that might come off as you not paying attention.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me, I shouldn't have– I'm sorry for being sudden."

"I haven't exactly been approachable," Spencer says bitterly. 

"I love you," you say. "Be a dick if you want. But I love you and I want you to eat more than dried fruit, so. Come with me for dinner." 

Spencer stands up quietly, no fuss. He pulls his jacket on and unlucky his hair from the collar, expression like a lost puppy looking down at you. You stare at him, his under eyes dark as wine and the slight hollow of his cheeks, the stubble like a shadow on his jaw. 

You go up on tiptoes and wrap your arms around him. "I just want to know what's wrong so I can be here for you," you say, crushing his hair to his neck with your cheek. You readjust your hands, trying to convey how you feel, the want to hold him together, put his misaligned pieces back in the right place. "I don't want you to be alone." 

Spencer clears his throat, but he hugs you back in his way, making himself smaller and shorter to fit in your embrace. 

"It'll be okay. Yeah?" You speak into his hair, a reassurance for him alone.

Spencer just hugs you harder. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #luveline's 40k party

[youremyheaven]

Vedic Astrology Observations

1. Punarvasus tend to be very spiritual if not religious. They find peace in prayer. Another thing I've noticed is that they are very sexually conservative (probably because of their cat yoni). Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon was a virgin when she married her first husband and waited until marriage to be intimate with her second husband as well. She was engaged to James Packer for 18 months and they reportedly never had a physical relationship.

Miranda Kerr, Punarvasu Moon was in a relationship with Evan Spiegel for 3 years and waited until marriage. Drew Barrymore, Punarvasu Moon has said that she's been celibate since her divorce in 2016.

2. Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon speaking of the nature of light & time , her memoir has multiple chapters titled with light-related names and even sooo many of her songs , including Butterfly (Punarvasus are connected to butterflies)

3. Moksha gana nakshatras embody the trickster archetype. They also often argue or provoke people simply for the heck of it. 2/3 Moon ruled naks (Rohini & Hasta) are Moksha gana and it makes sense as to why they fuck with people just because they can, they have nothing to gain from it and it serves no purpose, they're evil for the heck of it. They'll go to any length to ruin you even if they ruin themselves in the process.

Moksha means liberation in Sanskrit (Sanskrit is a classical language like Latin that is pretty much only used in a scholarly context) and is one of 4 purusharthas or motivations assigned to the 27 naks. The others are artha (wealth) kama (pleasure) and dharma (duty). Moksha would be located at the very top of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, which means an individual with Moksha gana naks has transcended all the other base level motivations of accumulating wealth, seeking pleasure and doing one's duty. What is left to do now? If an individual is evolved, they actually seek liberation through their spirituality but if they are not, not only are they unbothered by any ordinary human motives, they lack the ability to devote themselves to anything ordinary because they simply dont care about getting a job or building a house or whatever. this means they also kind of exist beyond normal social norms?? go up against a Moksha gana native/Moon dominant person and the kind of arguments they'll use against you will reveal this nature of theirs. like they will have zero issue using your every vulnerability and insecurity against you just to win an argument or put you down. they hate to look "weak" so they will tear you apart just because they can, with no regard for any history you share. there are people who defend this by saying "oh well i was mad" babygirl everybody gets mad, but if someone isnt raising their voice, being petty or singling you out and bringing up your past to make you crumble, its not because they're incapable of it, its because they have principles.

Moksha gana naks love to play devil's advocate.

4. Rahuvians have bad memory, they probably repeat the same stories in different ways every few weeks lol

5. Saturnian women often marry billionaires according to Claire Nakti and I recently found some more examples of that:

** Mariah Carey, UBP Sun was engaged to Australian billionaire, James Packer who used to date Miranda Kerr, Pushya Rising (both these women are also Punarvasu Moon), Miranda is now married to the CEO of Snapchat.

** Lisa Manobal, UBP Sun is dating Frederic Arnault, a French billionaire

** Elle Macpherson, UBP Sun was in a relationship with Arpad Busson with whom she had 2 kids (he's not a billionaire but he does have a net worth of $500 million)

6. Nominative determinism, literally "name-driven outcome", is the hypothesis that people tend to gravitate towards areas of work that reflect their names.

but i thought i'd use it in the context of astrology and how most people are subconsciously given names that reflect their nakshatras

ex: Angelina Jolie

the name Angelina is an expansion of Angela which is derived from the Greek word Angelos which means "Angel" or "messenger". Angelina has Revati Moon which is a deva ("godly" nakshatra) and Jolie is the French word for "pretty" and Angelina has Venus in 1h and is Pushya Rising (these were two of the biggest beauty indicators according to Claire's research)

(its so cute to me that her name is literally Angel Pretty bc damn right she is)

Yara Shahidi (Revati Moon)- Yara is the name of a water spirit and in Portuguese it means "Water lady" (Yara has stated that her name means one who is close to your heart, but names can have several different meanings) and Shahidi means "witness" in Persian. I feel like all of that really ties together with Revati being in pisces rashi and the last nakshatra that is "witness" to everything else etc

#astrology notes #sidereal astrology #astrology observations #vedic astro notes #nakshatras #astro notes #astrology #vedic astrology #astroblr #astro observations #astro community #12h #jyotish #pisces #punarvasu

[adventuringblind]

Hi! Just wanted to say I love your x blind! reader pieces as a fellow visually impaired F1 fan! It makes me feel so seen. I would love to see more with any driver, but it would be cool to see more of Max or Charles with the blind sister. :)

Saftey Hazard

Oscar Piastri x Verstappen Reader

Genre: fluuuuufffff

Summary: Max volunteers a car to teach his sister how to drive. But Oscar is the one giving the lesson.

Warnings: dont try this at home? I definitely would.

Notes: reminder the blindness is a spectrum! Everybody is different!!

Masterlist

One thing about being blind is the lack of driving. It's like having an aspect of freedom ripped away. Something that other kids get to do while you're stuck being driven everywhere. The feeling of burdening other people with the constant need always exhausting.

Unless your name name is Max Verstappen. His sisters chauffer. He drives her everywhere she wants to go without hesitation or question.

In return, she comes to all his races, diligently uses her cane (even when she hates it) and listens for all the gossip. Her ears are amazing, and Max likes to use it to his advantage.

Then along came Oscar. It was inevitable that they would meet because he is Lando's teammate and Lando is Max's best friend. Similarly, her and the Brit are in cahoots to make Max fess up to Charles. There is a betting pool and everything.

She met Oscar while out clubbing. An activity that usually led to either Lando or Max going home not sober. Tonight, they would both be intoxicated because Oscar had offered himself up as the designated driver.

Sober conversations in a club with someone is an odd concept to her, considering the world she lives in.

Long story short: Her and Oscar got together before Max and Charles (much to Lando's dismay as he now owes her money).

Now, Max had been very clear that it is unsafe for her to drive. Which is true, considering she can't see much of the road let alone the cars around her. However, if the case arose where she could drive around an open track then he would provide a car if necessary.

She manages to crack Christian into making it a media thing. Perfect for the Press, give them something to chew on for a while maybe. If being a sacrificial lamb to the internet is what lets her drive, then so be it.

They do it in Austria around the Red Bull Ring. Max deemed this the best spot because of the long straight.

Even better: They've managed to convince McLaren to let their drivers join them for the occasion. Mostly because Max didn't want to be in a car with her driving, so Lando offered to teach then torcher his rookie teammate by letting his blind girlfriend drive as fast as the car will let her around the track.

Lessons go well. She's a quick study, and Lando, despite his chaotic nature, is a good teacher. Of course, it helps that she's driving an automatic, but she has a led foot like Max and wants to go as fast as possible.

After an hour, Lando gets out of the car. He's laughing like a maniac because he has no idea how well this is going to go. She may be driving an average car, but it certainly doesn't feel like it is with someone who can't see behind the wheel.

Oscar slides into the passenger seat and peers over at the female. She's vibrating with excitement. Despite the helmet, he can see the smile in her eyes.

"I have a feeling you're going to scare me and you're going to love it."

"Do you not trust me?" She feigns. Fake hurt dripping from her tone.

"Not in a car, no."

"I feel so loved."

With Oscar secured in the vehicle, she slams the gas pedal. Oscar doesn't make any noise if he's startled.

Actually, he barely makes noise at all. Aside from casually commenting every now and then on how she takes a turn. Sometimes, he makes her laugh with his commentary and usual deadpan humor.

When they do eventually step out of the the car, Oscar looks smitten. Heart eyes at his lover while they discuss how she did.

"I think I could race."

"Absolutely not. I'm not letting you anywhere near a supercar, let alone a formula one car." Oscar gives her a very serious look.

"You didn't seem scared at all!"

"Oh, that was terrifying, but I thought if I showed you I was scared, it might freak you out." He explains. Her mouth drops open in Suprise.

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

"How about we say, 'I love you' instead and be grateful everyone involved is uninjured."

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #f1 imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x y/n #max verstappen x you #lando norris f1 #lando norris #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #mclaren #redbull racing #red bull racing #red bull f1 #red bull formula 1

[joannechocolat]

On why women’s rage is a superpower

My mother hates my new book. I gave her a proof just a few days ago, and although she’s still only halfway through, she can’t wait to tell me all the ways in which she hates my novel.

“Is this science fiction?” she says. (She detests science fiction.) “Were you ill when you wrote this?” (I was.) And repeatedly, she says: “Why are the women so angry?”

I get it. She’s out of her comfort zone. At 83, with no internet, no interest in pop culture and a deep-rooted hatred of anything close to horror or the supernatural, she wasn’t my target audience. And yet it’s never easy to hear such criticism from a loved one. But in some ways, she isn’t wrong. Broken Light is an angry book. It came from a time of lockdown, when social media was my only window onto the world. It came from a place of trauma, when I was fighting cancer. It came from a place of corrupt hierarchies, self-serving politicians, anti-vaxxers, Covid deniers, victim-blamers, and those eager to blame all their woes on minorities. And of course, it arose against the background of the #MeToo campaign and the Sarah Everard murder – a murder that shocked the nation, not least because the murderer turned out to be a serving police officer with a reputation for sexual misconduct - which unleashed a collective howl of protest, as well as an ugly, misogynistic backlash. Even so, my story came as something of a surprise to me: the story of a woman’s rage, and, on reaching the age at which women often feel least valued, her coming into her power.

It surprised me, most of all because I wasn’t an angry person. At least, I didn’t think I was. Those who know me describe me as someone who tends to flee conflict, who generally tries to find common ground, who gets upset when people fight. And yet, writing this story, I found myself saying and feeling certain things on behalf of my heroine, Bernie Moon; things I might not have said for myself, but which felt right and urgent, and true, and strangely liberating.

Anger has a bad press. A woman’s anger, especially. While men are encouraged to express feelings of justified anger, women are often criticized when they try to do the same. Angry women are often portrayed as “harpies,” “banshees,” “Furies.” It suggests that a man’s rage is righteous, but that a woman’s is unnatural, making her into a monster. Male anger is powerful. The God of the Bible is one of wrath. Seldom is he ever portrayed as expressing any other emotion. In the same way, men and boys are often led to believe that expressing emotion is weak - except for anger, which is seen as acceptably masculine.

In comparison, women are often criticized when they show aggression. Angry women are hysterical, shrill, out of control, unreliable, unattractive, unfeminine. A perceived lack of “femininity” makes a woman less valuable, less worthy of respect and of protection. The Press coverage of women victims of violence is a case in point. A victim of violence needs to be attractive, white, gender conforming and virtuous in every way if she is not to be overlooked, or worse, portrayed as somehow having contributed to her misfortune. When trans teenager Brianna Ghey was stabbed, the Press were very quick to state that her murder was not thought to be a hate crime, whilst at the same time obsessing over – and questioning - her gender. When Nicola Bulley disappeared, police felt obliged to divulge details of her struggle with the menopause, as well as her alcohol issues, even though this was privileged information and of no public relevance. When Emma Pattison, the Head of Epsom College, was murdered alongside her daughter, the Press immediately assumed that her husband George must have felt “overshadowed” and “driven to distraction” by his wife’s prestigious job. In all three cases, the victim falls under the hostile scrutiny of the Press, while the perpetrator is given an excuse. In all three cases, the victim – one trans, one hormonal, one better-paid than her husband - is effectively portrayed as “unnatural”. Subtext: Unnatural women do not deserve the protection of the patriarchy. Unnatural women come to bad ends.    

Once you start to acknowledge it, rage grows at a surprising rate. Over the past three years, I have found myself growing increasingly angry. Angry at the injustices committed by our Government; t the greed of corporations; angry at the prejudice extended to those who are different.

Connecting with others on social media has made me more aware of the lives and experiences of those from different backgrounds to mine, and with different levels of privilege. For a long time I’d been resistant to calling myself a feminist. Feminists are angry, I thought. What right have you to be angry?

Growing older, I realize that this was my mother speaking. A woman of a certain generation, who although she was aware of the challenges of living in a patriarchy, still had a level of privilege that many women do not share. White, professional, cishet women can sometimes have the luxury of choosing not to be angry. White, professional, cishet women can sometimes have the illusion of equality. But feminism isn’t only for just one kind of woman. A feminist must look beyond the limits of their own experience. And that’s where the anger really starts: anger at injustice; anger at corruption and lies. Most of all, anger at the prejudice against certain people for just being themselves; for being transgender, or Black, or old, or simply not conforming to what a white, patriarchal society expects and values. And once you start seeing injustice, you start to see it everywhere. It’s like an eye, which, once opened, cannot unsee inequality.

My anger flourished in lockdown. A time of growing divisions. Masks are invaluable in a pandemic, and yet they inhibit connection. They serve as a kind of reminder of who can speak, and who is to be silenced. While Boris Johnson was urging the public to trust the police, a vigil for Sarah Everard was broken up, with violence, by officers citing lockdown laws. While elderly people were dying alone; while I drove for four hours just to go for a half-hour walk in the park with my son; while I sat alone in my chemo chair, politicians were partying. Billionaires were enriching themselves. Behind the mask, the eye opened wide. I caught myself making faces behind my disguise at strangers. There was something weirdly liberating about this; as if, behind the piece of cloth, I could express myself at last. Not unlike writing a book, in fact. On screen, the eye opened wider. Bernie Moon, my heroine, was unlike like me in many ways, and yet anger connected us. The anger that comes from helplessness; from seeing others mistreated. Anger at a society that propagates inequality. And the anger that comes from hormones – those mood-altering chemicals that everyone produces, and yet which allegedly make women erratic; unreliable; hormonal.

In his novel, Carrie, Stephen King tells the story of a girl, whose telekinetic powers are unleashed by her teenage hormones. Carrie is unpopular, bullied, isolated. Her rage finds an outlet in her power. Driven to breaking-point by the bullies, she becomes a monster. Of course she does: after all, the author of this tale is a man, writing from the perspective of a couple of thousand years’ worth of patriarchal inheritance. In literature, a woman’s anger is unnatural; monstrous. It leads to terrible, unnatural things: makes murderers and infanticides of Clytemnestra and Medea; monsters of Medusa and Scylla. Unnatural, monstrous women are always punished in literature, even while acknowledging that they are often the victims of men. And unnatural women are often seen as physically repulsive – a reminder that, to be valued and loved, women must be young, and pure, and conform to the standards of beauty set out by their society. In literature, just as in life, those women who do not conform tend to be less valued, less seen, and when they do appear, do so as wicked witches, evil stepmothers, ugly crones and hideous travesties of womanhood.

But what would happen if a woman took control of the narrative? In recent years, we have observed a number of retellings of Greek myths from the point of view of the monster. Stone Blind, by Nathalie Haynes; Medusa, by Jessie Burton; Circe, by Madeline Miller. In both cases, the monstrous woman is seen from a different perspective; her rage absorbed and justified; her narrative reclaimed from a patriarchy that seeks to tame and subdue a woman’s rage, even at the cost of her life.

My new novel, Broken Light, comes from the same process of reclamation. It owes a debt to Carrie, but I have avoided the explicitly paranormal theme of the original, as well as the girl-on-girl bullying and the psychopathic mother. In my version, Carrie lives; marries her childhood sweetheart; internalizes all her rage and suffocates her power. Until the menopause – a topic which until recently has been largely misunderstood and taboo – at which point her power returns, and with it, a new kind of freedom. Freedom from the male gaze; from the responsibilities of motherhood; from the largely impossible expectations of society. Unlike puberty, menopause is triggered by a lack of certain hormones; and yet the symptoms can be just as dramatic and isolating. Loss of libido, exhaustion, depression, emotional outbursts as well as unpredictable and alarming hot flashes – my version of Carrie’s pyrokinesis. Whether my heroine’s powers stem from any kind of paranormal source is very much up to the reader to decide – after all, paranormal is only a step away from unnatural. And what counts as unnatural is in the eye of the reader – an eye that has been opened, I hope, to a series of new possibilities.

One is that rage is natural. Living in a patriarchy, women have a right to their rage. In fact, it seems more unnatural to me when women are not angry, given how much misogyny remains in our society. And growing old is natural. Being hormonal is natural. Differences are natural; so are disabilities. All women matter; whatever their age, or colour, or sexual orientation, or marital or reproductive status. The value of a woman’s life should not be defined by her popularity, or her age, or her looks, or her kids, or her value to the patriarchy. And no-one else gets to decide what a woman ought to be. A woman is not what, but who - a person, not an object; an active participant in her world. Women have lived too long behind the mask. They deserve their own stories. Stories in which they are allowed the full range of human possibility. So, to answer my mother’s question: Why are the women so angry?

Because it’s a superpower.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 16th

Public Sex, Papa Emeritus II x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Public sex; cheating; exhibitionism; power play; abuse of power; forced cucking (so, dubcon); fingering; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; public masturbation; degradation; finger sucking; cum eating?; breeding kink; creampie;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

I went a bit feral with this... please enjoy the depravity.

Papa Emeritus II was, for lack of a better term, a menace to the Ministry. He had always been a bit of a ladies’ man, but upon taking over Papacy from his older brother, he became a pure, unadulterated nightmare. For the most part, he never abused his power. He never threw his title around and stomped his feet every time he couldn’t get something his way. He would always sit back, contemplate, and form a solution even if it wasn’t the ideal outcome. However, he hated most of the Clergy members. Most of the Cardinals that surrounded him, the Bishops, just most of the people who decided that they would try and brown nose their way to Secondo’s position. Or at least into becoming his right-hand man.

The thing about Secondo was, he never had right-hand men. Knew all he needed to know about men given that he was one and, quite frankly, he couldn’t stand them. No, no, Secondo had right-hand women and enbies. Career-driven, powerful women, and enbies that had tempers and formidable demeanours rivalling that of Mt. Vesuvius. To be perfectly honest, his previous right-hand would have made Vesuvius shake to the size of the Viminal Hill in Roma.

Secondo would never sleep with his right-hand and personal team, of course not! And how dare you suggest such a thing? That would be a breach of his power, a total imbalance of the Force. No, no. He would never sleep with them. He would, of course, provide pleasure should they ask for it, though. The man was an open book many had read. A beautiful person teary-eyed and complaining that their spouse wasn’t pleasing them right? Ugh, a plague on their house. As leader of the Satanic Church, where the vulva’s orgasm was the utmost of their priorities by order of the Dark Lord and father, Lucifer, it was his right - no! His duty as Papa to make sure that this person felt loved and appreciated, and so overstimulated they could hardly walk. But that was neither here nor there. It was only his duty after all.

So, needless to say, when sweet, young, distraught you walked into his office in tears, he was beside himself. His favourite Sibling is struggling? No, this can’t happen - not on his watch. You didn’t want to tell him at first for fear of being unprofessional, but Papa was insistent you unburdened yourself. When you explained that you’d caught your partner in bed with another Sibling and he didn’t feel in any way remorseful for what he’d done, Secondo almost hit the roof. He was only able to keep himself calm for your sake. However, once he was no longer seeing red, devising a plan was as simple and easy as taking candy from a baby. Your partner was a piece of shit to you, but he was also just a general piece of shit. He was one of those brown-nosers who was after a higher position in the Ministry. He practically sold you into Secondo’s employment so you could put in a good word with Papa. But you were the kindest, sweetest, most angelic in the Ministry, and Secondo couldn’t quite bring himself to hate or be wary of you. And so now he was hatching his own plan for revenge on your behalf.

There were plenty of things he could have done, but only one thing he wanted to do. One thing that would really send a message. You. And with your consent he did just that. Papa was, unsurprisingly, the best you’d ever had. And every time you two slept together you were reminded of just how awful your partner was and how much you’d been screwed over. And so by welcoming Papa into your bed you were actively disrespecting your partner in a private way. And while it was good enough the first three times, your partner was none the wiser and was certainly not being shamed for it. Revenge is best served cold, but yours had only just entered the fridge.

You didn’t have a plan so much as a spontaneous idea stemming from the perfect situation. The Clergy had a twice-yearly dinner that all the higher members and their partners would attend. Meaning you would be there with him. And you were just as stunning as usual. You chose an emerald, sequin ensemble that made you look divine and flattered your body in such a way all eyes were on you. And this clearly frustrated your partner as when Secondo found you in one of the alcoves you were sobbing again. “He was fucking her in one of the rooms. Sister Imperator informed me. Now she knows, everyone else will.”

Secondo wrapped you into a warm hug and allowed you to cry into his robes. He was a bitter, miserable old man to most, but to those closest to him he was insanely kind and thoughtful. Ruthless and intimidating, but wonderful. “I want to embarrass him.” Secondo told you. “I want to humiliate him the most. Sathanas, if I could, I’d spread you on the dinner table and have my way with you in front of him, and watch him try to keep his cool head in front of the entire Clergy.”

You didn’t know what came over you. You didn’t know why you said what you said, but you looked him in the eye, wiped a tear away and said, “Do it.”

Secondo was clearly taken aback because he asked for clarification.

“I want him to hurt. I want him to suffer. I want you to let everyone know how much of a piece of shit he is. Ostracise him.”

Secondo gulped and looked at you with wide eyes and his hands tightened their grip on your waist. He let out an involuntary groan at the thought and before either of you could change your minds, he took you by the hand and led you back to the dining hall. He waited a second longer just so that you could make sure you looked presentable and like you hadn’t been affected by your partner’s infidelity and you entered the room, disappointed to see he still wasn’t back yet. Secondo had a plan, though, kissed your hand and told you to sit in your seat until your partner came back. Secondo would go back to his.

The power he exuded just walking back to his high backed seat had your thighs rubbing together to relieve the pressure that was building in your core. He sat down, tilted slightly to the right and resting his whole body on the arm rest, with his knees spread apart and anger in his eyes. He was intimidating, almost emanating a black smoke that subtly alerted people to his foul mood and warned them to steer clear. Your eyes were so fixed onto his, you didn’t notice your partner had walked back through the door with his own lover following moments after, until you watched Secondo’s eyes trained onto him and glowering as he came over and placed a chaste kiss to your temple. As subtly as he wanted, Secondo patted his thigh while making eye contact with you, inviting you to come over to your Papa. And you did just that, making excuses to your partner and walking over to Secondo, butterflies fluttering in your stomach in fear but mostly excitement.

Secondo took hold of your hand once more and placed a kiss to the back of it, chivalrously greeting you and welcoming you back into his presence. He decided against making a speech, believing that in this instance actions speak louder than words, and so he delicately grabbed you by the waist and guided you to sit atop his lap, the backs of your knees hooked over the armrest he was leaning on before. Now his hand rested on your thigh, and his thumb was stroking the sequined material there while his eyes gazed up at you. He sat up, stretching his back all the way up so his lips could reach your neck and attached them to your most sensitive spot. He chuckled when your eyes fluttered closed and a breathy moan escaped you. “Straddle me.” He ordered, loud enough for only you to hear.

You obeyed, hiking your outfit to it’s most comfortable position and allowing you to sit comfortably on his lap. People had begun to take notice now, but conversations were still being had. He cupped your face and pulled you down for a kiss, wasting absolutely no time in making it as filthy as he possibly could. Never had Secondo been so brazen as take a Clergy member’s wife into his lap and treat her like a common whore in front of the whole Clergy. The thought alone excited him more than he could possibly say.

His gloved hands came down your hips and grasped onto your ass cheeks, pulling your body closer to him and giving them a rough squeeze. Into his mouth, you moaned, loud enough now for more to start taking notice and conversations to begin dwindling. You barely heard the hushed whispers of people discussing how scandalous it was. But the whispers didn’t stop Secondo from taking one of his hands to his lips and spitting on it. Nor was he deterred from pulling your clothes to give him better access to your core. The only face and voice he was focussed on was yours as his middle finger made contact with your now sensitive clit. The only reaction he gave was when he watched your mouth hang open with the pleasure from the leather. Your face alone was almost enough to make him cum in his robes, but he did everything he could to make sure that the only place he’d cum tonight was inside you.

When you had gotten used to the feeling of his finger on your clit, he once again spat on his finger and used that one to breach your walls, tapping up just as you liked and making you let out a much louder moan. Whoever’s attention you didn’t get, you had now. Your hips began to move on their own in a grinding motion so you could wriggle his fingers deeper into your desperate hole. When he added a second finger, your loud moan was coupled by your back arching and your head falling backwards, allowing you to open your eyes briefly to see the entire Clergy staring back at you. Most had amused faces or disappointed looks, but your eyes flickered over to your partner to witness the look of sheer fury on his beet-red face. There was his spouse, in the lap of Papa Emeritus II, getting her pussy pleasured by him in front of the whole Ministry. You felt your nipples growing hard beneath your clothes at the thought of his embarrassment, and just how much he wanted to stop this but had no authority or power. No one did. Secondo was head of the Satanic church now - he could do what he liked. Which is how you’d both been allowed to go on for as long as you had.

“Papa!” You screamed as he hit a particularly great spot inside of you.

Secondo chuckled. “There?”

“There!”

“Cum for everyone here, principessa. Show them how pretty you look when you cum on Papa’s fingers.”

And oh boy, did you. Secondo’s fingers were playing you like an instrument he’d been playing for years. It was like he knew every single one of your quirks and desires and used them against you while he touched you. The combined eyes of the upper-Clergy and your irate partner’s expression caused you to tip quickly over the edge and cry out as you did so, toes curling and eyes shutting.

Once you’d come down, Secondo guided you to the table where he gently sat you upon it, situating himself in between your open, yet tired, legs. Secondo’s voice sounded again, “Ripple!” He called.

One of his Ghouls came forth instantly and waited for his master’s instructions. “Yes, Papa?”

Secondo’s eyes moved towards your partner and he grinned slightly. “Make sure all the paperwork for Mx. ______’s divorce is prepared. I want her free from that cheating scumbag as quickly as possible.”

“Of course, Papa. Right away.”

Ripple turned and made his exit, and when you watched him go, your eyes locked onto a particular Cardinal whose sinful smirk had caught your attention: Cardinal Terzo Emeritus. He stood, clearly not comfortable seeing what was about to come next, but he shot you a casual salute before picking up his glass of wine and pulling his own squeeze for the night, and his personal Ghoul with him as he walked away. Of course Terzo appreciated this display, it was probably something he’d do himself if he was given the opportunity. Rumours of his own infamous orgies spread like wildfire after every single one - this would normally be right up his alley.

Secondo, still looking at your partner and once your cunt was exposed to Secondo and only him, proceeded to press himself inside you. This animalistic display of dominance was almost too much for you - you were about to go feral over Secondo and the way he was silently daring your partner to do something as you were willingly defiled in front of everyone. The gasps other people made as Secondo was sinking himself into you set your body on fire, and you fell backwards onto the table allowing Papa to see you entirely.

“Are you ready, principessa?” Secondo asked looking down at you.

“Yes! Please fuck me, Papa!”

He gripped onto your soft waist for leverage as he started his movements, snapping in and out of you over and over again and making you scream with each hit. You were, perhaps, going a little overboard with some of the noises you made, but the majority of them were completely involuntary. Secondo’s cock was the best you’d had, and his attention to your body made him an expert in you. He knew you liked it rougher, filthier than most of his previous partners. And now he could add exhibitionism to the list. The way you clenched around him every time you locked eyes with someone new made his own grunts and groans appear.

“Does that feel good, principessa?” Secondo asked, his eyes locked onto your body as it jiggled with the force of his thrusts. “Do you like the Clergy watching your Papa fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“Do you like watching the Clergy touch themselves while your Papa fucks you?”

“Oh fuck!”

Secondo wasn’t lying, there were numerous Cardinals and Archbishops present, rubbing their very obviously hard cocks over their robes as they watched Secondo bury himself deep inside you over and over again. And fuck did it turn you on to see that. Quite a few people had left for reasons you couldn’t ascertain, meaning the people that were left either wanted to remember this whole scene for later, or enjoy it while it was still live. You had noticed that the remainder of Papa’s Ghouls were ushering people out as well, no doubt to give you as much privacy as possible under the strange circumstances.

Your cunt tightened, however, when you locked eyes with your partner once more, laughing deliriously at the look on his face. He couldn’t look away from you whoring yourself out to Papa - like this! While you still looked at him, you let out a loud, obnoxious moan, and set your hands to work. One pinched your nipple and played with it while it was still under the fabric of your outfit, the other moved down to your clitoris and rubbed it matching Secondo’s pace. This earned you an appreciative grunt from him.

While your eyes were still locked onto your partner’s, Secondo spoke again. “Tell me, whose cock is better? Mine or his?”

“Satan! Your c-cock is so much better, Papa!”

“Why, principessa?”

“You’re b-bigger! And you reach deep inside of me. Oh fuck! Papa, you feel so good! You always touch me in places he can’t reach!”

“Poor baby. Did he always leave you unsatisfied?”

“Yes!”

“Could he make you cum?”

“No! E-every time he fucked me I was disappointed!”

“How many times have I had you, principessa?” When you couldn’t answer, Secondo grew impatient. He landed a particularly hard thrust against your cervix that had you screaming. “How many times?”

“Four!”

“How many times have you cum around my cock?”

“Fuck, Papa! I don’t remember.”

“Try harder for me. How many?”

“Maybe - fuck, Papa! T-ten times? Papa, you’re gonna split me in half!”

“Where did we fuck the first time, principessa?”

“On his desk! I’m so close, Papa, please!”

“You’re mine now, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Papa!”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours, Papa! I belong to only you now. I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“Cum for me. Show him what he’s been missing out on all this time. Remind him how much of a waste of space he is.”

With one final flick of your wrist, you came undone on Secondo’s cock, your body tensing and locking as you rose off the table. Your breath escaped you and your eyes widened. You couldn’t breathe or see. All you could do was feel. Feel your fingers still working at your clit while Papa continued to ride you in front of the Clergy members that were left behind. He was still going as you came down from your second orgasm. His gloved fingers wrapped around your hands and brought yours to his lips. His tongue flicked out as he took each individual finger into his mouth, sucking off your cum from them and moaning as he did.

“Papa!” You called up to him weakly. “I want you to cum deep in my cunt!”

He took your fingers out of his mouth and grunted in agreement. “You want Papa’s cum?”

“Yes! I want you to fill me up. I want you to fuck me full of your cum and show everyone who I belong to. Remind everyone I’m yours.”

“Knock you up,” he grunted, “do what your failure of a spouse couldn’t.”

“Please, Papa! Cum inside me!”

“Be a good girl for Papa and take it all, won’t you?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“Take it, principessa. Take every fucking drop.”

And with that, it was Papa’s turn to topple over the edge. He stilled inside you and let out a gutteral groan, releasing his seed and filling you just as you asked him to. You’d won. Your partner was completely humiliated, but the cruel beast inside you wanted to take it one extra step. Once Secondo had pulled himself out of you, you sat up and swivelled round on the table, resting your back against him. Papa took this opportunity to kiss your neck and move up to bite your ear, hanging over you protectively and dominant just to further stake his claim to you. You spread your legs once more, and showed your partner exactly what had just transpired. You shot him a smug look as you spread your cunt apart and Secondo’s cum began to drip out of you and onto the table. All of the orgasms Secondo had given you were exquisite, but watching your partner walk out of the dining hall a smaller person than before came as a close second.

Just before he left, Secondo shot him a middle finger that only you were really paying attention to, and it made you giggle. It made Secondo giggle, too. This whole ordeal had been about revenge but it also brought you closer to Secondo - and right now, even though you were still in front of a few people, the whole moment felt very intimate and private. That was when you realised you were falling for him.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

#mel writes #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #ghost kinktober #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #ghost the band #papa emeritus #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus x reader smut #papa emeritus II #papa emeritus II x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader smut #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus ii smut #papa secondo #papa secondo smut #papa secondo x reader #papa secodondo x reader smut #secondo #secondo smut #secondo x reader #secondo x reader smut #papa emeritus secondo #secondo emeritus

[almightaylor]

The Tortured Poets Department

Writer: Henry Fox

You are a dark sorcerer

Henry <[email protected]> 6/8/20 3:23 PM to A

Alex,

I can’t think of a single other way to start this email except to say, and I do hope you will forgive both my language and my utter lack of restraint: You are so fucking beautiful.

I’ve been useless for a week, driven around for appearances and meetings, lucky if I’ve made a single meaningful contribution to any of them. How is a man to get anything done knowing Alex Claremont-Diaz is out there on the loose? I am driven to distraction.

It’s all bloody useless because when I’m not thinking about your face, I’m thinking about your arse or your hands or your smart mouth. I suspect the latter is what got me into this predicament in the first place. Nobody’s ever got the nerve to be cheeky to a prince, except you. The moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed. O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. If only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when American boys with chin dimples are mean to him.

Actually, remember those gay kings I mentioned? I feel that James I, who fell madly in love with a very fit and exceptionally dim knight at a titling match and immediately made him a gentleman of the bedchamber (a real title), would take mercy upon my particular plight.

I’ll be damned but I miss you.

x

Henry

-

The Tortured Poets Department

Writer: Alexander Claremont-Diaz

bad metaphors about maps

A <[email protected]> 9/25/20 3:21 AM to Henry

h,

i have had whiskey. bear with me. there’s this thing you do. this thing. it drives me crazy. i think about it all the time.

there’s a corner of your mouth, and a place that it goes. pinched and worried like you’re afraid you’re forgetting something. i used to hate it. used to think it was your little tic of disapproval.

but i’ve kissed your mouth, that corner, that place it goes, so many times now. i’ve memorized it. topography on the map of you, a world i’m still charting. i know it. i added it to the key. here: inches to miles. i can multiply it out, read your latitude and longitude. recite your coordinates like la rosaria.

this thing, your mouth, its place. it’s what you do when you’re trying not to give yourself away. not in the way that you do all the time, those empty, greedy grabs for you. i mean the truth of you. the weird, perfect shape of your heart. the one on the outside of your chest.

on the map of you, my fingers can always find the green hills, wales. cool waters and a shore of white chalk. the ancient part of you carved out of stone in a prayerful circle, sacrosanct. your spine’s a ridge i’d die climbing.

if i could spread it out on my desk, i’d find the corner of your mouth where it pinches with my fingers, and i’d smooth it away and you’d be marked with the names of saints like all the old maps. i get the nomenclature now—saints’ names belong to miracles.

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there’s so much of you.

fucking yrs,

a

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb movie #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #the tortured poets department #taylor swift rwrb #taylor swift #waterloo letters #useralmightaylor #taylor swift did it for firstprince #this idea is living rent free in my head

[12thhausveen]

More astrobservations:

Aquarius placements and always being the sore thumb in the family- what is that? A lot of the time family doesn’t up approve of what their into/ up to and they’re usually very ok with that. At some point they just stop trying to impress their parents and I’ve noticed some just go off the deep end and it seems like it’s spite driven + their urge to not conform rising to the occasion

When water suns are attracted to you those eyes will do all the talking first especially with pisces suns like… are you gonna say something orr 😭

With sun opp moon in synastry the sun can have a fondness for the moon that i think comes from noticing the similar modality they operate with and respecting the moons unique approach to things since the sun is a creative energy as is, once the moon knows they aren’t being stepped on and have their own space to exist these two are some peas in a pod

The dynamic when there’s attraction between a water sun male and a fire sun female in the beginning stages has the most awkward interactions… he could be the most outgoing person (rare) til he gets around her then it’s SILENCE and the weirdest attempt at flirting I’ve ever witnessed ensues. Lmk your experiences with this dynamic if they exist

Cancer placements may not want children or to be a mother but there’s this weird urge to mother or PROTECT more so… i don’t know what it is but we all have our Thing we protect, for me im oddly protective of animals and when someone becomes apart of my crew and my life there’s that urge to protect them from the world 😶

Leo sun (+ cancer placements bonus points) have this rich protectiveness that reads a bit aggressive at times, if they perceive there’s a threat they won’t hesitate to get loud and defend who they love either

Jupiter in the 12th/pisces could enjoy getting drunk/ high/ not being sober while traveling… it’s strange and very true for me

Mars conjunct pluto and hating men… it’s usually not for no reason either

Also men with aquarius placements… why are so many skinny/ lanky?! The amount aquarius placement men/ individuals built like that needs to be studied… also always got some kinda geeky swag and a eccentric beauty either eccentric weird or just oddly charming without trying (see harry styles, ashton kutcher etc and those are just aqua suns)

Libra moons are literally a mirror of their environment… we’re not sweetie pies or moody we’re literally just you 😭 (especially right when we meet new people). Also it’s hard for us to be blatantly mean for no reason, the kid to say ‘guys let’s just stop’ while playing ding dong ditch

No one’s gonna read you on your flaws like a virgo sun/ moon/ (possibly venus)… if you pass the visual test or they don’t stoop that low it’s what about your life is lacking they tend to call out passive aggressively or during a fight and they do love themselves a verbal spar… also I’ve noticed they love to talk about their day and how it went with their person at the end of the day

Also aries venuses (with a fire mars bonus points 😵‍💫) what is it with y’all making rash/ impulsive decisions to feel something or for some kinda validation then regretting it later… and this is coming from a sag mars y’all need to calm down 😭 the energy and zest is nice but channel it into something you KNOW will benefit you in the future

> Just stuff I’ve gathered if you have other experiences lmk i like to learn

+ thank you for the interactions on my prev postッ

#astrology observations #synastry observation #astrology #chart observations #astro observations

[2smolbeans]

Which of the brothers would most likely be a yandere?

Prompt: From top to bottom, which of the brothers would be more of a yandere?

Tags: Devildom world building, mentions of the brothers' pasts after and before falling from heaven, delusional mindsets, desperation, mentions of how they'd react if MC were anything but human, kidnapping, torture, all of these demons are insufferable lol, Mc should really invest in becoming an exorcist, OOC brothers.

A/N:

*This is completely scrambled and unedited, so read at your own risk lol. I wanted to write it completely organized, but I gave up halfway ( ´_ゝ`)...

Note: I will edit this here and there since I might wanna add more changes since I may have rushed this

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Leviathan:

Immediately, he would be the first of the seven deadly sins to be a yandere. Leviathan is a reckless, emotionally driven demon fueled by jealousy 24/7.

He often gets jealous of many things, from either not owning a specific item or even the littlest of things that don't necessarily relate to him. There are so many things that push Leviathan to an orange filled envy, but none of them compare to lacking...Love.

As it is known, Leviathan is a hoarder - not as bad as Mammon.

Leviathan tends to collect excessive amounts of whatever gains his interest. Whether it's the newest latest addition to the Ruri-Chan merch, his favorite video game series, or anything that fits his otaku nature.

It fills him with a sense of pride. It boots his ego, and it comforts his inner insecurities, knowing that no one else could ever amount to his collection. But when he's hit with it again, hit with the harsh reality of how lonely he is compared to others - it fills him with a cowardly rage.

Love. Something that he was cursed to forever be void of by his 'father' after the fall. Something that is so tempting - so unreachable - it tortures him. Something so simple that everyone else can have, but he can't.

It doesn't help that as a seven deadly sin, it's hard to obtain a genuine trust in hell. The higher the demon is in Devildom hierarchy, the harder it is for them to form trustful or emotionally filling relationships since other high or low ranking demons would objectify you as some typical terrifying, spoiled, powerful demon.

Because of this, Leviathan hates himself. He hates the fact that he's the avatar of envy - and the fact that as the avatar of envy, he can't even own up to it or make it a proud staple of his very existence! Instead, he's just some retired navy leader who lazes around in his dark, disgusting room, pouting his time away. It's why it isn't uncommon to hear Leviathan berate himself so constantly.

He absolutely resents those around him who are able to socialize, to form relationships, to even MAINTAIN them.

He hates it, he hates hearing the stories of how immortal beings were able to find love. He despises the fact that cupids are able to find and influence love itself, how angels are able to keep eternal love, and how even the lowest of demons in Devildom are able to have families of their own!

For fucks sake, shouldn't HE be the one having all those things? He was a renowned leader of Hell's Royal Navy! It's not fair, everyone else should be suffering, they don't have the high status and responsibilities to have something so special.

He hates it, it makes him look pathetic, but lord the things he does just to even have an ounce of what they have...

It's why I can see him falling in love so quickly the moment someone catches his eyes. If you fit his preference in any shape or form, its over for you.

Like a typical siren type demon, Leviathan usually likes to go for human lovers. It's very rare to see him crush over a demon, angel, cupid, or any other mystical being because of the lack of trust he has for them.

However since most of his lovers are human, they're quite disposable sadly due to the lack of care he has for their delicate 'state'.

For now, I'd say Leviathan isn't a concerning Yandere when it comes to being targeted if you are anything but a human! But the moment he explores different immortal beings is when situations would start to get a bit worrying and tragic.

Otherwise if you are a demon who happens to work or interact with Leviathan in any shape or form. Whether it be from the navy or casual business endeavors. The best advice you could ever get is; steer away from his lover, don't ever mention his lover, question if he has one, or try to get romantically involved with him.

That is unless you want to risk being digested inside a mythical sea creature, being burned alive in their intestines for hundreds of years, only to be spewed out as living shit. Yes, even if you get digested and spewed out by a creature in hell, you CANNOT DIE as a demon. And he knows it. In his twisted sense of humor, he could really call you 'the piece of shit that you are'.

Leviathan is smarter than what he shows himself to be as, he's a military man that is chronically online- it makes him horrifyingly creative when it comes to torturing people.

But overall Leviathan is the first demon brother to be the most obessive, desperate, and lonely yandere of them all. He just wants love, that's it, it's not so hard to give him that right?

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Mammon:

Mammon, the second eldest from all of his brothers is the most human out of them all. He's more laid back and able to empathize and understand emotions and people's behavior a lot better than any of his brothers. His sin, greed, is at a constant momentum throughout every person's life. Greed is inescapable, it's something that is biologically built in every being- the exception being angels- for the means of survival. It's what makes Mammon so powerful, so influential, Mammon knows what people think, what they want, and why they want it.

Because of this, Mammon is able to manipulate and exploit any situation for his benefit. He's able to always get what he wants, even if told no beforehand.

He's gotten used to it, getting whatever he wants in such large amounts, it's become a dangerous habit.

Mammon is an extreme hoarder because of this. He's gotten so used to winning, he's used to feeling that constant dopamine rush whenever he gets what he wants.

Still, he somehow manages to keep his room clean no matter how many items he crams into his space.

It's something he can never get used to, the feeling of an intense want and need for something. He just can't put a finger to it. Mammon knows he has literally everything in the world, from the smallest of trinkets, to the stashes of gold and money, his greed is never satisfied.

There was always that small lingering since of emptiness that clawed the back of his mind. The worst part is, no one could ever understand, or at least comfort him. His brothers could care less since they had their own issues, he couldn't trust any other demon in Devildom, and humans..Maybe one of them could understand. But how embarrassing would that be for the great Mammon?

Mammon has everything he could ever ask for, but no matter what, he'll always want more. And its why he longs for that relationship with somsone- for someone to understand him, to shower him in love- something even money couldn't do, to hold him, to worship and praise him, just to tell him that's it's enough...

It's why embarrassing it is for him, Mammon is desperate for any sort of attention. Platonic, familial, or even romantic, Mammon doesn't care how belittling it makes him look- espically considering his status, he just wants something to make him feel more than he already feels.

So even though he's all high and mighty, full of pride and his ego being off the charts. Mammon is desperate to the point of going on his knees and begging for anyone- you - to just give him this ONE thing.

Either way, if begging doesn’t work on you, Mammon is smart enough to figure out what makes you break.

Afterall, he does have eyes everywhere (those eyes being the crows that he tasks to be his watchful eye. Since his animal is a crow, I can see Mammon being able to talk and task the crows to watch over you)

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Asmodeus:

It's hard for him to maintain a relationship, it's a curse really. Afterall he is the avatar of lust for a reason. He can't fall in love or have any genuine feelings for anyone thanks to his sin.

He's always constantly yearning for someone, lusting over the traits that perhaps they could give him- to satisfy him.

He cares, but then he doesn’t. He wants it, but then he hates it. Asmodeus can never make up his mind when it comes to love. Whether it's platonic or romantic.

If he obesses over someone, it's probably due to the fact that for once, he can feel a sense of normality whenever he's around them.

In contrast to the intense, passionate, and overwhelming feelings of lust and possession, a sense of warmth and peace would be a nice change of pace.

I can see Asmodeus not falling for anyone unless they somehow form some sort of a deep connection with him.

He's been in hell for so long- he doesn't know what a normal friendship even looks like.

Even when roams around the Earth, he could never grasp the concept of a healthy relationship... (since humans are completely flawed and influenced by their sin. So humans are absolutely abysmal with relationships to the point of insanity. Either way, Asmodeus is left even more confused when he observes human relationships because of the complexity and constant shift in their definations or rules of relationships.)

He's been through humans and demons like candy- so even grabbing his attention as a friend is hard. He's met so many fakers. He kind of just ignores whoever tries to get close with him. So it really is hard for him to get attached and obess over someone.

The last time he's ever really 'loved' someone was Helen. But even then its never worked out.

Nothing ever works out. So he builds a wall, a wall of pride and insecurities.

But once someone manages to break down that wall, he's in disbelief and in madness. It took a millennium, it took YEARS, and yet it took a simple being such as you to full in that void.

He's curious about you immediately, desperate even. He doesn't want to scare you off, so he'll shower you in gifts and praise. His mask is slipping, but he doesn't care.

It's been so long since he's ever felt an ounce of true respect and empathy. He will never let it slip so easily. It's been so long since he's ever felt an ounce of true respect and empathy. He will never let it slip so easily.

So he'll follow you, persuade you. He doesn't care if you see him as a friend or lover - he doesn't even know what he sees you as. But he just wants you by his side 24/7.

Talk to anyone else? He'll bombard you with questions- what makes them so interesting? Is he better than them? They're just an accquantice, right?

Human, Angel, Demon, or any type of creature you are - Asmodeus doesn't care.

If you're an angel, he'll try to keep you as pure as possible. He doesn't want to cause you anymore pain. But he finds it hard as he realises that you can't stay in hell since eventually you would have to return to heaven with the rest of the other angels. Plus.. just the thought of being him, your corruption sends a shiver down his spine. So, with a few lingering touches and some sweet whispers in your ear, Asmodeus will enjoy every moment corrupting a poor innocent angel in the most pleasurable way possible.

However, if you're a human, he'll do anything to keep you immortal so that he can keep you forever. If you're anything else such as a demon or another supernatural creature, well, isn't he lucky! Keeping you wouldn't be so hard.

Overall, Asmodeus would be a rare yandere- but a sweet- clinging, loving, yet overbearing one once turned on.

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Belphegor:

Belphegor has little to no attraction to anyone or even with the thought of forming relationships. Like Leviathan, Belphegor is a shut-in, a demon who often lives most of his life inside his head - too tired to care about reality.

So I personally don't see Belphegor falling in love or growing an extreme infatuation for any being from heaven, hell, or earth.

Since Belphegor could care less about anyone - why should he? Why should he want a relationship? Is there any point or benefit for him?

Belphegor doesn't like change at all. He's a demon with a schedule of his own admission and would rather keep it that way.

Finding another person to enter his life would simply destroy his whole entire niche. However, if someone were to catch his eye- it would have to be through visiting their dreams.

You see, during Belphegor's indulgent slumbers- he's always visiting other people dreams, causing terror just for his pure amusement. He loves it. He gets a rush out of draining people from their energy to ruin the one thing they can enjoy - sleep.

The thought of them being oh so afraid while he gets to control their world, to introduce them to the many horrors that they cannot comprehend, and even after they wake up, they are still struck with fear as they have to await what happens to their next sleep.

So, if by some unfortunate curse, someone were to catch his eye, Belphegor would make them his main focus whenever he goes into a deep sleep. Because for once, out of every being he's ever met..You entertain him.

So inevitably, you'd save countless amounts of beings from Belphegor's nightmare shenanigans - however, you'd be stuck with whatever he has in store.

It would be a terrifying incident since Belphegor would most likely try to keep your dreams prolonged as possible. No matter how far away you were for him, somehow- he'd be able to lull you into a long coma that could last for days, only letting you wake up to do basic functions such as eat, drink, use the bathroom, and whatnot.

It wouldn't take long for him to want more though, sure it's fun controlling whatever world your mind forms and making up scenarios for you two, such as dates or events.

But.. Now, he's curious about what it would be like to do that outside of your dreams. Furthermore, he's even more curious about who you really are outside your dreams.

Whether it be your looks, personality, or how strong you are, you are really outside your mental state? It doesn't matter how many times you try to persuade him that it isn't worth finding you.

Once Belphegor has made up his mind, there's no stopping him.Whether he tears through Hell, Earth, or the exchange program- he will find you. It's only a matter of time.

Besides, how hard can it be when he could just invasively search through your mind?Overall, as a yandere, I guess you could say Belphegor would be more of an antagonistic sadistic abuser that favors you for how much you amuse him.

Maybe it's obsession, love, or favoritism - Belphegor doesn't know what it is either. But all he knows is that your cries, screams, your fear, your happiness, he wants it for himself.

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Beelzebub:

He's softer and more human than the rest of the brothers (besides Mammon). I can see him being more of a protective and soft spoken type of yandere. Not sadistic, but controlling and a bit masochistic.

He finds it adorable if you berate him- it's almost like a small puppy barking at him. He thinks this cause- you do know he can crush you right? He could eat you like the others and you couldn't do a thing a about it.

When it comes to romantic relationships, Beel doesn’t yearn for it- although he isn’t against the thought of being romantically involved with someone.

He does enjoy the thought of being beside someone who he can confide with. He daydreams about it a lot more than anyone could ever imagine.

(I'm not gonna lie. I don't have any more current thoughts, but I really do see him being a bit of a softie and a lot less cruel than all of his brothers combined. I do know I will write about each brother more separately in more organized depth later 😭)

Satan:

With a calm exterior outside and an angry issue inside, when it comes to romance and obsession, he could care less about it. It's a waste of time for him, and why else would he focus on anything else when he has his inner issues and his duties to attend to?

Like all his brothers, he's been alive for God knows how long- and he's met all sorts of people. He finds them all the same or just.. Annoying.

It's really hard for any of them to earn his respect, and he really hates it. Everyone around him are like worms, crawling with impulse and just gorging on filth.

However, if he were to find someone of interest, it would most likely have to be out of respect. I could see a scenario of Satan perhaps knowing you for a long time. He hadn't thought much of you until you gained his respect. Ever since then, he couldn't help but be in such awe for you.

Maybe it's because you're the thing that actually calms his nerves. It's why he'll never admit it, but he does get explosive when he sees you interacting with others. You're not filthy, so why are you contaminating your mind and soul with disgusting parasites?

He needs you in a way. He hates it. It brings down his pride, but you're the only thing that can take away his intense emotions that overwhelm him.

He's dependent on you, and it angers him of how you don't see the severity of what you've done to him.

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Lucfier:

Lucifer is a demon of power, status- the very essence of perfection. As the eldest of all the seven deadly sins, Lucifer holds a high bar of standards when it comes to his life and how he shapes it.

He's nit picky about every detail that surrounds him, from the people that talk to him, how he presents himself- no matter what it is, Lucifer will always filter it. He needs to be perfect, whatever that cost may be.

Afterall, he deserves to have the best of the best after the torture he had to endure from the moment he fell from grace. So what makes you think Lucifer would allow some measly being, something so pathetic, so insignificant- just another number to a population- would make him fall down onto his knees?

Lucifer, the eldest, the one who lived ever since Adam and Eve flourished on earth, the one who started the celestial war, went against his own kind, absorbed ancient years worth of knowledge, saw man kind change throughout the centuries.

He's the all knowing eye of everything that you see, so how could he ever see anyone eye to eye? Every being he ever comes across is just a means to evolution that he had to witness.

So if in that rare moment someone catches his eye, it's granted that he'll immediately make it known to them. Whether it be leaning close to them, leading them into his office as he tells them upfront, or perhaps just locking them away in his private chambers. He doesn't care if they consent or not, either way he'll break it into their minds of how happy they should be now that Lucifer has their eye on them completely.

That he, one of the first angels that god had created, one of the three orignal archangels, took interest in an animal like you.

When it comes to who most likely Lucifer would target, I would have to bet that it would most likely have to be angels from the exchange program.

There's just something that heats up whenever he sees them. Angels, something so pure, so naive, so..Perfect. He adores how elegant and beautiful they make themselves out to be. Though, at the same time..Lucfier adores the idea of owning an angel, keeping them in a nice cage just for them- shaping them into his perfect image, giving them their true potential to be the most flawless creature in all the realms.

Humans and demons couldn't ever compare to them. Humans, the pathetic creations of his father. Demons- humans that endulged with sin and filth beyond salvation.

But angels...Something about them just brings a smile onto his face. Maybe it's the nostalgia, perhaps maybe it's because he could relate to them, or maybe it's just the thought of owning something close to perfection.

But overall, gaining Lucifer's attention is rare and even difficult. No matter who you are or what you are Lucifer could care less about you unless you benefit him in some way.

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#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #obey me #yandere obey me #yandere prompt #obey me yandere #obey me leviathan #yandere headcanons #yandere lucifer #yandere mammon #yandere belphegor #yandere belphie #yandere satan #yandere asmodeus #obey me headcanons

[sugar-grigri]

I was wondering what you think the likelihood is of an actual canon Asa/Denji romantic relationship is? I mean obviously they're building that Asa has feelings for csm/Denji (separately) and Denji has shown passing interest as well. I wonder if it's feasible at all or are they going to be pitched against one another now that Asa's getting seen more in the public eye while Denji is forcibly pushed aside.

Love your blog and enjoy reading your analyzes of the chapters/characters/plot!

Denji and Asa will have a romantic relationship 

I'm sorry to answer so late (almost 2 months later) and without justifying my delay, I think it's the right time in view of the last chapters to answer !!! I think Asa and Denji will have a romantic relationship. Before explaining my arguments, I would ask that we all put our personal preferences aside. I'm only interested in Denji and Asa's writing and story arcs. Now that that's been cleared up, let's get down to business.

First of all, I'd like to reiterate a few points about Denji's development and objectives.

In part 1, Denji understood what it meant to be loved properly, the different facets of love, how to protect and pamper a family, just as his response to the antagonist was driven by his love for Makima. It's important not to deny that Denji has become attached to Makima, and the paradoxical aspect of this affection is what made the end of Part 1 so brilliant and memorable.

Firstly, it confirmed that CSM's main theme from the outset was love, and secondly, it proved that Denji's response was extremely sensitive and mature. Instead of locking himself into a cycle of revenge and hatred, he forgave.

But above all from a narrative point of view it's interesting because in the first part, Denji grasped his value as a human being, knew what it was like to be considered and loved by Power and Aki. I've always seen Part 2 as a response to Part 1.

After the character has grasped that he can be loved, Part 2 places within it, consecrating it as the pivotal protagonist: Denji's beloved, Asa Mitaka. Instead of simply mystifying the love interest as a deuteragonist, as many works do, and depriving us of her point of view, Fujimoto places her with equal narrative importance. Which makes sense, since love is a central theme, Denji's love couldn't take a back seat.

All this to say that the very fact that Asa is also the protagonist puts us on the right track. But there's nothing to stop it all being a trap? Just as there's nothing to stop the relationship between the two protagonists opening up to a lovely friendship, is there? From a personal point of view, I'd have found it interesting if Denji had struck up another platonic friendship with a girl, with no undertones.

But that's not what Fujimoto has in mind...

Asa and Denji are written to complement each other. And when I say complementarity, I make it clear that the writing doesn't imply that a relationship between the two of them would solve their internal problems. Their flaws are put to the test by the external scenario.

For example, Asa's lack of trust in others is underlined in her development compared to other characters such as Yuko and Yoshida.

Yuko and Asa had a sincere friendship, although this drifted into moral combat as the young girl wanted to be as beneficial and useful as Chainsaw Man. As for Yoshida, he torments Asa, playing the game of promiscuity in order to create distance between the two of them, motivated as he is by Chainsaw Man. But his aim is not to become like him, but to prevent him from acting to the full.

Whether it's to inhibit Chainsaw Man or to become like him, Chainsaw Man has occupied a place in Asa's relationships with the others. But again, this only serves to underline the extent to which the destinies of the two protagonists are intertwined. Instead of hating Chainsaw Man even more for disrupting her relationships, Asa Mitaka unknowingly experienced his profound kindness.

During the aquarium arc, Denji simply occupied a special place regarding this issue. While the young girl mortified herself about being a good-for-nothing, a loser like Denji, it was he who paradoxically helped her. Firstly, because he'd listened to her explanations, boring though they were, about starfish and the fact that they're edible. What's more, Fami can control those she would have starved, so subconsciously the fact that Denji offered her food saved Asa.

But this is implicit writing, as it doesn't make sense until well afterwards, when Fujimoto spells out the conditions of the famine demon's power. When we read the aquarium arc, the one who finds the solution is Asa. Denji was merely a springboard.

This episode is central because Fujimoto, in developing the relationship between Denji and Asa, also clarifies the way in which he will write it: one will not overshadow the other, and he has not placed Asa as the protagonist so that she is not a pivotal point in the scenario.

But before this good experience, Asa only sees Denji's little flaws, the fact that he's a fan of Chainsaw Man, that he rips off homeless people and even goes so far as to dehumanize him, considering him somewhere between a cat and a criminal. Instead of idealizing Asa as Denji's great savior, she is first presented as a threat to the boy. But this chapter only confirms the future romantic (and tragic) aspect of their relationship.

I'm putting my theory back on the cat, because it's this symbol that heralds a perhaps not-so-pretty ending between the two of them. Fujimoto takes on the characteristics of a Greek tragedy, with a game of identities, intertwined secrets and a series of misunderstandings, with two camps, characters also preventing their relationship (Nayuta and Yoshida). But above all, it's tragic: Denji is somewhere between a cat and a criminal, just as Asa lost her mother while trying to save a cat, just as the first being Denji saves in Part 2 is a cat.

The cat is a figure that links Denji and Asa (the fact that they both saved one, that it is linked to their family (Power and Asa's mother), the metaphor of cat and criminal being what characterizes someone as morally gray as the two of them TO SUM UP their relationship will end in sacrifice. The ultimate proof of love. Isn't it wonderful to have a boy as the protagonist who pursues love, only to die for it? The reverse is just as beautiful: a young girl who closes herself off in solitude finds self-fulfillment in dying for the sake of another.

But back to something happier: Asa is the only one who has a healthy love (or rather, attachment) to Denji. Firstly, because she first faced Denji's and Chainsaw Man's flaws before seeing their good sides.

First, she doesn't project anything onto the boy, and sees him exactly as he is. She experienced his obscenities, his interest in sex that repels her. This was something I'd considered a flaw until now, to be honest; I was afraid that if the two protagonists ended up experiencing intimacy together, it would "save" Asa from her rejection of sex. But I was reassured by Fumiko's development, which parallels that. Fumiko has an unhealthy interest in Denji and is constantly contradictory in her dealings with him.

As I said, chapter 142 sets up a fairly simple idea: no one respects Denji's limits, above all, no one sees him as the teenager, the child he is. With Chainsaw Man, the same thing happens: people, faced with their powerlessness against the demons, project their grief and frustrations onto the machine man, to the point of pushing him to live again and again to kill his loved one, his big brother. 

No one hears Chainsaw Man's cries for help 

Asa stands out from all this: first, she's the one who wants to save Chainsaw Man 

Fumiko already had an idealized image of Denji before she met him, has an ascendancy over age, a manipulative strategy, but beyond these problematic issues she respects no limits, thinks Denji's sexual desires, which do exist (let's not deny it), are watchwords. 

She, who considers him a child, doesn't act at all in the spirit of protection that she acclaims. 

Asa has the opposite reaction, but purely the opposite. When she meets Denji, she's not at all interested, even distressed. She'll have exactly the same reaction to Chainsaw Man. She doesn't like him, so she has nothing to project onto him. And even her first reaction to him was far from idyllic. 

Fumiko's presence is also intended to underline the way she and Asa differ in the way they deal with Denji's limitations. 

Asa respects Denji's limits, or rather those he has set as rules dictated by his little sister. But Yoru crosses a boundary by kissing him. Without the desire to justify a non-consensual act, what Yoru is doing is crossing a boundary not set by Denji but by Nayuta, who is trapping her older brother in a certain solitude by wanting to protect him. The control devil is obsessed with a happiness that can only be found in the number of two, which is the common trait that links Makima and Nayuta, although they are not exactly the same entity. The first kiss between Yoru and Denji is then an act of rebellion, rather than Fumiko's constant overstepping of boundaries. 

(Again, these are two non-consensual acts, and I'm not justifying them, but they don't have the same narrative function).

But above all, the limits set by Nayuta have another meaning - they're there to consolidate the fact that Denji and Asa's relationship is a romantic tragedy inspired by the ancients, as Shakespiere was. The breaking of rules is a major theme in Romeo and Juliet, especially in the case of Juliet, who must choose between morals and her love, her family destining her for another marriage (symbolized by Nayuta). 

But we'll come back to the symbolism of Romeo and Juliet in a moment... 

Asa has met the purest version of Denji - whether it's Denji revealing his identity, or his profound kindness at the aquarium - and she's also witnessed the flaws of Chainsaw Man, this perverse monster, not good with words, who not only tried to reassure her, but actively protected her.

In other words, when we see her disturbed by her growing feelings for both Denji and Chainsaw Man, they are more than sincere, for she has seen them both as they were. But above all, she is the first character to love both sides of Denji's identity. Whereas Makima was obsessed with Chainsaw Man or Reze focused on Denji's weaknesses, Asa became attached to both the human and the demon.

Denji's dual identity is central, with the public hunters trying to annihilate Denji's demonic identity while the church relies on it, confusing the boy into having to choose one or the other, while the one who intends to help him unknowingly loves both sides. She likes him doubly. Asa is proof that Denji has to claim his two identities.

Not only is the girl also two, harboring a demon within her just as Denji has fused with a demon, but the way their demons are linked to each other and have a history between them only reinforces the destiny that binds them.

Asa is someone who intellectualizes her emotions to the extreme, so her love is more cerebral than Denji's, who thinks primarily through his senses, having a more instinctive love. Yoru occupies half of Asa's brain, while Pochita replaces Denji's heart, totally in line with this symbolism.

Above all, Yoru is disturbed by Asa's budding feelings, which also affect her. We've seen that Yoru hasn't succeeded in transforming Denji. We all stopped to think that she couldn't transform a hybrid, a demon. Yoru is a knight of the apocalypse and has a natural ascendancy over other demons, just as Fami had the falling devil under her control and Makima had controlled many demons. No, the reason why Yoru can't transform Denji is twofold: she's disturbed by Asa's feelings, which are also her own, and doesn't have the will to make him her weapon; but above all, they're not yet together, and the feeling of belonging to each other hasn't yet been established. It's not certain that Denji will ever become Yoru's weapon, since as soon as their relationship is established, he will symbolically offer her his heart.

In the current arc, Fujimoto places Asa in Denji's initial situation, so as to better parallel them: she becomes the church's new flagship image, her popularity competing directly with Chainsaw Man's. But while the current arc shows us the downside of these parasocial relationships, with Denji completely paralyzed by his existential crises, Asa experiences the opposite.

She who has always felt isolated is finally beginning to be appreciated and loved by the majority. In short, one begins to learn something that the other is just experimenting with. Denji and Asa are two very isolated teenagers who project themselves into the recognition their audience has in them. 

What's certain is that Denji's existential crisis doesn't just concern him, insofar as his experiences can serve as a lesson to Asa, that to become a hero is above all to be alone. The church intends to sacrifice innocent people to spur Chainsaw Man into action, a church that Asa now represents. Asa hasn't yet seen this side of the church, so Barem mocks her by presenting her as a naive young girl. However, Asa has the intuition that tragedy will strike, since she has a nightmare of it.

Asa's going to have to go beyond her moral limits, to take the brunt of her own popularity, and even if she intends to save Chainsaw Man as he saved her, I think it's he who's going to help her more, not to eclipse her but as a springboard to push the heroine to save herself.

Denji's development isn't slow, flat, in this arc, it just reaches its conclusion. What's left for him to do to end it all is to prove his love.

Even if it means dying for it.

#csm spoilers #chainsaw man #csm part 2 #csm #denji #asa #asaden #my thoughts #csm 98 #csm 103 #csm 110 #csm 112 #csm 114 #csm 115 #csm 134 #csm 136 #csm 139 #csm 140 #csm 142 #nayuta #makima #aki #yoru #barem #A very long analysis yes...

[mothwingwritings]

H and J for jack, please 💗

More for our darling Jack! <3 TY for the ask anon!

Warnings: Violence, mentions of forced cohabitation, mentions of drug use, Jack being overbearing and not giving you any damn autonomy.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

In general, all the violence that surrounds Jack would be horrid for you. I feel like most of the Baki men would try and shelter you a bit from the more savage aspects of their lives, but Jack not so much. He relishes having you witness it. It excites him knowing you are watching, pumping him up more than any drug ever could. Sure there is also an aspect of fear, concern that you may get caught in the cross fire and get yourself hurt, but that’s exactly why he keeps you under a tight guard. No one in their right mind is going to fuck with you when he’s around, and if they are dumb enough to try they won’t be making it out of that altercation alive.

You’ve had front row seats to all of Jack’s fights and have been a firsthand witness to more carnage than anyone ever should. You’ve seen all manner of snapped and broken bones, gazed into faces so badly beaten you can barely recognize them as human, glimpsed torn and bruised flesh through the slits of your fingers when you’d try and hide behind your hands. After a while you hoped you would at least get somewhat used to it, but you found out quickly that the brutality Jack inflicts on his targets is not something you will ever be able to be indifferent towards. Each fight he morphs into a monster, driven by a lust for blood and havoc.  His eyes instinctively search for your each time he sinks his teeth into one of his victims, the excitement reflected in them when he sees you watching him mangle someone is the stuff of nightmares.

After he’s done butchering whatever poor soul has crossed his path, he’ll seek you out and hold you, breathing heavily as he crushes your body against his own. His blood and sweat mix with the remnants of his victims, smearing across your body as he forces himself on you as a victory prize. It never matters how hard or long you scrub once you get home, you always feel dirty long afterwards.

Also, the living conditions are pretty awful. His lifestyle was not something that was easy to hide from you before, but it was impossible to hide now that he has you holed up with him. It’s not that he’s a slob or confines you to some dank room, but your new home is not very… welcoming. What with the sparsely decorated interior (Jack doesn’t really have the time or energy for such things), rampant drug use and obsessive exercise habits, living with Jack lacks the warmth, love, and security and that sorely miss from your own home.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He doesn’t really get jealous so much as he is extremely overprotective. He’ll let you hang out with just about anyone, even people he hates or distrusts (which is more or less every friend you have). Just know that he’s going to be there hanging out with you, every time. Because the best way to make sure you are safe and not being taken advantage of is tag along with you, right? He sees it as a win win-not only will he be able to spend time with you, but he also acts a great deterrent should anyone try and mess with you. And on top of that, he gets to take stock of the people you surround yourself with. He isn’t shy about voicing his opinion on your acquaintances either, and his curt manner and standoffish persona make things very uncomfortable very quickly whenever he joins in on your hang out sessions.

And God he has SO MANY rules when it comes to you interacting with other people. If you are planning on visiting someone IRL, Jack has to be there. You can’t go to their home, but you also don’t want them coming over to yours (If Jack would even allow them past the front door). If you are texting, he’s over your shoulder reading them. If you are on the phone, he’s listening. In fact, you can’t even have your phone if Jack isn’t around.

He makes it so awkward that eventually you give up and decide to drastically limit communication with your family and friends, just to give yourself a break from his tyrannical digging into your personal affairs. Jack takes this as a good sign, choosing to see it as you picking up on just how unworthy of your time these people are. The fewer idiots around you the less he has to worry.

On the flip side though, if you put up a fuss and try to go off on him for being too domineering he will start to lose his patience with you and take a more drastic approach to deal with the issue, and it will not be anything remotely good for either you or your loved ones. But you’re smart, and he knows you’ll come around and see eye to eye with him sooner rather than later. It’d be a shame if someone got hurt because you were being stubborn, wouldn’t it?

#Always love writing for my boy Jack TYVM anon!!! #jack hanma x reader #yandere jack x reader #yandere jack hanma #jack hanma #yandere x reader #yandere alphabet #jack hanma x y/n #yandere jack hanma x y/n #baki the grappler #baki x reader #yandere baki the grappler #yandere baki x reader #baki x y/n #mothwingswritings

[imeanyourmomsprettyhot]

You Have No Right II Aemond Targaryen

part three

story masterlist / masterlist

summary: Driven by sheer desire, the One-Eyed Prince tries to find the woman that caused his sleepless nights full of lust and frustration.

warnings: female!reader, dark and possessive Aemond, sexual scenes, violent scenes

tag list (comment if you want to be added to the list):

@anehkael @aemonds-fire @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy @devils-blackrose @ruhjkie

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Power

It was something he craved for a long time. Ever since his eye got taken, he lacked feeling powerful. He was the son of The King, but felt as meaningless as a common citizen.

Power

Never in his life, he was looking for something so desperately. He would sacrifice everything and everyone, just for a slight feeling of power over someone or something.

Power

He loved and hated it, all at once. He knew it would be the death of him. Chasing the unachievable desire of power. How could he ever get it? When not even riding the largest dragon in the world could give him the respect and the power he deserved.

He was a lonely man. He was strong, literate, and studied. He could fight like a true soldier, and he looked frightening. He even wore an eyepatch, to not scare the ladies at cout. But it could only cover up his insecure nature. It was not real—non of it was.

But that one night, when he was roaming around the nightly city of King's Landing, he had not felt lonely or powerless, yeah not even insecure and anxious.

When he was able to save a young lady from rape, he had felt something, he never knew existed within him—power.

He loved how she was a head smaller than him. He loved how weak she was. He loved that he could save her. Not for the sake of saving a woman in need, but to feel mighty over her.

He loved how she thanked him, over and over again. And the way she had looked at him. Though, he pretended that he did not care for her and her big puppy eyes, beaming at her savior.

It all began very innocent. He thought about her some random times a week, sometimes just a few times a month. Whenever he needed to remind himself about the feeling of power, or sometimes even for no particular reason at all.

He replayed the scene in his head, and that was it. But well, at times, he just thought about her. Her voice, the look in her eyes—it made him feel powerful.

But it somehow happened more frequently that he thought about her. More than he liked it to happen. It started off with everyday thoughts about her. It gave him motivation and energy, whenever they crept up his mind.

But it started to get out of hand, once those thoughts turned into daydreams. He'd spend hours and hours of the day, living in his head. He was talking to her, looking at her, or watching the scene of that night from another point of view, giving it a different ending every time.

He was obsessed. Obsessed with the feeling of power she gave him. He wanted her. He wanted to have her, to never lack this feeling ever again. He needed her. Needed to find her, and keep her as his own.

As those daydreams grew, he started to dream about her every night as well. He never saw her face in any of those dreams. He doesn't even know how it looked like exactly.

That night, it was too dark in the streets, to fully see her face. And that killed him. Without knowing what she looked like, he had little chance in ever finding her. But he was satisfied that he could have her in his dreams at least.

On the daily basis, he woke up, covered in sweat. Not like the one you get from a nightmare. Aemond woke up and, just like every other day he dreamed about her, he was hard. He could not help it.

He closed his eyes, his hand slipped beneath the blanket.

"Th-thank you," the girl's voice said in his head.

And he started stroking himself.

"What is your name, young lady?" He asked, again in his head.

The thought of her name, and the way it flew over her lips, made him gasp.

"Thank you, sir," her soft voice, echoed through his mind.

His breath increased, and his heart pumped heavily inside his chest. A moan came out of his mouth, and his warm seed flowed over his hand.

Everyday started like this. He could not do anything to stop it—he didn't want to.

His eyes flew open, as he noticed a presence in his bedchamber. He had fallen back asleep. It was his maidservant, standing on the door.

"Good morning, my Prince," she greeted him.

His eyebrows crashed together. This voice was so familiar, so close, so intimate. But from where did he know it? It laid on the tip of his tongue, but he could not quite catch it.

She opened up the curtains, but no light came through the windows. Aemond preferred to wake up early in the morning, so it was still mainly dark outside.

The girl lit up the candles, and just now, he was able to see her. He got up from bed, not loosing his eyes from her once, as he approached her. She eventually noticed him, and turned around.

He carefully examined her face. She looked not like a stranger to him. But where in the seven hells could he have seen her before? She was a lowborn. On what occasion could the two meet?

It was only now that he saw the flushed cheeks of the girl, who tried her best not to look at him, while rummaging around his closet. It amused him. His maidservant being embarrassed that her Prince is naked. He wanted to take this further.

"Where is my usual maidservant?" He asked.

With his words, he forced her to turn back around and face him. He had to suppress a grin, as the girl's eyes wandered down his torso. She thought Aemond didn't saw it, but he did. And gods, he liked to play right now.

"I'm sorry," her gaze went up to his face again, "Sanda has fallen ill, my Prince."

The way she looked at him. It was all too familiar. He tried to grasp her name, or at least find her in his memories. But as hard as he tried to match her face to someone in his mind, he could not find the person it belonged to.

He hummed at the girl's words, and moved to the bath.

"My riding clothes," he ordered and disappeared into the other room.

Aemond thought about all the situations he could have seen the girl before. He didn't even know why it was so important to him to know who she was and why she was familiar, but it would not leave him alone somehow.

Was she at a dinner with his family? Perhaps she attended as a servant. Was she in the corner of the room, filling up his glass with wine? No.

"What takes you so long?" He called for the maid, who brought him his clothing.

She frantically tried to not look at his body. This amused him even more. He grinned, after she left, satisfied about how embarrassed he made her feel.

His thoughts sprang back to the familiarity of the girl. Where could he have met her? And why was she so stuck in his mind? His interest in the maid confused him to a point where it frustrated him. He wanted to get it out of his mind, but without an clear answer, that would not be possible.

He got back out of the bath. The maid's eyes traveled down his body, and he could watch how her shoulders fell down in relief of him wearing clothes. He had to bite his cheek, as it made him innerly laugh.

He examined her figure. There was something so warm about her, so acquainted and intimate. His body felt pulled towards her, and it was just hard to resist.

The way he looked at her, made the maid looking all vulnerable and awkward, and Aemond noticed that.

"Is there anything else I could do for you, my Prince?" She asked, trying to get out of this situation.

But Aemond still was just staring at her. The girl bit her lip, clearly getting nervous, as her Prince was not answering her.

"Do I know you?" He suddenly asked.

He needed answers, and he needed them now. So he just asked her right away. The maid's eyebrows slightly crashed together. She was confused by his question, and he knew, he won't be getting any clearance from her.

"No, I don't believe so, my Prince," she denied, "I am attending your sister, you have only seen me in her chambers."

'That could be it', he thought. But no. Why should she be so tightly wrapped around his mind, if he just saw her in Helaena's chambers? There is more about her than that.

"No, I won't be needing you right now," he told her. "I will order a bath, once I arrive back."

The girl bowed her head, and left the chamber. Aemond stood on the same spot, for quite some time. His thoughts jumped from one dinner to another. From one tourney and back to a feast, over to some random balls. But he couldn't find the girl in any of those situations.

He hummed in frustration, and made his way to his dragon, Vhagar, who laid on the shore to Blackwater Bay. Vhagar came walking towards him, the moment she saw him.

"Ribazmoqitta tubis, Vhagar." He said to the beast, before climbing on top of her back, and onto the saddle.

The she-dragon just growled at her rider's words, and flew up to the sky. As they reached the preferred height, Aemond ordered his dragon, to move forward.

They circled upon King's Landing for some time. Aemond usually did this, as a demonstration of power. But in the last few weeks, this worked out less and less.

Barely anyone was startled, looking up to the sky. He wanted people to look up. He wanted them to be scared they could get burned any second. He wanted people to fear him. But their lost interest in him and his dragon made him furious.

He cursed under his breath, fists clenching around the leash of Vhagar's settle.

"Pathetic, fucking, poor, folks," he cussed.

Vhagar growled at her riders mood. The two got away from the city and flew over Blackwater Bay, off to distant shores.

It was unusual for him to be away for so long. He had training and studies to keep up, but time flew by as he was riding full of rage, blinded by his temper—and gods, how his temper could get out of control.

Even after he returned from his hours-long flight, his anger, still, had not calmed down. He tramped in his bedchambers, uttering more curses through the cold walls of the room.

But his words stopped in an instant, as soon as he saw the young maidservant in the bath—he totally forgot about her. He looked at her for a few more moments, before moving over to her.

He wanted to open the laces of his riding clothings, but his angrily-shaking hands would not let him. The young girl must have noticed how he struggled and hurried over to him, undressing him herself.

He felt ashamed that he needed the help of some stupid, little maidservant, in order to take off his clothing. But he couldn't help, but accept her help.

He looked at the almost full tub, when her fingers slightly brushed over his chest, as she was about to untie his shirt. Her soft touch made him shiver; gave him goosebumps.

But why in the seven hells? She was a fucking maid; a lowborn!

She was beautiful, yes. But it changed nothing about her class and non-existing assets. And that was, what mattered most to Aemond Targaryen. The people below him were there for a reason, and it wasn't his place to question or even try to change that.

But what mattered for him even more at the time, was to find out who this girl was, and why she was so stuck in his head.

As she finished helping him, she got back to filling the tub. Aemond already sat down in the water. She had emptied the last bucket, and was about to place it down.

"If you could fill it again, so I can clean my scar, you are free to go for today," he told her—his anger calmed down by then.

"Do you want me to help you with that, my Prince?" She asked, all to Aemond's astonishment.

No maid ever before asked him to help him with his scar. It was a strange thought for him, to wrap his mind around.

"You don't have to, it's not nice to look at," he admitted.

"I gladly offer my help, my Prince. But if you are uncomfortable-"

"I'm not." He interrupted her.

And it was true. He was not uncomfortable with anyone seeing his scar. He wore the eyepatch, mainly to not scare the people on court away. But her response wondered him, nevertheless.

He looked at her, wanting to see if she had been serious. He slowly moved his hand to the eyepatch, loosening it from his head. The maid turned around, filling the bucket back up with warm water.

The moment she turned around and saw Aemond's face, he could carefully watch her jar drop slightly. It was such a light motion, but he saw every bit of it. She stood completely still. The two people just staring at each other.

"If you want to leave, you are free to go," he broke the silence.

Just now, the maid realized that she was staring, and she looked around the room, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, my Prince," she apologized, "I-I just didn't expect this, I am so sorry. I was just amazed by the beauty, if I'm allowed to say that."

Aemond tilted his head in confusion, as the young maidservant looked down on the floor, clearly ashamed of herself.

"Amazed by the beauty?" He made her look up again, "That's the first time I heard someone say this!"

He let out a small chuckle, watching, as relief came over the maid. But this chuckle was only to hide his puzzled mind. The least he expected was someone calling his face 'beautiful'.

It made him think, if she just said that to get out of the situation—a lie. Or was she really so blind, and meant it when she said that?

The girl kneeled beside the tub, and Aemond could look her in the eyes. There was something about her. Something mysterious, something familiar, something...something so intimate.

She dipped a cloth in the warm water, and slowly and carefully stoked over the skin around Aemond's eye. His eyebrows flinched, and the maid stopped.

"Am I hurting you, my Prince?" She asked, and he could hear actual concern in her voice.

"It's alright. It is worse when I do it myself," he smiled at her, reassuringly.

Her fingertips were so soft on his skin, even through the cloth. She touched him so carefully and gentle, he wondered what she did differently. No one's touch ever felt so soothing on his scar.

He looked at her during the whole process. He acknowledged every detail of her face. Her puppy eyes, staring concentrated on his scar. Her lips, slightly parted, and her tongue, resting on the edge of them. Yeah, he even noticed those few hairs on her eyebrows that were out of place.

The maid has finished, and got up. She was about to bow and leave the bath, when Aemond suddenly spoke, and made her turn back around.

"And you are sure, we don't know each other?" He asked.

"I'm just a maidservant, my Prince. How could we know each other?" She smiled at him.

He waited a few more seconds, and just hummed in response, so the maid left his chambers. As he finished his bath, and went over to his bed, relief spread in his body.

He found to be left alone by the obsessing thoughts about his maid. But when he was just about to close his eyes, a well-known person popped up in his head instead.

It was strange. He hadn't thought about her for the whole day—he was too busy, trying to figure out where he knew the maid from. This had never happened before, that someone could distract him from the girl in the city.

As he got fully comfortable and the thoughts rose, he noticed his crotch hardening. Just as it always did, whenever the girl was in his mind.

---

The young maid's eyes flew wide open. It was still the middle of the night, and The Red Keep was dark and quiet.

She did not know why exactly she woke up. There was no dream she could recall. No loud noise or a feeling of danger she could make out. But the very first thing she thought about, the second she had woken up:

Aemond Targaryen

How in the seven hells could she had been so stupid? An eye patch over the left eye and white-blonde hair? It was him. It was Prince Aemond who ran into her today, and it was him who had saved her in the city, some time ago.

Why didn't he say anything? Didn't he recognize her?

No! He did!

He had asked her several times, if they knew each other.

How could she be so stupid? How could she not notice something that obvious?

By the seven hells...Prince Aemond Targaryen had saved her life.

<< next chapter >>

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #aemond x reader #smut #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aegon #aegon targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond smut #house of the dragon imagine