#if you read this far thanks you can now see how much this consumes me 🙃

[eternal-reverie]

got the posting anxiety bad tonight

#click clack #ok a peak into my thought process and anxiety here we go #ok so the art is almost done and up to standard I would post onto my art blog #BUT for some reason the thought of posting art of my ocs there scares me #because even tho it’s my art blog in my mind it’s the equivalent to a art gallery that demands being detached????? from the art #like once I share it there it’s no longer ‘mine’ but to the public #and my ocs (plus the stories that go with them) are like the closest to my heart and relinquishing them feels like a lot #a part of my imagination that I spent so much time with developing over the years to be placed up for judgement… #so then the solution could be to put it here on my personal! the online space cozy enough and filled with other posts that could easily bury #the original posts I put here #but there goes my other dilemma. i don’t want them too associated with my personal for if one day i do muster up something for publication #my big fear is that ppl will find this space and go thru everything. the fear of being perceived and judged 😵‍💫 #all the hypotheticals and anxiety for something that may not even happen #dumb mind problems my head made up 🙄 #anyway writing it out helped lol I’m posting it to my art blog I decided 👍 #I have to work on getting that blog to be comfortable space to post… i should lower that silly self imposed standard I set for myself #and be whatever about ppl being aware of my online presences #maybe… [grinding my teeth] I should post my messy sketches onto my art blog… #I should take my friends suggestion and make a website to feature my ocs…🤔 #idk my only other solution that doesn’t feel viable to mitigate the anxiety is to slowly introduce my ocs in the background of setting art #just a slow drip until they are in the forefront #bleghhh whatever much ado about nothing it’s like I never posted my ocs ever when I have indeed posted them before on both places ( º＿º ) #I’m realizing it happens too when I post too much fanart in a row… I have curator disease??? 🫨 #or something I used to be very particular about what order I reblog stuff like it used to be by color and content balanced out #I still do to a lesser degree… but it used to be pretty bad #post order compulsion???? #the fear of being abrupt and incohesive in between posts… #if you read this far thanks you can now see how much this consumes me 🙃

[ghouljams]

Courting (Letters from Lt. Riley)

tags: regency au, Ghost x f!reader/OC, courting, letters, Ghost flirting and also being so weird with it, courting gifts

summary: You told Ghost he could write you. He does.

The maids drop off the letter while you're in the study. The wax seal on the front is unbroken, which you find strange. Aren't parents normally supposed inspect courting letters? You suppose you should be thankful your mother isn't a noble by birth, she doesn't have the same care for propriety you know others do. She's always maintained that love is for the people involved and no one else. Though, love is a far stretch for your feelings as far as you're concerned.

Ghost seems to go out of his way to aggravate and annoy you. You will say... you've never enjoyed conversations quite so much as you enjoy them with him, and you've never had a man entertain your debating so well, and you suppose his eyes are rather warm and honeyed enough to catch attention. You like that you can see the curve of his lips under his mask when he smiles, and that the lines beside his eyes crease when he looks at you. And you like his hands, you suppose, if you had to pick something.

You break the seal of the letter and unfold the thick paper. There's a thin sheet of silver paper covering the actual writing and you scoff at the precaution. Surely the man isn't saying anything so scandalous as to need more protection from prying eyes. Still, you're careful removing the tissue-y layer.

Your breath catches in your throat, fingers hovering to trace carefully over the lines of charcoal covering the page. It dirties your glove and you're quick to avoid touching the paper directly, lest you sully the careful work of portraiture. It's you, your profile staring determined off into the distance, a slight frown on your lovingly shaped lips and a gentle crease to your brow. You wonder what your charcoal double must be thinking to have such an expression. You recognize the necklace he's haphazardly rendered, a gift from your mother you wore at the first party of the season.

How long has he been thinking of you?

There's tight cursive at the bottom of the page, "I have nothing to say, except that you're the most beautiful creature I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. -Lt. Riley"

Your heart flutters so hard, batters so aggressively against your rib cage, that you don't even notice the heat in your cheeks. You call rush to find pen and paper to write back.

-

You're having breakfast with your parents when the maid brings you a letter. You recognize the red wax seal immediately and slide your fingers under the paper's fold to break it quickly. The crack of wax fills the silent room, and you look up from your work to see your parents watching you. You father rests his chin on his laced fingers, and your mother quietly sips her tea. The letter is carefully placed to the side and your mother smiles, setting down her cup to draw one of your father's hands into her own grip.

"Don't let us keep you," You father rumbles, you can't tell if he's upset or pleased. His voice carefully neutral.

"It can wait until after breakfast," You tell him peaceably, picking up your fork again.

"Give it a read now dear, you'll upset your stomach rushing through meals." Your mother, ever the doctor, encourages. You tamp down your smile and unfold the letter, your fingers feeling for another sheet of silver paper. You're almost disappointed not to find one. You suppose you can't expect a gift of that quality every time. Once again the actual letter is short and neatly penned,

"Arguing with me won't make me march down there princess. Not that the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but I'd be gone as soon as I saw you, lost as soon as you opened your mouth. You make me lose all rational thought, and yet you consume my every waking moment. There is no distance I could travel that I would not still be haunted by the memory of you. If I'd never been assigned to your escort I would have been a saner man, miserable for never having known you. Argue with that.

Did you miss every one of your penmanship lessons?

Lt. Riley"

You smile to yourself, your thumb rubbing against the paper. He's pressed little flowers into the folds, their colors bleeding into the page and their petals falling into your lap. You pluck them carefully from your skirt, dutifully avoiding thoughts of your suitor, and place them back in the folds of Ghost's letter. You'll have to write him later, you know he's egging you on, but really he should know better than to criticize a lady's calligraphy.

You look up from your work and meet your parent's stares. Your mother's thumb rubs against the back of your father's hand, you've always hoped for a match like theirs.

"Something nice?" Your mother asks, and you smile at her.

"Never," You tell her, "Lieutenant Riley is as rude in his letters as he was as an escort."

Your father hums, but you think you see the edge of a smile under his beard.

-

There's very little awkwardness in the letters between you and Ghost. He writes better than he speaks, but the bluntness is still there, the charm that made you first agree to this courtship. He makes your stomach clench, makes your heart flutter. He's rude and argumentative, and you find yourself hoping for every letter he sends you.

He's sweet.

He's terrible.

You hide his letters under your pillows, the ones that talk about kissing you, "Everywhere but your mouth," he writes, "so that I can still hear you." You sit on the chaise and chew your thumb reading the letters that promise you devotion, "you'd never worry where I was, I never wish to stray from your side." You hear your friends discussing suitor gifts, the scandalous things that pass through their aunt's inspection first, that their fathers shake their head at.

You think of the modesty panel laced into your stays, the carefully inked words along the edge of the gift, "if my lips were here they'd never leave."

You pluck Ghost's letter from the tray before your maid can even offer it. Your fingers quick to break the wax seal before you even find a place to sit. He never writes as much as you do, but he's purposeful with his words in a way that makes your heart sing.

"If it's the Scot I think it is your friend is fine. We can discuss when I pick you up this afternoon. Wear walking shoes. Love, Lt. Riley"

You snort, quite a way with words your lover. You nearly trip on your way up the stairs staring at his signature. "Love" be still your heart.

#x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #oc: goose #regency au #return of ghost being an artist which is my personal favorite thing

[honeydjarin]

(I’LL GIVE YOU THE MOON)

OPLA SANJI X READER

You owe Sanji a dance and he intends to have it Or A flirt is going to flirt (that doesn’t mean he’s not yours)

genre: fluff, mild angst

warnings: smoking, drinking

word count: 1,500

a/n: I wasn’t expecting the first part to receive so much love! Thank you everyone who took the time to leave such kind comments. This fic takes place after Bring Me the Sun, but it was planned as a separate one shot and can be read as such.

PART I: BRING ME THE SUN

You stand on the back deck of the Going Merry, the round faces of Nami’s tangerines staring at you from either side. The moon joins in, its face glowing more gold than silver where it hangs just above the horizon. You think it’s a full moon.

Maybe that’s why you feel like you're losing yourself. 

You’re alone on the ship—or you’re supposed to be—while the rest of the Straw Hat Crew are out at a bar, enjoying a little downtime between wild adventures. Yet even here, surrounded by only the sound of water lapping at the stern, the sweet tangerines swaying in the low breeze, and the silent gaze of the moon, you are haunted by the man that consumes your head and your heart. 

You can still feel the heat of his hand against your lower back, the curve of his fingers on the nape of your neck, the weight of his arm across your shoulders. You can still feel the brush of his hair against your cheek as he leaned in close for you to hear him over the music. Despite the fresh air, the smoke of his cigarette still fills your nose (or maybe that’s a phantom too). Even now, with so much distance between you, Sanji’s touch still lingers. 

It’s so easy to feel like you’re special when he’s near you, like you’re the only one he sees when he turns his soft gaze your way, lips curling in an easy smile. The way he speaks makes you feel like you’re the only one in the world he could ever have eyes for. Like you’re the person he holds closest to his heart—just as haunted as you are. 

And then he stands up, offers to get you another drink, saying: “It’s the least I can do for someone so beautiful.” 

You’re left watching as he turns that smile towards a stranger getting a drink next to him, eyes gleaming as he laughs, and you wonder if you’re just another one of his friendly flirtations. Maybe that gentle fondness that softens his features when he looks your way isn’t that at all, but merely the familiarity of being with a friend.   

You want to be his friend. You also want to be so much more. 

You couldn’t stay at the bar tonight, despite leaving Sanji with a full glass and a broken promise that you half hope he remembers. You needed space to think, to breathe. Sanji would have made his way back to you, he always does, but your mood had soured too much to play it off as simply being tired. You walked past a drunkenly dancing Usopp on your way out the door and wished you could be as carefree as him. 

The chill of the night air starts to seep into your skin, raising goosebumps on your flesh. Still, you remain. You stay there when you hear the rest of the crew return, voices loud in their drunken haze, carrying across the ship even as they descend to the sleeping quarters. You’re still there when silence settles once again. 

Footsteps trail up the stairs, coming to a halt not far behind you. When you turn, you see Sanji standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, eyes taking you in. It’s impossible to tell what he’s feeling in the low light. 

“What are you doing out here?” you ask. “It’s late, you should get some rest.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” he says. 

“I don’t think I will either,” you admit. You turn your attention back to the moon. It’s higher now, glowing bright enough to drown out the stars around it. 

Sanji steps closer, closing the distance between you. He leans against the railing beside you, staring out at the moon. The heat of his arm inches from yours is enough to remind you of how cool the air really is, and you shiver. 

“You’re cold,” he says, and you nod, unable to face him. Without a word, he takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders, the fabric helping to chase some of the chill away, but not all. Once again you’re left wondering if this is just a friendly gesture, or if it could ever mean something more. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

“Will you look at me?” Sanji asks. You nod again, but turning to face the man who is always in your thoughts is more difficult than you expect. Instead you clutch his jacket closer, seeking comfort for a problem of your own making. 

When you still don’t move, Sanji takes your cheeks in his hands, thumbs stroking gently along their curve, guiding you to look at him. His hold prevents you from turning away. 

His hair glows silver in the low light, like a halo—beautiful. Your skin warms beneath his touch despite the ache in your heart. The chef’s own cheeks burn red, the wine he drank throughout the night settling just beneath his skin in a rosy flush that you long to press your lips to, if only to feel the heat of him. 

It takes all of your willpower to keep from leaning forward and kissing him right then and there. Liquid courage leaves you sticky with affection and with inhibitions dulled just enough to risk acting on your desires. It’s the little voice in the back of your head that reminds you you’re just a friend that keeps you from pulling him closer. 

“You promised me a dance tonight,” Sanji says, words laced in disappointment. 

“Did I?” you play dumb. You can’t help but hope the wine has stained his memory, not just his cheeks. It’s merely wishful thinking—a couple of glasses isn’t enough for Sanji to get drunk, just enough to go soft around the edges.

He hums. “You did. And then you left before we could.” 

“I needed to get some air,” you claim. 

“I thought things were going well, that we were having a good time. Together.” All traces of flirtation and charm have vanished from the chef’s features, leaving nothing but unclouded honesty behind. His usually crystalline eyes are dark in the night, their usual light gone and instead filled with confusion as he looks into your own. 

Guilt settles in your stomach like a stone. Of course your actions hurt him. 

“We were,” you admit. “But I got scared.” 

Even in the dark, you can see the moment your words sink in, recognition sparking in Sanji’s eyes, and then something more, something softer. Your favorite smile curls on his lips and you can’t help but stare. 

Sanji starts to remove one of his hands from your cheek, but before he can your own hand reaches up, keeping it there. It’s selfish, you hurt him—hurt yourself too, with all of your overthinking. 

He looks at you so fondly. He always does.  

“You know I mean it, right darling? Every word. You’re beautiful.”

The ache that held itself in your heart since leaving the bar eases, fading into a mere whisper. He isn’t looking at you like a friend, or some stranger in a bar. He’s too honest right now, and it’s all the reassurance you need. At least for a little while.   

Once again you’re overcome with the need to kiss him, and this time you do. You lean in, and before you have a chance to doubt your decision, Sanji meets you halfway. 

His lips are soft and warm against yours, better than you imagined. He tastes like the smoke of his cigarettes. Not a phantom—this is real. It’s like a balm for your heart that dreamed of this moment for so long.

When you finally pull back, his eyes are shining bright enough that you swear you can see the moon in them. Or maybe it’s you who is moonstruck. Either way, you can’t stop your own lips from curling into a smile, a laugh bubbling up your throat and spilling out into the night. 

You want to kiss him again, so you do. When you pull back this time, Sanji’s lips find your cheek, pressing a kiss there too with a murmur of “you really are too sweet to me.” 

When Sanji pulls back again, just enough to take in your lovesick state, he adds, “You promised me a dance.”

He sways you slowly, barely rocking more than the boat’s natural rhythm in the tide, his smile never dropping for a minute. There’s no music to guide you, but you’re too caught up in each other to care. 

“I’m pretty sure the music at the bar was faster,” you joke.

“Was it? I think I prefer this speed.” As if to emphasize his point, Sanji pulls you even closer, tucking you against his solid form. 

When you left the bar, you didn’t expect your night to end so perfectly. Surrounded by only the sound of water lapping at the stern, the sweet tangerines swaying in the low breeze, and the silent gaze of the moon—there is nowhere else you would rather be. 

a/n: I think Sanji would still be a charmer even if he was interested in someone/in a relationship. That doesn't mean he wouldn't be loyal to his love.

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla sanji x you #opla x you #opla one piece #one piece

[puppykento]

SALVATION - SUGURU GETO

ft. cult leader!suguru geto x fem!reader

a/n: first full fic on this blog !! been thinking on this for a WHILE and it's finally here :3 feedback/rbs insanely appreciated, hope you all like the fic <3 thank you to @kaitkatme and @nexysworld for beta reading this for me ♡

cw: 18+ content, manipulation, dub-con due to heavy coercion, fingering, corruption kink, loss of virginity, use of 'master', power imbalance, p in v, creampie, breeding, talks of marriage, geto calls reader his wife and little lamb

word count: 2k words

Suguru knew the moment he laid eyes on you that he had to have you. You came to him all nervous and jittery, unable to even meet his eyes. He can see the curse hovering over you, infecting you with its presence. He can tell it's been haunting your dreams before you even open your mouth to say anything, without even looking at the dark circles under your eyes. He listens to you talk, nodding along with feigned sympathy to make you feel comfortable and let your guard down around him.

“I can cure you of your ailment, my dear. But it is best if you stay here for a few days. I can sense you're troubled, and I hope to make sure I can rid you of this disease properly.” He says after a moment, but he's already reaching out to absorb the curse, slipping the orb into his pocket to consume later. He tilts his head, offering you a grin that's all teeth with a hidden sense of malice. 

“I'll have someone set up a room for you.” Is all he says before he's leaving the room, waving in one of his disciples to deal with you for now. He had plans he had to form, so he couldn't waste his time on you just yet.

                              ˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

He returns to you later that night, a lesser curse prepared to infect you with, using it to infect the herbal tea he's prepared for you. For a human of your health, it should simply induce a fever and fitful sleep. Enough for him to convince you that you needed to stay while he purged you of the ‘ailment’ he had diagnosed you with. Enough for him to get closer to you.

“Has everything been to your liking?” He asks as he settles on the edge of your bed, pressing the back of his hand to your head as he hands you the infected tea, making sure you don't take too bad of a turn in reaction towards it. He watches you closely as you start to sip from it, politely thanking him and nodding at his question. Non-sorcerers were such weak, fickle people. He could not harm you before he'd got what he wanted from you.

The effect is almost instant. He watches your eyelids droop as you gaze at him, almost looking like you're in a daze. Your skin grows hot under his touch, growing clammy as the fever sets in. He bites his cheek to suppress a smile as he sees how well the curse takes to you, forcing a look of concern to wash over his face.

“Oh, dear. I've been working on flushing the illness from your body, but it appears it's fighting back. I really do recommend you take my offer to stay for a few days. A week, maybe. Your recovery is important to me, dear.” He says softly, his practised tone low and caring, designed to lure you into a false sense of security. He smiles when he sees you nod in agreement, gently swiping his thumb against your forehead.

You really are far too pretty for a mere non-sorcerer, he thinks, his gaze trailing your face. It felt like a waste that someone like you was born as such a lesser creature. It was a good thing you had Suguru to guide you, to direct you along the right path. You'd be the only one of your kind worthy of walking amongst other sorcerers and his disciples. His perfect wife. You'd want him soon enough, he'd make sure of it.

Over the next few days, he works slowly to wean you off of the curse he'd put into your system, doting on you as much as his dwindling patience would allow while building up your trust in him. After a few days, he removes it, pocketing the orb and nursing you through the lingering effects it had left behind.

The fever remains, rendering you bed bound even without the curse in your system. It appeared to have weakened your immune system considerably more than Suguru had initially anticipated. Not that it particularly mattered - feverish was good and could easily work in his favour. It would make you more delirious, more pliable to his wishes.

He makes his way to your room with your nightly tea, offering you a small smile as he sits on the edge of your bed, instinctively pressing his hand to your head as he'd done every night prior to this one. He hands you your tea, brushing your cheek with his hand.

“Your fever is fading. I don't think it'll be long before you've returned to your normal self.” He tells you, his eyes locked onto yours as you sip from the cup in your hand.

“Thank you for your help, Master Geto. I feel a lot better now. It's been a while since I managed to get a full-night's sleep.” You reply, offering him a gentle smile. Your eyes still look a little hazy, as if you're about to fall asleep any moment. Suguru decides to put his plan into action.

You're not quite delirious enough to miss the way his hand wanders along your side, caressing the curve of your hip and giving it a squeeze before he slips his hand under your shirt, feeling the fever hot skin of your stomach. His eyes flick up as he hears the cup being set on the table, your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Master Geto-”

“Shh, shh. Quiet, little lamb. I'm doing this to help you. You trust me, don't you.” He coos, his voice almost disarmingly sweet. You're not used to him using that tone, and it sends your mind spinning for a moment. You gasp as his hand slips higher, cupping your bare breast as he runs a thumb over your nipple. His hands feel cold on your heated skin, causing the bud to stiffen under his touch.

“Non-sorcerers are so predictable. One touch and you're already willing to submit to me.” He says with a soft huff of laughter, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, drawing a whine from you. He sees your expression when he refers to you as such, which only serves to make him laugh harder. “Oh, please don't tell me you mistook me for one of your pathetic kind?”

His hands shift to pull on your trousers, yanking them down with your underwear. You kick out, but the fever makes you weak. Your fight amuses Suguru, drawing another laugh from him. “My little lamb is such a fighter. Darling, there's no use in fighting. You will be my wife, and you will give me an heir.”

He watches you closely, waiting for a protest that doesn't come. Only then does he truly smile, a grin spreading across his face. His thumb parts your pussy, and he clicks his tongue softly when he comes into contact with your wetness. “Ah, what's this? Does being my wife please you so much? Has another man touched you like this before, little one?”

You shake your head instantly, your cheeks growing hot under his intense gaze. He hums softly in thought, dipping his thumb past your entrance, gently teasing it. “A virgin? Mhm, I almost can't believe I'd be so lucky. You don't mind if I check, do you?”

The way you squirm as he slips his thumb away to push his index finger into your cunt is enough to tell him you're untouched, but he doesn't plan on stopping any time soon. The sooner you're swollen with his children, the better. He wants to make sure that you'd be his obedient little wife, and he has no plans on letting you so much as leave this room until he's stuffed you full.

He takes his time stretching you out, slowly adding extra digits until you're keening after being stuffed full of three of his fingers. He presses his palm against his clit as he opens you up, smirking as he watches you attempt to hump his hand to get some friction against your swollen bud. He pulls his hand away when he feels you clenching around his fingers, tutting softly.

“Now, now, little lamb. No cumming unless it's on my cock.” His words are followed by him removing his kāṣāya and loosening his yukata so he can free his cock, pumping it lazily a few times before aligning himself with your entrance. You choke out a gasp as he presses forward, slowly sinking into you inch by inch. You feel like the air is being pushed out of your lungs, your hands clutching losely at the robe still dangling from his body.

“M-Master…” You breathe out, your expression tense as he buries himself to the hilt in your cunt. His jaw clenches as he forces himself to remain still despite the tight heat surrounding him. A hiss is forced out through gritted teeth as he slowly starts to move, his hand gripping your waist tightly to prevent you from moving too much.

“Quiet, little lamb. You will adjust. Your body was made to take my seed. I knew that as soon as I laid eyes on you.” He grits out, placing your calves over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper, his hips slapping the flesh of your ass with every thrust.

His cock glistens with your arousal, spotted slightly with blood that serves as evidence of your purity. The sight has him smiling, rutting his cock into you with more urgency. His pretty wife was perfect for him in every way. He'd be the first and last man to ever touch you. He'd make sure of it. The tip of his cock presses against your cervix as he adjusts his hips, making sure every inch of him fills you.

“My little wife… I'll keep you nice and filled for days. Gonna make sure it takes, gonna give you my baby.” His cock brushes your sweet spot every time he drags it along your fluttering walls, your slick coating his length, dripping down to his balls. The sight alone is almost enough to make him cum, but he's determined to see you cum first. He can be a kind leader, after all - and there is a large part of him that would love to feel you tighten around him, drawing his out his orgasm.

“Bet you'd like that, hmm?” He questions, biting back a moan as he thrusts balls deep into your drippy cunt, grinding the hair at the base of his cock against your clit. His hands slide down to spread your lips so he can rut his pelvis against you. You moan out his title as you finally come undone, flooding him with your release. He fucks into you sloppily, strands of silky, black hair framing his face as he lets his head hang down. “It's an.., ah… honour to carry my child. Thank me for… for choosing you. Fuck… thank your master, little lamb.”

“Thank you.” You whine, back arching as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the sensitivity causing tears to form in your eyes. You clench tighter around him, doing your best to milk his cock dry. “Thank you, Master.”

The words are enough to send him over the edge, his teeth clenching as he lets out a guttural moan, forcing himself right up against your cervix to ensure his cum stays deep inside of you. He lets out a shaky breath, doing his best to manoeuvre both of you into a lying position without pulling out.

He gently wipes a few tears that spill past your eyes with the pad of his thumb, pressing a kiss to your head. “Shh, little lamb. You'll be alright. I'll take care of you and my child. I promise.”

He had every intention of following through on his promise. He would not let harm come to his heir or wife, and he'd gladly kill anyone who attempted to disrespect you. You were his now, and he always protected what was his.

#suguru♡ #jjk smut #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n

[rosewould]

pit stop; cyj

🖊️⇝ pairing; afab, blk!reader x yeonjun

🖊️⇝ word count; 8.3k

🖊️⇝ genre; friends 2 lovers, smut, fluff, & light angst

🖊️⇝synopsis; you should probably buy a lottery ticket with how luck you are when it comes to running into celebrities... despite just moving to a new country

🖊️⇝ warnings; very cliche "forbidden love w/ an idol" trope, end is unedited, mc thirsting heavily for mingi, heat of the moment sex, PIV, unprotected sex (mc is on bc), creampie, squirting, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, slight posessiveness, mc has faux locs at one point

📜⇝ HAPPY BHM!!!!! Would you believe me if I said I started this last BHM? :D Anyways if you're not a black woman you should still read this because it slaps. It would've been even better if I managed to post during valentine's day too.

There are many things that can go wrong in a foreign country all on your own, but for your own health, you push them to the wayside. Maybe you pushed them too far because now you’re stranded with a flat tire miles away from where you’ll be staying. It’s only your first day and you already managed to fuck it up. You have to commend your ability to surprise yourself even after all these years.

You don’t have a local SIM card and your phone is completely off. You should’ve listened to the internet when they gave you a long list of how to prepare your phone when moving abroad. Now it’s useless. You laugh humorlessly as the odds continue to stack against you. Do people stop for hitchhikers in Korea?

You try anyway, you know enough Korean to give them an idea of how to help you. Many cars slow down but zero cars stop. Some even roll down their windows to stare into your eyes as they leave you stranded. You don’t have proof, but you swear one of them took a picture. You can’t be appalled by their actions, it’s not like you came from the most friendly country anyway.

“Come on, people. Just a little slack. Cut me just a little.” You murmur desperately, forcing a strained smile as you wave down another car. It’s another window roller that leaves you behind. You suppose it must be a strange sight. And maybe they’re worried you don’t speak Korean. There you go again, waving any worrying conclusions away. Don’t wanna prove your family right.

Then comes yet another car slowing down. Except, this one is slowing to a stop. It’s a flashy car, much flashier than anything you’ve seen thus far. You don’t know much about cars, but you know the person you see once the window rolls down must be well off. He peeks at you with intrigue and a bit of amusement, his sly vibe fitting for his fox-like features.

“Need help?”

You nearly collapse to your knees in relief. Not only is he stopping to help you but he can speak English so you don’t have to embarrass yourself. “Yes! My car has a flat. My phone doesn’t work, I just need car… service… people.” God, can you speak English? You’re already huffing, looking really weird to this handsome rich man and the other handsome rich man in the passenger seat. 

“Are you a MOA?” Yet another man pokes his head out from the backseat to peek at you. His eyes are critical despite their roundness. He raises his eyebrows in a way that makes you think there’s a wrong answer. Your brain is already overworked for the day so you answer honestly. “I’m sorry, I have no clue what that is.”

Assuming you can’t understand, he mumbles “leave her” in Korean and slinks back into the backseat. 

“I’ll call the car service people for you.” The driver smirks and you can tell he’s making fun of you. You just force a smile and thank the man before retreating back into your car. Shut inside the one space familiar to you feels like finally getting a moment to breathe and reflect. This is just a little hiccup. Soon you’ll be at your new home and next week you’ll be working again. 

You were consumed in a book whenever help arrives, and lifting your head, you notice that flashy car is still there.

Luckily enough, the maintenance truck had an inflated spare available and you were on your way, but not before thanking the driver. As you approach he rolls the window down again before leaning his arm on the door.

“Thank you so much, I’m not sure how long I would’ve been out here if you didn’t help me.” You sigh. You weren’t sure what you could offer him to express your gratitude, you were pretty useless as of now. 

“It’s no problem. The least I can ask for is that you don’t tell anyone you saw us here.”

You have trouble keeping a smile on your face as a hint of dread sets in. Why wouldn’t they be allowed in the countryside? Were they criminals? Is this a common location for crime?

“I know you don’t know us yet, but in case you find out from the internet, just keep this between us.”

You did not find out from the internet. You found out eight days later when you saw a cardboard cut out of the driver in the mall. Holding up a makeup product he didn’t need with a smile that almost hides the eternal mischief hidden in his expression both times you’ve seen him. This whole time you thought they were notorious criminals and you were going to get booked before you even stepped foot at home. But no, the nice car was from them being idols, not criminals.

Maybe you were a bit in the dark about k-pop idols, but why weren’t they allowed to drive around? You hold that thought, possibly forever because you had just experienced a pretty rare occurrence so early into your move.  

-🖊️⇝

Tonight was your first office party since your move. Your boss saved up to rent out a hotel venue and even scored you and your coworkers rooms for the night. Less risky without the threat of drunk driving or getting kidnapped you guess.

“I could only book the ballroom today, so I’m sorry but you can’t wander around. You can only go in this room and the floor where your rooms are located. There’s a celebrity staying here and the hotel is pretty much on lockdown.”

Your coworkers immediately get to gossiping about who’s here and all you can do is marvel at the odds. There was no way you’d be meeting another celebrity. The odds are even more unfathomable than you previously thought. You break the rules on accident, drunkenly tapping the wrong floor number. Your eyes are closed when you stumble out and run into someone tall. 

“Um, this floor is… off limits.” The man grabs you by your shoulders and holds you at arm's length. Your head lolls back and you get a good look at the guy and he, in turn, gets a glimpse of you. His jaw drops open and he looks over to the other men behind him. Your brain had been too debilitated to translate Korean. 

“Hey! Are you that girl? Flat tire?” A familiar voice rings out and snaps you from your daze and you attempt to hold your head up straight. “Yeah! Car service people!” The driver whose name you’re sure starts with a Y says excitedly. Again with the mischief, sticking its pesky little head out more confidently with the teasing nickname.

“No way it’s you guys again.” You chuckle drowsily.

“Yes way!” The blond man lets go of your shoulders.

“Are you a MOA yet?” It was the one from the backseat asking the same question yet again. It completely slipped your mind to figure out what that meant.

“I still have no idea what that is.” You flash a tight smile as he narrows his eyes at you. One of the two you haven’t spoken to yet says something frantically to the others in Korean before they all turn to look at you. 

“Hey… do you want some water?” Y approaches you, speaking almost like he’s about to sell you something. Your eyes roll back, your urge to rest almost winning the fight.

“I want to go to sleep.”

“Let’s get you some water!” The blond one says enthusiastically before ushering you into a door down the hall. They talk to each other as you gulp down a cold bottle of water, slumped in the living chair they frantically cleared for you. This would help with your hangover tomorrow anyway. After they deliberate with themselves Y turns to you.

“Is your party still happening?” He kneels before you, talking to you like a lost child.

“Yeah, I left early.”

“Great! We were gonna sneak down there ourselves, but you going back would be easier.”

“You want me to go back?” You barely swallow your water before you ask. “Yeah. All we were given was fruit. We can’t survive on fruit and the food smells so good.” He pleads with his eyes before the blond chips in. 

“Please? We’re hungry.”

Downing your second bottle, you look at them warily as your mind sobers up. “You guys are famous. Can’t you just get room service?”

“No, we’re banned from it. They told the hotel not to serve us.” The black-haired one who looks to be the tallest or close to it pipes in. Much too massive for his youthful vibe.

You look at each pair of puppy eyes incredulously. “So they’re starving you?”

Yeonjun is quick to clear the air, starting to explain again that they had fruit before Mr. MOA interrupts him. “Yes!! We’re starving!” His whining is cut off by the blond scolding him.

“What are your names?” You ask once you realize you have no idea. 

You learn each of their names and each of the food items they want brought to them. You have five styrofoam containers filled to the brim in both arms as you board the elevator. You’re aware they’re exaggerating, but concern for them still flares up. They were pretty thin, and you’ve heard whispers of their insane diets. But you do what you do best. They seem fine, and they wouldn’t have the energy they’re exhibiting currently if something was wrong.

Thankfully, no one was on there with you. That is, until you see that someone had pressed the button from your floor. You stand there awkwardly as your coworker looks at you like you have five heads. Then he sees that you’ve pressed the button for a forbidden floor.

“K-pop fan?”

You sigh, shifting the containers in your hands. “No. I’m acting as a food delivery service.”

“Ah.” He doesn’t press you, nor will he say anything. None of your coworkers are the type. The idols are waiting impatiently by the elevator when the door opens, hurriedly unloading each container.

How you ended up with five grown men in your hotel room was really a blur. Apparently their manager might walk in and bust them if they stay in their room. “We’ll be quick!” They promised.

Now Beomgyu and Kai are napping on your bed while you lean against the wall. Yeonjun’s eating whatever is left over in the living chair in the corner, smiling happily at you. 

“I love you. I could kiss you.” He manages with his cheeks full of food. 

You give him a tight smile, familiar with his habitual attempts to fluster you by now. “That’s not necessary. Your manager is probably looking for you guys.”

“Nah. We’re allowed to wander around as long as we’re in our room before 1 am. Today was our last day.” You chew on his words as he chews on the remnants of his food. He swallows hard, forcing what seems to be a painfully large chunk of food down his throat. Food seems to placate his teasing disposition, a thought that makes you cover your mouth to conceal your smirk. It takes a moment for him to recuperate before he speaks again.

"What do you wanna do right now?" He narrows his eyes, pointing his plastic cutlery at you.

You’re not sure what he means exactly, even after taking a moment to let your eyes flit around the room. So you do what you usually do, shrug and be honest. "Around this time I'd be playing some game until my eyes are painfully dry."

He halts mid container disposal to peer at you excitedly. "You play video games? Which ones?"

Finally, something you were a natural at talking about. "I like games like Minecraft or Rust, but I dabble in FPS games too-" You get caught up in one of your favorite conversation topics, surprised when Yeonjun dumps his trash quickly before marching over to you and taking your hands.

"Oh please tell me you play Valorant."

"Yeah, like I said, I dabble-"

"Okay, I'm really gonna kiss you."

“Don’t you dare-” Your words are cut off by a chaotic mixture of a gasp and laugh when he pokes his lips out, leaning in slowly. He unpuckers his lips and they settle into a smirk. The realization of how close you are to each other sets in and brings about a strong flow of energy between you two. You shake his hands off yours and shove him away, forcibly resuming your playful aura. He laughs, widening his eyes once it dies down.

“Oh, I cannot wait to kick your ass.” He points, eyes posing as a warning. You huff as you pick up a towel. You sling it over your shoulder before raising your eyebrows at him. “Is that a bet or a promise?” 

And to think if your office party was planned even a day later, you would’ve probably never seen them again. Yeonjun nabs your phone while you were in the bathroom, sticking his number in there. The first important milestone of your relationship with the boys was being added to their group chat. Then you visited their dorms and them, your apartment. You weren’t aware of the transition, you just looked up and it felt natural to be around each other.

“___’s on!” Yeonjun cheers through your headset. He pauses once you turn on your webcam. “You found a hairstylist?”

“Yeah. Turns out there are black ones here. I never knew.” You reply, half paying attention as you adjust your camera.

“I know there’s a Korean name for that style but I feel like it’s… not correct. What’s it called in English?”

“Locs! Do you like ‘em?” You comb your fingers through each loc, careful not to tug at your tender scalp. “They fit you so well I forgot how you looked before.” He says as if he’s shocked by his own accuracy.

“You’re so right. I should’ve popped out the womb with locs.” You chuckle to yourself, unable to stop playing with your hair. Yeonjun has that look on his face like he’s about to smart-mouth you. “Locs and not wounding your own teammates would’ve been really handy.” He tries to quip quickly in an attempt to fly under your radar.

Your smile is immediately wiped off your face. “It was an off day for me, how many times do we have to go over this?”

“Next time your favorite character dies don’t come online.”

“I knew I should’ve hung out with Taehyun today.” You transition from excitement to insults like it's nothing. These boys definitely make it easy.

“Yeah, whatever. Are you coming to Mingi’s party next week or do you have work.” He says as if the word itself affronted him. New names were constantly thrown at you. You took a break from researching and watching videos because it was just too much. 

“Why are you always so offended by my job? And I’ll see if I can make it.”

It makes it even harder to consume content about these idols when you think of what they go through. From these five alone, you can tell how hungry these idols are to be in this position. They put up with so much and you can’t help thinking their companies take advantage of that.

“You know, you never told me why you weren’t allowed to drive around the day we met.”

An effortless transition is made again as Yeonjun sets aside his teasing. “We have a lot of rules. Like, a lot. It’s no problem, we all knew what we were signing up for pretty much. It feels kinda pointless to go through all that work just to get in trouble, so we hold each other accountable.”

“I’m guessing that’s not counting the hotel food heist?” You bring up with a snort. It feels a little silly to make an exception for food.

“That was a small rule, and we just finished the final concert of a very tiring tour. The day we met I rented a car after a full month of grueling practice hours with little to no sleep. We were hysterical. So we took a ride.”

The boys seem alright. They’re full of life most days and with no context, you would have no idea what they’re going through. He informs you that this party is another one of those exceptions. There are secret parties thrown constantly but it was reckless to go without thorough planning. You like the thought of them getting a proper break and they really want you to come, so you do what you never do: call in fake sick to work.

But not before attempting a little research. Perhaps a different approach would help. You’re picking at scraps since you only have one internet friend who likes kpop. What if they never heard of him?

___: Y’all who is Mingi

You sent out the tweet before you went to sleep. You had just gotten your ass handed to you on Valorant so you didn’t feel like being let down that same night. You woke up to more notifications you’ve seen on all your social media accounts combined.

mingitzsong: you mean our lightskin king Malik???

That was not the tweet you expected from your friend, not by a long shot. Nor were you expecting the “my moot has a hit tweet!” DM.

Your notifications were flooded with fancams, edits, pictures– is that a video of him grabbing his…?

It was too early and you had gone too long without being satisfied by another person so this was all going to your head. You couldn’t tell if you were a stan now or just horny. You wanted him on your wall… or inside you. 

So maybe that was the real reason you were okay with lying to your boss, but it was much more touching to say it was to please your friends. 

-🖊️⇝

You enter the function excited to see the guys. Mingi too, but you were trying to seem less eager about that. You find the two youngest members first talking to a group of unfamiliar people. You try to sneak past, intending to say hi when there weren’t people to be introduced to. But alas, they saw you and you met a few idols their age. Then you run into Soobin coming out of the bathroom. “You made it!” His excited smile was ten times cuter when he was tipsy. He pulls you into a big tight hug and it’s so unlike him. He seemed to have an aversion to touching anyone when it wasn’t necessary. Drunk Soobin was unbearably adorable and it took everything in you to not stay with him and pinch his cheeks. But you needed to find the other members.

The club Mingi rented out is not ideal for finding friends. There are two floors and this is your third time walking down the stairs. You haven’t even seen the host himself yet. With his height, it shouldn’t be easy to miss him. As you walk past the large dance floor you become privy to the reason you haven’t found them. Your head naturally lowers, your eyes automatically avoiding the dancing bodies. It wasn’t your fault, your tendency to avoid large groups of people is written deep inside your DNA. It was time to stop beating around the bush, so you enter the group of dancing bodies. 

It felt like miles of grazing people despite trying your best to shrink into yourself. In the heart of the group were the three you were looking for. They were lost in the music and possibly a bit drunk. Yeonjun casts a glance to see who was approaching before wordlessly holding out his hand. You accept with exaggerated confidence, fake it ‘til you make it. It was easier than you thought to dance smack dab in the middle of the dance floor. Your focus had been locked on the tall man before you, your body on autopilot as it sways to the music. He guides you closer by your hand with undoubtedly genuine confidence sewn into his smirk. You find yourself naturally smiling, unable to shake the shyness that overcomes you. He was doing it again, but this time you took the bait and let yourself be reeled up to shore. Forced out of your comfort zone, but you couldn’t find it in you to complain.

“Who is that?” You hear a deep masculine voice say to your left. Your eyes stay glued to Yeonjun like you’re physically unable to look away, and you swear he’s having the same problem. But you eventually do. Mingi is still looking at Beomgyu until he answers, only then does he grace you with eye contact. The wind is pulled from your lungs as you gasp. You were too distracted by Yeonjun to fully bask in his glory.

“Well. Here he is in person.” Yeonjun fails to pull your attention away even when he rests his hand on your shoulder. “This is ___.”

Mingi makes a sound of understanding, nodding as he not so subtly rakes his eyes up and down your body. It takes everything in you not to shiver. He repeats your name with a small smile that makes your heart skip rope. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” He bows slightly before rising with his cheeks squinting his eyes. “I’m a rapper, my group is called ATEEZ.” 

I know, you’re tempted to say. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You bow back, restraining the locs that fall over your eyes. 

“You’re… very beautiful.” His eyes fall again, taking their time coming back to your face before flashing a seductive smirk. You bite your lip, acute amounts of shame stirring with the arousal in your belly as the tension thickens in such a public space.

The members of TXT are long forgotten as you’re sat at the bar with the handsome Mingi. You talk for hours, though it’s mostly flirting and subtle invitations. As much as you can communicate with your limited Korean. You’re glad it’s gotten good enough that you can understand what he tells you next. According to Mingi, there are no restrictions in his company when it comes to doing… it. If they’re of age, they can do whoever they want to their heart’s content. As long as they’re not reckless. TXT has to plan in advance for your visits and they have three emergency escape or hide strategies just in case. That’s just for being seen with you.

There’s heat brewing between your legs. You’d be a huge liar if you said being around handsome men that you couldn’t think about touching wasn’t slightly torturous. Not even a little tipsy quicky you could pretend didn’t happen. No kissing. Hugging was even a stretch. Even if there’s a fuckload of chemistry, gotta ignore it. But this man, the same one you’ve been fantasizing about, can touch you in ways that has heat traveling throughout your entire body.

“What do you think?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrows. You agree in a way you hope doesn’t seem desperate, but in the end who cares? Not you when he leans closer, taking a moment to take in a quick breath before closing the distance. Butterflies swirl and thrash in your stomach as excitement takes over. It’s your fault the kiss escalates but you still can’t care about shame when your dreams are coming true. 

His tongue feels like heaven against yours, sinfully wet to the point where you can’t help thinking of it somewhere else. He inhales deeply through his nose and you can feel the ensuing groan in your spine.

A frantic voice pulls the two of you apart, someone talking about an emergency. He and Mingi share an exchange before Mingi looks back at you. He sighs disappointedly. “Ah, I’m sorry. Maybe next time.” He winks before being whisked away, vanishing like he did every morning when your sweet dreams slip between your fingers.

You and Yeonjun don’t see each other for the rest of the party, you stay at the bar to sulk. Yeonjun was buzzing after the brief dance you shared. Your hand was so soft, and the way you looked at him… he’d never seen that from you before. If no one had taken your attention he doesn’t know what might’ve happened. He shakes the thought away as if it were a physical intrusion. 

When you kept asking about Mingi before the party, Yeonjun thought nothing of it. You were basically clueless about the industry and he was happy to fill you in. But the way you looked at him, sure it wasn’t as loaded or intimate (or unprovocative) but you looked starstruck. It would sting a little if you didn’t become a fan from their music but from someone else’s.

Yeonjun’s body had become entirely tense, unable to dance in a carefree way after you took over his mind. There was a whole lot of conflict going on in his brain but not a lot of solutions. What does it matter? It’s not like you’re gonna stop being friends with them. You’ve given their home life a level of excitement and joy that it hasn’t reached before, and they didn’t have to train for months to receive it. All Yeonjun had to do was kick back, look over with a smile to see that you’re smiling back. 

The next time you see each other is outside the club next to their van. “Hey, you disappeared.” Yeonjun shoves his hands in his pockets before nudging you with his elbow. You glance up at him, but it’s like your neck’s made of rubber. Drunk like him, but way worse at concealing it. Soobin explains that he found you by the bar and decided to help get you home. 

In the backseat between Yeonjun and Taehyun, you’re restless. You keep whining and fidgeting until Taehyun asks you what’s wrong. “I’m just frustrated.”

Confused by this progression, Yeonjun turns toward you with a curious frown. “Did something happen with Mingi?”

“He had to leave.” You whimper before letting your head fall on Yeonjun’s shoulder. When you lift your face to look at him you’re way too close for it not to be a problem. He’s hesitant, but Yeonjun allows his face to linger in this dangerous proximity. “I’m still a little worked up.” Your eyes flit down to his lips and he gasps lightly. He casts a quick glance at his members. Taehyun was looking down into his lap, brows tight. The other members seem to be minding their own business. Getting the idea before he even looks back at you, Yeonjun’s heart flips.

When he turns his head again you scoot closer. The lights of the city whiz past, shadows obscuring your features before painting them in vibrant hues. Each aspect of your face that he tried not to think about lay before him in a way so breathtaking he can’t think straight. He usually stops himself by now out of fear that he’ll become obsessed with you. Then he feels the tip of your nose brush against his, signaling how close he is to breaching an important rule. Just then, the van passes through a tunnel, cloaking the entire vehicle in a dimmer light. His heart stills, time stills as the drowsy look wipes off your face. You pull back a bit to flash him a genuine look. As if you’re also considering this.

Yeonjun is closing in just as the van leaves the tunnel, moving fast but not fast enough.

“Hey, break it up!” A bright light is flashed in both your faces. Yeonjun squints and blocks the light, unable to pull away from you because it feels like snuffing out this flame will leave him stranded in the tundra. But Soobin sounded frantic, and he’d hate to stress out his friend and leader. So he pulls away and he’s right. It’s frigid and cold.

“What happened?” Kai sits up from his chair and glances at Soobin before peering at the back seat.

Soobin sighs, clearly hesitant to report this. “He almost kissed her.”

Their reactions vary from shocked to worried to a little frustrated. “That’s like… the biggest thing, hyung.” Soobin pleads for Yeonjun’s understanding with his eyes. Yeonjun nips at his top lip, unable to curb his embarrassment and disappointment. “I know, I know.” He sends a hand through his hair frustratedly.

You sit stiffly between the two men as Taehyun gears up to say something. All this for a kiss? One you were admittedly excited for. Still, you don’t have it in you to get angry at them. Like Yeonjun said. They worked hard for this. It’s silly to risk it all over a kiss. Even if that label makes your heart sink.

“You guys know I won’t say anything. I’m already risking getting fired over driving you here.” The driver pipes up as he casts a quick glance at the rearview mirror. 

“It’s not about that, we can’t slip up.” Taehyun finally speaks, eyes cutting at Yeonjun. “At all.”

“I said I know.” Yeonjun speaks with more conviction that raises the tension considerably. Everyone else in the car can feel it. You send nervous glances to the other three who seem to be doing the same. “It’s fine! We’ve all been drinking, so.” Kai tries, his nervous smile flickering out when he looks back. Taehyun has his jaw clenched as he stares out the window and Yeonjun is clearly pissed off.

“Exactly, let’s just drop it. Nothing happened anyway.” Soobin adds authoritatively, looking back at the two who don’t return his glance.

Everyone does as much, leaving the car unbearably quiet. When you arrive at your apartment you say quiet goodbyes to everyone including Jun who gives you a cautious and almost apologetic look. “I’ll come with you.” Soobin grunts as he stands from his seat. 

Yeonjun watches helplessly as you both exit the car and Soobin walks you to the door. He would’ve offered before the car even stopped. But this isn’t only about him. A scandal could harm the entire group.

-🖊️⇝

Five months. You haven’t been laid in five months. Then here comes this 6ft-something man with puppy dog tendencies who turns on the sex appeal like it’s nothing, stirring up your emotions to this degree. 

You tie half of your locs up before tugging two down to frame your face. You bite your lip as you take in your appearance, a little shocked at how good everything came out. “What do you think? Should I add anything else?”

Things have been a little stiffer between you and Yeonjun. You still hang out but you both can feel it looming. The chemistry. The tension. The threat of jumping each other’s bones at a moment’s notice. Yeonjun doesn’t want to drag his members down because of a rash decision. He’s not sure what’s going through your mind but he can see the conflict in your eyes.

Yeonjun considers helping you. Immediately he’d recommend a choker. It’s hard for him to quell the thoughts about how good your neck looks with a piece of fabric wrapped tightly around it. Then he would suggest going for gloss instead of lipstick, but perhaps he should stop thinking about your neck and lips while he’s ahead. Also, this is all to help Mingi. Valentine’s day has passed, but it’s a miracle if an idol is free then anyway. This is essentially their valentine’s day plans, it’s a thought that presents a lingering bitter taste in his mouth. But he knows better, so he keeps those thoughts to himself.

“Yeah, it looks good like that.” He says as plainly as he can. Like a friend should.

You turn in your chair and rest your arm on the back. He looks really tired today. You can tell it’s one of those weeks that are really beating down on him. This is the most severe you’ve seen it get with your own eyes.

“You’re usually good at helping me with my looks.” It’s true that you’re cautious as well, but if he could have one moment to not be worried about one hundred things at once, you really want it to be with you. 

“You did pretty well on your own.” His shrug does nothing to shield how disingenuous he’s being. You give him a knowing look, deciding to probe just a little. 

“You know you can take a nap on my bed while I’m gone.”

“I’m good.” He assures with a smile meant to be soft but ends up strained. “Text me if you need anything or if something goes wrong.”

No, no. That’s the last thing you need. Him needing to have his guard up around you and still being so courteous. “I have other friends that I can text. You go play video games or relax or something.”

“Oh yeah? Name someone that isn’t an idol, quickly.” His tense demeanor melts just for a second, just to poke back. You give a short, dry laugh. Knowing very well you didn’t have an answer. Non-idol friends would do you some good. You think for a moment before replying half-jokingly.

“How about I call your leader instead and tell him to come take you home.”

Yeonjun stands from the bed, walking over with a look that you recognize by now. He’s thinking about it again. Kissing you or touching you. “I wanna be here when you get back.” He’s not sure why. You’re not gonna be drinking and Mingi is a gentleman, he’ll make sure you get home safe. 

You’re acutely aware you must be looking at him the same way, which means you’re both in danger of breaking the biggest rule. He’s tired and probably unbelievably frustrated. And he wants it so bad. You can practically smell the arousal when you two get like this. Hell, you want it too. Sleeping with someone who’s been stifled for years and is finally able to let loose? The sex would be unforgettable. The thought permeates in your mind, strong enough to overshadow your habit of pushing all this to the wayside. You stand from the chair.

“Why? I’ll be alright.” You blink, unaware of how cute you look peering through your lashes. Despite his notes, you did do a great job. Fuck a choker or lip gloss, if you showed up to a date looking like this, he’d lose all ability to function.

“You look so beautiful.” He breathes out, but how genuine he is shines through. This was more intimate than the dance or the almost kiss. HIs eyes have a slight sheen as they gaze down at you earnestly.

“That means a lot, Jun. Thank you.”

Yeonjun, instead of responding, takes your shirt strap that had fallen down your shoulder in between his fingers. He slowly moves it back up, hand brushing lightly against your soft skin. You’re cold to the touch, your body being chilled by your air conditioner. How long would it be until you were properly warmed up? Too long.

“I don’t think I can handle you looking like this for someone else.” The words roll off his tongue, feeling as though someone else had said them. He looks over at your eyes from your strap, the touched shock on your face confirming that it was real. It happens quickly, the rationalization. You shut up the part of your brain urging you to run away from the conflict and tug Yeonjun closer by his shirt. His hands move to your face and the two of you linger there, either giving this a second thought or wondering if this was really happening. You lean in, feeling his breath fanning only to jerk back suddenly. Your lips brush against each other first before they finally meld, finally connecting in the way you both truly craved.

He’s so expressive, you can feel the longing, hear the pent up frustration leaving him with every heavy sigh. You chase each other’s lips instantly after each disconnect as if the kiss is providing oxygen rather than inhibiting it. There was that heat again, warming his frigid body as you wrap your arms around him and urge him closer. 

He pulls away, the impish fox you know well looking so unfamiliar. His eyes pleading and blown out, his pretty lips pink and swollen. You impatiently pull him back in and you feel the same warmth he is. Except it’s burning you up. Both of you feel like you’re being swallowed by a large flame as your tongues circle each other. He lets out a wanton moan that has your core clenching. “Taste so good.” His voice is nearly inaudible, murmured between kisses.

Pushing your straps down your arms, he undoes his recent action. He pushes your dress over your breasts but he’s too consumed by the kiss to look down. His hands envelope the flesh held by your bra as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Things are escalating quickly but you grow frustrated that he isn’t inside you already. You’ve both waited long enough.

“Fuck me, please.” You beg, eyebrows slanting as you let your pride go for just a moment. You reach down and tug at the waistband of his sweats, feeling a little justified as he returns your desperation with his eyes. With his hands kneading your breasts and your fingers clenching his pants you stare into each other’s eyes. No words exchanged but you each understand loud and clear that you need each other. Bad. As his face draws closer you try again. “Fuck me.” You whisper as he nuzzles your nose. 

You’re begging for it but Yeonjun can’t decide how he wants you first. He shuts his eyes and imagines your body bent in half, your as lifted into the air. Presented just for him. His cock throb and he squeezes your breast. Your ensuing moan almost pushes him to throw you onto the bed. But then he imagines the moonlight bleeding through the curtains and painting your body. The lights of the cars that speed past illuminating your umber tinted nipples that perk up nice and hardened for him.

The fantasy draws more and more saliva onto his tongue that rolls off onto yours. Your tongues tangle in a horny mess. If anyone saw what the two of you were doing they’d probably be confused, but both of your faces are scorching and the spaces between your legs are throbbing. Yeonjun is on his tenth fantasy on how he wants to pose you when he starts whimpering. You grab his crotch and return the squeeze he’s been giving your breasts. He finally unlatches from your lips to toss his head back, letting out the loudest moan of the evening. You kiss down his throat, feeling the vibrations of his pretty sounds. It’s taking every atom inside your body to not bite and suck, instead you ghost your teeth over his supple skin. 

As his moans transition to groans and growls his actions become more rough. He grabs your wrist to keep your hand steady as he grinds into it. His nails pierce your breast and it’s your turn to whimper. He yanks your hand off of him and moves his own to your waist, finally guiding you over to the bed. In every fleeting fantasy he had there was one thing either missing or integral. The very look on your face you have now as he’s moving over you. Your dark eyes are so doe-like yet so sinful. They yearn for him, yet dare him. 

The taking off of your clothes is agonizingly slow. It doesn’t matter that you’re both rushing to the point that you almost rip each other’s shirts. It’s still torturous. His long cock bobs as he repositions himself, a drop of precum dribbling from his tip and shining in the light. His nails dig into you yet again as your legs are hoisted on either side of your head. Every time he grips so forcefully you wish he’d do it harder, squeeze you until you fuse together.

You get as close as you can to that wish when his tip cards between your lips. You jolt, surprised by your own sensitivity. Yes, it’s been a long time, but it’s not that. Your clit and lips are so swollen that they ache. You feel like your molten juice will pour out of you at any moment. You hold your legs in place as Yeonjun lowers onto his forearms, bringing his face closer to yours. You’ve already stuck your tongue down his throat and gripped his cock, but there’s something strangely intimate about his bangs brushing against your forehead. He watches you intently as he slowly pushes in. You gasp, as if the heat radiating off his cock is actually singing you as he slides in. 

Yeonjun releases his lip from his teeth as a deep groan forces its way out from the depths of his core. Your pussy swallows him whole, so devastatingly wet that it coats your outer lips and coaxes him in with ease. The urge to crack a window, shove the comforter and sheets off the bed, anything to quell the overwhelming heat is a fleeting thought for the both of you. It’s quickly replaced by the gnawing need to feel every part of each other. To get deep. Yeonjun arches his back and pushes his hips in until you’re yelping and your hips buck uncontrollably.

Then something snaps and a rhythm takes over Yeonjun’s body. His hips snap toward yours at the perfect pace that has you clawing down his back. You feel his skin under your fingernails. 

Your hips desperately chase after him, fingers fumbling over your achy clit. It’s a blurred frenzy that neither of you can completely process as real. Your brains are turned off anyway, blindly chasing pleasure and that orgasm so sweet your teeth go numb at the thought.

The height of the pleasure makes each pump of his cock maddening. It’s so good you both almost want it to stop. The pleasure spikes higher, making your moans peak in pitch. Your grip falters on your thighs as your legs start to quake. 

“I can’t– I can’t!” Your mumbles are nearly incoherent between your shrieky whimpers. A knot squeezes so tight in your lower belly it feels like a large, heavy ball. Yeonjun grits out moans as his eyebrows furrow. The pleading look is so sexy, the desperation in his voice. His fucking cock is inside you. It’s so deep inside you.

“C-cumming!” Your thighs slip from your hands as a violent tremor sweeps through your body. The knot snaps and you feel hot liquid spewing from your cunt. Yeonjun fucks through the pressure, sharp profanities shoot off his tongue. He claws at your thighs and his thrusts transition to slow and punishing. The myriad of noises flooding from your lips don’t lower in intensity. The pleasure barely plateaus and you’re right back in the trenches. 

“Fuck! Yeonjun, fuck!” You squeal. His hand crawls up from between your breasts to your throat. “You’re taking it so well, you’re perfect.” His voice cracks, the sincerity in his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“You’re so, so perfect.” His body drops closer to yours, his voice tickling against your ear. His thrusts pick up with his fractured moans. You can tell just how much is being released as he fucks you. It’s just as magical as you imagined, watching him let loose like this. But the twitch in his brow bothers you. His muscles are tight, his shoulders tense. You let out a serene sigh.

“Let it all out, Junnie.” You run your hands over his shoulders, feeling his muscles loosen under your fingers. His eyes flutter shut, mimicking your serene sigh. He doesn’t get to rest for long. The conflict wracking his body this time is different. His cock is twitching inside you.

Your clumsy hands travel all over his shoulders, neck, and land on his face. His hips start to fracture from their rhythm and his face occasionally pinches. You caress him, wanting to bottle up the version of him that’s close to cumming. 

You press a tender, wet kiss to his lips. “Cum inside me.”

It doesn’t occur to you that he has no clue you’re on birth control. So when the most guttural moan erupts from his chest it catches you off guard. His hips grind down against yours, his cock throbbing as it pumps you even fuller. Your sweaty bodies stay like that for a moment, not long enough for your sensitivity to wane. He pulls out, unplugging your hole for all the fluids to flow out.

His cock is heavy against your clit, so heavy that it triggers your sensitivity. You close your legs around him and turn your head into your pillow. He flows you, planting a long kiss on your lips as he grinds his cock into your mound. 

“Jun,” you tap at the mattress, the excruciating pleasure taking you to another planet. 

“I love your pussy.” He finally pulls away and the rigidity of your body eases. You let out a shaky breath, eyeing him as moves down your body. He glances up at you with his mouth hovering over your tired pussy. “It’s mine.” His eyes flutter shut as he kisses your mound wetly. A sharp moan rockets out of you. Your head shoots backward and your thighs threaten to close around him. That was just the teaser.

His tongue delves in to scoop out his and your essence. You’re in awe of the dirtiness of his actions and the lengths he’s willing to push you. All while staring you right in the eyes. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you push at his head.

He hums before lifting away. “You want me to stop?”

“N-no!” You reply instantly, a laugh bubbling out of both of you. It was ridiculous at this point. Yeonjun curls his tongue inside of you until he’s satisfied with how clean he got you. He lifts up, giving only a glimpse of his sullied face before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He crawls back up and you groan. 

“No, we’re both gross, don't lay back down.”

He grumbles ‘give me an hour’, making you both laugh. It’s comforting, a crackling fire lulling you both to sleep.

You gasp loudly, shooting upright.

“Mingi!”

-🖊️⇝

If only you hadn’t done that. The vibes after the sex were immaculate. Now things are tense again as Yeonjun gets you ready to meet with Mingi. His hands run over your sudsy body, making sure you’re squeaky clean. He helps you with your bra, even helps you pick out a new outfit. When all is said and done, you’re back to looking at each other through the mirror. He sighs.

“Go ahead and text him you’re ready.”

You pull your phone out, finding you’re just flipping it over in your hands instead of unlocking it. You chew on your lip, your heart beating so intensely it’s debilitating. 

“I’m ready.” You rush out, thinking for a moment before turning to actually look at him. Yeonjun breathes a laugh with a smirk.

“I said tell him, not me.”

“Why? You’re my date.” Your smile beams brighter than you mean it to. It’s all fine because he returns its luminosity. 

“I’m down for that. I’m too fatigued to go anywhere, though.”

“I know, I really tuckered you out didn’t I?” You cock an eyebrow at him, doing your best impression of a sly fox you know.

“Okay, but who made who squirt?”

You shove him, making him chuckle as he catches himself. You quickly leave the bedroom, turning to shout back at him. 

“I’m watching the movie without you.”

He chases after you and you just barely evade him to sit on the cough first. He dives next to you, snuggling up close and nuzzling his forehead into yours. It’s something he used to do to annoy you, and though you’re tonguing your cheek, your heart is fluttering. 

You watch the rest of the movie hugging his arm with your head on his shoulder. As the credits roll, is the first to talk in thirty minutes.

“It was always gonna be us.” Yeonjun chuckles. “We both knew it from the moment in your hotel room. Fuck it, I might’ve thought about it when I first saw you.”

You crane your head to look at him, his sharp eyes already on you. There’s a softness to them.

Multiple fists thundering against your door makes you both jump. 

“Open up! Yeonjun has been here for way too long!” Identifying Soobin’s voice dulls the alarm bells blaring in both your heads.

Yeonjun trudges over to let them in, sulking back to the couch as the four younger book it past him. Beomgyu launches himself on the couch and asks what “we’re” watching. Kai is close behind, snatching the remote before Beomgyu could even think to grab it. They argue over that as Soobin sits down, rubbing his temples. He sinks into the couch as you sit beside him. You can feel Yeonjun’s warmth on your left and you bite your lip trying to ignore it. 

“And just what were you doing here all alone?” Soobin’s eyes slowly pan over to the two people sitting suspiciously close to each other. You both shrug, mumbling something about movies and ice cream.

Taehyun sighs, squeezing his ass in between the both of you until you’re forced to part. You just roll your eyes, ignoring it for now. The movie watching experience with these five was always chaotic. Chaotic enough that you and Yeonjun could sneak glances at each other with no one noticing. The noise dissipates as you get lost in each other’s eyes. You both smile.

#poor mingi T___T #txt #yeonjun #smut #kpop #choi yeonjun #yeonjun smut #txt smut #kpop smut #choi yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun smut

[skyloftian-nutcase]

for writing requests, the chain givin wars a big ol group hug and letting him cry cus let’s be honest bro is not holding up well

Sunsets were always Sky’s favorite.

It was strange, how much a moment in time could change something like that, though. A few evenings ago, the sunset was stained blood read, dripping with anguish and fear, held together by a firm hand and guidance. It hadn’t come from their leader, however - the Hero of Time had been completely consumed by worry over Twilight’s condition, and Sky hadn’t blamed him for it, particularly after finding out they had a blood connection.

But after that initial horrifying sunset, Sky found that the dusk brought only exhaustion and melancholy, a worry that there would be another sunset that would stain the sky with blood.

Sighing, the young knight glanced out his window and saw the person he’d been looking for. While Time had been by Twilight’s side that entire evening, there had been another Hero who everyone had heavily relied on. Sky had tried to mediate and help as best he could as well, but he paled in comparison, certainly in terms of leadership capabilities.

But everything had a toll. Sky could see it well enough.

Exiting the inn, Sky heard the gentle serenade of crickets filling the air as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The town was not as peaceful and quiet as camping out in the woods, but it held a warm sense of safety that they usually didn’t have the luxury to enjoy. Any town gave Sky a small degree of anxiety, as they were all foreign to him, but settlements like this put the captain at ease far more than anyone else.

At least Sky knew Warriors could get some peace somewhere. It was obvious the man was trying to seek it.

Warriors heard Sky’s approach, turning his head slightly. His sharp eyes were analyzing him in an instant.

“Hey,” Sky greeted softly, trying to settle the man’s worries; he’d been on high alert ever since Twilight’s injury, and he’d yet to calm down. It had been three days since then. “I just wanted to check on you.”

Warriors blinked, baffled a moment, not expecting such a remark, and then he huffed out a small laugh. “Me? I’m alright. Are you?”

Him? Sky was fine. Sky was always fine. He honestly didn’t feel much of anything anymore, except that sunsets made him anxious. He hoped that would settle eventually, as he did love them. “I’m okay. But I just… you’ve been on edge, you know. Since everything. Do you… our Ordonian is going to be okay now. They said so. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Warriors replied, his smile fading, voice growing slightly snappish.

“It’s just… you’re not acting like you know that,” Sky continued carefully. “You’re… anything sets you off. Everything has to be in perfect order, everyone has to be on their best behavior. You know? I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Warriors watched him for a long time, face blank. His eyes steadily moved downward until they were staring at nothing, boring a hole in the cobblestone beneath Sky’s feet. The Skyloftian waited patiently, knowing when to be silent and let someone else process. Eventually, the captain sighed heavily.

“You were a great help that night,” Warriors said softly. “I wanted to thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Sky brushed off. “That’s not answering my question.”

Warriors huffed ruefully in response. “You’re not usually this persistent.”

“No,” Sky admitted. “But I’m not usually this worried, either.”

The captain’s eyes finally snapped back up to meet Sky’s. His stony expression softened, and he smiled gently. “I said I’m alright.”

“You can be, yeah,” Sky commented. “Like… you don’t have to wrangle everyone in now, you know. I’m here. Our leader’s getting back into, well… leading. It’s okay to step back.”

Something in the captain’s expression wasn’t quite readable, a kind of strange gentle amusement and haunting sadness. Sky wasn’t sure what to do about it. So he just walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Warriors seemed both inquisitive and slightly apprehensive at the touch, so Sky asked to be sure, “Can I hug you?”

The captain looked as if he didn’t even know what to say with such a request. He blinked once, twice, before a breathy laugh escaped his lips, eyes holding a tenderness to them that Sky wasn’t sure he’d ever seen in them. “Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

Sky smiled in return, leaning in and letting the captain wrap his arms around him. Sky gave what he received, not squeezing too tightly when Warriors’ embrace was hesitantly gentle. As they stood there, though, it seemed like the older knight settled into his predicament a bit more, letting himself relax as Sky held him tighter. Being a little shorter, Sky settled his ear against Warriors’ shoulder, and the gesture made the captain shift a little, resting his own head against Sky’s. His breath was shaky a moment, and Sky heard him swallow thickly.

It only lasted a few moments, but it was enough. Sky ached for the contact, honestly, and wished he could hug him more, but he knew better than to push the matter. Slowly, the two pulled apart. If Warriors’ face was a little more flushed than before, neither of them commented on it.

“Thanks, Sky,” the captain said quietly.

Sky’s smile was brighter than the sunset. “Anytime.”

#you ask skye answers #lovely anon #writing #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu sky #lu warriors #He definitely deserves a hug bless him #Warriors doesn’t strike me as the most touchy feely dude #But Sky is definitely a hugger #They found a happy medium #I love giving people hugs #Sadly so many of my coworker buddies are not huggy people #So I always have to ask first #Most of the time they don’t mind LOL #Anyway I’m rambling #Warriors deserves all the comfort and love that man busted his butt to keep the group together

[yoursinfulurges]

My Sapphire Heart

Martell!Reader x Aemond Targaryen smut

Summary: Even after marriage you refuse to bend and bow to him. In which you and Aemond explore the idea of love.

Can be read as a oneshot but if you wish to read the previous part of this story here it is!

Warnings: The reader is implied to be shorter than Aemond, sizekink if you squint. Your ethnicity is not specified and your features are never fully described. The reader rides a giant snake so a lot of that is implied. Smut, angst, fluff, everything.

You asked and I listened, thank you all for the love on Serpentine, it truly means a lot!

Word count: 7k

༺━━━━━━━━━༻༒༺━━━━━━━━━༻

"I was never one to obey traditions." You mumbled slightly, taking in the way Aemond looked before your eyes return to the book once more. Suddenly finding it much more easier to be entertained by a piece of paper than the debonair prince.

The fiction at hand was a silly little story, one about dragons and knights, not so different from your ordinary life. Yet the only difference was the affection the characters held for one another. It was a wonderful tale about two people so completely enamoured with eachother, so much so that they defied morals. It felt ridiculous to be so taken by something so imaginary and make believe. But you were utterly consumed in the story, as any maiden your age would be. Yet as far as all fantasies go, they were simply just that. And no matter how badly you wished for a story similar, you knew it was but simple fiction.

Willing to admit that a love like that just didn't exist, and the old poets were just as much deceivers as they were artists. Yes, it was a beautiful thing to be hopeful, but you weren't entirely sure if you and Aemond would ever get to that point in your marriage. With your union only days away, you both were cordial with one another but it never goes far beyond that, aside from a few kisses prompted by the temptation. The possibility of love was there but it was a daunting thing... In truth it scared you... What if all the touches and shared kisses were simply just desires doing? What if beyond that there was nothing more?

"So I've gathered with how diligent you've been in trying to seduce me." He hummed, taking the impotent book from your hand and tossing it aside. You laugh silently at his bluntness, ignoring his disrespect to your beloved novel. Over time it had been a lesson you had come to learn that every conversation with the man went deeper than he let on. Every exchange was a show of sorts, hidden meanings or flat out words coated in roguery and devilment. You didn't know if it was a habit of his, but Aemond Targaryen had a sly tongue.

"I have not been trying to seduce you, Aemond. If I was you would've fallen to your knees by now." Nodding briefly you turn to walk away from him. A gesture he didn't take kindly to as he was hot on your trail the moment you got a few steps away from him.

"Do it again and see what happens." He commanded, taking your arm tightly in his hold, preventing you from walking away more. You look at him in offense, plainly annoyed with his behavior.

"Do what again?" You threw back with the same amount of threat as his statement.

"Amuse me." Smirking slightly at his words, you remember your night together in your private study.

You don't say anything for a few moments, looking at the way his face seemed to hold such a myriad of emotions, captivating you like Narcissus to his reflection. The switch from his attitude was so quick that it puzzled you, so rather than speaking you began reading him. What triggers such emotions in your future husband? What words bests gets under his skin? It was only then that you saw who he was. Who he truly was, not the persona he always kept. Sometimes it was so challenging to determine which Aemond you were speaking to as there was so many aspects to him.

There was the image he kept up in front of everyone, cold, disconnected but honorable. And then there was another side to him, more attentive and gentle, an actual human being that allowed himself to feel emotions. Aemond was a soul trapped between grey morals and vengeance. Holding the weight of his mother's expectations just like how Atlas once held the sky. Being pulled down to the ground, fighting against his obligations to keep himself alive. Aemond had spent so much time alone and being responsible for his siblings that he never really got accustomed to the idea of help.

Even now, you can see that he didn't quite understand that this marriage was a partnership. And you both were there to help strengthen one another. You can tell that he couldn't fathom the fact that he was not in control of you. And that it bothered a part of him as he always needed to keep everyone in check. Mainly his brother Aegon not more so his sister, but Helaena could do with the occasional reminding to be more aware. But you were neither a drunk or a dreamer, you did not need coddling. It was times like these that you were grateful for being a patient person. With time you'd hope to work with him on that but for now you would happily take him as he is. Breathing in few attempts to calm yourself, you let go of the underlining problem for now.

"Oh you quite like being amused don't you now?" You snorted, ripping your arm from his grasp and turning away. In a much more leisurely pace, you walked to your bedroom window to take in the evening sight.

"Yes, and.... would you like to keep amusing me..." Aemond purred in response, hugging you from behind and nibbling at the shell of your ear. His disobedient fingers circled and pinched at the skin of your waist. Satisfied with the rise he got out of you he twisted your head towards him, guiding your chin with two digits. You let him capture your lips, parting after a few moments, and exploring his face with your eyes.

"Now is not the time, Aemond." He laughed at how dismissive you became, hugging you tighter as he admired the view with you.

"When is it ever the time." You shivered at the way he whispered such words in your ear. There he was again, turning an innocent statement perverted....

"If I am to be Queen of Dorne and sit the Golden Throne then I will need a strong King by my side. Yet here you are practically humping me from where I stand. Compose yourself." Your prince laughed at that, the sound melodic and rare to hear. You feel yourself start to let go of all bitterness, surrendering to bliss. Smiling to yourself in content, your gaze wanders past the city walls to the orange dunes where a sleeping Vhagar laid. She looked ridiculous but at peace.... Ironic considering the fact that her sister died on these very sands...

Perhaps it's best if you don't share that thought with your betrothed.... Has the day truly gotten dull that your brain had resulted to intrusions for entertainment?

"When you say it like that it sounds so vulgar..." Aemond nudges you lightly, taking one arm away from your waist to gently tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Flinching away lightly, you avoid his ticklish touch as his finger trailed down from your ear to your neck before returning home once more.

"You like it when I'm vulgar." With a soft gaze he admired the way you held your chin up high, almost as if you were confident in that fact.

"I do. But you are right, my love..." Whispering in a tone barely audible, he laid his chin on the top of your head. Finding your lack of height amusing in it's own right.

"You haven't earned the right to call me love yet, Aemond." Speaking the words rather half heartedly, you can practically hear his thoughts as you pushed his head away. You hated when he used you as a head rest.

"Is that so?" He smiled, looking at you teasingly. Normally such words would bother him but he knew it was but simple jest. And regardless if whether or not you liked it, you were his. And he had the right to call you whatever he wanted...

"It is so." With furrowed brows you make it known, returning your attention to the window once more. Your husband-to-be has much to learn, but no matter, you would bend him to shape.

〄

Fidgeting with your dress slightly, you impatiently smiled a warm welcome to guests that approached the table. Almost all of the important and notable houses were in attendance, from Lannisters to Starks, all were here to celebrate. All but the house you cared most about... not a single blonde hair in sight... You knew it was a foolish thing to be nervous but you were deathly on edge, having never been one for parties, especially parties thrown in your honor. You hated having to keep up an image, hated socializing with fake aristocrats as they all seemed to have an ulterior motive. But being a woman of your status it was highly unavoidable, truth be told you were much of an introvert rather than anything else.

Perhaps it was the anxiety talking but even now you felt like they were judging you. Tonight began the celebrations for both you and Aemond's wedding, with your castle housing nearly two hundred noble men and women the welcoming feast was in order. You sat at the head of the table, looking like a proper bride adorned in a lovely grey-blue dress. The garment was rich in fabric, with a long linen cape draping from your shoulders.

You stood out well amongst the crowd. The dress had intricate pleatings with leather pieces interwoven on the bodice. In every sense it was opulent, worthy of the gods blessings, it hugged your body so perfectly that it felt like a second skin. But no matter how much of a lady you looked it did little to take away how callous you felt. In secret, you loathed all of these people. Detest the abhor things they'd say about you behind your back. Murder. Beast of a woman. Kingslayer. These opinions did not go unheard by your ears, you're well aware that these people viewed you in such barbaric light. But perhaps you liked it that way... You liked being feared, it was the prosthetic smiles they put on that you didn't like.

With the sound of horns ringing you were snapped out of your daze. Turning your attention to the carved sandstone doors as you anticipate their opening. In a few short seconds they revealed the Targaryens and Velaryons walking as one. You couldn't keep count how many of them there were but you take notice of princess Rhaenyra walking behind the king, beside her are her children and prince Daemon. What a treat...

"King Viserys of House Targaryen and his Lady Wife, Alicent Hightower. Their son, Sir Aemond Targaryen, future King Consort of Dorne." You mute out the rest of the Herald's words as your eyes lock with his. You care not about introductions, only the comforts of your betrothed. Finally feeling at peace now that his presence is here.

It felt like the air had been stolen from his lungs. Never before had Aemond felt such pride flow from within him. As you rise from your seat and walk towards him he has to refrain himself from walking ahead of everyone else. By the heavens you were truly a sight... Aemond was not well. He felt like he could have built Old Valyria with the efforts it took him to cling on to life and reason. Your very beauty had stolen all purpose to live from him. Oh how desperately he wanted to take you at this moment and fuck his heirs into you.

"My love." You would indulge him this time...

"My love." Aemond smirks.

He takes your hand in his, drawing it to his lips as he looks you in the eyes. You pay no mind to his family walking past you to take their seat. It was customary that the feast must be started with a dance between the bride and groom. As the music starts Aemond makes no point to release your hand, both pacing around one another in circles. He looks at you with pure amusement on his face, and you do the same.

"I was never much of a dancer." You say in hushed words, parting with him as you give a short bow.

"It's not much different to combat." Your partner uttered, returning your moves only to grab a hold of your waist, pulling you close. You look up at him in shock for a few moments. He wasn't supposed to do that... But you recovered quickly, ignoring the gasps of the crowd, you spin your body around. Your back pressing firmly on his chest as you remove one of his hands from your waist to extend your arms out in unison. Is this what marriage with him has in store? If so you didn't not complain.

"I shall hope for no blood shed." You whispered, not daring to look at him as your bodies move against eachother.

"You learn fast." Aemond's mirth was evident but you don't respond to him, instead you focus on the music, a familiar sounding flute floods your ears. This was the tune they used to enchant cobras... Fuck it, he had already changed the dance and you would not let him take control so easily.

With a swift spin you began moving your hips, paying no mind to what others may think, you danced in serpentine movements. Listening to the melody as you draw your left arm towards Aemond, swaying it back and forth in the same manner a cobra would dance in enchantment. And enchanted Aemond was. You were so captivating he could do nothing but watch in a daze as he stared deep into your alluring eyes. Your moves resembled that of which a snake, hips rolling in harmony and delight. It was so.... sensual...

He had never seen someone dance like that before, and up until now he didn't know it was possible to get excited from watching someone dance. He wanted to see you move like that with little to no clothing on. With a laugh, you bow to him once more, offering your hand to Aemond. He takes it, using this opportunity to pull him forward, causing him to stumble. Your face was so close to his, it would be so easy to kiss you here but he doesn't fall victim to such thoughts. You both looked at eachother, moves halting as the music comes to a stop and the crowd roars.

Although unplanned, it was a pleasant way of showing the unity between both dragons and snakes. House Martell has never married a Targaryen before so the significance of this marriage was great, as it not only united both kingdoms but families as well. And your dance was a perfect display of balance, a show to everyone that you were in sync. With interlocked hands you ascend the stairs with Aemond, taking your seat once more. Although peace was short lived as king Viserys stands, drawing everyone's attention.

"Be welcome as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only it's beginning. We honor both crowns, with House Targaryen and House Martell united, I hope to herald in a second age of Dragons and Snakes in Westeros!" He yells, a clear look of satisfaction and delight spread across his face as he signaled to both you and Aemond with his cup. Smiling in contentment acknowledging his kind words, your father stands. You take this opportunity to examine everyone, a clear look of happiness overtakes their faces.

Even Aemond's nephews are appeased, talking with their own betrothed about God knows what. But queen Alicent looks far happier than most, looking at Aemond with rich eyes. In truth, she thought you were the perfect match for Aemond. As the years dragged on she had purposely delayed a marriage pack with her favorite son. Because despite how much she loved him so, Aemond was a lot to handle. And Alicent wanted to ensure not only his happiness but his wife's as well, perhaps regretful of the match she made with Aegon and Helaena....

"And after tonight's small affair.. seven days of tournament and feasting, at end of it all. A royal wedding between my daughter, my heir, the future Queen of the Sands and Desert Sun, and Sir Aemond Targaryen, Protector of the Realm, Prince Regent, future King Consort of Dorne! Please join us is celebration! Laugh! Dance! Dine! Have your fill of wine till the gods punish you for your indulgence!"

Smiling at your fathers words as the crowd cheers in your honor. And at that the celebrations officially begins. No amount of scholars could describe how happy you were at this moment. In some unexplainable way it all felt right... Like you were meant to sit by Aemond's side. And although you still believed that irrevocable love like in your story was a thing of myths, what blossoms between you and your prince came a close second to perfection. In truth you know not what you signed up for but whatever challenges lay ahead was to be faced with a stiff lip. There was no greater defeat than admitting surrender before the battle. And you and Aemond's story had just begun.

The week came and gone as a blur, with many hectic moments surrounded by family and noble people alike, you had grown fond of your shared little adventures with Aemond. It was nice to be with him alone, the calm atmosphere contrasted the chaos of the outside world. Although after your dance your families thought it'd be best to keep a more watchful eye on you two. In fear of what may happen when they're not around. Assuring your mother that your will was stronger than that before falling victim to Aemond's words behind closed doors. Perhaps they were right to worry... But what happens in secret does no harm. What wounds can a few shared kisses and not-so innocent touches cause. It was no surprised that you both were so impatient to get the wedding done and over with.

You remember not of the ceremony, although in retrospect you blame the seven cups of ale you downed to calm your nerves. It was beautiful from what you can gather and piece together, but in all honesty it was a daze. You paid no mind to anything but Aemond, it was all so surreal in a sense yet so quick at the same time. Your marriage ceremony was done in the traditions of Old Valyria and it wasn't till the blade sliced your hand did you fully register what was happening. Standing frozen in place as the dragonglass cuts your lip, the faint sting pulling you from your thoughs. This was it...

With a kiss, you and Aemond were one. You found beauty in it really. The bloodshed and sacrifice you both made at that moment mattered not as it signified you being bonded to one another. Maybe there was cruelty in tradition leaving you both vulnerable and wounded, but that was how all marriage's went. What mattered most is that you face the dangers together. And reciting old words, Aemond thought it was a beautiful thing to be vulnerable. There was no greater honor for him to deserve your open heart. Your husband was a guarded individual, bearing more weight than no other.

The cracks of his family manifesting in the form of a missing eye and scarred face. Long ago, he made sure he would never be weak again, tired of the years of torment. But in truth, it was alright to be unguarded just as long as he it was you he gave his heart to. It mattered not that this marriage was entirely political with it's own hazards, you both would build a refuge for one another. Away from everyone else, Aemond was entirely content with just having you. You knew he was not a perfect man and you do not expect him to be, yet flaws and all, you would love him through all the days to come. And perhaps, that was what love was. Accepting eachother despite faults, completely unchallenged serendipity. So maybe the love in your story book isn't so farfetched...

"What troubles you, my love?" You look up at him for a few short moments, taking in the bright smile that glows on his face. It was akin to home, the familiarity of his features lulled your nerves to sleep.

"Have I earned the right to call you that yet?" Aemond continues when you don't speak, watching the way you unlace your dress. His eye trained on the smooth surface of your back as your wedding dress parts open to reveal your naked skin.

"Perhaps. Will you help me with the rest?" Turning to him as you held your hair up to show the tight lacing on your waist. Aemond forces himself to walk forward, guiding your waist so he has clear view of the ribbon. Slowly and as gentle as possible he tugs at your dress, listening to your breath hitch everytime he accidentally touches your skin. There was something rather intimate about the moment, not in the sense of hungry passion but mutual acknowledgement of want.

"You know what comes now do you?" Aemond spoke, channeling the words from deep within his throat. He wanted to make sure that you understood and were completely alright with moving forward. His mood was unparalleled to his previous attitude with going about the matter. Aemond didn't know why he was much more cautious this time. Now that he can fully have you he'd expected a much more primal instinct to overshadow him. But no, instead he moved in a molasses state, carefully reading you. As much as he wanted you, Aemond would never force himself onto you and if you wished to consummate your marriage another time he would be alright with that.

"In theory.... hopefully you." You spoke, breaking him from his trace as he grazed a line down your exposed back with his knuckle. His brows pull at your words, realizing what you had just said. Not giving him the opportunity to speak you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You peered up at him with a smile, and for a moment, Aemond didn't know what to do so his hands find comfort on your waist.

"Much like earning the right to call me love...." Your tone playful, almost teasing and Aemond found himself anticipating your words.

"You have to earn the right to fuck me." Oh how your very being makes him melt... Your dear husband was in such a state of paradise that he didn't notice you guiding him to the bed. It wasn't until the back of his knees hit the soft material and he came crashing down onto the sheets did he realize what you had done. You stand in between his thighs, reminiscent to how he once stood in between yours. You tap on his knees slightly, parting them wide as you watched him look at you in anticipation.

With a faint hum you slid the dress off your body and let it pool at your ankles. Enjoying the way Aemond's eye widened. He takes in the sight in shock, eye quickly darting on the artistry. On your upper navel was a small snake drawing, permanently etched onto your skin in black ink. It was so delicate yet intricate at the same time, how he managed to miss such sight before was astounding. The marking sat in between your breasts drawing his attention to your perky nipples, yet he cannot tear his gaze away from the snake. It looked to be a cobra, curving and winding in on itself. He'd desperately do anything wished at that moment. Aemond felt the need to pull you close to have a better look but he couldn't bring himself to move.

"Tell me, do you see yourself worthy." Speaking in such a deep tone, you look down at him in scrutiny, smirking at where his gaze is trained. You move slow, straddling his hips as you observe his widening eye. You take his chin in your hand, lifting it slightly to make him meet your gaze but it does little to break his trance. In amusement, you nudge his head to signal him to look at you.

"I see myself as a desperate man, craving for his wife."  Aemond says eagerly, returning to the drawing once more, you hum in satisfaction. Watching the way he impatiently licks his lips.

"What is that marking?" He asked finally, his question coated in whim and pure curiosity. Aemond lifts his hands, placing it below your breasts. His right thumb lightly touched the design, as if to make sure it won't rub off.

"Tis' a custom in Dorne. If you are a warrior then you must have your sigil engraved on your body as a show of honor. Mine is a snake. It signifies my vows as princess of Sunspear." You explain to him, watching the way he admired the ink, tracing the snake with his fingers.

"I've never seen anything like it before..." Aemond spoke after quite some time, his fingers now toying with your nipples.

"Not many have them." You throw your head back, enjoying the way he was playing with your body. Aemond sits up, pulling you close to him as his mouth latched onto your skin. He takes in your scent, licking one long stripe up your neck, purring at the sounds you make.

"You are a rarity... Please let me have you." Aemond growled in your ear, his hands subconsciously rocking your body back and forth on his lap. You laugh at that, letting your hands tangle themselves in his long blonde hair. Your grip tightens on his scalp, peering down at him with sultry eyes. With one quick move, you tug his head back fully, finding pleasure in the way his breathe hitched as you watched his Adam's apple falter. Perhaps this was heaven, to have Aemond Targaryen at the palm of your hands.

"I like you begging.... do it again." You whispered in his ear. He was hesitant for a few moments not knowing what to do, Aemond has never had a woman command him before. He's had whore's teach him how to fuck as a young lad but never in his life had he ever been commanded. As a prince he was used to making demands and getting whatever he wanted, so this was certainly a new experience for him. He didn't know what he feared most, that this was uncharted land or the fact that he was enjoying it so much....

"Please, please... Let me touch you, let me drive you into ecstasy and fuck my children into you." A part of him was humiliated for being so whiny and needy but God he must have you. And secretly, he liked how vocal you both were... Whilst Aemond was never one to seek for company, he did have his fair shares of temptations. Normally he liked them quiet, the overly fake moans proving to be daggers in his ears. But something about the constant urge to hear your voice further fed his ever growing desire.

"I don't think you deserve it just yet..." With a scoff you shook your head, feigning dissatisfaction. But in reality you just wanted to see how far he would go.

"What? Why! I'll do anything." Aemond quickly says in defense, his brows furrowing in question.

"You claim to want me so bad yet your clothes are still on and I'm the only one naked."

At that Aemond quickly flips you over, hovering on top of you and quickly pulling his shirt off. You take a moment to admire his well toned body, eyes drifting from his abs to his prominent V-line as he quickly undo his pants. In a matter of seconds he was completely naked in front of you and by the seven was he a sight. His body smooth in texture yet decorated with consolations of beauty marks and scars alike. Your gaze wanders to his cock, for a moment your lips part in shock before your eyes quickly meets his again. He was far bigger than any you've ever seen, although your virtues were still intact you did not stray from sexual manners. As a young girl you did what any boy your age was doing and explored. Although you've never participated in penetrative sex aside from fingering, you had a lot of experience. And by all accounts of those experiences, never in your life have you taken anyone capable of matching Aemond. He rivaled the very definition of Venus. You swallowed hard, not knowing what to do with yourself, settling with just admiring him, threatening to burn holes into the fabric of space.

With a chuckle, he climbed on top of you, capturing your lips in his. Eagerly returning the kiss, you sighed into his mouth in contentment. This was love. Your lips move in sync with one another, passion and fervent surging through your veins as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling Aemond closer. Vehement need to claim you as his flooded your husband's senses as a tumultuous spectrum of emotions overtakes his reasoning. He was drunk on your body. Drunk on your scent. God you were so soft. Aemond had you trapped in a state of insanity with his devine. He was well versed in passion, taking attentive care in worshipping you.

Humming, you take his lower lip in between your teeth, parting away from him slightly but still tugging at the skin. With half opened eyes you watched the way his eyelid fluttered awake, gazing down at you. Letting go of his lip with a smirk as you feel him slightly grind onto you. You felt your walls clench around nothing, wetness dripping from you as pleasure began to spark from within. Your body was more than ready for him.

"Don't hold back." Uttering when you feel him slightly restrain himself, you knew he wanted to take you at that moment but he was stopping himself. Whilst you appreciate his thoughtfulness, you were far too eager.

"Are you sure?" He says lightly, concern evident on his tone. Nothing could convey the worry Aemond was feeling, he was a rough man and he feared that he may be too much for you to handle.

"Fuck me."

At that a growl breaks free from his mouth, falling in ardor. Aemond quickly guides his hardened cock onto your dripping folds. Rubbing his swollen head up and down on your drenched skin before slowly sinking into you. A gasp falls from your lips followed by a desperate cry of want. More. You wanted more. But fuck. You were so tight. He's barely halfway through and already has to stop and compose himself. Aemond let's out a hiss, halting all movements as you clench around him. Whining impatient, you lift your hips up, causing him to sink into you a little bit. He scowled at that, glaring at you with a warning look, as if daring you to try that again. You almost wanted to just to see that look again...

Grabbing a hold of your waists, he pins them down onto the bed. His head falling to the crook of your neck. Aemond holds his breath for a moment before he fully thrusts into you. A breathy moan falls from your lips as you feel him deep within you. God he was big... You take a moment to adjust to his size, praying you might meet the angels as tears began to form in your eyes. It was painful, but not in the sense that you wanted him to pull out and stop, no. Instead you wanted him to fuck you through the pain, it hurt yes, but there was pleasure in the pain.

"Move." You commanded.

"I fear if I do now I may not last long." He whispered in your ear, groaning slightly as you clench around him.

"I don't care. I want you." You say back, turning your head so that you may meet his gaze.

At your orders he slowly began thrusting into you in a sedate, gentle manner. But peace is always short lived... His movements quickly grow faster till he was fucking you in a steady eager pace. This was ecstasy, rapture floods through you as the pain quickly subsided. It felt as though he had walked through the gates of heaven, all felt right in the world as he molded your body to his.

A song of moans and gasps fill the room as a symphony of skin meeting skin was heard with it. The walls welcoming the sound with open arms as the atmosphere becomes hot and heavy. You try and grab at the bed sheets despite Aemond's tight grip on your wrists, you needed something to ground you. Too much. It was all too much, but by the gods it felt so good. He fucked you relentlessly, using all his body weight to hold you down as he had his way with you. Never in your life had you ever experienced such bliss, the feeling was euphoric.

To have him fill you to the brim and claim you as his and his alone. No other feeling was comparable to this moment as pleasure overtakes your body, pulling you to the depths of madness. A string of moans and cries of 'please' breaks from your mouth. You don't know what you're begging for but you chant the words like gospel. A story of profanities was told by Aemond as buries himself into your neck once more, moving his grip from your wrists to lock hands with you.

You reciprocate the touch as you feel him pound into you much harder than before. Tightly squeezing his hands as you feel the pressure began to build. You cry his name out, your back arching off the bed from the pleasure. His cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt, desperate for release. Ignoring the roar of his muscles, he quickened his pace and adjusted himself slightly, taking you in a much deeper angle. At this position his pelvis is able to rub perfectly against your clit, causing you to plead for him. He loves the way you say his name, so breathy and blinded by ecstasy. Aemond bites into your neck, the sensations becoming too much and your eyes roll back, mouth beginning to form an O as you feel yourself about to climax.

"A-Aemond!" You yell out, throwing your head back.

"I know. I know, my love." He says in hushed tones.

With one powerful thrusts he sends you both over the edge. Melody fills the air as Aemond soon finishes after you, spilling his seed deep within your heat. You grab onto the sheets once your husband finally releases your hands, heaving in an endless euphoric haste. Aemond is quick to lean over you, supporting himself with his elbows as he watches the way your chest rises and falls. Eye locked onto your hardened nipples and snake marking. Your body glew in radiance as a smile spreads across your face. For a moment Aemond didn't know what to do with himself as an overwhelming sense of love pierced his heart. You were so perfect. Especially now when you're fucked to exhaustion, body covered in his abuse, gleaming with sweat.

With a satisfied hum, Aemond stood upright, being careful not to pull out of you as he slowly began thrusting once more. He was a lot more gentle this time, looking down at his cock disappearing in you. His left hand steadied your shaking thigh as his other toys with your clit, his thumb pushing and rubbing at the swollen pearl. You let out a series of gasps and whimpers, unsure what his purposes are.

"I'm just making sure this one takes my love. I want to fuck my child deep in you." He speaks, not looking away from the sight. You hum lightly at that, closing your eyes, too exhausted to say much more.

After a while Aemond pulls out of you, and in a sleepy daze you feel him soothe your body with a wet cloth. Shaking his head as he takes in the red marks around your wrists, thanking the seven when the bite mark didn't stay. Once he was finished tending to your body he carefully lifted you up to lay properly on the bed, pulling the blanket over your shoulder. At this point you were conscious and not as tired as you were before, watching the way he claims his place beside you.

You observed silently as he sat on the bed, his back turned towards you. The muscles of skin were so prominent, for a moment you wanted to sit up and hug him. You almost did. But the thought gets lost on you as you notice him began to reach over his head to pull at the straps of his eye patch. For a moment your breath stills, closing your eyes as he gets under the sheets with you.

Perhaps he thought you were sleeping already? You didn't want to make him uncomfortable. After an eternity you opened your eyes to be met with all the wonders of the universe. Aemond was already looking at you by the time your gaze meets his. A small smile pulls at your lips as you take in the jewel. Aemond, quite truly had beauty in his eye. The sapphire was a vibrant blue, glowing as bright as the night sky, shining like a celestial body. It was like you were looking at sea of asteroids as the gem mirrored a supernova.

"Does it bother you?" Aemond speaks after some time, he was expecting you to say something but when you didn't he decided to.

"No. Never." You say with a smile, your fingers emerging from underneath the blanket to trace his scar. His eyelids closes for a moment, Aemond didn't know why but he suddenly felt so insecure.

"It looks like stars..." Eyes opening in shock as he heard the soft words. He reads your face, searching for the untraceable as your expression holds so much enamour. Never in his life had he ever heard that description. Hideous, a monstrosity perhaps. Ever since he lost an eye that was all he was ever told.

"You are a rarity." You looked at him fondly as you repeat his words from earlier, giggling when Aemond pulls you close to his chest. A similar chuckle vibrating through him.

Perhaps your love would never be like a fairytale but you have come to learn that there were multiple definitions of love. And you should not base your expectations on fiction. You don't quite understand what lays ahead beyond this point but for now you would not worry. There was no need to, you know that whatever troubles await you as Queen would be handled with Aemond by your side. In truth, nothing else mattered just as long as he was with you.

Much like Aegon conquered Westeros, Aemond had conquered your soul. And in return he gave you his sapphire heart. You were both such oddities, a princess kingslayer and a one-eyed prince but the universe had it's wonders. Perhaps all the years of waiting were well worth it as the love that he felt exceeds any of Aemond's expectations. He was not a perfect man, but that did not mean that he did not deserve perfect things. You were far too good for him and he knows that, but he was determined in himself to give you the future that you deserve.

Your love was sacred, it was home, it was a blessing from the gods. Your own little serendipity nexus. Aemond would do anything to protect it and keep it safe. He would burn Harrenhal if you asked him to. Give you the Iron Throne if you wanted it. His love had no limits, but all in do time...

All in do time.

Next part

Author's notes:

I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm extremely out of practice when it comes to smut as this is the first one I've written in years so apologies. I'm trying to not be so harsh on myself when it comes to writing so for now I like with how this story went. As always my inbox is open for literally anything lol. Let me know what you want to read about, I have so much planned!

- Armoni

Tag list:

@yoshiplushie @missusnora @chevelledahuman @faerosewood1723 @bdpst-massacre @sithapprentice @kaicyl @yor72 @aaleksmorozova @hedahobbit98 @mmeerraa @electronicflowerpatrol

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #house of the dragon aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond targaryen smut #aemond scenario #aemond smut #aemond fluff #aemond oneshot #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond angst #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #house martell #house targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #game of thrones x reader

[gay-wh0re-slut]

When I say angst I mean I’ve read all of your work twice and it’s sooooo good

I need it

OOOHHHHH!!! thank you so so much then! lemme think lemme think!! i hope this one will suit your needs hehe but i’m gonna do just angst w happy ending no smut bc i’m afraid i’m repeating myself so enjoyyy

Just Lovely

rhea x fem!reader

content: just angst, but happy ending! with a kiss probably!

The Feud, everyone called it. You and Rhea had hated each other since the minute you met. Unfortunately, you had some matches against her but the chemistry or lack of made for a good show, so they kept scheduling you to fight. You hated it. You always wanted to stay professional though, so you didn’t want to actually hurt her in the ring, just her ego. You were the complete opposite of her style, girly, flowery, pastels, but you became a heel for her only. Everyone ate it up.

Without requesting, the PA’s would make sure that you were on the completely opposite side of the locker room or in different ones entirely depending on the venue. Neither of you were sure why you hated each other but you didn’t have the will power to figure it out.

One day, the producers told you that you needed to fix the feud for the storyline. You refused of course and you assumed she did too.

“The people want to see the two of you kiss and makeup, essentially,” they said.

“I would rather never see her again, to be honest with you,” you fired back.

“Unfortunately, that can’t happen.”

“Unless she comes to me herself and says that she wants to, which I doubt she will with that big head of hers, I will not ‘kiss and makeup’ for the sake of the story line,” you cross your arms.

The men sighed as they nodded and walked away.

“Do I really have a big head?” the annoying accent said behind you.

You’re kidding, you thought. You turn around with your jaw clenched, rolling your eyes, “you win every match, how can you not?”

“Guess they asked you to play nice, huh?” she walked towards you.

You put your hand up to stop her from coming any closer, “yes.”

She stopped right at your hand, centimeters from her chest. You pull your hand away immediately, what was that about, you thought as your stomach turned.

“And what if I did want to stop ‘the feud’, would that be so bad?” she smiled.

“You’ve hated me the moment I got signed, why would you change now?”

“For the fans…everything I do is for them,” she sounded sincere, but you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

“Oh shut up, you’re here because you bring in the big bucks, not because of-”

“Don’t start,” she growled.

“Did I pinch a nerve?” you pouted.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them,” she admitted.

You felt a soft spot forming for her but you pushed it down, “I don’t have time for this, I have the first match,” you walk away.

The show came and went, but you couldn’t stop thinking about her. She consumed your thoughts, she made you shake and see red anytime you thought of her. It was exhausting, honestly. Part of you wanted to stop this whole thing so that you could rest but it brought you more fame, and unfortunately you wouldn’t be where you are without The Rhea Ripley.

“Hey…uhm, Rhea wants to see you,” the PA was nervous, “I can tell her no, no problem, though she is pretty scary but I can do it.”

“Did she tell you what she wanted?” you were packing your bag.

“N-no, I didn’t get that far,” they were wringing their hands.

You sigh not wanting to scare them more, “It’s okay,” you reassure, “where is she?”

“In locker room 12.”

“Thank you,” you gave a weak smile and walked out of the locker room. You heard them sigh with relief behind you.

So you started making your way across the arena, it felt like. You racked your brain to figure out what she could possibly want. Does she actually want to go through with this? Does she have an ultimatum? Does she want to beat the shit out of me? All these thoughts ran through your head.

You knocked on the door and let yourself in without a response.

“Glad to see you got the stick out of your ass to come here,” she snickered.

“What do you want, Rhea?” you stood just inside the door with your hands on your hips wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

“To talk,” she gestured to the chair, “Is that okay?”

You squinted at her to try to figure out the game she was playing. You stood for a good minute before you decided to sit. You threw your duffle beside the chair as you sat down. You crossed your legs and your arms as you leaned back.

“Thank you,” she sat across from you leaning herself on her knees.

“Psh,” you rolled your eyes.

“About the storylin-” she started.

“I already said no,” you interrupted.

“And I would much rather not do it either, but I’m trying to be the bigger person here, princess,” she mocked.

Your stomach turned again, “For a heel, you’re too nice sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s a curse…anyway,” she leaned back, “I think we should do it.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ll get more attention. In turn, getting more of the women involved, and you know how we’ve been treated,” she seemed to be quite nice but somehow it made you dislike her more.

“I guess so,” you started to swing your leg, “what’s in it for you? There’s always a catch.”

“When has there ever been a catch with me?”

“Oh c’mon, you can’t be anywhere without your puppy dog Dom following you around on and off screen. He brings you more attention than you could on your own,” your tone was pointed.

“Don’t bring Dom into this, this isn’t about him,” she leaned herself back towards you with a point before leaning back again.

“Whatever,” you turn your head away.

“There is no catch, I’m serious. This would be better for both of us.”

You let that sit in the air for a moment before she spoke again.

“Why do you hate me so much?” her voice was small.

You looked back towards her rubbing your tongue over your teeth before you opened your mouth, “I don’t want to get into this,” you start to stand up.

“Please,” she grabbed your wrist.

You’re shocked at her reaction, your stomach turning again. You ripped your hand away from her grip. You stood for a moment contemplating whether or not you should tell her the truth or make something up. So you decide to ask, “Do you want the TV answer or the truth?”

She shrugged as she gestured towards you, letting you choose. She leaned back once more.

You look at your phone for the time, unfortunately it wasn’t as late as you thought it was so that excuse was out. “Fine,” you didn’t sit back down though. “I hate you because I can’t beat you.”

She chuckled, “You’re serious?”

“…Yes.”

“You’re lying. Now I want the truth, because that was obvio-”

“Please shut up,” you rest your head in your hand. You look back at her as she’s smirking, your heart begins to beat faster, “I- yeah, no I can’t do this right now. We have a plane to catch tomorrow.”

You grab your bag and head for the door. Somehow she beats you to it and closes it, basically pinning you to the door. Your breath hitched and your stomach turned. Only now did you realize that it wasn’t sickness, it was butterflies, dammit.

“I want to know. I want to know what I did wrong so I can fix it. If I hurt you, I’m sorry. I’m tired of fighting off camera, you’re the only person who seems to not like me and I want to know why…please,” she admits.

Your breathing was heavier and you didn’t have much air left. You ducked under her arm and went back to the chair leaning your hands on the back of it. She turns to face you, not getting closer.

“Fuck…Damn it,” you said under your breath, “fine!” you threw your hands up in surrender. You were tired of fighting too, you guessed now would be the time to tell her because obviously you didn’t have to balls to start the conversation. “I’m jealous of you.”

“What?”

“I’m jealous of you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Well…no,” she leaned against the door with her arms crossed.

“Well, I am. You’re so popular, and strong, and your fans absolutely adore you, they’d do anything for you. You get everything you want here and more! It’s ’Monday Night Mami’ for crying out loud,” your face was red and you could feel the tears starting to form but you pushed them back.

She let you continue.

“Even Triple H loves you, the writers love you, everyone loves you. I get jack shit when I walk into the ring. I’ve tried everything to get people to like me, I’m the girly girl who hates you because we’re complete opposites,” a single tear fell down your face, “I’m tired of being compared to the other girls. I don’t know how you do it. So I’m jealous okay, that’s why I… don’t like you.”

She stared at you for a minute before she grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and handed it to you.

“And you’re too nice,” you added.

“Well that I can vouch for but the rest?” she lifted your chin to wipe the tear away, “I worked my ass off to get here, that’s why people love me I like to believe. Nothing was handed to me though it may seem like it. Like I said earlier, everything I do is for my fans, seriously, if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be pushing myself to be better.”

“God this is embarrassing,” you sniff.

“It isn’t, I’m glad you’re telling me,” she rubbed your shoulder.

You gave her a weak smile before brushing off her hand and stepping away from her, “that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to change the storyline.”

“Not even for one match?”

“No,” you crumble up the tissue, “being mean to you on camera is too fun,” you giggled.

“Right,” she sighed dramatically, “it would be a shame if we became best friends and won the tag team titles though.”

“Don’t dangle that in front of me,” you point.

“The writers love a redemption arc,” she kept going.

“Stop it,” you begin to smile.

“Or maybe, we could kiss and makeup on camera for our next match instead of fighting?” she swayed towards you.

“W-we could do that,” the butterflies in your stomach were sprinting. Her eyes were filled with hunger, her stance was powerful.

“Or,” you hoped this was her last suggestion, “we could kiss and makeup right here?” she brushed a strand behind your ear.

You backed away, “What?”

“Oh, c’mon, you don’t think the jealousy was a cover up for the crush you have on me? Even subconsciously?” she smirked.

“I do not have a crush on you,” you lied.

“So if I did this,” she cupped your cheek, “You don’t feel anything?”

Your face got hot and heart beat faster than it ever has before, “Nope,” you lie again.

“Well,” she dropped her hand, “That’s a shame. We could’ve been WWE’s It couple,” she sighed.

“D-Do you have a crush on me?” you asked surprised at your realization.

“No, I just wanted to mess with you,” running her hands through her beautiful jet black hair, you watched as her arms muscles tensed and released with every movement, “yes I have a crush on you, idiot.”

You shook yourself from your gaze, “Are you serious?”

“I don’t care if people hate me,” she scoffed, “but I do care if I hurt somebody, so that part was true. I didn’t want you to hate me because I don’t hate you.”

“I’m so confused right now,” you rub your eyes, “what do you mean you have a crush on me?”

“I. Like. You,” she took a step closer to you with every word. “It’s not hard to understand.”

“But I’ve been so mean to you.”

“I like a mean girl every once in a while,” she smirked. She was now standing in front of you looking down into your eyes. You weren’t much shorter than her but enough to where it made your knees weak.

You couldn’t say anything, you were in shock.

She lifted your chin again to make full eye contact with you, “Now, can I kiss you or no?”

You slowly nodded your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded your head more seriously this time.

She cupped your face with both hands and brought her lips to yours. Fireworks went off in your head, you couldn’t believe this was happening. Your lips danced against hers perfectly as your hands brought her waist into yours. Your heads tilting in sync, from one side to the other, you didn’t want to let go.

Sadly, she let go, “so,” she breathed, “my room or yours?”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #hate to love

[sitp-recs]

Thank you so much for your recs—they are fantastic! I wondered if you had any for Draco and Harry becoming friends at (and eventual lovers) at Hogwarts (doesn’t have to start with 1st year, but can!). Thank you!!

Hi there! Happy you’re enjoying the recs 😊 I got a couple recs, the majority is 8th year since I don’t really read canon rewrite AUs. I hope you enjoy these!

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn (T, 5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Good Company by Greenflares (T, 8k)

With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.

Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries (E, 10k)

A new Muggle Studies professor takes the Eighth Year students to work on an archaeological excavation. In which Draco is lazy, Harry is sweaty, Hermione is drunk, and Ron turns red.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Makes Me Stronger by Lomonaaeren (E, 29k)

Rita Skeeter’s Harry James Potter: An Unnatural History is a best-seller, mostly due to the fact that Skeeter’s collaborated with a photographer who’s infused the pictures in the book with Harry’s actual memories. As Harry struggles to survive the storm consuming his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy becomes an unexpected ally.

On Our Way by evils (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss (E, 35k)

It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast. A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup. In which Harry is Hogwarts' star Seeker, Draco is on the bench, and they both have a thing or two to learn about playing for the same team.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 51k)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 67k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 88k)

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Helix by Saras_Girl (E, 93k)

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.

Changing Tides by carpemermaid (E, 109k)

Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life.

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop (E, 114k)

Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 300k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

#asks #magtops #Drarry reclist #8th year friends to lovers #slow burn

[cinnamonest]

Male Majority AU brainrot has consumed me once again. Also cucking because we love it. Dropping this blurb here for no special reason, hoping you like it nonetheless hehe

Alhaitham is quite surprised when he finds out Kaveh got himself a girl. It was apparently, after his graduation right as the popularity of the architect spiked up. Before said architect fell into crippling debts as well. Only someone as brash as Kaveh wouldn’t see it coming, wouldn’t be prepared for that outcome. So it’s not as surprising to Alhaitham when his senpai beg him to house him and his girl. He accepts, though not without a price of course.

You see, Alhaitham has never paid much attention to the other sex before. Of course he has seen women, the Grand Sage, the Darshans, anyone of power has one always stuck to their side. Those higher-ups loves to brag, and frustrate Akademiya students even more since it’s practically impossible for anyone who hasn’t graduated to get a woman for themselves (and even then, it depends on how successful you are— beside, it’s difficult taking care of a being so delicate when you never have free time). But now that you’re here, living with him, he realises what he’s been missing.

You’re a bit shy, always worry about not bothering him, and you stiffen when he addresses you. You’re still adamant about showing how thankful you are for this housing arrangement though. While he’s working or reading at home, you always bring him water and snacks now and then. Always call him ‘sir Alhaitham’ or ‘master Alhaitham’. You try your best to greet him when he comes home, to compliment him, ‘W-well done at work today’ and it makes him laugh because you obviously have no idea what his job is. He acknowledges your efforts, but small things like you— they’ll never reach even an average man’s intelligence (you seem aware of that at the very least.).

He feels a bit bad for you too, your owner can’t see past his own nose. Kaveh does his best taking care of you, cuddling you, bringing you gifts, even ask your opinion on some of his architectural projects but he never tries to listen to you, does he? Anytime he finds you two interacting, the architect runs in-between screeching ‘Don’t speak to my darling you lunatic, you’ll corrupt my beloved! Are you alright sweetheart, he didn’t touch did he ?’. Such reaction only makes Alhaitham want to try to get closer to you more and more, see how far he can get away with things.

So he does, small touches here and there that ends up in cuddling sessions, bringing you some gifts now and then. ‘I need your presence at the Akademiya, please put this on and stick close to me.’ You’re unsure about putting the collar with a clear Alhaitham’s…. Yet you’re aware you don’t have a say in this, only following his order. You won’t do anything the whole day beside being arm candy, But what can Kaveh do about it, under the threat of removing him from the house? It teaches him a lesson as well— who is dumb enough to end up almost homeless while owning a girl? He truly doesn’t realise the danger he put you through there.

Perhaps Alhaitham should look into putting you into shared ownership. Stealing a girl is illegal of course, but cases of women who got a second owner because the first one fell under tough times aren’t unheard of. He’s getting tired of waiting, he’s been looking forward to bedding you for a while now.

AHHHHH I love this, Kaveh WOULD make a horrible financial decision like that lmao. Even in general it would be so awful, Alhaitham would absolutely be that third wheel that gets constantly inconvenienced because the other is constantly making adjustments and doing things without asking first lmao

Also since there's no like canonical heights to my knowledge, there's one part mentioning reader being comparatively shorter than them

----

To be fair, it's an act of benevolence to begin with. This unjust world is a constant weight on Kaveh's heart and mind, he's one of the most unfortunate people to have to exist in this universe, given he's such a bleeding heart. They have those charities and such that are supposed to advocate for better conditions and humane practices for the poor girls, and he's emptied his pockets for those more than once.

But buying one was not a selfish act, no. It may just be one, sure, and there are still plenty more suffering out there, but at least he can sleep well at night knowing he has made a difference, even if it's just in one person's life. After all, it was so pitiful and heart-wrenching, passing by those markets in town all the time and seeing them put in cages and look so miserable, he HAD to get one. It weighed on his soul, you know?

Such is how he justifies it, when questioned on it. He's doing a good thing. He's very happy about it initially, too.

Granted, it's not particularly normal for someone of his current economic status to make this decision, even pre-debt, it's not like he's super filthy rich or anything. He may or may not have taken out a loan... but no big deal... right...?

It's also true that neither of them have had any real opportunities to interact with the opposite sex — the Akademiya, of course, has no female students. Well, except for the fact that there's actually been a few cases of some particularly brazen, stupid girls being caught managing to disguise themselves for some time in attempts to get educational certification (presumably try to maintain the act long enough to become self-sufficient), but of course it never lasts long and is swiftly dealt with, given that students are incentivized by the policy that if someone discovers and rats a girl out to the institution, that person will get to keep her. But regardless, neither of them ever encountered such a thing.

Poor Kaveh is rather awkward at first, but he openly acknowledges that -- that is, he's more just awkward rather than shy, has no trouble being up-front and transparent about never having spoken directly to or been so close to a female before. He's pretty confident in his capability to be a good owner, though, he's done a lot of research and knows how to be sensitive and careful.

It's a fascinating experience, though. He's very touchy, and not even in a sexual way, often just reaching out to brush his hands over your skin, almost in a sort of awe. He realizes that for whatever reason, he had more or less subconsciously thought of them to be like inorganic objects, perhaps in part due to having spent almost more occasions seeing them portrayed in statues in architecture courses than in real life (which is very common -- no matter what nation you look at, one learns that in the anthropological sense of things, females are constantly made the subject of art, music, marblework, poetry, and virtually every other aspect of culture, often by men who have very little experience with real-life ones beyond their own mothers and the occasional few hours with prostitutes).

So it almost feels surprising to be reminded that you are made of flesh and blood, and thereby are, in fact, soft and warm and fleshy. It's an exhilarating feeling, holding onto you, even just the slightest touches and wrapping arms around you gives him a sort of natural chemical high, a buzz that's nearly overwhelming. Which, sure, he's heard described before, and has even read about quite extensively in anatomy and biology in the first years of general education, but experiencing it for oneself is totally different, and far more intense of a feeling than he had imagined.

He's really one of the best possible owners you could get, though. Very caring and doting, often to a point that it's suffocating.

And, of course, protective... which becomes an odd dynamic when he's forced to seek alternative living situations and you end up living with Alhaitham, seeing as most protective people probably would not be comfortable with a living situation in which one is living with another guy all the while.

Well, he is uncomfortable, but he doesn't have much of a choice. When his finances go plummeting, he knows who to reach out to... and while Alhaitham knows full well he'll give in and take you two in, there is some hesitation when he thinks about it. It could invite trouble, if someone sees you walking around the house and all... he'll just have to be careful.

Thankfully, Kaveh's still only paying rent for one person. Alhaitham did think about increasing it to something reasonable for two people, but... well, you're not really a "person," so to speak. When it comes to public transportation fees, usually females are considered a carry-on object, like a dog or a large suitcase, and only add an extra fee, which is less than the boarding cost for a person. So, out of generosity, he just leaves it as is.

Alhaitham soon comes to realize, however, that the decision to take you both in has some unforeseen consequences, namely being nagged and hounded about every little thing he does.

He's constantly getting chastised — they're fragile, you know, need ideal conditions. Yes, there needs to be a fire because your kind are very temperature sensitive (shouldn't he know that? Did he not pay any attention in biology??), yes he needs to buy (read: Alhaitham needs to buy) silk sheets because your skin is more fragile, yes they need to start buying (once more, read: Alhaitham needs to start buying) higher quality food for you because your it is critical that you get certain nutrients and vitamins or it will throw off your hormones and biles and all that and make you sick.

It's... irksome. He acts like every little issue that arises is the end of the world, exaggerates any harm that may come to you. And, of course, Kaveh tends to blame him for every negative thing. You get sick for a day and he claims it's because the house is too cold or too dusty, you tripped and fell and got carpet burn and it turned into a five minute lecture on how Alhaitham must have been the one to have mistakenly bunched up the edge of the rug and how he needs to be more careful, having a more fragile creature living here now. You knock something off the top of a cabinet (where they both tend to keep some foodstuffs), trying to reach it and it falls on your head, and soon Alhaitham finds his entire cabinets rearranged, optimized for your reach, and with the snacks you like placed in front of the other stuff.

Not to mention, of course, it's very awkward when he has to listen to you two go at it.

Kaveh's quick to justify that matter when Alhaitham makes some mildly passive-aggressive comment about it. No, it's not unethical nor coercion to have sex with you just because you depend on him for survival or anything. They NEED to have sex or they'll get sick... and in his defense, that's the common belief.

See, Sumeru is, predictably, the origin of a great deal of pseudoscience. Whereas other regions are more prone to bizarre and dumb traditional beliefs and stereotypes with no real basis that simply persist over time, Sumeru inhabitants prefer their misinformation to be peer-reviewed and doctoral-degree-verified, based on "studies" and "research" that is definitely not the sort where they intentionally set up the research to achieve predetermined results. You can even major in things of the sort at the Akademiya, like female medicine or female psychology, very lucrative fields seeing as they deal with primarily high-wealth clients (and otherwise men who are still willing to pay out the nose for the well-being of their beloved).

The Akademiya is also the world's leading institute on research for female hysteria, neurosis and psychosis, and cures thereof. The cause of such disorders is, generally, an imbalance of the humors and biles caused by hormonal deficiencies that are a direct result of the creature being undersexed. The Studies™ show that they become depressed and psychologically unwell as a result of several directly related causes, namely lack of orgasm and lack of having their pair-bonded mate's seed in them. Throws their brains off-balance.

Which is why Kaveh's not like the typical cruel, heartless person that buys these poor victimized girls just to use them like toys and objects, no, he's doing this because it's a necessary part of your care. The intention is what matters, and thereby makes it non-exploitative... also, of course, actually having mutual love for each other makes it non-exploitative, which he insists is the case... he's especially insistent of this after a certain someone muttered an unnecessary comment just loud enough for him to hear that 'she has every incentive to *act* like she loves you, you know,'  which left him upset for some time.

He's not wrong... you do gladly proclaim you do. That's how you've always been trained to act — even if you met your master ten seconds ago, you are ready at any moment to muster a smile and say you love him. The universally understood rules are simple: you love your master from the moment you meet him, you show no signs of discontentment, and you pretend as if you came into existence that very moment — never mentioning your past, acting as if any previous owners or living situations have been wiped from your memory, and above all, never comparing your current owner to a past one in a negative way.

Especially seeing as Kaveh is obviously... on edge. It's not like he isn't well aware of the ticking time bomb of a setup he's managed to find himself in. Staying in a home with some other guy, while having you around... it's asking for something to go wrong. Most people wouldn't dare, and would view the choice as a rather stupid one.

Thus, Kaveh is always trying to deter you from interacting, telling you that the man who owns the home is either too calloused and will be a bad influence, or too insensitive and will hurt your feelings; there's no way someone as thoughtless and dense as him would ever be able to appropriately, properly converse with your kind, known for emotionally sensitivity and all. Besides, you have no real reason to even want to speak to him, right?

So you can talk only when they're both around, when he's there to ensure Alhaitham doesn't say something stupidly insensitive or offensive. Which leads to some disputes, the two bicker back and forth even more than they would normally. And you... well, they can't be upset with you for at least trying to intervene, trying to be soft-spoken and sweet so as to not make it worse. It's very awkward for everyone involved.

His affection for you makes him that much more infuriated when he finds out that Alhaitham has been taking you out of the house and, in his mind, forcing you to spend time with him when you obviously have no desire to, parading you around as if you're his. It frustrates him, it upsets him, but... he can't really do anything.

On Alhaitham's end, though, it's only fair, so he thinks. Come on. What was he thinking? Knowing full well that Alhaitham doesn't have one, and yet he still basically wants to torment him by having you there? It feels like rubbing salt in a wound, of course he should know this was bound to happen eventually.

It's just slowly building up to a much bolder move, or rather, a compromise. Just... once a month, maybe. It's what he's owed, you know? And he'll be sure to fill out the paperwork verifying that he has partial ownership, meaning he's entitled to physical relations anyway.

With no other options, Kaveh is more or less forced to agree, albeit very very begrudginly... but, of course, with limits! He doesn't exactly have any right to set those limits, really, but Alhaitham agrees to them if for nothing else but to save himself the complaining and chastising he'd get otherwise. It's only a very small allowance, once per month and only once, no more than half an hour, and absolutely no other exchanges of any affection outside of that! Not that he can be there to enforce that, but he trusts you'll tell him if that bastard makes any move to touch you or kiss you or try anything whenever he's not around... won't you?

Not knowing what else to do (and stuck between trying to keep two rather stubborn individuals happy at the same time), you're very quick to assure him that of course you won't allow such a thing, and, of course, that you love him so much more, he's so much better and he's the only one that can actually make you feel good, so on and so on... he's not exactly happy about the situation, but your words placate him. For now, at least, until Alhaitham keeps pushing the bar for what he's allowed further, and further, and further...

#poor kuckveh 😔 #and then he just takes out another loan and goes further into debt to buy one for alhthm so hell leave you two alone-- #but also I like to think that kveh just like #sits outside the room the whole time and makes no effort to hide it #like how high school teachers will just blatantly stand there and loom over kids doing group work lmao #.mmau #.kv #.ah

[itsohh]

Proposing with the Spetsnaz’s

A/N: R6S is in a bad spot rn but at least the ops are still hot. Big thanks to my lovely beta lululandd who I would die for.

Warnings: None

Glaz

There was an anxious shift in your mind. One that had been like that the entire time you sat there. You were almost completely alone, the night sky shining a million diamonds above while you had curled up by the window. There was a little window seat that you always loved to read at, it was a peaceful little spot in your lover's apartment. What was different about this time was the fact that he sat parallel to you. 

In front of him was a large canvas, one he had been working on for hours on end. It made you so anxious about your movements, so scared that you would interrupt and change his view if you moved. At first, when he brought it out, you had gone to move but he had insisted on you staying there. He’d even brought you a warm drink to coax you to stay there- even a blanket. 

“Relax, if you were in my way I would have asked you to move two hours ago.” He placed down the brush and put it to the side. He stepped back, let out a breath and nodded. “But, doesn’t matter now. I’ve finished.”

“You’ve finished?” You cocked a brow, he was never usually that quick at painting and you couldn’t imagine a canvas that big would only take a few hours. His eyes flicked up with a smile and nodded.

“Ah, I’ve been working on it for a while now but finally got around to finishing it tonight.” There was a look in his eyes, one that you couldn’t quite place. Was there something off? Yet, he didn’t seem upset in any way. “Would you like to see?” At his question, you nodded and closed your book. You placed it to the side and sat up. Timur turned the stand around and the painting with it.

Your lips parted as you saw the entirety of the picture. It was far more zoomed out than you had originally thought. Instead of just the sky and buildings nearby, it was the direct view from where he stood. A frame of where you sat. Your head was turned towards the sky, while your book was open in your hands. The blanket covered your curled legs. “Timur…” Your breath hitched as you saw the night sky in the painting, it wasn’t the same as you spied outside. Instead, the stars spelt out ‘Marry me?’ Your head looked up and you made eye contact with you. “Do you mean it?”

“I wouldn’t have spent all this time painting it if I didn’t.” 

The blanket fell to the ground and you leapt to your feet. It took you a couple of seconds to get around the canvas but you stretched your arms out around him with a laugh and a smile. 

“Yes, Timur. Yes.” You pressed your hands against his face and leaned into him. The kiss you gave him was sweet. It was long and slow and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his lap. When the pair of you parted it was only barely, you couldn’t contain the grin that consumed your entire face. 

“I didn’t even show you the ring.” He breathed while your forehead pressed against his.

“I didn’t need to see it to know my answer.”

Fuze

Light from the projected screen illuminated the room. You were rather cozied up next to Shuhrat, it wasn’t too often that the pair of you could go to the theatre without someone else joining you. How he had managed to pull it off remained unknown but you didn’t bother to ask into it. Sometimes things were better left unknown. In all honesty, you hadn’t been paying too much attention to the film. Instead, you were focused on the way you were snuggled against Shuhrat's arm. His hand had made its home on your knee where his thumb gently stroked. A blanket covered the pair of you while the movie continued all around you. 

“This movie is bad,” Shuhrat mumbled and you couldn’t help but laugh at his monotone voice. 

“You picked it.” You pointed out and his eyes turned to focus on you.

“I picked poorly.”

“Ah, not all of them can be winners. We can turn it off and put something else on if you like.”

“I don’t want to ruin you watching it.”

“I’m not gonna lie Shuhrat, I zoned out like half an hour ago.” He raised a brow at you and you shrugged. “I just like chilling with you. We’ll be back in the field tomorrow and it’s nice to have a calm before the storm.”

“You don’t like the storm?”

“Not recently with how many people we have lost to it recently.” You glanced away for a second. “She can be a cruel mistress but I don’t think I would trade it for the world. This is my place in the world and I’m happy with that. I think one day the storm will take me too but that's just part of life.” 

Shuhrat stared at you and you couldn’t help the heat that formed on your face. You cleared your throat and unlatched from his arm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get so morbid.”

“I have to ask you something.” His words demanded your attention and you turned to face him.

“What's up?”

“After last time I wasn’t sure I would ever want to ask this again but after some careful consideration, I think I am. You're by my side day after day, night after night and I want you covering my back for as long as you can.” His other hand escaped the blanket and you could see the small box in it that he opened with his thumb. There sat an engraved platinum ring. It didn’t have any rocks on it and was rather minimalistic, perfect for everyday use in your line of work. “Will you marry me?” He looked at you for your reaction. 

You covered your mouth with your hand. The car explosion on the projector went unnoticed as you silently nodded towards you. 

“I mean we already moved in together and everything I just thought you never wanted to actually like… get married.” You whispered. 

“I didn’t, not for a long time.”

“What changed your mind?” 

Shuhrat looked away from you at the question and you tilted your head to get a better look at him. “Something Timur said to me.”

“Timur? What did he say?”

“We were watching you take down Alexsandr and he said to me, ‘It seems fate really did have things in store for you when you broke off your engagement. I’m glad that you managed to find your one. Especially someone able to keep Alexsandr on his feet. Or the floor I suppose.’ He was right and I didn’t want to squander that.” He picked the ring from the box, took your hand from your face and slowly slipped the ring on. There was a warm smile on your face that was so extremely rare to see. Shuhrat brought your hand to his face and gently kissed just below the ring. 

Kapkan

Sleep had long since taken control of you. It wasn't your fault though, it had been a long day and an even longer drive. With the music at a low level and a comfortable silence between the pair of you, it was rather easy to slip into your dozed form. 

Maxim hadn't bothered to wake you, there was no reason to. Besides, he did like that relaxed face that spread across your face. It wasn't until he parked the car at the cabin and got settled did he go to disturb you. His attempt to pick you up without disrupting or waking you failed and soon you stirred from your sleep in his arms. 

He had made sure to open the door before he picked you up so it was easy for him to carry you. A yawn left your lips and you blinked away. "Go back to sleep. I'll look after you." 

You pressed your face into his chest slightly. "We're here?"

"Yeah, don't worry I'll sort everything out." 

"Mmm, you’re too nice to me." That had him chuckle slightly. It wasn't very often he was called nice. 

"I look after my own."

"Is that what I am?" 

"Hmm?"

"I'm yours?" You asked and he cocked a brow. 

"I had assumed so considering the nature of our relationship was I wrong?" He already knew the answer and exactly how you felt but humored your question regardless. You had piqued his interest. 

"Make it offical then. In writing."

"In writing?" 

You pressed your lips together and cleared your throat slightly. "I am formally asking you, Maxim Basuda, if you would like to marry me." Your voice had a slight joking tone. A performance tone. He chuckled and placed you on your side of the bed that he had already prepared before he got you. 

"I'm serious. I wanna get hitched. I don't really care too much about how we do it or where really. Fuck it we could get eloped if you wanna. But I wanna marry you, Maxim. Really badly." 

He stared down at you and then sat on the bed next to you. "How long have you thought about this?"

"A while, I've been waiting for you to ask for ages and finally got sick of waiting. Thought I'd bite the bullet and just ask, it wasn't hard to when I got to wake in your arms ." 

He turned away with a tsk. The man seemed a little amused but annoyed. "I've been trying to decide on a ring for a while now." He pulled out a box from the inside of his jacket and snapped it on the table next to you. "Everyone has ideas. Personally, rings don't matter that much to me but I can't deny I like having a piece of me with you." You picked up the box and flicked it open where inside was a  basic ring. It didn't have any customisation to it, completely uniform. It was rather dark and caught the small amount of light that streamed into the room from the hallway. 

"Jordan suggested it. It's tungsten. I was planning to ask you sometime during this trip but you beat me to it."

You twirled the metal ring on your finger. "You went around asking everyone?"

"First it started with Alexsandr considering he's been married before then it grew from there. It was quite interesting to see the way that they talked. A lot of them said what they would want and then there were a few debates on what you would like."

"How did you decide?"

"Jordan discussed the properties of the metal. I wanted something that would remind you of me."

"...Something that shatters under a lot of pressure? One of the hardest things out there?"

"I was going for practice." He gave you a playful glare and you slipped it on with a grin. "If you don't like it I can-"

"No! It's mine." You clutched your hand to your chest for a second and leaned towards him. "And so are you."

Tachanka

The wind whipped past your face as you sprinted. Gunfire continued all around you. What seemed like a marathon was only about twenty meters, maybe thirty. “Hey come on, don’t tell me you're tapping out this early.” Your voice was a jest, a concerned but lighthearted smile on your face as you helped him up off the ground. The metal table acted as perfect cover while he shook off the bullets to his plate. 

“Take a little more than that to keep me down.” He smiled with a groan and rolled his shoulders. You heard a decent popping crack from one and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. He raised a brow and gathered his gun where he reloaded the mag. 

“Good, cooking duty wouldn’t be the same without you.” You peaked up from the table and your eyes went to the grenade that dropped just in front of it. Alexsandr started to rise and follow your lead just in time for you to snatch the strap on the front of his armor. His body moved with yours as you dived back down and dragged him along with you. “‘Nade!” The explosion went off only a second later and his eyes locked with yours. The pair of you stayed frozen, panting slightly. 

“Marry me.”

“What?” Your mind restarted at the words and he smirked.

“You hear me, I died once, it would be a tragedy to die again knowing I didn’t marry you so-” He placed his dirty hand against your face. “-Marry me.”

“You thought now, of all times, would be a good time to ask? Alex we are in a gunfight.”

“You don’t want to get married?”

“I…I do, of course I do… Fuck, I’m going to marry you and then kill you for asking right now I swear to god.” 

His face stretched out into a massive grin and he got off you and peaked the table. Alex turned back to face you as you got off the ground. Without hesitation, you felt his lips against yours. It was only for the quickest of seconds but it was enough for you to blink a few times and stutter to his booming laugh, only covered by the sound of gunfire.

“It would be worth it!”

#r6s #rainbow six siege #r6s x reader #tachanka x reader #fuze x reader #kapkan x reader #glaz x reader

[royboyfanpage]

Hello, please don't take this the wrong way but when I first started getting into comics I really disliked Ollie for how he treated/reacted to Roy and the whole drug thing but many years and more experience later (I know the characters a bit better now and stopped reading bad takes on tumblr) I'm realising that theres a lot more nuance and apparently they've got a really close relationship these days?? So I was just wondering if you might be able to explain that to me because I'd love to get into more arrow stuff (honestly mostly fanficton because lbr comics are crazy confusing and expensive) but I'm struggling to shake the assumptions I made about Ollies character when I was younger

Hi anon! Thank you soooo much for this ask, I've been looking forward to answering it for hours and now I finally have the time. Ollie's one of my favourite fictional archers, and I adore talking about him at any opportunity because he is SUCH a nuanced character. So here's-

Why Oliver Queen Doesn't Suck

Mandatory disclaimer that this is my own opinions, other people may have different interpretations which is totally fine! Ollie's been around for over 80 years, there's a lot of content to read and a lot of conflicting characterisations, so other people may see him differently than me. Also disclaimer that much of this was written from memory. I fact-checked the date of Nixon's declaration of the War on Drugs and the Denny O'Neil quote, but the rest of this was from memory. Apologies for any innaccuracies, both for comics and context.

Now that that's out of the way, lets talk Snowbirds.

In order to discuss Snowbirds Don't Fly, one of the most important things to factor in is context. I understand it can be difficult to see through the historical lense of a time period in which the majority of people on this website, myself included, were not even born let alone reading comic books. However, it's still crucially vital to discuss what was going on in the real world at the time of its publication in order to engage in a rich discussion of the comic. Snowbirds was published the year that the War on Drugs officially began following Nixon's declaration of drugs as "public enemy number one" on June 17th 1971, just under two months before the release of Snowbirds part 1 in August of that year. At the time, drug addiction was very much seen as a moral failing, and the war on drugs focused heavily on the incarceration of drug users (particularly ones that the US Government wanted an excuse to lock away such as people of colour and pacifists against the war in Vietnam, but that's not relevant to Snowbirds.) While Snowbirds was absolutely not a perfect comic, it was created to show a more humanising side of addicts than the usual demonisation seen on the news. In the words of writer Denny O'Neil, “we chose Roy [...] to show that addiction was not limited to 'bad' or 'misguided' kids.” It was created to show that addiction was not a moral failing, and that anyone could fall into it due to circumstances, even someone we've already accepted as 'one of the good guys' for the past 30 years. Roy was used as the symbol of a good kid who made a bad mistake in order to humanise real young people who'd gone through similar circumstances. And where there's a kid, there's a parent, which is where Ollie came in.

Now, I very strongly believe that Ollie was not written to be the bad guy of Snowbirds. Not only was he also an established 'good guy', but he was a symbolic stand-in for much of America at that time, including the people who would be reading it. And, while Green Arrow is very much a character who brings with him a lot of strong political takes, villainising their readerbase would be a step too far. Ollie was a stand-in for the concerned and ill-informed parent, a character who's consumed all the anti-addict propaganda being spread at the time and internalised it. That's why the fact that it was his own ward struggling with addiction was so poignant to the story. Ollie was forced to re-evaluate his worldview after seeing someone who he knows isn't what the media says addicts are struggling with addiction. Snowbirds has such an interesting character arc for Ollie, seeing him struggle to combine the ideas of what he's heard and what he's actively seeing in his mind.

Now, the most infamous part of Snowbirds is, obviously, the slap. Full disclaimer, I am not saying that Ollie is in the right for that. He was 100% undeniably in the wrong for how he responded to Roy's addiction. However, I think a key component of comic books that people tend to ignore is the component of marketing. The writers wanted this comic to sell. It was a very important story for the time, and with the amount of comics being released it was crucial to them that people actually found the comic and read it, especially since it was one of the first comics released outside of the strict rules of the Comics Code. And what would catch readers' eyes more than seeing a superhero hitting his sidekick whilst said sidekick is surrounded by drugs? I'm not trying to discredit the panel, it was obviously a very significant part of the story, but there were external factors at play too.

A lot of the development of Roy and Ollie's relationship is seen in comics released post-Snowbirds, but even in the comic itself there's clear development, particularly at the end. Snowbirds Don't Fly is a character arc for Ollie of him adjusting his worldview in order to grow and better himself after recognising his own biases. And people tend to forget that Snowbirds ends with Roy hitting Ollie back, and what does Ollie do? He listens. He lets Roy get his frustrations out, and listens to Roy's perspective, and he's proud of him by the end of it, proud of the young man he is.

Okay, now that we've gotten Snowbirds out of the way, let's talk about-

Post-Snowbirds

There's a common misconception that Roy and Ollie having a close relationship is a recent development, which just isn't true. While it could've absolutely been explored in more detail, it's clear that Roy and Ollie reconciled post-Snowbirds. The earliest example that comes to mind is 1993's Green Arrow vol 2 #75, wherein Ollie and Roy refer to each other as father and son.

Keep in mind that this was written by Grell who is, at least in my opinion, one of the best references for Ollie. While they did have some issues in the later issues of the run preceding Ollie's death (the causes of the conflict I'm unsure of, they were on rocky terms during Connor's introduction but I don't know why, if anyone has context for that please let me know but that could've just been a choice Dixon made), it's clear to see that Snowbirds was not something that permenantly damaged their relationship. Ollie put in the effort following his actions, to better himself both as a father and as a person, and Roy recognised that and forgave him. Parent/child relationships are hard anyway, let alone under the circumstances Roy and Ollie are under as heroes, and the fact that Ollie actually recognised his own flaws is far more than many parents do.

If we go later, we can see Roy talking fondly about Ollie whilst Ollie was dead in Titans (1999), fondly recalling memories with him from his youth, as well as keeping a photograph of him on his wall.

While Roy does recognise that things with Ollie weren't always perfect, he does also acknowledge the good times between him and Ollie, and it's clear from the way he speaks that he holds a lot of love for him.

Later still, when Ollie returns from the dead, the duo reunite with fondness

One thing particularly that stands out to me is that, at this point, Ollie was missing many of his memories and Snowbirds was still fresh in his mind, with him bringing up Roy's addiction multiple times throughout Quiver as if it happened within at most the span of two years. Despite this, he still embraces Roy and treats him with love, making it clear that Ollie loved Roy even near to the Snowbirds era. There are more instances I could go into in Green Arrow (2001), but I'm running out of free time, so I'd highly recommend reading it :)

Aaaand later still, Ollie openly admits to having fucked up with Roy during Snowbirds.

He admits his failings, and demonstrates that he's got Roy's best interests at heart. He's not being selfish, he's letting Roy have his moment in his initiation as Red Arrow and staying in the background because he believes that's what's best for Roy. And-

He openly states that he loves Roy.

There's more in the current continuity I could reference, but I don't have the time to go through them right now and I'm definitely more familiar with content pre-52 (particularly 1994-2004 is the ten years I'd say I know the best), so hopefully this is enough.

Roy and Ollie's relationship isn't perfect. It has clear ups and downs, which is what makes them so interesting! Oliver Queen is a very loving, yet very flawed man, and to go either way of "evil abuser" or "perfect father" discredits who he is.

Anyway, your faves don't have to be unproblematic to love them. Ollie has a really compelling character arc during and after Snowbirds, and I like him a lot :)

For further reading, check out my masterlist on my pinned post, particularly Oliver Queen's B- Parenting, Snowbirds (1), and Snowbirds (2)

Edit: In the original version of this post, I incorrectly credited Mike Grell for the introduction of Ollie's socialism and giving away his money. While Grell did expand the concept, it was first developed by O'Neil. My apologies for the misinformation.

#tw drugs #roy harper #speedy #arsenal #red arrow #green arrow #oliver queen #snowbirds don't fly #thank you for the ask anon!!! #i will get to your second ask asap #fun fact the only panel i screenshotted specifically for this post was the quiver reunion #the rest were already in my gallery

[teez-the-time]

dear may, i had to stop reading your san warrior fic a few times because my eyes are just filled with tears. 😭💕

excuse my wordings as i am not a writer but more so of a reader instead but your whole writing was done in such a wonderful way that i was left speechless and of course, in tears once again.

sannie written as such hopeless romantic and absolutely brave warrior is so accurately depicted that i truly believe he definitely can be one in his past life! 🙈

i guess as i am typing this, i just want to thank you so much for this brilliant piece of art that you decided to share with us here. 💖

hope this is just the first of many from you! 🥹

- ✨anon

MY. HEART. STOP.

No but, ever since I posted "Choi San, Wolf Warrior" I've received so many heartwarming messages and reviews that I literally had to sit down. You really have no idea how much a little support means to someone who never expected any kind of reaction from others. While I planned to continue posting my stories even if no one saw them, these kind of messages encourage me to keep exploring my potential.

I was SUPER nervous when I posted the story. For a moment, I even thought of deleting it and never having it see the light of day. I'm glad I didn't. I also contemplated making a second part, but ultimately decided to leave it as it is and not wear off the magic. Nevertheless, seeing that you like it so much...I present you a little story of Y/N and San before the big events of the story.

Lastly, dear anon: I obviously don't know you, but thank you for that beautiful message. Keep supporting ATINY authors with your sweet words, since many will appreciate them.

XOXO -May

Pairing: Warrior! San x Chief's daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, action, romance

Warnings: some cursing and metions of sex, but nothing explicit, Y/N and San are both whipped pt. 2.

Wc: 1.8k

Taglist: @darkdayelixer

You could barely see the ground in front of you as you walked through one of the furthest parts of the village in the middle of the night. It was way past the usual time you would have been home asleep, but one of your friends had come to you begging for your help. Apparently, San had come back with the other young men of the village from a successful hunt and was celebrating with some of your friends.

The problem?

Choi San, the fearless warrior, had lost to alcohol and now refused to stop drinking despite being pretty drunk. Seeing that no one was able to make him desist on his attempt to become a rum barrel, your friends resorted to an infallible plan: getting you to take him home.

That’s why you now found yourself walking on a dark path, alone, cursing his name to all the gods above.

May god curse that lightweight idiot, you thought to yourself.

You heard the laughter before you saw anyone. Partially hidden by a dense patch of trees and bushes, the young people of your village used the clearing as a meeting spot for this type of gathering. Consumed by your duties as the chief’s daughter, you had to excuse yourself from attending the party with your friends.

Well, I guess not anymore.

Your friends were scattered around the place. The majority stood in groups in different parts of a small clearing, others sat down on stools. A small group sat on the floor, listening to one of the boys play a guitar. At last, you saw San sitting with some mutual friends around a small wooden table. He couldn’t see you, as his back faced you (but you could recognize his blushed ears anywhere), and nobody seemed to have noticed your presence so far. You walked towards him, trying to be as silent as possible in case someone saw you. It’s not like you didn’t like this type of gathering, but it was pretty late and you had to get San back to his house and then go back to yours. You couldn’t stay for much.

As you approached the group, you could hear San talking, and from your friends’ expressions, he was talking nonsense.

“I am telling you,” he was insistent, but the slur of his words wasn’t very convincing, “no one can compare. Fucking impossible. I witness it with my two eyes every single day. The standards are so high it’s fucking ridiculous”.

You wondered what the hell he was talking about, but as you got closer, you caught your friend Wooyoung’s eyes. He showed you his mischievous smile before turning back to his drunk friend.

“Sanie, but what the hell are you talking about?” he asked San, who made an exasperated gesture.

“Are you dumb or deaf, Jung Wooyoung?” San sloppily motioned for his friends to listen carefully. “I’ll repeat it one more time ‘cause apparently y’all have been hit in the head enough times to become stupid. Y/N is the most perfect human being to ever exist”.

Your eyes widened, and the people that had noticed you started laughing. San didn’t like that. “What the fuck are you laughing at? Listen to me. Liiiisten. Wait, I got dizzy. Okay, I’m good again. So, listen to me”.

“Y/N is literally sooooo perfect sometimes it gets ridiculous. Like, she is so beautiful it doesn’t make sense. None at all. And it’s all the time. Not once in her life has she ever been ugly. No, wait. One time, when we were eleven, she slipped on sheep shit and got covered in it. She smelt horrible and cried like a baby. But now that I think about it, she looked so cute even though she was embarrassed. Goddammit!”

He covered his face, as he couldn’t bear the flutter of his heart. San dragged his hands through his cheeks and continued talking. “And that’s, like, just from the outside. From the inside, she is sooooo smart. Way too smart for her good actually. Hongjoong hyung, you are clever, but you look dumb compared to her. Sometimes, I feel like I’m too stupid to be with her.” He interrupted his speech with a gasp of horror. “Oh my god! What if she leaves me for someone more intelligent?”

His friend, Seonghwa, swatted his arm. “Yah, Sanie! Don’t even think about that!”

San downed the whole mug of beer he had been holding despite everyone’s protests. “But I’m right! She’s so much fucking better than me. She’s beautiful, smart, kind, responsible, and everyone loves her! Hell, I think my parents like her more than me. I mean, I don’t know, but I don’t blame them. Oh, and there’s nothing she can’t do. I’m not joking. She knows medicine, she helps her dad, and she even cooks. Her kimchi, hyung!”. He let out a hiccup and a sniff. “Wait, what was I talking about? Oh right, Y/N. Yes! She’s even good at sex-”

That was your cue to stop his drunk rambles. “Woah, woah. Time for me to stop this party for you, sir.”

San didn’t pay you attention and kept rambling. “Oh no, I promised her that I wouldn’t talk about her like that. Forget the last part. I didn’t say shit about sex. It’s just…it’s just…I haven’t seen her since we left and I miss her sooooo much”. He stopped, his eyes widening. “Gods, I think I even heard her voice just now”.

If your friends weren’t laughing at San’s drunken antics before, they certainly were now. You put your hand on his shoulder. “Sanie, I’m here. It’s time to go home”.

San looked at you as if he had seen a ghost. “Oh my gods! I’m starting to hallucinate”.

In any other circumstance, you would’ve been rolling on the floor with laughter, but you were getting more and more frustrated with him. “San. You are drunk. Time to come home”.

“No!” he refused, holding the empty mug to his chest and pouting, “I won’t follow a fake Y/N. Get out, you impostor!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Sanie, I’m not a fake. It’s me Y/N. I came here to take you home”.

San narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Hmm, I still don’t believe you. Tell me something only the real Y/N would know!”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the first time he had pulled something similar. You sighed and answered his demand. “Your name is San and your family name is Choi”.

With that simple answer, his entire face lit up. He grinned from ear to ear and grabbed your hand. “You are my Y/N! Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

You had to fight the urge to knock his teeth out, as it would be too bothersome to explain to his parents how his son lost them. “Yes, I am Y/N. Come with me”.

You didn’t have to repeat yourself. Without letting go of your hand, he grabbed the few things he had brought with him and stood up from his seat. His smile was unwavering. “Let’s go home, darling. It’s way too late for you to be out!”

Drunk San was more ridiculous than normal San, so you made no effort to point his logic out. You just slung his arm over your shoulders to help him walk and said goodbye to your friends (who weren’t also totally hammered and didn’t make some colourful suggestions about home activities).

Even if you were annoyed by how drunk San was, you had to admit he was pretty funny when he was in this state. It wasn’t usual for him to drink this much, or at all, which was something you would have to inquire later. But, for now, you enjoyed the nonsense he was humming and muttering. The warmth of his body comforted you in the middle of the night chill.

“My love,” he called out to you. Lately, he seemed more comfortable calling you that in more public settings. “My love, Y/N. I have to admit something”.

“What is it, Sanie?” you inquired.

“I am drunk,” he said dead-seriously, “like super drunk. I don’t know why I drank so much. I am sorry”.

You held back a laugh, hearing how upset he sounded by the end of the sentence. “It’s okay, Sanie. You don’t have to apologise. I’m not mad.”

“Are you sure?” he asked and you repeated your answer. “You’re literally the best ever. I was gonna say best friend, but you aren’t my best friend anymore”.

“Oh?” you played along, knowing there was something he wanted to say, “then who is your best friend now? Wooyoungie? Yeosangie?”

San shook his head energetically. “Nop. They can’t compare to you. You are my best friend, but, like, you aren’t my friend. I don’t like any words for you. You…you are…my love. My Y/N”.

In the middle of that night, on the road you both took together to go home, you choked at San’s confession. You were always impressed at how he wore his heart on his sleeve, never afraid of judgment or rejection. You, on the other hand, were more reluctant to let others in, your guard having been broken by only a few; one of which you carried on your shoulders at this very moment. 

“Me too…” you said barely above a whisper, “I can’t find a word for you, my love…”

For a few moments, neither of you said a word, letting the silence speak for yourselves. You could feel he was regaining sobriety, although a throbbing headache would be waiting for him in the morning. His house stood at the end of the road, and yours wasn't too far away. It was time to say your goodbyes for the night, but you were already planning on stopping by again to leave him some medicine.

"Y'know, we're already twenty," San stated the obvious once again, "we only have to wait two more years".

You didn't dare to say anything. You both arrived at his door, and San removed his arm from your shoulders, but he didn't let go of you. Instead, he placed a hand on the small of your back and pulled you closer to him. His other hand found nest on your cheek. From that distance, you could see speckles of moonlight in his eyes, who looked at you with intensity.

"Gods, I can't wait for those two years," he whispered before capturing your lips with his. You reciprocated the kiss, tangling your hands on the hair of his nape. It tasted like alcohol but, somehow, San made it sweeter.

It was perfect, just like him.

You broke away for air, but it wasn't enough for San. He pecked your lips twice more before removing himself from you. You helped him open the door to his home, as he still struggled with basic coordination. He turned around to look at you for one last time, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you~," he grinned and waved at you excitedly as he closed the door slowly. San's figure disappeared from your sight, but you heard a couple of stumbles and curses from the inside.

You smiled to yourself.

I can't wait either.

#ateez #teez-the-time #ateez fanfic #atiny #choi san #san #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez x reader #san x reader #san fluff #san smut #san angst #ateez fluff

[lesbiansforboromir]

Been scouring your blog to see if you have a specific take and i only managed to find the post where you said you are more for people coming up with their own meaning for Tolkiens work. anyhow, after reading you boromir post on how hope is his poison I am super curious as to what meaning you personally ascribe to it all. A lot of scholars will tout hope over despair as the ultimate meaning here (and the ultimate meaning of real life...ugh) and considering your very gut wrenching but meaningful takes on boromir i was just curious. Your thought process is fascinating from a scholarly viewpoint (which is not my strong suit) but also an artistic, emotional, philosophical, and human viewpoint. Whew sorry this ask is so long and disorganized! Have i mentioned I am not a scholar? :D

First off I love this ask it made me so happy to read I had to do so like five times before I felt qualified to answer it and then I spent like months writing this response which is over 4000 words now if you want to know. And, on that note, dw about scholarliness or whatever this ask has more desire to engage with lotr in nuanced ways than most tolkien scholars achie- (gets hit by a piano) anyway~!

It's also just extremely flattering that you're curious of my personal opinion at all so thank you so very much!

(this is the post anon is talking about for context)

As with all things, my answer has many layers. At the most basic and applicable level, and when taking only my Gondorian/Stewardship investment into account, I am engaging with the story for personal catharsis.

The fact that Gondor felt hopeless, that the enemy was merciless and invincible, that even those figures who were supposed to help had only judgement and platitudes to offer until it personally benefitted them, that Boromir and Denethor were isolated and generally condemned and that many only showed them pity after their deaths, feels extremely cathartically familiar to me and my story with chronic illness. I've spoken about this before here and there, but that is the kind of simplistic, energy giving, 'he's me fr fr' comparison that brings me uncomplicated comfort and inspiration.

But that is definitely not 'what lord of the rings is about' not even just to me, it's not even just what BOROMIR is about to me, it is an element of the story and worldbuilding that I have isolated and consumed but that still exists within a far larger whole. And that whole is also fascinating and compelling but in a far more esoteric and harder to define way.

BUT before we get into it, I do also feel the need to explain the limitations I percieve within the 'lotr is about hope over despair' narrative since you've brought it up but neither your ask nor the post you mentioned properly explains it and it'll enhance my point later. SO.

As far as my experience has lead me to believe, when people say 'lotr is about hope triumphing over despair' they mean it in a moralising fable kind of way. This is definitely the narrative the films latched onto, like a leech. Good characters have hope, lose it only to reclaim it again, teach others to have hope etc, and that is good of them. Bad characters are despairing and therefore have no hope, and they do evil deeds because of the despair and lack of hope. The Aragorn vs Denethor film paradigm.

But nothing within the books is anywhere near as cut and dry. As I said in the linked post, Boromir gains hope after having none (the hope that he can save Gondor by using the ring) and that is bad, it is something he has to 'pay for' according to the narrative. Meanwhile charmed and blessed Faramir admits that he never had any hope quite a few times, yet he is not punished for it. Theoden also has no hope and is explicitely going to war to die, but his death is not considered evil or selfish by the majority. Saruman is very hopeful, he's hopeful that Sauron can be reasoned with, that if they work together they can make a better world, but he suffers 100 indignities and then is killed by a cannibal! And most of all, Frodo also rarely (if ever) shows any signs of hope, he merely doggedly marches on regardless and in the end even takes the power of the ring for himself, essentially the ultimate evil act of desperation, but that saves the world!

For the record the idea that LotR is a fable-narrative of any kind seems exceedingly erroneous to me, like the idea that we are supposed to glean any universal Good Moral from the tale due to Tolkien's 'emminent wisdom' feels bizarre in and of itself. But at the very least this aspect is more complex, I think we can all agree.

But even more than that (and this is more perspective than narrative analysis I suppose but I think it bears saying), ‘despair is evil’ is a kind of horrible thing to teach! If the villainisation of people driven to desperate actions or anhedonia because of the deep despair they are suffering is what LotR is about then that’s.. awful! That sounds like a bad book and I don't think I'd want to read it. But lets put a pin in the concept of condemning people for despair for now, look out for the pin cus it’ll be coming back later. 

FOR NOW lets get back on topic, if I don't think LotR is 'about' hope triumphing over despair, what do I think it's about?

Well. I know what I'm about to do appears highly out of character for me so please remain calm and gird yourself before I say this but; Let us start with hearing what Tolkien had to say on the subject.

I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly 'a setting' for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race 'doomed' to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race 'doomed' not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete.

(this quote is actually from a letter to a fan who suggested lotr was an allegory for atomic power and he was pretty mean and dismissive about it in reply, it's kind of funny)

Now I've been a bit glib about this in the past, along the lines of 'tolkien's own opinion on what his book was about changed for every year of his life and by the time all his friends started dying around him it became about death, what a surprise' mainly because, again, we've had enough people caring about Tolkien's opinions to do us for the rest of civilisation. But I've always known this glib comment to be pretty baseless and unconsidered, since death was a major aspect of his life from his earliest childhood and it makes sense for that to have been a large part of his work. And since I am being sincere I will, just this once, take Tolkien's hand instead of ignoring him.

For him, the theme of his book was not power or domination (or the evils of war or hope over despair), it was about death. It was about people trying to deal with the realities of death existing for them, not existing for others, and what love (loving the world) meant in that context.

On it's surface I find this quote kind of clinical in it's first impression. There's a prescriptiveness to it that does not inspire me, which isn't surprising since this came from a letter full of veiled snootiness on his part.

But mostly, as a concept.. it seems pretty distant from what actually happens in the story itself, right? What aspect of death and immortality was the fellowship embodying? Boromir certainly died, but he was not looking for immortality and his death is far more concerned with guilt than the fact that he is dying. Theodred is dead already, but not even his father appears all that bothered about it and it's quickly set aside to focus more on the war. Denethor kills himself but his and Gandalf's last interaction says far more about despair and faith than death.

And then no other main character 'dies' at all, unless you count Gandalf. And the only main immortal character we have (other than Gandalf) is Legolas whom, whilst he does have quotes associated with his immortality, is far more invested in his and Gimli's relationship than anything else. It's no wonder people choose 'war is hell' or 'hope over despair' narratives over 'death' as the main theme for lotr from their perspective.

It also does not satisfyingly link to one of the most compelling aspects of the books as a whole; that of how they are presented. The thread connecting death and immortality to writing a story that is from in-universe historical accounts, editted and compiled by many subsequent in-universe hands, is there but hazy. The intense catholic-ness of the story is also intuitably related to death and immortality, but not explicitly.

In essence, death does not feel like the main theme of the books when you are reading them, at least I don't think most experience them that way.

However, in spite of all that, Tolkien's opinion on what his books are 'about' is still the closest I have seen anyone come to my own. Which I assume is hard enough for you all to hear, but imagine how I feel 😩

To me, LotR is most themactically consistent when viewed through the lense of Frodo and Gandalf's ever misquoted early interaction;

"Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.’ ‘It is not,’ said Frodo. (emphasis mine)

It is not comforting to know that the suffering in front of you was always meant to happen, no matter how comforting the idea of a divine plan might be to some. And that is what Gandalf is offering Frodo in this moment, the relief of a divine plan and its ‘high beauty for ever beyond [the Shadow’s] reach’. But this is never comforting to Frodo in the books, the comfort he finds on his martyr's journey is in Sam. Indeed, it is actually Sam who finds comfort in 'the high beauty', this reminder that beyond all his own suffering there is an imperishable and eternal light that can never be dimmed.

But not Frodo, how can he? His eventual fate is to grasp the power of a weapon so unholy it sickens his soul, to do that which he has been told is irreversible and unforgivable, so that he can never be at ease or even survive in the lands he has loved ever again. The 'High Beauty' is what is doing this to him, what made the rules, what meant for this to happen, what he is doing this in service of. And Gandalf, whose soul will be present to see the very end of this tale, cannot possibly understand what it is for your whole life to be encapsulated by just your own small painful part of what Gandalf would propose was a beautiful and universal tapestry.

And lack of agency against the divine plan is precisely the narrative thread that ties every character together. To some it is a comfort, Aragorn and Gandalf and Sam are all gladdened and encouraged by the knowledge that there is some higher power ordering their lives, some greater beauty they are all a part of beyond any earthly pain or suffering. They are not in control and to remember this is a relief. It inspires them to better fulfill their ordained duties and drive themselves through terrible trials.

To others it is no comfort at all, Boromir and Frodo have no faith in the prospect that the divine plan will include success or happy lives for them at the end of their tasks. But it is a hopelessness and uncertainly that they both accept. They simply believe their duties must be attempted anyway, hopeless or not, even if it makes no difference to the outcome in the end. Lack of control is just a reality they live with.

And to some it is a horror. Denethor and Eowyn want to fulfill their duties, but these duties are torture. They demand loved ones die, they demand relentless fear and sacrifice, they demand ceaseless and hopeless toil. And in the end both of them are given rebellious breaks from these duties by the narrative, ones that are horrifying in and of themselves (and portrayed as wrong to one degree or another) but that are still extremely cathartically presented as attempts to reclaim control of their lives away from a callous divine. Even if, ultimately, this also was out of their control.

Merry, Pippin, Legolas and Gimli appear to have never quite had to confront the realities of their powerlessness before. But through the story they become intimately aware of it in ways that force them to make choices they are not ready to make. For Merry and Pippin, this leads them to ultimately empathise with Eowyn and Denethor’s positions, wracked with guilt and equally horrified, attempting to find agency in death where (it appears) none can be found. For Legolas and Gimli, they confront the spectors of lack of agency/death for the first time in the narrative (sea-longing and the Paths of the Dead) and are irrevocably changed by them, eventually leading them both to attempt to circumvent their fates by illegally sailing to the uttermost west. Obviously fandom likes to believe they made it and live happily, but narratively it is also suggested that they died at sea in the attempt.

Now, at the risk of indulging in my ever-derided biographical criticism, I do think that all of these characterful arcs are represented in Tolkien’s own life. I feel comfortable saying that Tolkien was not a happy man by default. He was wracked with guilt from a very young age (wow a catholic with guilt, groundbreaking) but that guilt followed him and found new reasons to manifest until the very end of his life. And a lot of this guilt had to do with death, his father's death, his mother's death, his friend's deaths. And a lot of it had to do with fear of leaving unfinished or poorly finished business behind him at the time of his own death: guilt about how he had taught his students, about his scholarly work, his parenting skills, his so-oft-mentioned faith. 

And being a man of faith, he would have experienced all these things as a part of the divine plan, even as they were also his guilt to bear. So, clearly, Tolkien's experience encompassed all of these characters, right? The despair and the torment and combined love-of and frustration-with the divine. The failure. He knew them all. And within all of them, as well as within the narrative and world itself, there is a wrestling, there is an ever-shifting complexity and multitude of different opinions to how one experiences a life that hurts in a beautiful world that you love but that you eventually must leave, with the sensation that you have no control over any of it.

However, a complication to any declaration of ‘what LotR is about’ is that it is a self-admittedly unreliable narrative. If you cannot necessarily believe everything the narrative is telling you, then suddenly additional layers of complexity come into play in determining the meaning within an already complex text. In LotR you can actually track which characters are recounting which parts of the story to Frodo or Sam at the time of writing. But it is also just obscured enough to make it ambiguous and to enforce the idea that this is a version of this original story edited and compiled for many generations after it's writing.

So not only are these characters and events transient, uncertain and being (sometimes bluntly) misrepresented by the narrators, YOU are now complicit in that. You are yet another interpreter to alter this narrative through your perspective, just as all works and all lives are interpreted by those who view them, with no way to control that judgment. You are also a character now, making it even more difficult to make definitive judgments about a question like 'what LotR is about'.

The clearest example of how this narrative unreliability and reader interpretation comes into play within the text itself is when Frodo describes the fellowship's entrance into Lothlorien to Faramir. He is being blindfolded in order to be lead to Henneth Annun, and he recounts;

‘As you will,’ said Frodo. ‘Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlorien. Gimli the dwarf took it ill, but the hobbits endured it.’

But we, as readers of the previous book, know this is a gross mischaracterisation of Gimli. He did not take issue with being blindfolded, he took issue with being singled out as the only member of the fellowship who needed to be blindfolded.

‘As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The others may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.’ This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. ‘The agreement was made without my consent,’ he said. ‘I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.’

In this one moment Frodo has taken what was a reaction of justified indignation against racial prejudice, and made it sound like a minor tantrum over a shared burden. He has also used it to further aggrandise his own people in Faramir's eyes. And it is up to YOU to notice this, to review it in your mind, to choose what it leads you to believe about all characters involved. The narrative certainly never helps you, or addresses it ever again. You have to wrestle with what it means in your mind.

I believe this is the reason I have observed that every person who reads LotR and loves it and keeps rereading it feels like they are excavating something. There is a narrative under the narrative for every new pair of eyes on the tale. And that narrative is you, it's who your experiences and sympathies lead you to listen too harder, it's the story of the experiences you understand. And in that excavation, you are also reclaiming a moment of control for yourself in conversation with the story and whatever you have chosen to excavate. One might say these are all aspects of every story, but LotR is unique in its investment and immersion into the concept.

Because, to me, when Tolkien says his story is about 'death and immortality', what I read is that it's about the ultimate lack of control we have (death) and trying to empathise and accept the unfairness of what will become our inherently false legacies (immortality). And then just the vast spectrum of experiences and emotions those things conjure. It's not just about those things, it is an attempted soothing of those fears and struggles, it is an offer of comfort or catharsis or applicability. It is also an acknowledgement of the love that drives you and that you will eventually grieve.

Frodo leaves the shire to save it because he loves it, but he knows the entire time he will never be able to fully return. He is frustrated, it hurts, but a piece of the Shire in Sam comes with him and whilst it cannot save him, Frodo is still comforted. 

Sam leaves the Shire because he loves Frodo, and he loves the high beauty as embodied by elves and magic and history. He also knows implicitly that this is a task he cannot refuse, but these things comfort him. He is glad to be guided and strengthened to even greater feats the more he trusts in a higher power, but he has a life and a family in the end. And if that is what the Higher Beauty decrees for him, where it has doomed Frodo to incurable soulful wounds, are we surprised at either of their choices? Can we blame anyone for their hope OR despair in the face of powerlessness? Oh! Look at that! It’s that pin I mentioned quite literally last century ago. TOLD you it’d be back.

And that brings us back to the question, what do I think LotR is about. 

We are all powerless in the face of death and in writing a book about death Tolkien’s work has an inherent universal applicability in this regard. Tolkien asks an unconscious question within lotr, how should we cope with being creatures that love the world but that are doomed to die and leave it? And then he leaves that question entirely unanswered. This is what sets lotr apart and truly creates a story in which people can read narratives therein that appear entirely separate from death or any other recognisable theme others might see, without losing the sense of universal appeal. He offers multiple perspectives, including that of the dominant religion’s prescriptive decrees of right and wrong, but there is no solution brought forth in the story that saves anyone from grief or death or regret in the end. Not even Aragorn or Arwen, who are in essence the most holy and faithful characters barring Gandalf within the story, end without heartbreak and despair!

‘‘I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men.’’ ‘‘Nay, dear lord,’’ she said, ‘‘that choice is long over. There is now no ship that would bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or I nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Numenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive.’’ ‘‘So it seems,’’ he said.

There is no such comfort!! … Or is there?

To me, the appeal of Boromir is in the solution he offers; the comfort is in the wrestling! 

Aragorn and Arwen did absolutely everything they were supposed to do, unquestioningly, to the point that Aragorn goes to the Silent Street and just lies down to die because it’s ‘the right time’ and he mustn’t become ‘unmanned and witless’. And then he dies and he makes a beautiful holy corpse that cannot comfort Arwen or his children or his people for even a moment. 

But Boromir dies with a smile. Aragorn promises that Minas Tirith will not fall, and that does comfort him, because that was the wrestling he chose, the love he decided to hold, the meaning he decided to find and fight for beyond all his powerlessness to protect it. So that’s the answer I find and it might be different from yours, but it’s in LotR to be read because the story is about the wrestling as much as (if not more than) it is about the end. The road DOES go ever on and on, after all!

So ye das wat lotr was about I fink thanks 4 askin 👍I REALLY hope it makes sense. I also really hope Anon manages to see it after it took so goddamn long to respond 😂

#chats #Anonymous #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #erran vs tolkien #boromir #long post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 34

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You used to long for lazy days. When you worked twelves and barely had enough time for sleep in between. After a week of lazy days, bound to the bed by back pain and Lloyd's overly mindful nagging, you are desperate to be mobile. At least he dropped the hospital thing after you told him no ten times.

You feel freer and looser. See, it always passes. You know your body. Even if it's changed beyond recognition, even as your tits balloon up and your stomach grows rounder by the day.

Besides, you don't go far from bed. The trip down to the sofa is enough to drain you. You lower yourself with a book and some fruity iced tea. The late spring light shines in and hints at the looming arrival of summer.

You're almost finished the book. A feat you've not made in years. You never had time to get past the third chapter but this one hand you by the throat from page one. You quickly lose yourself in the words, the pages open with the bottom of the spine propped up on your stomach.

The soft rustle of leaves and the song of birds adds to the calm hue of the day. It's almost too peaceful. In this house, that's rarely a good side. Something is always set to break the monotony. Rather, someone. 

"There you are, peaches," Lloyd purrs coyly, "elusive as ever."

You don't look away from the book as you hear him behind you. You hum in response and restart the sentence. He comes nearer, his shadow looming over you as you try to keep your focus.

"What's up, baby cakes?" He massages your shoulders as he lurks behind the couch. 

"Reading."

"Boring," he says as he bends down, his lips brushing your hair, "come on, put the book down."

"I'm almost done, you can bother me after."

He huffs. You can practically hear the mope. He pushes away from the sofa and his feet slap on the floor. His figure blurs above the top of the pages as you sense him watching you. 

You try to ignore him. You squint until your brows hurt. You scowl and lower the book.

"Lloyd, please, I–"

You quiet as you get a good look at him. He wears only a black thong, his erection obvious as it's barely restrained by the fabric. You scoff as he flexes and turns, showing you his and the straps that angle at a slant.

He slaps his own ass as he poses for you. You gape, dumbfounded.

"What on earth–"

"Look, I'm not gonna lie, I'm desperate for you, doll face. This thing's tight as ballskin."

"I… I don't even know what to say to that."

"Look, sugar tits," he puts his hand on his hip, "you don't gotta say nothing but we both know once you get the strap on, you know exactly what to say."

'Not right now," you snort, "are you serious? I'm pregnant. Very pregnant."

"It'll fit under, I looked it up." He comes closer and reaches to wiggle free the book from your grasp, "tell me you haven't been dreaming of shoving something up my ass."

"No, because I know you enjoy it too much."

"Bah, baby," he shuts the book and tosses it aside, "it'll loosen us both up."

He takes your hands and pulls you to your feet. You narrow your eyes as his gaze slips from them. His brows raise slightly and he runs his touch along your stomach to cup your tits.

"Wow, I did not think these things could get better," he squeezes and you hiss.

"Ow," you slap his hands, "they're tender."

"They're fucking glorious. Shit, my dick is aching. I think it's gonna split if you don't start fucking me soon."

"That would be wonderful. Save us both a lot of trouble in the future."

"God, I love how you play hard to get," he groans and fondles your tits again, "maybe I should just titty fuck you then. That's always fun…"

"I'd rather the strap," you shove him away, "fine, if I do it, can I finish my book?"

"Right now I'm giving you permission to do anything you want to me, and after, you can go ahead and do whatever you want by yourself."

"Mmm, fair trade," you reach down and flick the leather at the front of the thong, "come on then, let's get it over with."

He winces and cups his crotch. It doesn't deter him though as he waves his other hand past you, "ladies first."

You hear the grit in his voice and it's enough to content you. You should take whatever chance you get to cause him some pain, even if in the end he likes it.

You round the couch and go out into the entryway. You take your time on the stairs. Not just because of your belly but because you can sense his impatience. He squeezes your ass as he follows you.

"God, I love this ass," he snarls, "mmm, the juiciest peach of all."

"You're so lame," you say breathless as you reach the top.

"For you, yeah," he snickers and strides ahead of you.

You trail him as he leaves the bedroom door open. As you get to the room, he has the strap ready to go. You roll your eyes but undress.

"I still don't think it will fit."

"Make it fit," he insists as he untangles it.

You unclasp your bra and take off the pregnancy belt. You groan at the ache in both breast and belly. You grab onto his shoulder and step into the harness.

He pulls it up and slides the curved end into your cunt. You twitch as he secures the straps beneath your bump. You didn't expect this to be more than a honeymoon thing but it's better than him trying to break your back.

He stands straight and looks you up and down. He brings his hands to either side of your belly and bends forward to kiss it. You wince as he keeps his head close to your bump. 

“Look kid, you’re gonna have to close your ears for this one–”

“Ew!” You swat his head, “Lloyd, don’t.”

“Well?!” He stands and rubs his head, “I don’t wanna traumatize our kid.”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up. The kid won’t know–”

“Okay, at least I tried to be considerate.”

“Is that even a thing for you?”

He grimaces and shakes his head, “keep being such a bitch and I’m gonna cum before you even get the tip in.”

You give him a look but can’t resist how your insides flutter. The fullness in your cunt isn’t helping either. You really could use a nice orgasm to loosen up the last of the tension.

“Get on the fucking bed,” you point behind him.

“Yes, mistress,” Lloyd nearly dances before he turns around. “I’ll be a good slave boy.”

“Let’s not say that again,” you follow him as he hooks his thumbs in the sides of his thong.

“Nope, keep that on,” you order and smack his ass.

“Yes!” He gets on his knees and grabs the bottle on the bed. He holds it over his shoulder and you take the lube as he gets into position, “fuck, peaches, were you always such a domme?”

“Be quiet,” you pinch him and feel the strap angled along his cheek. You ooze out the lubes and let it run down in the crack of his ass. He’s almost shaking in excitement. “Don’t,” you warn as you notice his hand trail under him. “Don’t even think of touching yourself.”

“Yes, mistress,” he puts his hand flat with the other.

You stand on your toes and push the tip down between his cheeks. You glide it through the lube, spreading it around his hole. He groans as you prod him teasingly. You lean in just a little but relent, doing it over and over until he whimpers.

“Please just fuck me.”

You laugh and ease into him. Just the tip. He shudders and leans back into you. You grab the straps of the thong and push him off.

“Uh uh,” you tisk. “Turn over.”

He hesitates but obey. He lays on his back, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. He brings his legs up, splaying himself for you as he clutches his thighs. You guide the toy down beneath him as his dick pokes slightly out of the thong. 

You dip into him steadily until you reach the limit. It jolts the toy inside you and a trickle flows into your core. You rock back and watch his stomach clench. You grasp the thong with one hand as you start to fuck him. It slips further down, revealing half his length. 

You watch how his throat bobs, his still unshaven stubble poking out across his chin and cheeks. He shakes each time you thrust. The sight of his pleasure is almost as intoxicating as your own mounts.

You tilt again and again. Losing yourself to your desire. Fuck, you feel it building in you, the tight coil spinning and spinning. You slam into him harder as you get closer and you brace his hip. You���re out of breath, your legs shaky.

You moan as he reaches to touch your hand. He quakes and lets out a guttural growl, “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

He grunts and spasm, his hole tightening around the toy as he babbles and slaps his hand against the bed. He cums with a strangled cry that sounds as stunned as it is delighted. His cum ribbons up his stomach as you bite your lip.

Your own climax crashes upon you swiftly but is cut short but a sudden zap up your spine. Fuck. You lean against him, keeping the weight off your stomach as you almost collapse. You spread your hand over his chest as you push your knees against the bed.

“Help!” You murmur.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #unexpected #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #the gray man

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Main Page

Thank you again for all of those still with me, I hope you’re enjoying the story thus far. If you’re wanting to make suggestions for future parts of the story, please feel free to leave comments. I’d love to hear more about your thoughts! Last time, we were finding out how the information is given to Star, and the results show up that:

1 The mayor himself is more than happy to talk.

Sorry, this one got a bit long on me.

Having filled up, Star left Luna’s enchanting music behind to knock on the door to the Town Hall. The squat stone and wood building being only slightly better kept than the rest of the town. Instead of finding some bored bureaucratic servant barely awake at their post, she was greeted by the mayor himself.

“WELCOME! Welcome!” the portly man proclaimed as he opened the door and ushered her into the hall. “I’m Mayor Gregor, and welcome to Tricreek! I see your bard friend has drawn quite the crowd. Quite the crowd indeed. How wonderful!”

With a hearty laugh, he stroked the bushy white mustache that consumed the entire area of his face above his lips and going well into his rosy cheeks. “Now you must be curious about all the going ons about the town, I dare say.”

“Actually mayor, I was wondering if there were any messages from Castledale? Star Crescent would be the name they’d be under,” the poor mage student cut in gently, trying to be about her business.

“Oh of course, of course, pardon the mess, I gave the scribes a chance to go enjoy the bard, young people you know?” he chuckled as he meandered over to the shelves, and began going through one marked ‘Castledale’ above it. Pulling out a set of reading glasses he settled them on his nose and began going through the sheaf of papers. “Let’s see… No, no, notice of the college of magic being closed to new admissions temporarily due to the magic disruption, no, no, ah, here we are. A letter from the dean to you.”

Holding out the folded letter, she recognized the wax seal and took it. It was from the college, and probably important, however she felt like indulging the mayor. “Now that the official business is finished, I noticed that you have a druidic presence in town, were they a part of the founding?”

It felt odd, pushing off her duties and self-imposed quest to restore magic to learn more about a town that was so close to her goal, but she knew that her thirst for knowledge would not let her leave such a font of lore and wisdom untapped. Perhaps, there was something in the history that could guide her further in unlocking magic once again.

“Oh right you are! Sharp eyes on you, but that’s to be expected from a student of your caliber to be attending the university there with the dean’s attention on you,” the mayor praised her as he stood in front of the window, watching the bustling town center. “Oh it was many generations ago that the druids helped some farmers form the little village. Back then there was only a farmer’s market and town hall if you can believe it. We thrived due to trade, and the mill a ways up the road. That I suppose you might have visited, since you came in on their cart.”

Seeing her expression, he let out a laugh. “Oh don’t worry so much youngin’. It’s the way of the small town to know everything going on within minutes of it happening. Why I remember back in my day we knew that the old mayor was having a row with his wife before even he did! Real scrapper that woman, and their fights were the stuff of tales. Never could look at a cast iron pan the same again after their last one.”

“Was there a reason for their fights or…” she probed, curious about the nature of the fights..

The mayor let out a chuckle as he shook his head. “Oh, the usual, he was sleeping with her lover behind her back, and they hadn’t worked out the laws on multiple partners back then. There’s parts of the story that followed the fights I dare say would be topics of some books you’ve never read in the library.”

Not that she was going to correct him, but there was most certainly a very robust section of the library that she may or may not have had a browsing through between semesters.

“So, the druids?”

“Ah yes! The druids, wonderful folk. If you’re going to Castledale from here, you will pass one of their groves,” the mayor explained before tapping his chin in thought. “Yes… hmm…”

Turning back to the shelves, he began going through a drawer on the side, pulling out packages and looking them over before setting them back inside. “Perhaps you might do me a favor, young lady. It will only be an hour out of your way, and if you leave first thing in the morning, you’d be able to stay the night in the grove.”

Pulling out a rolled up piece of parchment, he peered through one end, reading the words before putting it back. “Forgive me, it has been a while, but we have some things to send to them, and have not had a chance to do so with the recent weather and loss of magic.”

“You said that it would be on our way?” she prompted watching him pull out a small tube and read the label on the side before putting it carefully back into the drawer.

“Yes, yes, quite right, a lovely grove, I took a trip there once myself, met my husband there if you would believe it. Ah!” he cheered, pulling out a scroll case with Celestial Grove on a tag on one end. “Here we are. My father-in-law is the head of the druidic order. Could you please take this to him. I’ll arrange for you and your bard friend to have a room at the inn tonight, and the finest meal on me.”

“Thank you sir, I’m honored to help you,” she offered, taking the scroll case from him. “Might you give us directions?”

“Certainly, certainly. It’s just up the main road out of town towards Castledale,” he began pointing in the direction they were heading. “There will be two trails to the right, and then one to the left marked with a flat stone shaped like a tree. Take that path and stay on it. The druids will find you long before you get to the grove and guide you the rest of the way.”

“Understood, thank you for the room and meal.”

“Of course! You are doing this town a great service,” he offered with a laugh before going into another story about the old days, never finishing his first one about the druids.

#Story #My Writing #Rising Star #My Polls #Star #World Building #Please Participate #Star Main