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holy-puckslibrary · 3 months

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━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — TREVOR ZEGRAS x f!reader (established); JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader; MASON MCTAVISH x reader; trevor x jamie x mason wc — 2.2k synopsis — what better gift on your friends to bestow than the gift that keeps on giving?

note — happy valentine's day, my lovelies!! as my gift to you, i've decided to release whatever the hell this is from the archive <3 i randomly dropped this on patreon post-ficmas '24 because, per usual, i was possessed by the ghost of perpetual horniness! we know it'll happen again, so just know i am totally down to write a follow-up if there's any interest teehee! oh, and to the anons who requested some jd + tz content after the trade (rip), i hope this satisfies the craving!! (and you don't mind masey being thrown in the mix)

and with that... i’ll see myself out 🚶‍♀️

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — everyone’s a lil bi because why not, trevor is boyfriend of the year, mason and jamie bickering over whose turn it is to munch, tz + reader are switchy and mason + jamie are bratty and subby, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), accidental edging, trevor being a cocky menace and stirring the pot, and a wee bit of a cliff-hanger bc i'm incapable of controlling myself :-) oh, and the current pet name fixation of the week! + trevor calling himself daddy (once) while being condescending to all parties lolz

“—stop getting in my way.”

"or what?"

silence.

then, an exasperated groan.

“i wouldn’t need to be in the way if you were doing it right.”

the long, drawn-out sigh you hear sounds far away, like an echo from somewhere out in the distance, but you know it's coming from behind you—directly behind you.

your boyfriend abandons the soft curves of your chest, which you vehemently protest with a petulant mewl, to massage the tension building between his eyes; if he’d known this would turn into such a headache, he never would’ve suggested this.

“clock’s running, boys. if you wanna waste your very limited time between my girl’s pretty legs bickering with each other, be my guest.”

jamie and mason exchange a glare, united in their distaste for their friend’s tone and attitude in spite of their sudden animosity toward one another.

a pretty girl could do that to a friend group.

only, you haven’t come between the trio in the way one might assume. you might’ve been the catalyst in jamie and mason’s current strife, sure, but that's where your meddling begins and ends. no, you’ve come between them in more of a physical sense, at the behest of your boyfriend and their best friend.

trevor zegras veered toward possessive—territorial, even—most days, but, tonight, he’s feeling strangely generous. it is the season of giving, after all. however, his kindness hardly felt like a gift anymore. the gesture lost its luster soon after the silky ribbon was untied and discarded... and the bitching began. charity work would be a more apt descriptor, in his humble opinion.

he’s expecting an edible arrangement from the ladies of orange county in the near future.

but if anyone deserves some compensation, it's most definitely you, and trevor has just the shiny something in mind. what was originally intended to be the crown jewel of your holiday gifts will now function as a “thank you letting my friends use you as a practice dummy” token of appreciation.

“guess we also need to teach you to share,” you huff, exhausted from the accidental edging and frustrated by trevor's shifted attention.

the worst part is that you don’t think they’re perceptive enough (or have enough experience with a woman’s body, even) to see the agony, the by-product of their inadvertent torture, smeared plainly across your dazed and dewy face. your boyfriend's best friends have unintentionally dragged you to the brink of insanity, and you're reluctantly hanging on by a fragile thread.

said boyfriend's lips caress your temple. “can’t say i blame them. with you freshly unwrapped—just out of the box—and all... i wouldn't know how to share you, either.”

eager is a nice way of putting the boys' behavior thus far, but selfish is a more befitting adjective for their uncoordinated fervor.

two interesting things to note since you were spread wide—presented—to your boyfriend’s closest friends and collegues. the first being that while jamie is enthralled by the way you clench around his lithe fingers, mason favors his mouth; and second, trevor’s harder than a rock from showering his friends with the same domineering aura usually reserved for you in the privacy of your shared bedroom.

(or, the backseat of his car. the abandoned lifeguard tower beside the pier and, on occasion, the recently refurbished dressing room.)

mason also enjoys spitting on your sensitive bits more than he’s comfortable with, the apprehension bright in his eyes. but, watching the run-off of his saliva and your syrupy arousal drip onto jamie’s fingers before both are shoved into your heat is too distracting to pay any mind to the internal chaos of unearthing a new and unforeseen kink.

what jamie lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. for all his bashfulness, jamie drysdale is not shy about finger-fucking.

momentarily sat on his haunches, mason watches with feverish intent as his friend curls your toes with the simple curl of his marriage and middle, his pinky and pointer fingers splayed wide to keep his eye on the prize, sight unimpeded by plush, silky distractions.

no bells and whistles, just diligence.

soon, watching ceases to satiate the burly man and mason slips his own thumb into the mix. with his lips or his tongue—or his fingers, it now seems—mason mctavish is obsessed with your clit.

trevor shoots him a knowing wink; that's his favorite part, too. never do you make prettier sounds than when you’re having that special, highly-responsive bundle tended to. fingers, tongue, trevor's thigh... it doesn't matter, you fall apart all the same.

mason nudges jamie to one side and, much to your surprise, he goes without a fight this time, still stroking you closer and closer to the summit.

with his greater access, mason leans down. his nose splits duties with his thumb as he places wet, open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs, mons pubis, and, finally, the coveted pearl throbbing for affection. his mouth wraps around the little bud before pausing. he looks up for approval.

from trevor.

with the dip of his chin and a peck to your balmy cheek, your boyfriend encourages his best friend to suck on his girlfriend's clit.

mason needs no further coaxing. he alternates between suction and kitten-licks; his tongue was beginning to feel left out. all the while, jamie’s devoted fingers keep you pleasantly teetering on the end.

it's amazing the difference time and a little scolding can make.

“i think you’re enjoying this a little too much, bunny.”

“—m’sorry,” you whimper.

his warm, familiar chuckle fills your ear as he strokes your cheek. “i’m only teasing. you know how much i love watching you get all worked up. and, this way, i get to sit back and enjoy the view while they do all the dirty work.”

your eyes roll back, and his amusement grows louder.

“maybe, we’ll do this again? i wonder how fast they could get you off when they already know how the tricks.”

a raw, guttural sound claws past your lips.

trevor growls into your neck between love-bites. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, greedy girl? is my mouth not enough for you—y’need my friends’ too? such a slutty little bunny i have..."

"no—only want y-you."

it comes out in a few, demure hiccups, the clarity of your protest impeded by those and the frantic shaking of your head.

your boyfriend can't help but twist your mind when you're like this, too weak and preoccupied by pleasure to give him any lip. his brat's gone sweet, fully subdued. and now he can have a little fun.

“—i know, i know. no need to get all worked up over nothing, silly girl. but it wouldn't matter much if you did, though, right?" the hand cradling your chin moves your head in agreement; he knows you're too far gone—too fucked out, to function. "no, it wouldn't because daddy doesn't share his toys. he needs you all to himself."

in this moment, you aren't sure if trevor loves or loathes you.

“lost your voice, bunny? you’re strangely quiet for a slut i know is close. i can hear it, and i know you can too. we all know you're fucking soaked. go on, don't be shy. i think their good behavior has earned them some praise, hm? doin' so good at following my directions—almost as obedient as you are, pretty thing. be sweet, then you can cum all you want."

his words, coupled with the overstimulation between your bent and parted knees, send your brain down a cloudy, all-consuming spiral. too overwhelmed by the boys kneeling at your altar, you can hardly string together cohesive thoughts, let alone speak adequate praise for their efforts.

...as if trevor expected anything out of your mouth other than garbled, pathetic mumbling anyway.

not to mention, jamie found the spot that makes you see stars on the ceiling as his best friend was busy whispering filth into your ear, and he's been bullying it with his deft fingers—three of them now, buried down to the knuckle. he gives it a short, purposeful rub just to show off his treasure.

you shriek and buck your hips into mason's waiting mouth. as his head dips back down to nestle against you, the angle of jamie's fingers changes and your vision blurs just a tad.

trevor's amusement thunders in your ears as he keeps you from shying away from the new sensation, an arm looped around your waist keeping you tight to his bare chest. and good thing, too, seeing as mason's tongue slips in between jamie's fingers not a second later.

they're right and truly pleasuring you now, and you can't wait a second more.

you surrender.

and, as promised, you show them what real moans sound like from a woman—not that fake shit they subject you and trevor to through the walls on a semi-regular basis.

the sounds of you ripping at the seams spur them on, and it's starting to get difficult to discern who's to blame for the puddle beneath you. this are sloppier and more obscene than ever, and you're loving every single second of it, you almost feel like this is your gift and not theirs.

—which is why you nearly write it off as a trick of a pleasure-drunk mind.

you feel it against your sopping, swollen folds before they notice it themselves; in electing to run their tongues up and down the same path at the same time, their mouths mingled along the way—and continue to do so. the delicious, foreign sensation of their mouths tangled in a clandestine dance buys your silence. and easily.

sooner or later, they’d realize and your fun would mostly likely cease—they've never given any indication of feeling either way—and you weren’t about to speed the process along, especially not when you have the pearly gates in sight.

trevor's won't call attention to it either because he's enjoying it as much as you are. maybe more. he's twitching like crazy against the small of your back, and each time jamie and mason convene between your knees, his hips shamelessly rut into you softness like a feral dog.

he nudges you, warm lips against your cheek. "look."

giving your head a downward tilt, his firm hand directs your attention to the object of his—your boyfriend isn't the only one seeking respite by way of aimless grinding.

mason and jamie have their hips flush to your bed, their burning, sweat-stained cheeks glued to your inner thighs, one slightly scratchier than the other—the best of both worlds. their eyes are nearly black with lust. their frantic movements are more pleasure-seeking than precise, driving into the wrinkled sheets with just one thing in mind.

you've never seen anything quite like it before, and your body reacts in kind.

naturally, trevor sees the signs before anyone. he knows your body best, something he takes great pride in. you'd wager he knows more about what makes you tick than even you do. he's put in enough hours, that's for sure.

trevor doesn't bother disgusting the desire weighing on his voice, "beg."

your lips part as if on cue. your boyfriend (selfishly) indulges your pitiful little whines and repetitive pleas—he'll never pass up an opportunity to rub his handiwork in envious faces—but, eventually, he cuts you off before you get too far into the bit.

"—not you, silly bunny. them."

aghast, mason rips his mouth away and you whine at the sudden loss. jamie strokes your walls sympathetically.

"you're joking."

"does it sound like i'm joking, mctavish? you're lucky i'm even letting you see her like this, let alone touch what's mine, and it's a fucking privilege to watch her cum. convince me that you've earned it."

you weren't expecting to find it so erotic, the power trevor wields over them. you're no stranger to his persuasive prowess; his commands alone were enough to get you off some nights. but this is different, and markedly so.

watching him command his best friends—his friends, reducing them to docile creatures eager to eat from the palm of his hand with words alone, is what tips you over the edge.

their persistent chorus of compliance is swallowed entirely by your wanton cunt, but that was by design.

trevor always knows what you need.

when the dam in your abdomen fractures alongside your voice, he holds your wrists tight to his bare thighs, preventing you from grounding yourself in either of his friends' messy mops or finding purchase anywhere on his body. he can't have you distracted. he needs you to enjoy every second of it. your full, undivided attention must be on the pampering you're receiving, and the tender care with which his friends provide it.

it's okay if you're too weak—of mind, body or both—to make that happen for yourself. your boyfriend is more than willing to pin you down as you ride out your first high of the night. happy to, really.

on the come down, jamie rubs light, lazy circles over your sore, swollen clit almost apologetically. mason laps up your release because it'd be a crime to waste a drop—trevor made that abundantly clear earlier in the night. once he's drunk you dry, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"i think i could, um, use a bit more practice?" he announces bashfully—as if he didn't just make you squirt into his mouth.

jamie perks up at his side, fingers and lips still shiny. he's savoring the fruit of their labors like a precious delicacy, knowing it could be the last time he gets a taste. dark lashes shy and fluttering, his puppy-dog eyes blink up at you. "me too."

a wicked smirk forms on trevor's face; they see it, you hear it.

"gentlemen, how's your stroke game?"

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ssentimentals · 2 years

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reassurance {jeon wonwoo}

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

prompt: tonight wonwoo needs to know that you love him, too. (features overthinking and a bit insecure wonwoo, who needs reassurance from the reader)

warnings and general tags: nsfw, smut (minors dni or i will bite your hands off), nothing detailed though and it's much more about feelings here than actual sex because i am incapable of not adding bunch of thoughts and feelings into whatever i write, established relationships, insecurity but it's not angsty (i hope)

there’s nothing wrong with this party. music is good, booze is even better, quantity of people is just enough to fill the space without making it hard to breathe and even lights are not too blinding. honestly, everything is good but wonwoo can’t wait to go home and this time it has nothing to do with him not being a 'party person'. this evening makes him feel bare, like his armor is stripped off and all of his insecurities are out on full display, bleeding. and it’s hard to tell what triggered this because nothing much happened, but he’s been in his head too much lately and it drove him crazy.

he stands a bit out of the circle of his friends, needing his space right now. everyone is either dancing or having a good time, but he simply can’t. all of the thoughts are eating him up, they don’t whisper, they scream in his head that he’s not loved, that he’s alone. wonwoo’s eyes follow your figure and there’s an itch in his skin, weird almost primal need to get you close so your smile can be directed to him. you are radiant and he feels cold without your warm energy around him.

wonwoo sips on his drink quietly, listens to the conversation around him, nods in greeting to passing people, but his attention is on you. he is on the verge of leaving his group and coming to you when you turn around, making eye contact with him. your soft smile instantly has a calming effect and he relaxes his posture, watching you make your way to him. there’s a furrow between your eyebrows and he knows he didn’t fool you - you know that something is wrong with him.

'everything is okay?' you ask quietly but with a smile on your face, not wanting to attract attention of others. 'you don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself.'

he loves you for that; for knowing him so well that even from little quirks you can tell that something is off, for your caring attitude, for your gentleness displayed towards him all the time. he loves you and tonight he especially needs to know that you love him, too. wonwoo opens his mouth to speak when two friends interrupt him, bursting into your private bubble in order to say hi. annoyance spikes up but he thumps it down, seeing how you are genuine happy to see them. your hand reaches out to hold his and wonwoo smiles widely, interlocking your fingers; physical connection with you in any form is what he needs right now.

'you gonna join us, right? c’mon, we can start playing beer pong!'

wonwoo is ready to let you go, he doesn’t want to be some egoistical bastard and keep you from having all the fun, but his heart soars in his chest when you politely decline. he can kiss you in front of everyone when you add that you two are actually heading home. you turn and send a sweet smile his way and his heart does a flip and then one more, just for a good measure. oh, he loves you.

'you better tell me what’s wrong, mister.' you say as you both get in the car. 'did someone say something?'

wonwoo shakes his head, hating himself for making you worried. 'no, it’s not that. i just don’t- i just feel a bit off tonight. i’m sorry for ruining your fun.'

'which fun? please, like i haven’t been to parties before.' you scoff jokingly and then turn serious, turning to him on your seat. 'babe, do you want to talk about it? or do you want me to leave you alone for tonight? give you space?'

'no.' this comes out a bit too rushed and wonwoo glances at you to check whether he startled you or not. 'please don’t..leave.'

his attention is back on the road and he sighs in relief when you reach out and squeeze his shoulder. 'i won’t. i’m here.'

that's what you always do and he doesn't know how he got so lucky; wonwoo likes to think of himself as of a good person but he's not that good in order to deserve someone like you as his partner. he wonders if you ever notice how lacking he is in many aspects, how truly out of his league you are; he fears the moment when you'll finally realize all of it. you both say nothing for the rest of the ride and it usually is peaceful but tonight this silence causes all of his doubts to rise up. what are you thinking about? are you wishing you stayed at that party instead? are you wondering why your boyfriend is such a party pooper? are you wishing you had someone else instead, someone more active, extraverted, more fun? by the time you reach home and lock the door of your apartment, wonwoo is buzzing with nerves and not the good kind ones; he is ready to throw himself on the wall.

'wonwoo,' you call out, carefully making him face you. your eyes search up his face, trying to guess what's going on in his mind. 'baby, what is it?' you point on his forehead, smiling: 'it's not good for you to spend this much time in your head, you almost always overthink.'

wonwoo exhales shakily and when his eyes lock with yours, smile slowly disappears from your face. he knows he must look pathetic right now, but even though he has poker face with everyone, it never worked with you; with you all of his emotions run freely and he can tell that you see everything in his eyes, without him needing to explain. 'oh, baby,' you let out, hugging him tight. 'i love you.'

he hugs you back and it's a miracle, truly, how immediately content he feels. 'you do?' he asks and he sounds too needy even to his own ears.

you pull back, taking a good look at him. 'of course i do, woo. i love you so much.' your hand brushes his fringe out of his eyes and you smile gently, cupping his face. 'what do you need tonight? movie and cuddles? quiet night in with talking? or you want me?'

his grip involuntarily tightens on your waist and that's an answer in itself but he still says out loud: 'you. want you.'

from there it's all a blur. he knows you are there and he stays afloat solely because of your hands all over him and your lips on his. you kiss in the most gentlest way and you were together for a while now, but he still can't get enough. your kisses light up something different in him and tonight he doesn't try to take the lead - he simply lets you set up the tempo, a willing puppet in your hands.

'i love you,' you whisper, pulling him down on the bed. you free both of you from shirts and he sighs at the skin to skin contact. 'i want you to believe me, okay? i'm not lying. i love you.'

wonwoo nods. he tries his best not to cry but it's really damn hard, when you gaze at him with so much love and affection. he reaches out for you, hating this distance, wanting to be as close you as you two only can be. this grounds him, feeling you next to him, having your lips on his - this serves as a reminder that you are here with him. maybe voices in his head are wrong, after all.

you plant kisses from his lips to his jaw, moving down his neck and stopping on his collarbones, making him squirm. he feels a bit dizzy, maybe because of the booze, maybe because of your perfume, or maybe from the way you make him feel. you don't leave marks on his skin, never bite down hard enough for it to bruise and he feels worshipped in the most intimate way. your hands trace every single ridge, every single dip, you map out his torso with your love and when you reach for the belt he's already panting a little, face flushed. not being able to kiss you in this position is very unsatisfying but his brain promptly shuts up when you rid him of his jeans and take off yours too. he wishes he could take pictures with his eyes, wishes he were a painter cause words escape him when he looks at you. the whole 'head spin, breath knocked down' thing is very real when it comes to you and he hopes this effect you have on him never wears off.

'there is nowhere else i'd rather be,' you whisper, settling yourself on top of him. 'and no one else i'd rather be with. okay? you have to believe me, woo.'

'okay.' he grits out, gripping your hips. 'i- i believe you.'

the smile that you reward him with makes him weak. 'good.' you smile cheekily: 'won't you come up here and kiss me?'

he moves quickly, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, slotting our mouths together. his heart thrums in his chest. beats so loud that he can't hear anything else. he thinks his heart is trying to break his ribcage, wants to get out of there so it can fall into your hands instead. the kiss speaks volumes of your feelings and emotions and wonwoo is drunk, high on love when you let him prepare yourself. your soft sighs, drawn out moans and breathy whispers of his name make his hands tremble a little; is this real? how did he score you? how?

'hey,' you call and his eyes snap towards you instantly. your chest is rising up and down, eyes turned a bit glossy, body flushed with prettiest shade of pink and he bites his lip in order not to moan out loud at the view. 'woo, baby. you're here, right? with me?'

wonwoo nods, pressing a kiss on your hipbone. 'yes.'

'and you love me?' you ask breathily as he continues to stretch you out.

'yes.' more firm this time and he punctuates this with a rather sharp thrust of his fingers inside. 'i love you so much, too much.'

you smile, lacing your fingers through his hair. 'and i love you. more than you think.'

and wonwoo believes. he sees that in your eyes, sees that in every single action or word, sees it every day. it's just sometimes clouds loom over him and insecurities all wake up from the pits of his stomach, but deep inside he knows the truth. you love him. you love him just the way he is. and he can give you the world for this.

'i believe you,' he whispers, lining himself and carefully entering you.

being with you is the best symphony; it's the practiced ease, it's the familiar tension which one can feel only after doing something over and over again. he knows where to touch, where to kiss, where to press to have you fly on the cloud nine and this familiarity with your body is not something he takes for granted; he'll die the day someone else will learn all of this, too.

'i love you, i love you,' you let out, gripping his forearms. 'kiss me, plea-'

wonwoo kisses your fervently, adoringly. it's the 'i can't believe you are mine' and 'please be mine forever' in the kiss and you kiss him back, hoping he can read the 'forever, yes' as your answer. you hold each other tightly as you both fall apart, the most beautiful ending of the song. he plants kisses all over your face, his face lights up as you giggle. he wants to say 'thank you' but it'll sound weird so he settles for hugging you tight.

'only a little or else this sweat will get sticky,' you warn him, sighing in resentment as he stands up. 'whereee?'

'let me clean you up.' he offers and you nod, content in just lying around as he does the job. 'shower, love?'

your heart squeezes on the petname and you nod, letting him push you up. wonwoo holds you upright and kiss your temple as you both walk towards the bathroom. 'you are my everything,' he whispers before climbing into the shower first in order to find best temperature.

'you are my everything too.' you assure him, climbing in as soon as motions that water temperature is just the way you like it. 'you know this, right?'

'yeah,' he nods, bringing you closer.

'good. i will let you know if it changes, by the way. so if i'm not saying anything you can just always assume that it's still the same.' you proclaim, making him laugh loudly.

'i hope it never changes.' he comments offhandedly, soaping the loofa.

you smile, leaning in to peck his lips. 'i hope so too.'

a/n: i tried my best to make reader as gn as i only can but!! if i somehow made a terrible job at it please please let me know :( and as always here is the link to all my other works. i'm not really nsfw writer, it's mostly fluff blog for seventeen <3 - nini

also i'm not tagging anyone here from my usual tag list cause i didn't know whether you guys will be okay with smut. (not like it was detailed but yeah, anyway). let me know what you think of this one!

#wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen imagine #seventeen reaction #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #i hope this doesnt come out like wonwoo is weak or some other bullshit like that #the baby is strong and we all need reassurance so! no hate for this pls #lmao me: writes smut #also me: has like 4 sentences about sex and everything else is feelings #THIS IS STILL SMUT THOUGH SO MINORS!!! DO NOT!!! READ THIS!

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nnobodoodles · 1 year

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I'm focused on exams lately but I've been relaxing with Jeeves novels on the side, so I took a break to figure out how I wanna draw these two 🥃 (I'm getting there? Notes under the cut)

So these aren't the Fry and Laurie versions, but they got features I fully associate with the characters, like Bertie's high cheekbones and his fluffy curls in season 1.

I love the interpretations where he has blonde-ish/golden brown hair, and in general, I went with colors and shapes that contrast Jeeves' dark and slick ones.

I am physically incapable of making designs and not giving one character freckles. Only adds to Bertie's youthful look I think.

He's tall and lanky but Jeeves is still taller, ofc.

Not a design thing, but the voice I imagine when I read his lines is the L.A. Theater Works "Code of the Woosters" version.

I wanna give him all the funky colorful clothes (but also please excuse my lack of historical fashion knowledge)

Jeeves was more difficult for me to draw and I'm probs still not fully set on him. I'm more used to Bertie's triangular shapes, and Jeeves is more square (like with shape language, he's the stable, reliable, and traditional one), with broad shoulders, a strong chin, etc.

I still want him to look a bit more soft/pudgy (?) than outright muscular/stocky (that's more Harold Pinker's thing).

Anyway, big fun of the hooked/crooked/prominent noses for him (again, in contrast to Bertie who has a pointy one).

And I similarly like thin eyebrows and lips for him, allowing for these slight expressions of his.

Not too evident here, but I went with dark blue eyes for him here. Are his eyes ever described in the books as blue like Bertie's? Because I am tempted to go for greyish ones instead, rare and with a certain wisdom to them.

#bertie wooster #reginald jeeves #jeeves and wooster #pg wodehouse #bertram wooster #georgia's adventures in character design #nnobodiusart

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derpinette · 3 months

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i have a weird relationship with weight because i hated eating more than anything the moment i was ready for solids ( i hate chewing with my entire life always have & will ) which made me underweight for most of my life ( to this day ) & during late primary-middle school this made me actively suicidal because i felt like something was wrong with my sex because i just was not developing whatsoever prompting me to have a years long phase of trying to gain weight in any way i could ( #EPICFAIL by the way ) & i was already insecure but i felt seriously so unforgivably ugly after bullying not just at school but by adults of my entourage. but then i did in my late 15s which prompted the pendulum to swing in the other direction & suddenly i FREAKED OUT & thought well being skinny is pretty much all i have & know myself to be & clearly it is not going to last forever so i Better preserve it i was delusional about how skinny i thought i was actually i look stumpy & weird i have to prove myself. But now i am normal again kind of

#also i used to get beaten to finish my food nearly daily & it would take me forever to do that like literally hours with no exaggeration #just made me hate eating even more. now my technique is eating as fast as possible before i even realize how overwhelming #the sensory experience is & i can just be done with it VS the pain&dread of eating slowly -> disgust of Everything+hyperawareness #eating tightens my muscles like i hate it so fucking much catching the food putting it in my mouth CHEWING swallowing #what a damn chore #so i always liked cheese it was my “safe food” pretty much the only thing i liked #i even hated the foods autists usually like like fries & fried chicken meatballs ETC. HATED.#i was/am more of a soup & turning all my food into varieties of Slop kind of girl nothing hard for me please...#i experienced middle school during the like ♯Thick era of the world which was honestly a good thing like for The Populace #but i felt like killing myself because i felt like an unforgivable fugly genetic failure & people did not hesitate to let me know #anyway either way i would be unhappy caus if i did gain weight during puberty i would have a meltdown about all the Changes #so i feel content for the time being about only losing the fat in my face & getting age appropriate wrinkles really #trying to enjoy the privilege of thinness while i have it because it will not last forever 0_0 but that should not matter anyway...#the privilege of thinness: being way uglier than others & constantly looking like a gibbon dying of disease + no energy or strength ever #JK people are much MUCH nicer to thin people & they do things for me on account of looking physically incapable so um yay i guess #light at the end of the tunnel that is very significant in the grand scheme of things socially. ♯CountingMyBlessings #also i was raised on ♯HAES tumblr from 2014-2018 i truly believed in that & was so damn envious i was not curvy & beautiful LOL #so i never hated overweight people really i think for the most part the SJW tumblr values stuck with me #but now i know it depends on your base frame & genetics & there is no guarantee to what you choose to do (naturally) acceptance is peace #sorry for the gigantic Arse post i just needed to get that off my chest for a long time. not on here specifically just in general #oh & i am a ♯Grignoteuse but grignoter (grazing) is different from eating in my mind&body #& my insecurity was not a result of wanting to fit in really but kind of in the sense that i wanted people to stop berating me for my looks #like body wise only & also not understanding why every other girl looked like a girl blossoming into a woman #& i looked like i was transitioning to Malnourished (unsexed) Ape made worse by bein GNC.& like the need for control later on & erthang ETC

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sparklywaistcoat · 5 months

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There is something very important getting lost in the recent discussion of abuse in OFMD, and that is that the interpretation of Izzy Hands' behavior as not abusive is, in fact, a valid interpretation for people who are incapable of recognizing or unwilling to recognize what abuse actually is.

And that, my friends, is a much, much more concerning problem than who understands canon better than whom.

I am willing to bet cash money that people who cannot recognize Izzy's behavior as abusive likely have suffered abuse themselves in their pasts and have internalized it to such an extent that they can't or won't see what Izzy does as abusive.

People who can't clock this kind of abuse can become easy prey for abusers in their own intimate relationships because they won't be able to see the warning signs for what they are.

Some of them are also the kind of people who are willing to act as flying monkeys for abusers, the kind of people who act on the abuser's behalf to help keep the victim tied to their abuser.

And I'm not saying this to denigrate or belittle these people (and don't y'all dare do that, either, because that makes you a terrible person), because this is actually a really horrible place to find yourself in. I should know, because I went through twenty years of a horrible marriage to someone who tried to abuse me into being what he wanted me to be (gee, that sounds familiar, no?), all the while not knowing that what I was enduring was, in fact, abuse, and then after I finally figured it out, another ten awful years trying to extricate myself from that person, who ramped up the abuse because I stopped being the doormat they wanted me to be. (Gosh, that's also familiar. Hmmm.)

Anyway.

If you think that you might be in an abusive relationship, please get help. If you think that you might have grown up in an abusive household, please get help.

If you are in the US and need help escaping from an abuser, you can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800 799 SAFE (7233) or by texting "START" to 88788. I don't know whether this number will work from other countries, but you can try. I'm sorry that I don't have info for other countries. There might be a master post on here somewhere with that; I'll look for it and post separately later if I find it.

If your abuser has access to your phone or computer, please find a way to get help using another device that your abuser can't access. Clear your browsing history regularly. Keep yourself safe.

Here are some resources to help you identify emotional abuse:

Freedom from abuse is everyone's right, even Ed Teach's.

#abuse #emotional abuse #domestic abuse #domestic violence #intimate partner abuse

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grassbreads · 11 months

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I’d love to know about Yulma and how important it is to representation in shounen manga

This has been sitting in my askbox for a couple months (because I am incapable of punctuality), but anon sent this to me back when I was talking about Yulma over on my vnc blog. For those unaware, Yulma refers to Yu Kanda and Alma Karma from the manga D.Gray-man.

So the thing is, to be honest, I don't know if you can say Yulma is/was important for representation. They don't tend to get brought up as an example of representation (except by diehard d.gray-man fans like me, lol) in shonen, and their whole thing is complicated enough that I feel like the queerness of it all flies over a lot of people's heads.

However! They're very important to me personally, and I do think it's kind of remarkable their story came out in like 2010. Because even though their queerness gets overlooked a lot, it's like. really there no matter how you interpret it.

The short version of their very complicated story is that Kanda and Alma are a couple who were resurrected into new bodies. Alma was a woman when they were originally together in their past lives, but is physically male in the present. Kanda is still very much in love with them by the end of their story, which, depending on the reading, makes Kanda very bi and/or Alma very trans.

This sound like something you want details on? If so, let's talk about how D.Gray-man's fan favorite edgy badass toughguy character briefly became the star of his very own heart-wrenching tragic queer romance.

Here's a brief crash course in Yu Kanda and Dgm for the uninitiated:

D.Gray-man is a manga about a group of exorcists (in the loosest and most anime sense of the term) in the 1890s fighting a holy war against mechanical demons powered by the souls of the dead. There are two things you need to understand about this plot for me to explain Yulma:

The Black Order, the secret branch of the church that exorcists work for, has a long history of committing horrific human experiments to further the war effort.

Due to complications of world building, only a tiny number of people can become exorcists, and tracking down new ones is extremely difficult.

Yu Kanda is one of the exorcists, and though not the actual main character (that's the lad in my icon), he's a very important secondary character. Arguably he's the most important secobdary character, since he's the main guy's biggest foil and the first character to play deuteragonist in a major story arc. He's also a huge fan favorite. The character popularity polls that Jump used to do always had him and the mc going back and forth over who won #1 most popular.

Kanda was also a classic edgy toughguy character. His first two scenes are him almost murdering the main guy because he thinks he's an intruder, then complaining about people grieving for their friend too loudly. He never smiles. He argues with the righteous mc about wasting time/energy protecting civilians. He threatens (and delivers) violence on anyone that annoys him. He looks like this:

TLDR; Kanda was an adored-by-fans mean badass archetype in a 2000s shonen manga. Not generally the guy you peg for starring in a piece of queer romantic storytelling.

And for the entirety of the original anime adaptation's 103 episode run, for the first 188ish chapters of the manga, you do not learn a single thing about his early life. You learn he joined the Black Order very young, and you meet the mentor that took him in at that point, but although there are little hints, a couple cryptic mentions of him searching for a certain person, his early origins remain a complete black box.

Then came the Alma Karma arc.

This is the point where I start getting into spoilers.

To make a very long story short, the Alma Karma arc reveals that Kanda is one of the Black Order's human experiments. The Order ran a secret project 9ish years before the start of the series in which they essentially tried to re-use dying exorcists (since finding new ones is so hard). They took the bodies of dying or recently deceased exorcists and harvested their brains, implanting those brains into new magically grown child bodies.

Key to this project—the second exorcist project—is that these newly grown second exorcists were not supposed to remember anything from their previous lives. Kanda, however, recovered a few hazy memories from his past self. Most importantly, he can recall an unclear image of the woman that his past self was in love with. This memory gradually becomes Kanda's reason to live. He wants desperately to find and meet that person.

Now, aside from Kanda, there was one other successfully revived second exorcist. This was a boy named Alma Karma.

Over the course of their brief shared childhood, Kanda and Alma become extremely close. However, due to a series of horrible events that I'll spare you the details of, Alma is eventually driven to murder-suicide. He wants himself and Kanda to die together to spite the Order, and Kanda almost lets him do it.

The one thing that keeps Kanda from letting Alma kill him, the thing that drives him instead to kill Alma, his most beloved and only friend, is that he can't bear to die without finding that woman again.

Have you figured out the twist yet?

9 years later, in the present, Kanda discovers that he didn't actually quite kill Alma. The Order kept Alma secretly half-alive in order to do more dubious experiments. And, more importantly, when they meet again, Kanda discovers the truth. The woman that he's been searching for his whole life, the woman he's in love with, the woman he tried to kill Alma in order to find, was also killed and made into a second exorcist. And her brain was placed into the body of Alma Karma.

After quite a lot more violence and tragedy, Kanda and Alma end their story arc by running away together on their deathbeds. Alma dies, for real this time, in Kanda's arms, and his last words are to tell Kanda he loves him. These words are presented as something Kanda hears from both the boy and woman versions of Alma's soul.

So! At the end of a very long and complicated story, one thing holds true: Kanda and Alma are in love. As passed down from their past selves, they are specifically in romantic love. They were a couple. And to speak as a fan, the sheer absolute devotion to how Kanda's love for Alma is presented is seriously intense and moving.

Now, given the absolute hell that is Alma's life, gender identity is frankly the last thing they have time to worry about, so it's hard to say how the whole "literally a woman's brain in a male body" thing might have settled for them if given time to think about it. But that is inherently a pretty trans narrative. And given the whole Alma gender situation, there's simply no reading of their whole situation where neither of them is queer.

If you take present day Alma as a guy, which is more or less how he's presented in canon (though again, who knows how he would've felt about that male body in different circumstances), then congratulations! You've got mlm in your shonen manga. They were straight in a different life, but now one of them's a dude, and they are still deeply in love with each other. They've even got not one but two "let's forget it all and run away together" scenes, just as every mlm couple seems to have.

On the other hand, if you go with the angle that Alma's still a woman based on her mind/soul, even in her new body, then Kanda may not be canonically queer, but Alma is inarguably trans. Again, literally a woman's brain in a male body. It may not be how most people end up trans, but that doesn't change the facts of her situation.

You see what I mean about how they're undeniably queer, but also kind of easy to miss? There's so much other insane shit going on in their story that Alma's whole gender situation can get passed over. Plus, you can look online to this day and find people arguing that Kanda's not "technically" explicitly in love with the present day male version of Alma, since he doesn't 100% unambiguously say as much. I love reading comprehension.

Also! As a possible extra reason for why people don't talk about them much, the official English translation of the manga translated Alma's final "I love you" very differently. There's always a lot of nuance and argument when it comes to translating "大好き" into English, but given the full context of their relationship and the scene it's in, Viz's handling really sets off the censorship bells in my head.

Here's the different versions (Japanese then fan then official), if you want to compare:

Nothing more classically queer than censorship by way of questionable translation 🙃.

At the end of the day, Kanda and Alma are in kind of a strange middle ground. They're each in love with the other one, but the whole second exorcist brain transfer situation makes it complicated enough that people argue their feelings aren't explicitly romantic (and thus not gay) in the present. Alma is literally a woman's brain implanted in a male body, but we don't have time to dwell on the gender complications of all that because of the hell that is the rest of their life. They're canon but not canon—queer people whose stories don't have space for them to be queer.

However, given that all this messy, tragic ambiguity was published in a fairly popular shonen manga back in 2010, it still feels kind of remarkable to me. Alma is somewhat an antagonist (it's complicated), and he dies at the end of his arc, but once again, Kanda was/is the fan favorite! And when he re-enters the main story after Alma's death, he's more important than he's ever been, and his history with Alma continues to be a huge part of his character.

Katsura Hoshino took the much-beloved edgy toughguy character from her long-running shonen series and, after keeping his origins secret for such a long time, confirmed that his whole life has revolved around love this entire time. Almost every facet of his character can be traced back to his love for his lost best friend or his yearning for his past life's missing partner. And then she reveals that the best friend and the partner are one and the same.

You can go back and forth about the degree to which they work as representation, but in any case, I think their story is something people ought to know about. It's romantic and it's heart-wrenching and it's fucking wild, especially given the context in which it was published (a Shonen Jump spinoff in 2010). I never see anyone besides the few remaining hardcore dgm fans talk about them, and I think that's a shame.

So anyway, that's tale of one of the most insanity-inducing romances I've ever seen put to paper. I love queer people.

Here's some choice pages if you want to cry with me (the last two are a sequence):

#followers!! I know my demographic #I know that most of y'all are Tragic Queer Romance Enjoyers #and if that describes you. you should read this post #come learn about a truly wild piece of manga history #I bring you the gift of discovering Yulma without having to read almost 200 chapters of shonen manga for context #don't pass this up <3 #dgm #d.gray-man #yu kanda #yulma #alma karma #invasion of the frogs #also I really hope that at least one of the besties reads this and has a Realization about who/what my queue tag is a reference to #maybe I flatter myself to think that anyone remembers what my queue tag is. but I just think it would be funny <3 #also also. I really did not intend for this post to turn into an entire essay when I started writing it #so uh. whoops #ID in alt text #anon #ask

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distort-opia · 10 months

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Hello! So I recently got into batman, and I’ve been slowly climbing my way up my reading list while also browsing through tumblr in search for metas about him, which is how I found your blog, and I really enjoy your metas!

I have a question though that won’t leave my mind, yet I also don’t want to stop my current reading list to jump into another series (JL), so I hope you don’t mind me asking this question to you instead 🙏

Basically, I’ve been wondering whether Bruce has opinions about Clark in relation to his self—Bruce’s self? So far from what I’ve read, Dick is (excuse me if the wording isnt exactly accurate, but just as a sums up) “the one that brings the light to Bruce’s darkness & the ideal self—the best of him”, whereas Joker is “the mirror to his self—the him that ‘what could have been’, the him who took different route”, and I wonder if there is a similar thinking/opinion about this self thing from him @ Clark too (like some sort of parallels)? I’m sorry if it sounds confusing 😅 Thank you!

Welcome to the fandom! Thank you for the kind words, glad you've enjoyed what meta I've put out. Hope you're having a fun time with Batman comics.

Oh Bruce definitely has opinions on Clark and Superman in general, in relation to himself. Though I have to make the note that in no way was Superman intended or built as a narrative foil for Batman's character, a "mirror self". Dick and Joker are characters who populated Batman's world from early on and were always meant to say something about the protagonist. Superman is a protagonist onto himself; he was created before Batman, and his popularity was actually a big factor contributing to Batman's creation. But that doesn't mean these two characters haven't grown together and influenced each other in a myriad of ways.

On a surface level, you've got the... grumpy one/sunshine one dichotomy. Superman is brightly colored and more emotional and fights in the light to bring people hope. Batman is enshrouded in darkness and stoically represses his emotions and fights in the night for justice and vengeance. One in the light, one in the shadows, one alien, one human, the "boy scout" and the "bad boy"... Even though they work together and are both on the side of good, these contrasts between Bruce and Clark are easily noticed by both others and themselves, and have led to conflicts on more than one occasion. But the way this translates in Bruce's head, to approach it from the angle you mentioned, is probably best summed up by the following pages... which I'm putting under a cut since this gets a bit long. Spoilers too I guess, for the Rebirth Batman run (if you haven't gotten to it yet).

Batman (2016) #36

"He's a better man than I am. [...] Who am I, compared to him?" And this is no way a new sentiment for Bruce:

Batman: Hush

Bruce doesn't see himself as a good person. He's capable of risking people's lives, of blackmail, lying, torture and manipulation, of unbelievable brutality and violence in the service of what he believes is his Mission. But he sees Clark as an inherently good person; as an ideal that he himself is not capable of ever reaching, of ever being. If I were to summarize only the projection aspect when it comes to Batman and Superman's dynamic, I'd say it's this one-- Superman is the hero Batman wishes he could be, but not one he'd ever try to become, because he believes himself fundamentally incapable of it. If as you said Dick is someone Bruce relates to and sees parts of himself in, but better (in trying to help Dick he retrospectively tries to help his child self), Clark isn't that. Superman is less of a mirror Bruce actively acts on, and more of a... negative. Clark is technically an alien, and yet in many ways he's more "human" than Bruce, having grown up with a loving family that Bruce wishes he had. Where Bruce tries to rise above the humanity he sometimes sees as weakness, both in emotional and physical terms, Clark is someone who's already "above" humanity, and yet yearns to be part of it. Moreso, Bruce envies Clark's sheer god-like power, but he knows that he doesn't have Clark's good character; that if he had this kind of unstoppable power, his need for complete control would drive him mad. Which actually happened one time, in Superman/Batman (2003) #53-56.

That being said, as is noticeable even in the pages above, this can result in Bruce putting Clark up on a pedestal, and idealizing him a bit too much, to the point of forgetting that Clark is a person too, with flaws and weaknesses. And not just that... the more ruthless and calculated side of Bruce never truly stops seeing Clark's power, both as something he can wield and something that can be turned against him (hence the hoarding of kryptonite and the contingency plans, in case Superman went bad). Perhaps Bruce's attitude more generally is illustrated best in this very recent moment:

Batman (2016) #128

Superman as Earth's greatest hero, and its greatest weapon. And Bruce is willing to risk his life to preserve that, because by comparison, he isn't these things. (And because Clark is his friend.)

#there's so much to their dynamic tbh. didn't delve too much into the more Superbat side of things but #this plays a part. they ARE best friends no matter what they say. but it was a complex journey to get there and it's still complicated #anyway. with the disclaimer that these are my personal thoughts of course #perhaps you'll have different interpretations as you make your way through canon #but I hope this was a fun read Anon!#asks #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne meta #superman #clark kent #my meta

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lestappenforever · 9 months

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Hi. I feel like you are the only person I can send Lestappen asks so here goes another one.

First of all have you seen that video of Max playing footsie with Checo? I hope you have because it’s so funny to me how he realized he had accident tapped his teammate’s foot but Checo didn’t react so he did it intentionally to make sure he laughed.

Now what got me is the fact that not long ago he [Max] was playing footsie with Charles albeit unknowingly but when he realized he got all awkward about it. It’s so glaring that I started realizing other little things like the way Max will talk to Lando or Carlos or Daniel, heck everyone else on the grid about something is all so different from how he is with Charles. There’s always some sort of shyness, awkwardness, too much staring and thoughtfulness put into everything involving Charles. And yeah it may sound like I’m biased but I didn’t ship them like that for the longest time but the footsie thing made me think about all the little moments they share and how they are different from how they are with everyone else. The same can be said for Charles and how he is with Max via-à-vis other people.

Could you do a comparison, pleeease? 😘

I feel so honored, seriously.

I have seen the video with Checo, but not the one with Charles? So please send me the link because I need to see it immediately or else I will spontaneously combust.

"Could you do a comparison, pleeease?😘" <<< Oh, babe. Honey. My darling anon. You will regret this, and I am so sorry.

(Putting this under a 'Read More' for everyone's sake.)

Now, before I get further into this I just need to make a few things very clear: 1. I am a monogamous shipper, meaning that once I ship someone, I am incapable of shipping those people with someone else. I am actually kind of jealous of people who are capable of shipping the same person with multiple people because the amount of content you get, my God. Now, this does not mean that I don't get other ships or that I have any sort of issue with other ships because I definitely don't. It simply means that in my head, once two people are paired together in a ship, that's it. They're it for each other as far as my brain is concerned. 2. This post does not mean that I genuinely believe Max and Charles are in a secret relationship, nor does it mean that I genuinely believe they ever will be. The point of shipping, as far as I'm concerned, is that it's fun and lighthearted. It's something that brings a lot of joy to a lot of people, and it's something that is very easy to enjoy.

Now, prepare for a rant.

I believe you are right on the money, anon, and this is exactly why I ship Lestappen. They have the sort of vibe and chemistry between them that I just don't see them having with anyone else.

Let's start with Daniel, who is the obvious first choice: There is no denying how close he is with Max, but the feeling I get with those two is that they are two dude bros who are just so comfortable with each other and such good friends that nothing feels weird. They can joke about literally anything, no matter how inappropriate, no matter how sexual, and it's just funny. They have exactly the kind of familiarity you would see between two best friends, and they have no aversion to getting up close and personal with each other. There's no awkwardness between them whatsoever, and for that reason they just give me those frat boy vibes that I absolutely adore in a friendship. Watching them interact is hilarious at any given time.

As for Lando and Carlos, Max displays the same sort of ease that he has whenever he's interacting with Daniel, although obviously not at the same level, and more so with Lando than Carlos. Max has said it himself: Lando is literally his best friend on the grid, and they also don't seem to have any sort of aversion to physical touch: slapping each other's asses, being in each other's space, and generally displaying an easy sort of comfort you'd expect to see between really close friends. It's never awkward or weird, it's simply funny and comfortable, and it's so blatantly obvious how much they enjoy each other's company, both on and off the grid.

With Carlos, Max obviously shares the history of them being teammates at Toro Rosso, and although they weren't exactly best friends at the time (now if that isn't an understatement right there), they were both young and — like most young boys, let's be honest — stupid. Hot-headed, stubborn and arrogant, which typically doesn't lead to the best relationship in a sport that is as competitive as F1, especially not when you're in your teens. However, both Max and Carlos have grown up a lot since then, and now they seem to have developed a genuine friendship based on mutual respect and a history long since passed, and they seem comfortable around each other. Like with Daniel and Lando, there doesn't seem to be any awkwardness or underlying current of something tied to their interactions.

Now, with Charles, it's just different. And not just for Max, because Charles seems to have a very specific way of behaving around Max that I just haven't seen when he's around Lando, Carlos, Pierre, or anyone else on the grid. There are so many interactions in which both Charles and Max just seem giddy whenever they're around each other — you know, the kind of giddy you get when you're talking to somebody you have a crush on and you're not quite sure how to deal with it? Take this moment here in Bahrain 2022, for example. The quick looks, the smiles. If that isn't how you look at your fucking crush, then I don't know what is. Or this moment, with Charles rubbing at the back of his neck and looking all bashful after interacting with Max. Like, sir, what the fuck?

Whenever they interact, they don't display that same kind of comfort that they do with others, especially the other drivers already mentioned, but does this stop them from interacting? No. Does it deter them from seeking each other out practically every chance they get? Absolutely not. In fact, they seem to gravitate towards each other most of the time just like their hands always seem to gravitate towards each other's waists as soon as they're within touching distance for photos, and how other people briefly cease to exist once the two of them are engaged in conversation. Hell, I refer to Checo as Du-du-du-du-du-du-du Steve (Checo) and Third wheel Checo in my tags for a reason. (The things poor Checo has been forced to put up with when it comes to these two, including this cooldown room earlier this year.)

Oh, and did I mention Max literally interrupting Charles mid-interview in Bahrain at the beginning of the 2022 season, and Charles seemingly completely forgetting that he was being interviewed and keeping the conversation going, despite the fact that it's rude as fuck? Christ, how anyone puts up with them at this point is actually incredible.

There are also the numerous moments of intense eye contact while they're mid-conversation, the way Charles will remember the tiniest mention of Max from his engineer during a race and then bring it up, and Max fucking lighting up like a Christmas tree when he gets the chance to talk to Charles about it, and the way Charles is licking his lips before he realizes he's being recorded by Max. And anon, don't even get me started on their obsession with holding each other's waists as if that is a totally normal thing to be obsessed about with your emotional support rival. (Don't mind us, just gonna stand here and hold each other's waist while waiting for the others.)

Look, I am the absolute worst at keeping track of gifs and videos, which is probably for the best because if I was better at it, this would turn into a goddamned thesis, but there are just an endless supply of moments between Max and Charles where the vibe is just so far from being like the vibe either of them seem to have with any other driver on the grid. There is an underlying weirdness/awkwardness/shyness between the two of them that just screams "teenagers with a crush" for me, and that's why it's so easy for me to ship them. (And why it's impossible for me to ship either of them with someone else.)

#Asks #Anon #Anon asks #Lestappen

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anjelicawrites · 10 months

Text

Title: Between safety and need

Pairing: dom!Osferh x sub!reader x dom!Aemond Targaryen and all the combinations thereof.

NSFW, 18 + only please and specific warnings under the cut!

Warnings: smut, spanking, edging, nipple and clit clamp, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, p in v sex, double penetration, ass play, sex toys use, angst with a happy ending, sub dropping, Reader being a brat.

A/N: nonnie I am so sorry it took me so long to answer to this one!!! I hope you'll like it, even though it took me so long to write it!!!

There are days where you are a brat to get your lovers’ attention, others where it’s more of a ruse just because you feel playful like that. Today is neither of those, today you feel bothered by everything: the sound of the TV in the background, Aemond’s fingers on the keyboard, even the gentle snoring of the cats sounds like nails against a blackboard. You had tried all you could to drive the feeling away: shutting yourself in your own study, listening to your favorite podcast and going for a long walk in the countryside, to no avail; your own skin irks you to no end. The pinnacle of your irritation explodes when you and your lovers are in the living room while you try, unsuccessfully to read a book and you snap at Osferth

“Would you please stop making that sound?”

“I’m breathing?” he stares at you with big, surprised eyes

“Then stop! It’s irritating!”.

Usually he’s the one to take the situation in hand when you are like this, it surprises you to no end to feel Aemond’s hand on your neck, fingers curling gently to keep you in place.

“That’s enough, ñuha jorrāelagon, my love”

“Let go of me, Aemond Targaryen” you bite back

“No, I don’t think I will. You’ve been beyond heinous today. I am quite done with you and Osferth is as well”.

If you were less irked, you’d run away, because Aemond is deadly calm, which means you’ve managed to get on his last nerve. That rarely happens, he’s usually patient with you, even when anyone else would already be angry.

“You don’t tell me what to do!”.

Deaf as you are to everything, you don’t realize this is the worst thing to say. You start to realize the moment Aemond’s hand sneaks into your hair to grab the roots tight and pull your head back to look into your eyes.

“I think I will, since you are incapable of being yourself today”.

Aemond is rarely angry with you and even less times he’s expressed his emotions physically the way he’s doing now. Grabbing your hair like this is more of an Osferth move, in general, overpowering you this way is what your other lover usually does when you are being a brat, for Aemond to resort to this, it means you have truly overstepped.

You try to say something but Osferth gently puts a finger on your lips, calm and collected, the darkness of his anger pooling in his lovely eyes.

“Shh, I think you’ve talked enough for today. I know you want to say that you are sorry, but saying it just because now you realize you will be punished is meaningless. We’ll know when you are sorry”.

With that he lifts you over his shoulder, deaf to your grunting and to your fists against his strong back and heads to the bedroom. This is a curveball. Aemond doesn’t play as hard as you and Osferth sometimes do, it’s physically impossible for him to bear many of the things you two do; if he’s being part of this, what are they going to do to you?

You can literally feel the cogs in your head run faster and faster the closer the bedroom is, your brain creating scenarios upon scenarios, until your mind is a mess of images and ideas.

None too gently Osferth deposits you on the bed and orders you to stay put, in a tone that admits zero comebacks. You sit still, hands folded, eyes smoldering: you are not giving either of them the satisfaction of knowing how much this is off putting to you. You stare at them with an adversarial smile on your face, inward you wish to know what they are whispering, Osferth’s forehead against Aemond’s, one of his hands in his long strands.

The moment Aemond leaves you two, Osferth turns toward you, eyes dark and scanning your face.

“Stand up and undress - his voice is sharp - make it fast, you don’t want me to be halfway when Aemond comes back” he adds when you don’t move.

You recognize the tone, it’s his more dominant side that’s come out to play. You feel yourself being torn between following his command and brat out even more.

“You will get a spanking. Ten strikes because I am feeling nicer than you deserve - he says while sitting on the bed, legs spread - if Aemond comes back before I am done, you will have no orgasms for a week”.

The threat makes you undress quickly and lie on Osferth’s legs even quicker. When he threatens you with that, you know he will deliver and, because he plays dirty, he will use you thoroughly for his pleasure for the duration of the ban, trying to make you come, just so he can extend your punishment.

“You know you only have to be mad at yourself for this, right? I was going to be nice and look at what you are making me do. Count for me and say how grateful you are; if I like your tone I might not hit you that hard”.

The first slap lands on your ass and you bark out your instructions, the second and the third are so fast you can barely speak, by the fourth you feel the tears in your eyes. After the fifth, Osferth grabs your asscheek in a tight hold that makes you scream in pain and squirm in his lap.

“I wonder why you are making such a fuss about this. You are wet - he says, sticking two fingers in your cunt and curling them until you moan - a liar and a brat. I was too loose with my handling of you. Fear not, I will not make this mistake ever again, my love”.

He’s almost reached ten and you are already drooling on his tight, begging him for something you don’t know, pity, or maybe more pain until your brain stops working for a while.

You are not in subspace, yet, you are not fully yourself either, loose and weightless when Osferth grabs your hair, forcing your body into a kneeled position to kiss you roughly, his pent up anger and arousal owning you.

His hand is still in your hair when he tells you to sit on the bed again, to which you comply slowly, your limbs still feeling alien to you.

By the time Aemond arrives, you are more back into yourself, your arse stinging with every small movement you make against the cotton of the sheets, your bratty smirk back on your lips.

You are not sure Aemond took so long with whatever supplies he needed, because he couldn’t find them, or because he wanted to give you time to handle the first part of your punishment; whatever the reason, you tell him you are sorry, when he kneels between your spread legs.

“Are you, though, ñuha dāria, my queen?” he asks, his eye boring into yours.

You are and you aren’t. You’d still maintain that life irks you as of now, but maybe telling Osferth to stop breathing was a tad too much.

You know you should stay silent, because Aemond knows all that you are thinking right now: he’s terrifying when he gets like this and uses his analytical skills on you. If he weren’t so subby, he’d make a great dom, whatever those labels mean, your combined sexualities being more fluid than whatever word you use to describe yourselves.

“I thought so - he says, gently cupping your face in his warm hands - know that this brings me no pleasure”

“Are you sure about that?” Osferth kneels behind him, one hand on his cheek to turn his face towards him

“Maybe a little” he admits, his eye trained on you, before kissing Osferth with hunger.

You curl your fingers around the cotton of the sheets, unwilling to show your lovers how much you need them, just by seeing them kiss: you can feel the warmth expanding in your core, the wetness redoubling there and you bit your lower lip to stay quiet, as the kiss turns more physical, Aemond tumbling over Osferth, who just absorbs his weight with a moan, his hands going to his shoulders to make sure he’s not moving, their hips moving in tandem, until they have to separate, a thin tendril of spit connecting their red lips.

“Do you want to change plans?” Osferth asks, his hips jutting up teasingly and you’d call him a whore, lovingly, if the circumstances were different.

Aemond stares at him and then at you, a pensive uhm leaving his lips.

“Maybe another time?”

“Yeah, another punishment” Osferth answers, removing his t-shirt.

You get a second of respite, to try and find your feet, before your lovers sit flanking you on the bed, their hands proprietary on your skin, touching, pinching, scratching, until you moan, wanton.

“Lie back on the bed and let us play, pretty toy”

“Feel free to scream all you want, ñuha dāria and use your safeword, if you need to”.

You huff at that, as if you’d need to safeword your way out of a punishment.

“I’m letting that slide. Next time I’m not going to be so charitable” Osferth says, fingers pinching one nipple tight

“Yes sir - you blurt out, the pain zinging up and down your spine - I’m sorry sir”

“Still a brat, I see. That’s going to be a long punishment. We are going to have fun, you? Not so sure” he tells you, before showing you up the bed.

In the corner of your eyes, you see Aemond deposit on the bed the small chest where you all keep the toys. You had to hide the thing when Finan came over to help with putting together the new bed Osferth made and neither of you had the chance to use the contents ever since: you are fucked, you are so very fucked.

Your train of thoughts is cut short by their lips again, kissing paths of fire on your skin, sucking your breasts until you let out a shrill sound of pleasure when you feel fingers gently part your folds, Aemond delicately exploring you, curling his to massage your G-spot. You’d scream, but Osferth is kissing you, swallowing every single sound you make, one hand painfully clenching around one soft breast as you feel your orgasm approaching, cunt tightening around Aemond’s fingers. So close, so close, his pads delicious against that rough patch inside of you, you’re almost there, almost…

You tear your lips from Osferth’s when Aemond’s fingers leave you right before your orgasm. You stare at him with accusatory eyes, legs clenched together in the vain attempt to seize what he’s denied you.

“I’m so sorry, ñuha dāria - he says - this is still punishment”.

You groan when Osferth sucks your juices from Aemond’s fingers, his eyes boring into yours, challenging you to look away. He is so sensual, his pink tongue lapping Aemond’s long fingers, lips slowly sinking down their whole length, until they’ve bottomed out inside his greedy mouth and he moans, filthy and deep in his chest.

“Delicious - he eyes your cunt - I think I need to go to the source, though”.

With sure hands he moves your legs over his shoulders, keeping you at the mercy of his tongue and fingers, and he has none. He knows how to play you, knows how to twist his fingers just right, in tandem with Aemond’s lips on your breasts. He has to pin you on the bed when he starts writing the alphabet on your clit with his tongue, your legs kicking against his back, your torso arching with every sinful stroke, shrill screams of pleasure and torment escape your mouth, until he stops, again, right before you can come all over his face.

You try to clench your legs again in vain, your boys spreading them gently, eyeing your center like hungry wolves and you can do nothing but cover your face with your hands, as they descend upon you. You lose track of whose fingers are fucking you, whose tongue is lavishing your clit, whose teeth are gently nibbling there, until they don’t and fresh tears spill from your eyes.

“Shh, ñuha dōna, my sweet - Aemond gently cradles your body in his arms, letting you cry against his chest - shh”

“Please” you say, brokenly, your body a bundle of nerves

“Not yet - Osferth gently turns your body so you lie on your back, head on Aemond’s chest - not yet pretty toy”

“I’ve learnt my lesson, I promise”

“We know what’s best for you - he says, kissing your forehead - it’s not time yet”

“When it’s time, I promise it’s going to burn like a supernova, ñuha qēlos, my star”.

A tortured sound escapes your mouth when Osferth enters you, every ridge of his cock like fire against your aching walls. You wail at the pace he’s set, deep and rough pushes that you feel in your whole body, his hands leaving imprints on the soft skin of your tights, to keep you against his body, to grind against you with every push in. Aemond grabs your cheeks with one hand, opening your mouth to let a thin tendril of spit dribble there and you swallow unprompted, anything to show them you are being good, that you’ve learnt your lesson.

With a groan and a hand around his base, Osferth pulls out, making you scream when he turns you on your front, a hand in your hair to force you on your fours.

“Be good and open your mouth” he murmurs in your ear.

You do that, your tongue lolling out, which grants you a slap on your arse and a ‘good girl’.

Now it’s Aemond’s hands on your hips, pushing you back on his cock, until he’s seated inside of you, grinding until you scream, only to have Osferth’s cock push inside your mouth, your combined tastes making your arch in pleasure and curl like a vise around Aemond.

“Best cunt you’ve ever had, right?” Osferth says, cupping Aemond’s nape

“And mouth”

“Yeah”.

Like the good girl you can be, you cross your wrist on your lower back, to let them have full control on your body, and they do. While kissing over you, Osferth fucks your slack mouth brutally, one hand on your nape to keep your there, to slot himself in your throat until you kick your legs when the oxygen is not enough, his movements spurred on by the gurgling, lewd sounds you’re making. Aemond’s pushes are passionate and slow, your cunt wet and loose and perfect around him, hitting your insides just right, one hand taking one of yours, to show you that he still loves you, even when you are being punished. When he picks up speed, he pushes you on Osferth’s cock and you just let yourself being used like this, being pushed and pulled between their bodies, until tendrils of your own orgasm start spreading and you don’t know how to tell them, that you’re getting too close, that you’re almost there, so very close.

When they leave your body, you just flop on the bed, tears of frustration down your cheeks. It’s Osferth who comes to you, he cradles you against himself, his lips softly kissing your tears, until you’ve calmed enough to speak.

“What’s your color?”

“Green, please Osferth” you babble

“Not yet, not yet. You’re taking your punishment so well”

“It hurts so bad, please” you’re a whining mess, so far away from the bitchy brat you’ve been all day

“I know, but that’s what punishment is about. If you like it, then it’s not working”.

He is so reasonable that you have no counter argument, just disconnected words of regret and need blabbed against his neck.

You can feel Aemond’s body behind you, one hand turning your face so he can look at you.

“Do you think you can move again? Raise your hips up for me?”

“Yes, Aemond please”

“Sȳz riña, good girl” and you shiver.

Your boys have to help you move, your legs start to feel like jelly and they have to move them for you, until your arse is up and your face on the mattress.

You tremble when you hear the lube being uncapped, the cold substance being poured on your hole and then Aemond’s index breaching you, slowly, following the way your body responds to the stimuli, adding another finger to gently scissor you, soft moans spilling from your mouth, your clit tingling with every slow movement, your hands searching Osferth’s, needing the tether like a man lost at sea.

Your fingernails bite Osferth’s hands when Aemond pushes the smallest plug in your ass, your nerves responding tenfold to the action. Turning on your back is torment, their fingers burn your skin, the cotton on your back bites at your body; you don’t know if you’ll manage not to safeword your way out of trouble today.

The gentle whirring of the clit sucker makes you groan, your hips jump when Osferth places it on your clit, mercifully on the lowest setting, still your body rocks side to side, legs uselessly trying to close around his arm, Aemond’s lips sucking your breasts are a sweet torment that makes you arch your back, eyes closed, teeth biting your lower lip. You scream when the first clamp closes around your nipple and Aemond has to pull your forehead against his, soothing words cascading from his lips, until his fingers start playing with your other nipple, teasing it into a peak, only to punish it with the other clamp. In the midst of your torment, you try to warn your boys that you’re close again, you don’t want to fail and be punished!

“Shh, I know, I know” Osferth removes the clit sucker and kisses your belly button, his short stubble tickles your tummy

“You’re doing so well, hae iā sȳz riña, like a good girl” Aemond’s lips steal yours in a kiss, slow and passionate, to which you respond with all your remaining energies, one hand sneaking in his hair.

You have to tear your lips away from his when a bigger plug enters you, your eyes begging Osferth to go slow, which he does, with eyes scanning your face for signs that he should stop; all he can see is your features tormented by pleasure again, when Aemond’s fingers enter your cunt, purposefully hitting your spot, your hands flailing on the sheets. You are so beautiful like this, desperate and ready, his thirst for you redoubling, as if he hadn’t already had a taste of your pussy.

His tongue laps at your clit, lips sucking the small bud in sync with Aemond’s fingers inside of you, your cries of pleasure music for his ears, your hands in his hair spurring him on to play with you until you are the closest you’ve been today to your orgasm.

When they release your body, you curl into yourself, their stares feel like they’re burning your skin; you can’t physically manage to bear them.

You realize your mistake when Aemond’s hand tugs at the plug inside of you, pulling it partially out to gently push it in again and again and again, until it exits you and he orders you to turn on your fours. You try, but they have to position you, Osferth’s hand in your hair to keep you upright, while cold lube is poured on your hole again, to prepare you for the biggest plug you three own, the last they’re going to use on your.

You try to relax as much as your body allows you to, still the bulbous parts of the dildo feel like they’re splitting you in two, your muscles barely capable of accepting the last one.

“Do you know a lovely fact about your cunt? - Osferth murmurs in your ear - it becomes deliciously tighter when your arse is full. Here, let me show you”.

Your body is nothing more than a ragdoll he can maneuver to sit on his cock, until he’s bottomed out. You feel so full you can’t breath, his girthy cock feels ten times bigger, your cunt barely capable of accepting it, his fingers on your clit forcing your muscles to curl around him even tighter as he grinds against you.

You can barely feel the sting of Aemond's hand grabbing your hair to turn your head to kiss you again, his free hand playing with the clamps on your nipples, your orgasm curling in your tummy, until they both stop and you don’t even have the strength to scream anymore, tears streaming down your face, wet cunt leaking down your thighs.

“Will you be good for us, ñuha dāria? We’re almost there”.

Aemond turns you on your back again, entering you with a groan of pleasure at the added pressure of the plug in your arse, pushing slowly, needing you to feel every inch of his cock seated in your velvety walls, drinking down every wailing sound you make with each and every movement he makes. He loathes that he has to leave your cunt so soon, but you are dangerously close to orgasm and he doesn’t want you to fail; still there’s one last thing he needs to do.

You lie on the bed spent and wired up at the same time, wet and frustrated beyond imagination, nerves firing with every breath you take. You can’t, you can’t anymore, it hurts too bad to be denied like this but you can’t find the strength to use your safeword: you had worse, you can bear it and Aemond has even said that you’re almost done!

You can’t see what Aemond has in his hand, the rush of the blood in your ears covers his rummaging in the chest of toys and the knowing uhm of Osferth, when he sees what he has planned for the final leg of your punishment, knowing this is the maximum he can dish out. He is always amazed by the way Aemond plays with you, gentle and cruel at the same time and so patient, eyeing you like a hawk, while he’s letting the dragon out.

The bite of the clamp on your engorged clit steals a scream from your lips, your hands barely stopping from removing it, hips pushing against nothing in pain and pleasure

“We’re almost there. Do you think you can go through this?�� Osferth asks, big hand caressing your contracting tummy.

You need a second to answer, you want to go through this, you can’t bear this punishment anymore, but you want to show your lovers you’re being good, but it hurts so bad to quench your orgasm every time they touch you, you, you, you, God you mind is unraveling already!

“Yes, please” you say with a small voice, that wins you a gentle kiss on your forehead from each of your loves

“Relax as much as you can” Aemond asks and you try to, even though it’s so hard.

The rabbit vibrator is not the biggest toy you own, but your body is so strung up it feels like it’s splitting you in two halves, the pressure doubled with your arse still full of the plug, even the slow setting Aemond has chosen is a torment that forces you to writhe on the sheets, mewling like a bitch in heath, while the smaller part against your captive clit drives you absolutely mental with pain, and desire.

“Look at us” Osferth’s ask, his voice telling you that you can’t say no.

Your two loves are embracing one another, cocks leaky and erect gently rubbing against one another, Aemond’s lips leaving marks on Osferth’s throat, the latter’s hands on the other man’s arse, kneading the muscles there.

“Don’t take your eyes off us, ñuha dāria. This is the last thing we ask you to do and then you can come”.

You wail, desperate: there’s nothing more erotic than your lovers taking care of one another, their bodies entwined, enslaved to pleasure.

You feel hot and cold at the same time as Osferth lies Aemond on the bed, his lips sucking on his erect nipples until the other moans and arches his back, hands grabbing Osferth’s short locks to pull him even closer to his body.

Both their erections have been tormenting them from the moment they’ve started playing with you, each time they had to pull out, curbing their own orgasm, had been torture, your body calling theirs into its depths. Now, kissing and sliding against one another, cocks red and balls so full it feels like they’re going to explode, renders them deaf to everything but their own moans of pleasure, and that’s why they don’t notice immediately your silence.

The music of your moans and keens of pleasure has been in Osferth's ears, mixed with Aemond's, creating the best array of sounds he could even hope for, now there's only Aemond's soft moans of need and pleasure: something is wrong.

Osferth turns his head to you and sees that you are frozen on the bed, eyes open but not staring at them, full of fear, your hands clenched painfully. Shit! Shit! Shit! he thinks.

"Aemond!".

His tone it's the warning sign that kicks Aemond awake from his sexual reverie, his eye training on your unmoving body, a curse on his lips the moment he realizes they have fucked up.

Frenzied they remove all the toys tormenting you, their bodies enveloping yours under the covers, pressing you between them, their hands caressing you gently, while they call your name, softly, trying to lure you back from the depths of your own mind.

Despite their warm bodies, you feel cold, as if you have no blood in your body. Every muscle hurts, but the worst is your mind, spinning out of control, violent memories plaguing you, blocking you from doing anything, even calling for help. Your lovers' voices have to fight the whirlwind of your thoughts, with tremendous effort you try to focus on them, their tone calm, but with an undercurrent of fear: you have to come back to them, but God it’s so hard to take back yourself from the terror freezing you!

You don't know how long it takes for you to feel your body again, your heart beating a maddening tattoo in your chest, your fingers searching whomever hands' are the closest to feel that you are gaining control back. You want to call their names, but only a strangled cry escapes and then the tears, copious down your cheeks, the sobs welcome because they wreck your body, making you feel real, back where you belong to.

If possible, Osferth and Aemond hug you even tighter, each of your sobs stabs them with guilt: too hard, they've used you too hard and didn't even realize it, this wasn't supposed to happen, still it did and both your lovers are devoured by guilt. How, between the two of them, they didn’t realize? You looked tired, yes, but not more than usual during play and Osferth had dommed you harder than he did this time and nothing happened: what did he miss?

“I’m so sorry - you manage to say - I don’t know why…” and you stop, unsure

“It happens to you, sometimes” Osferth tries to reassure you, not that his own words make him feel any better

“It’s just - you search for the right words, the feat hard with your brain still reeling from the violent sub drop - when I saw you two together, I felt alone, I don’t know why”

“We’re so sorry” Aemond tells, lips in your hair

“No, don’t be! - you crane your neck to look at him - not your fault. My brain misfires sometimes”.

Aemond knows, but it doesn't really matter: he's your protector and he's failed.

You three fall into an uneasy silence, you feeling their combined pain and guilt, them trying their hardest to make sure you are feeling safe, battling against their consciences.

You are not sure how much time has passed, before your body starts to feel like it is your own again: brain less muddled and muscles tired, to the point that you will need to be carried around for the rest of the day. Pressed as you are between your lovers, you can smell sweat and sex on their skins, you feel the thrum of Aemond’s soft humming and Osferth’s fingertips on you, all small signals that help you back into yourself, where you need to be.

Slowly your skin registers theirs again, their faded erections starting to come back, aided by the proximity of your body and its spell, your unhurried breathing and face playfully rubbing against them, like a happy cat, your arse pushing back, against Aemond’s swelling cock.

“Stop it” he tells you, trying to put some distance between your delectable ass and his erection

“Why? I need you”

“I am here”

“I don’t mean in that sense”.

You know Aemond struggles, sometimes, when you give him the reins, between what he likes to do to you, and his fear of hurting you, because to him, you are delicate, made of glass, someone he needs to keep safe from everyone, even from himself. There’s this constant push and pull between you two: you demonstrate to him, again and again, that you can take it, and him, who tries to reconcile his two minds.

“Aemond is right - Osferth murmurs against your forehead - this one was bad. You were out for a while”.

You hug Osferth tighter. You know he worries a lot whenever you sub drop, as if it’s his fault and not your stupid brain; besides, shit happens even during the best planned scenes, you both know that.

“I am feeling better, and I need you two” you say

“You thought you could make it, and look what happened”

“I miscalculated a lot - you answer - I am more focused now, please. I still feel so strung up” and you are.

With the feel of your own body back, so it’s the frustration of so many missed orgasms, nerves itching with every small movement you make.

“We can be quick”

“I don’t need quick”

“Tell us what it is that you desire, ñuha dōna and we decide, together”.

You feel the warmth of shame, mixed with giddiness, expand in your body. For all your sexual prowess, this is something you’ve never done; on one hand, you are happy to try it with Osferth and Aemond, on the other, you are afraid to ask.

“I want you to take my cunt and arse at the same time - both your lovers exhale a surprised huff of breath - please?”.

A sliver of anxiety enters your voice again. The awful feeling of being abandoned by them rearing its ugly head.

“It is a lot - Osferth’s hand finds home in your hair to crane your neck, needing to look into your eyes - we are a lot”

“We might hurt you” the struggle in Aemond’s voice breaks your heart: he cares so much about you

“Please, I know, please. I am more ready than I will ever be, please don’t abandon me”.

You know you are being unreasonable, that they mean well, still you haven’t expunged all the nastiness the sub drop left behind, you can feel panic rising again, squeezing your chest.

“We’ll never abandon you, ñuha dāria” Aemond maneuvers his body so he can look into your eyes

“You are stuck with us, forever. We just care about your wellbeing” Osferth adds.

You try to take a deep breath and calm yourself, to explain yourself better.

“I know how well endowed you both are. I know it will be difficult, but not impossible. Please, I want this first with you two. I had been thinking about it for so long!”.

Your two lovers stare at one another, a silent dialog in their stare: your safety comes first, even before your desires, which don’t exist in a vacuum, they are not mindless sex machines, they too have needs and fears you have to acknowledge. It will kill them to know that they have hurt you just because they were being careless.

You tell yourself all of this, trying to kill the anxiety burning in your belly. Even if they say no, they love you and denying you something comes from a place of love and care, not indifference.

You feel anxiety spread like an itch you can’t scratch and hate that your mind is spiraling again, producing fears you seem incapable to squash.

“We’ll do it - Osferth tells you after what seemed to be centuries of wait - if we feel like something is wrong we stop”.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, your mind gripping itself into reason.

“If we were to stop - Aemond turns your body to face you fully - is for your safety. It doesn’t mean we don’t love you or that we will not try again. You have to trust us on this”

“Yes, I know. Thank you. Thank you for giving me this” and you mean every word.

They kiss you, slow and gentle, their hands caress your body like it’s made of glass, like you are fragile, their gentle motions shaping your desire in something less urgent, like flames hiding under the ash that warm your whole body and lull your mind into calmness.

It’s their hands that move you into position, your ass up in the air and your face in the mattress, Aemond’s face close to yours, one hand holding yours as the other goes to your folds, fingers finding their way between your lips to caress the skin there, to play with your hole and clit; you moan, your nerves still remembering the recent assault of sensations, but you try to stay calm, to feel what Aemond is doing without urging him on, following his lead.

With the same gentleness, Osferth pours lube on your hole and starts preparing you; it’s easy, you had worn the big plug for so long your body is ready, still he takes his time to opening you up, just following the signals your body is giving him, the hand he has on your hip there to caress the skin and give you a sense of security.

You are a babbling mess by the time they decide you are ready, wet and loose and desperate for their touch again, your fingers holding Aemond’s hands grabbing desperately.

You hear Osferth groan as he prepares himself and your breath quickens in excitement, his hand like a brand on your hip.

You both sigh when his head starts breaching you. It doesn’t matter how many plugs, or for how long he has prepared you, taking him makes you feel like he’s owning you, like he’s mastering your body into doing his bidding, your muscles trying to push him out, until they just give up and accept his assault, until he is fully seated and his hips are flush against your ass. You try to breath and to force all your muscles to relax around him: you feel so full and ready to feel him move, but he doesn’t, he just breaths in tandem with you until you are completely relaxed and then props your body up, slowly, until you are flush against him and Aemond can slide under you two.

Osferth is keeping your whole body up, making sure you are not fully sitting on him, your body can't sheat him that way or he'll hurt you.

Aemond stares at you like you are a miracle, a goddess bestowing her presence on him, letting her body be ravished by a couple of heathens.

"Are you still sure?" his cock hurts but you safety is paramount

"Yes Aemond, please" you answer, your voice strained, cunt wet and hungry.

Slowly, your men position you over Aemond's erection and he pushes inside of you, a curse escaping his lips at how tight you are. He has to screw his eye to concentrate on not coming, your cunt like a fist around his erection and he feels like he is splitting you open, the added pressure of Osferth's cock in your ass driving him insane with the need of pistoning inside of you like a wild animal. The high pitched sounds you make don't help any of them to keep an iron grip on their own desires, you sound so lost, like a wounded animal and the darkest parts of them want more of that, more of how defenseless you are under their combined attack.

Aemond breaching you feels like it's taking centuries, where you are made and unmade time and time again, until he is fully inside of you, long cock pushing just right against your G spot, the pressure inside of you bordering on unbearable: not even the toys had ever made you feel this way, utterly and completely possessed by your lovers, every inch of them marking you from the inside, ruining you and knitting you whole. For a second you can't breathe, your mind focused on their impressive cocks inside your holes; you have to remind yourself that you need air to survive, so you try to focus on them, to sync with them, who are as ruined as you are.

"I can feel you two touching through me"

"It is divine. You are divine" Osferth tells you through gritted teeth

"Kessa, yes - you can hear the strain in Aemond's voice - perfect".

They need to move but they wait, until your body feels more relaxed, your breath less ragged, the vise of your holes less tight.

The only thing you can do is moan when they start to move, slow pulls and pushes, never leaving you empty, their cock hitting all the right spots that make you tremble in their arms, and open up even more. Desperate you seek their lips, your teeth their soft skin, needing to leave your mark on them the same way they are doing with you, their hands like manacles on your hips, moving your body to their leisure while you beg and keen like an animal.

They are both cursing at how good you feel wrapped around their cocks, the right amount of tightness that makes their eyes cross, the slapping of skin on skin like music for their ears.

They just need a quick glance, before changing rhythm, entering and exiting you at the same time, pistoning with more vigor against your body and you scream, bloodcurdling sounds of pleasure and pain, your arms flailing, fingers seeking their skins, spit drooling from your mouth. If you felt full before, now the feeling has grown tenfold, their cocks the only thing you can feel, your body not yours anymore, plied open by your merciless lovers, your nerves screaming with the pleasure they are forcing on you. It feels like your insides are going to liquefy, to tear open to make space for your lovers, in reality your muscles are curling brutally around the cocks forcing you open, the pressure inside of you almost painful for them, your body completely lax and at their disposal, your lips attacked by theirs at the same time. You can’t think, only feel their bodies against yours, every inch of their erections against the velvet of your walls, separated by the thin layer of your skin, driving you insane.

Your orgasm arrives like a tornado, robbing you of whatever sanity you have left, your holes curling so brutally to force them to still and spill inside of you, until it hurts too much and they have to leave your body, their comes leaking obscenely from your holes.

You three fall on the bed, no strength left to support your weights, ungraceful and tired, limbs entwined, lips still seeking contact, hands caressing tired bodies.

You feel worn out and weightless, burrowing in their embrace you laugh with happiness, even though you are so tired and ready to sleep. Your lovers are in no better shape, their muscles trembling with all the effort of taking you within an inch of your life, your laugh the balm to the tiredness they feel in their bones and the fear they felt when you sub dropped.

Yes, you three are all supposed to clean up and then wash the toys and change the bedsheets, but there’s time for that, now basking in your shared happiness is the only thing that truly matters, and maybe a nap all dogpiled the way you three are now, anything else can wait.

Everythig taglist: @ilikeitbetterangsty

Poly taglist: @notyour-valentine , @fan-goddess , @aegonx

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