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#but at the very end of the monologue he goes

dyssonant-skyline · 3 days

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Full Moon Spoilers: The Final Scene

I have some thoughts.

Okay let me start with saying, the Stolas & Blitzo conversation should not have been relegated to the last 5 minutes of the episode. I think the rushed nature of the conversation doomed any chance of it being a satisfying exchange between these two characters that covers the full reality of their situation. I’m listing this up front because a lot of my grievances could have been resolved with more time, which the team spent on 15 minutes of lead up that I believe were ultimately unnecessary to the show's central plot and actively hinder the direction the showrunners want the story to go in.

During the episode he acknowledges that Blitzo is in a horrible situation. He states that the deal was wrong, implicitly acknowledging guilt for thrusting it unto Blitz and trying to resolve that by giving him the Azmodean crystal. He has decided to end things, and goes through with it even though he displays clear interest in Blitzo’s advances.

Then what does he do when Blitzo assumes that Stolas hasn’t changed? When Blitzo believes that Stolas, the person who he has only had transactional relations with, is setting up a new kind of transaction?

Instead of further ensuring Blitzo and trying to clear the air. He throws a tantrum. When things didn’t immediately resolve in his favor. Then he immediately goes into blaming Blitzo for only thinking about sex in their, again, transactional relationship. This gets worse because Stolas doesn’t wait to establish a healthy non romantic/sexual relationship before insinuating that he is still interested in Blitzo sexually, opening Blitzo up to misunderstanding his intent… then not being willing to clarify his intent.

“I have wanted you for so long, the fact that you couldn’t believe that I might have these feelings about you, that your first instinct is that it’s always about sex… that’s enough to know what this is.”

My brother in christ, you confront him about this during the sex deal night and don’t expect him to expect sex? You give him ~10 seconds to react to this information before deciding you don’t want to deal with his emotions anymore because they aren’t what you wanted?

The monologue that Blitzo had after that was completely justified and extremely gratifying to hear.

“Fuck you Stolas! You spring this feelings bullshit on me, are you fucking kidding?” - “Can I get a fucking minute to think after everything you put me through?” - “You can’t just dismiss me like that.”

After that sincere outburst, instead of Stolas recognizing what Blitzo is saying and taking some accountability or apologizing… he reacts with

“I didn’t realize you think so low of me.”

HUH? What happened to the transactional deal not being right? Surely if he knows he isn’t right, he knows that Blitzo would probably have a pretty low opinion of him? Breaking the deal doesn’t make his victim required to forgive him, especially not within 5 minutes.

Sidenote but: Stolas’s desire for immediate reconciliation is compounded by the fact that Stolas buries the lead at the beginning of their conversation. He keeps things vague with statements like “I need [the grimoire] back permanently” and “I’ve made up my mind” that lead Blitzo to believe he is being fired. I don’t really believe that the way that Stolas talks here speaks to his character, it reads more like bad writing in favor of a misunderstanding to get Blitzo worked up. It doesn’t seem in character to dwell like this, you could argue it is nerves but I’d argue there is no positive reaction to those first few sentences and Stolas isn’t socially inept enough to fail to realize that.

Honestly, if they were gearing up to have Stolas as a villain still and if Blitzo hadn’t had an apology cut off, I would have loved this exchange as it characterizes Stolas as a villain very well. It shows that Stolas still doesn’t care about Blitzo, just the version of Blitzo he has built in his head in excruciating detail. It shows that despite Stolas trying to make amends through words and actions, he still can not face the hurt that he has caused his victim and will run away when confronted with them. Unfortunately I’m pretty sure the writers are just going to make Blitzo into the one that Stolas hoped would fall into his arms immediately. So whatever.

#full moon episode spoilers #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #dys rants

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mlmaemond · 2 days

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lore olympus is over

tl;dr it was bad.

it was a long episode, i counted 110 panels, give or take a few. lore olympus has had increasingly long episodes, to the point of feeling arduous and overwrought with unnecessary details and subplots. i could feel my eyes glaze over as i was reading each episode; for years, it's felt like none of the episodes advanced the plot in any way, and mostly existed as pointless filler, delving into a plethora of subplots that never get resolved—at the very least, they never seem to be resolved in a meaningful and fulfilling way.

but enough preamble! you're wondering what happened in the episode itself, and i'm here to tell you. for context, within the last three to five episodes, apollo revealed that he was secretly a puppet of ouranos the whole time, ouranos revealed himself and tried to steal persephone's fertility goddess powers or something equally asinine, and persephone unlocked her full fertility goddess powers in order to unlock the full fertility goddess powers of all the other fertility goddesses, and together they brought back gaea from her vague undefined slumber/exile/whatever.

we start with the reveal of gaea, who defeats ouranos within five panels. a bit anticlimactic, but ouranos was revealed within the last five episodes of a 280-episode series, so i don't know what i was expecting.

it feels great to know there were no real stakes to this conflict.

gaea turns back to hades and persephone, and stares at them. the next full panel signals a timeskip. it's some undefined number of months later, and hades is on his own. the audience hasn't been shown the details of hades and persephone's confrontation with gaea, so we're led to believe something happened to persephone; all we know is that she and hades have been separated, and hades is sad.

hades goes through his morning routine, then enters the mortal realm, and the story flashes back to gaea's conversation with hades and persephone:

cool.

here, we run into an issue of bad comics formatting. i don't plan on getting too into the nitty gritty of page layout, it's more interesting to me than it is to most other people, and webcomics function fundamentally differently from normal comics, so i'm not as well versed in how to analyze them. that being said, this is what that snippet looks like when it's zoomed out:

this is the most important line in the episode, perhaps even the entire series, and neither the character speaking nor the characters reacting are in the same panel as the text. it's just this floating, meaningless bubble of dialogue, and most readers are on their phones, so it can't be seen at the same time as gaea, hades, or persephone; it has to be scrolled through. to me, the isolation seems to derive this line of anything that could make it compelling. it's also just a bad line. i am by no means the first (and hopefully not the last) person to point this out, but structuring your feminist hades and persephone retelling around persephone finding true love with a man is absolute nonsense. there is nothing genuinely feminist or subversive about lore olympus.

gaea goes on to monologue a bit, and ends up with this conclusion:

the hades/persephone myth retelling is finally complete: persephone is made to spend six months in the mortal realm and six months in the underworld, only in the lore olympus retelling, it's not demeter and hades who make this deal, it's an official decree from gaea. agency is stripped from demeter and hades and given to gaea, who had no role in this story originally, and shouldn't have this role now. ultimately, lore olympus is barely an echo of the original mythos, it keeps some aesthetics, and some names, but i am certain the nuances and complexities of hades and persephone as mythological and cultural figures have been lost on rachel smythe.

we also find out that hades and persephone are allowed to visit each other at any point, so the tragedy of their separation is completely undercut. they get a happy ending, and so does everyone else, except for the irredeemably evil apollo, and the redeemably evil zeus.

dionysus looks like this now after hardly showing up in the story:

i don't even know what to say to this:

happy pride month i guess

hades and persephone are happy and in love and everything is perfect and magical forever. the end.

but wait! there's more! you thought it was over, but there are at least 20 more panels! we skip ahead to "many, many years later," where melinoe—hades and persephone's dream daughter from the future—is now hades and persephone's actual real living daughter, no longer trapped in tartarus with kronos (long story, don't worry about it). she wakes up, and makes her way to hades and persephone's room, where persephone has just given birth:

this panel certainly is something. it wasn't until my second read through that i realized there was, in fact, a baby in hades' arms. the last panel is of hades, persephone, and their two daughters, finally a complete and happy family. where did dionysus go? i don't know, don't worry about it.

good lord rachel smythe cannot draw children. normally i wouldn't be mean about this—i can't draw children either—but rachel smythe is a bestselling author with the most popular webtoon on the site and multiple eisner awards, so i don't really feel like i'm punching down here. her art is incredibly inconsistent, and it tends to be at its worst when hades and persephone are standing next to each other, or when any child is shown. the art did not improve in the final episode, if anything, it was worse than usual.

what did it all mean? it's hard to say. i've been reading this series for years at this point, and trying to piece together the semblance of a coherent plot is arduous at best, and impossible at worst. the writing was never good per se, but the early episodes seemed to have a spark, a passion, that's completely lacking later on. the final arc was especially disappointing, smythe spent years building up apollo as an antagonist, only for him to be revealed as a puppet the entire time, and in the end, his defeat didn't feel like a victory for persephone.

i'm having a hard time coming up with a good conclusion. what is there to say about lore olympus that hasn't already been said? it's lazy, it's incoherent, it's liberal pseudofeminist nonsense. i spent three years obsessively reading it and now i don't know what to do with my life. thanks for nothing, rachel smythe.

#anti lore olympus #anti lo #lo critical

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tonycries · 23 days

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Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

Lights, Camera, Drama: Gojo Satoru and Leading Lady’s Off-Screen Feud to SINK Box Office Darling?

“They’ll Kill Each Other!” Insider Source Spills All on the Royal Rivalry Between Hollywood’s Hottest Bachelor and Bachelorette.

Enemies of The Century or Publicity Stunt? Recent Cast Outings Sets Fans Speculating!

---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius.

Well, usually.

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.”

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie.

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star.

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him.

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!”

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft.

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions.

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene.

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth.

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.”

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course.

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth.

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this.

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”.

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance.

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks.

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.”

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!”

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it.

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen.

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?”

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?”

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again.

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-”

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.”

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips.

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair.

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off.

“You probably broke-”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone.

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs.

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right?

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip!

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him.

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips.

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed.

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue.

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs.

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds.

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more.

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt.

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit.

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue.

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping.

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face.

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him.

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him.

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same.

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly.

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit.

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him.

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt.

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt.

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs.

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come.

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right.

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls.

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth.

So he lets his hips do the talking instead.

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over-

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier.

Close - too close.

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.”

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling.

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close.

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth.

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips.

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice.

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum.

What?

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least.

---

The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.

Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.

“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.

Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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brucewaynehater101 · 18 days

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i just got an idea 🤩 Tim Drake is a villain, but he's like Dr. Doofenshmirtz!

Batman: *caught in a Batman-sized trap*

Tim: Ah, Bruce Wayne the Batman! About time you arrived! Look at what I have created!

Tim: *shows his skateboard contraption* TAH-DAH! I call this "The Red-Board 3000!" It took me 3000 tries to finally create a successful one. It runs on Joker Gas, and goes about as fast as Mach 4!

Bruce: Hrn.

Tim: Tsk-tsk-tsk, Bruce Wayne the Batman. You must be wondering why I made this. Well, it all started when I was 5 years old. My parents left me alone in a jungle and forgot about me.

DO YOU SEE MY VISION?!?!?

I do!!!!!

Might I add:

Tim becomes a villain because someone told him he needed therapy. He didn't really like that idea until he saw the Riddler monologuing to Batman about his bullies. That, unfortunately for everyone else, inspired Tim.

Sitting down and talking to a stranger who is also required to report child abuse? Nah. His parents aren't great, but he likes the freedom and doesn't want to end up in Gotham's CPS.

So, Tim "goes to therapy" every other week, or traps ones of the Bats and vents about his life to them. It's perfect for him.

He spends about a week setting up his schemes, outfits, lighting, and therapy plan. Then, he lures one of the Bats into the designated place. His favorite is Batman.

He loves watching their faces constantly switch between annoyed and concerned. Tim, who has a secret villain identity, is obviously a child. He's spouting true (but untraceable) facts about his life that are concerning as fuck. Bruce is going out of his mind trying to capture Tim to get him some real help.

The one aspect Tim always ensures he has is the ability to get away. He'll give the Bats a way to foil his plots and disappear while they do so.

So, Tim enjoys coming up with very real but ridiculous ways to destroy/take over the world and threatening the Bats with it. Could Tim actually succeed as a villain? Yes. However, that would make him a higher priority to capture. That's also not the reason he's does any of it either.

Now... does he get along with Riddler? Debatable. On one hand, they both have traps and stuff. They could bond and help each other (or test each other). On the other hand, Riddler might see Tim as competition or that Tim is making fun of him.

Catwoman likes Tim, though.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #bruce wayne #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au

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aingeal98 · 4 months

Text

Will never get over how hilarious the accidental lesbian coding of the koncass "romance" arc was in Batgirl. Like Cass had a 'friend break up' with Steph and immediately the very next issue began observing couples on the street and thinking more about romantic love and whether she should try it and started asking questions and realised that most men were gross actually but Superboy seems kind of OK so she should do the whole kissing and dating thing now right? So she goes all the way to Kansas to try it out and then they fight a rock monster and she's like "Hang on a second I think I'm just lonely and looking for a friend since I lost Steph. I don't think I have any romantic feelings for you at all actually." and they agree to be friends and it's a happy ending and she doesn't for one second analyze the fact that losing her relationship with Stephanie made her want to replace it with a romantic partner.

And then when Steph dies Cass monologues to us about what the funeral was like and says how Steph was her first friend while everyone else is more like family and "Stephanie was... I uh. I can't talk about her now. Is that normal?" (which yes is perfectly normal grief but also the confusion about what exactly separates Steph from the rest of the batfamily and makes her Cass's "first friend" is Something). She then goes on to fantasize twice about Steph swooping in to save her and carrying her away from danger while she's dying. The second time Steph literally bridal carries her in her arms.

Cass will ignore all of this of course and then go on to pat herself on the back when a normal civilian man asks her out for coffee. She declines obviously because she's too busy superheroing but the fact that he asked means she's getting an A+ in the social skills submodule of Romance. She never needs to say yes to any of these of course just the fact that they like her means she's doing a good job and that's all she needs! Anyways time to stare into Steph's eyes and analyze every aspect of what she sees there. As besties.

#dc #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #stephcass #dc rambles

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roanniom · 2 years

Note

being bold and deciding to make the first move by kissing his rings before you push his hand up your skirt 🤭

Distracted

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

You're a friend of Robin's whose been in his world peripherally for a while. Like you've gone to the same parties and you've hung out at Family Video and seen him when he brought the teens in to see Steve after Hellfire sessions. You've only hung out in groups and your conversations, though extremely flirty, have been pretty surface level.

But you've got a thing for the quirky metalhead. Not only is he a fucking babe, but he also seems genuinely sweet and is very funny. When you bring this up to Robin, however, you aren't prepared for how she lights up, telling you that Eddie's been asking about you, too. Ever the matchmaker, Robin pushes you into a plot that makes it so that you and Eddie end up alone at his place on a Saturday night (initial group plans are bailed on last minute by all the teens who were threatened within an inch of their life not to actually show up).

Eddie seems unfazed by this turn of events and takes it in stride, cracking open a six pack for the two of you to share and throwing on a horror movie.

"If you want to bail, too, that's cool," he lets you know, even as you plop down beside him on the couch, beer in hand. He's got a self-deprecating smile on his face. "I'm sure hanging out alone with the town freak wasn't exactly on your agenda this week."

"Don't presume to know my agenda, Munson," you tsk, feigning a frown that is already curling around the edges into the smile you can't suppress. "You know how type A I am. I won't have you questioning my to-do list."

You apply the innuendo lightly, but the way his eyebrow quirks lets you know that it lands as you'd intended. Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth while appraising you.

"I wouldn't dare get in the way of your efficiency, sweetheart." There's a dare in his eyes, but you lean back against the couch and watch him over the top of your bottle as you take a sip. You've got time.

As the night goes on, the two of you drink and laugh and tease one another. One movie ends and he puts on the sequel immediately. Some slasher where kids are running around screaming in the woods. The two of you discuss what your own strategy would be if you found yourselves in a similar situation. At this point, you're feeling loose and floaty - combination of the alcohol and the sound of Eddie's laughter. It's got bubbles fizzing in your bloodstream. Your bodies have shifted closer on the couch as time has gone on, and as he emphatically describes something, his hand comes down to press onto your knee. Seemingly just as a matter of emphasis and to ground your attention in his point, but you notice that his hand doesn't lift up when he finishes his monologue.

A thrill of possessive pleasure runs through your body at the realization.

"You know, you'd probably die somewhere around the halfway point of the movie," you challenge suddenly and Eddie's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry, princess, but what?!"

"You know because you're all..." you gesture to his body. The denim vest he's still wearing over his band tee even though he's relaxing at home. The tattoos. The heavy rings on the hand that's still resting on your knee. His fingers flex against your skin when you point at them.

"I'm a badass, you mean? What about my badassery makes you think I'm dying at all?"

"The cool guys always die at the midpoint," you argue. "They get distracted having sex with the hot girls and that's when the killer guts them." Exactly as you say this, as if the universe is trying to bolster your argument, a young man on screen is stabbed through the back mid-thrust, falling down bloody upon his shrieking lover. You glance away from the screen and back at Eddie with a satisfied smirk. "Case in point."

"All I got from that is the fact you think I'm cool," Eddie says with a smug smirk. You roll your eyes at him but shift a bit closer.

"I also said you'd die fucking a bimbo."

"No, you said I'd die fucking a hot girl," he corrects, also shifting infinitesimally closer.

"Oh, so you were listening," you tease. Your hand rests on top of his hand on your knee and you start fiddling with his rings.

"Yeah, and I guess that means you should be concerned," he says flippantly, his fingers splaying out on your knee so that yours have more space to move between them. You're now distracted by the attention you're focusing on his hand.

"Why should I be concerned?"

"Because the hot girl getting fucked by the cool guy dies next," he says, nodding his head towards the tv you had all but forgotten about just as a young woman running topless through the woods, her breasts swinging and covered in her dead boyfriend's blood, is cut down by the killer. You both laugh.

"All I got from that is the fact you think I'm hot," you say turning back to him and mimicking his prior comment. His face lights up with a grin.

"Guilty as charged, sweetheart."

The moment feels right. The electricity between the two of you is palpable and you lift his hand up off your knee and towards your lips.

"They only get got, though, because they get distracted," you posit, pressing a kiss to each of Eddie's rings. His eyes are trained on your lips, his own parted to let his suddenly shallow breathing pass through. "Do you think you could keep from getting distracted?"

"Uh...yeah," Eddie says, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Yeah I'm sure I could stay focused. Vigilant."

"Oh yeah?" you ask, smiling at how he's already so distracted. Suddenly you're lowering his hand and bringing it to the top of your thigh, right at the hem of your skirt. He takes a sharp inhale. "What's that? Losing focus?"

"No. Never, sweetheart," he says with a laugh, though it's shaky. Without even losing a beat his fingers flex in your hand, the pad of his thumb caressing at the skin of your thigh that he's never touched till now.

"What about now?" you ask, abruptly pushing his hand up your skirt to rest on your clothed pussy.

Before you can even process the next heartbeat, Eddie is on you. His mouth is capturing yours in a soul searing kiss and you can't help but gasp into him. Taking in his taste and scent all at the same heady time. Your hand abandons his on your mound and you bring your arms up around his neck to pull him as close to you as possible.

"If I die, I fucking die,” Eddie practically growls against your lips. “Distract me, baby.”

You laugh but he dips his head down to nips at your collar bone and it turns into a moan. Eddie’s hand starts rubbing blindly at your slit through your panties and you find your hips moving against his fingers of their own accord.

“Do horror movies turn you on?” Eddie teases. You bite your lip and shake your head, looking him dead in the eye.

“No, you turn me on, Eddie Munson.”

Suddenly you’re being pushed back down against the couch. The abruptness of his manhandling has you squealing and you lock your arms around his neck, being sure to keep him close and bringing him down with you.

His kiss arrests your lips again, his tongue invading your mouth. It’s everything you ever wanted. It’s what you’d imagined each time you’d watched him from the other side of a party or listened to him joking around with your mutual friends.

All of his attention. All of his focus on you.

What you don’t realize is that it’s always been on you. At those parties and those hang outs, as much as you’d watched him, he’d been watching you. Learned to love your smile and how quick you were to laugh. Catalogued your stories in the back of his mind as you told them to a riveted audience of all the teens.

He’s finally getting to touch you the way he’s always wanted. And it’s working him up faster than he’d like to admit.

You shift on the couch and it gives him more room to slot his body between your opened thighs. When his hard, denim-covered bulge presses against your thigh, your hips buck, pushing up into the palm which has been applying pressure to your pussy.

“Remember that agenda?” You ask with a tremor in your voice. His hand slips under the elastic of your panties, fingers making direct contacted with your slick core for the first time. You both groan.

“Um…yeah.” He says, shaking his head as if to clear it in order to comprehend your words. The tip of a finger circles your clit before sliding down to push into your hole. You gasp. “Your to-do list.”

“You’re at the top,” you gasp out.

There’s a moment where a Eddie doesn’t react. He’s so focused on pumping his finger in and out of your tight pussy, feeling you around him. Watching your chest rise and fall. But when your words make sense he throws back his head and let’s out a bellowing laugh. His laugh makes you laugh and then you’re shaking in one another’s arms. Trying to calm down. The shared vibrations of your joint hysteria seeming to wreak havoc on all of your nerve endings.

Eddie lunges forward and begins sucking at your neck and the tops of your breasts exposed by your low neckline. Just as he adds another finger to your pussy.

“I can be efficient, too, you know,” he says before worrying your skin between his lips.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you be efficient with your shirt off?” You ask, fingers scrabbling at the hem of the garment. Eddie sits up quickly and yanks the shirt off with unnecessary, theatrical aggression, tossing it away as if it’s offended him. You reach out and trace the tattoos on his chest and he moves to lower himself back over you.

“Mmm, cool guy,” you hum, your fingers passing delicately over his inked skin. Eddie quickly unbuttons your blouse and pulls it open, gazing hungry down at your bra-clad breasts.

“Hot girl,” he responds, pressing his face juvenilely between your tits. You grasp at the hair at the back of his neck and laugh until you feel him beginning to suck on you. Then your hips are rolling into his hand. The hand that’s started to fuck you in earnest. “You look like you’re more distracted than me right now, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll be dying before me after all. That petite mort, huh?”

You’re laughing and gasping all at once. His French accent is atrocious but he’s referencing a conversation you’d had with him and Robin about orgasms the week prior. You hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention since he’d been half in argument with Steve at the time, but now you know otherwise.

“You we’re listening to that? Was - fuck - pretty sure you were focused on whatever Harrington was saying.”

“I’m always focused on you, sweetheart.”

You feel heat creeping through your body as fondness mixes with arousal. You’re impatient and you both push and pull at him all at once.

“Ok I just need you to fuck me, ok? Can we jump to that?”

“Nuh uh, I’m making you cum first.” His thumb presses harder circles into your clit and you cry out. But you shake your head dramatically side to side.

“No I want you inside me now.”

“That’s a bit pushy of you, isn’t it?” Eddie teases, but as he does so he eases his fingers out of you and brings them up to lick off your slick. You’re already unbuckling his belt and pushing down his jeans.

“No, I’m efficient. Type A, remember?” His cock springs free of his boxers and you’re ready to drool. He’s practically edible, and if you weren’t so fucking on the edge right now you’d swallow him while immediately.

“How could I forget,” he responds, voice full of gravel as he grabs his cock and pumps one twice. You lay back against the couch, legs splayed and waiting for him, divesting yourself of your bra and cupping your breasts to keep yourself worked up. “Fuck you’re a pretty picture.”

“Gonna just stare or are you gonna do something, Munson?”

“See? Pushy,” he says, even as he lowers himself on top of you and pushes his tip right into your entrance.

The teasing stops as you both come together with rolling hips and gasping breaths. His thrusts are hard and definitive and you find yourself holding on for dear life. He feels so good and right and heavy and strong and you’re so close so soon.

“Eddie…Jesus Christ I’m…” your eyes are squeezed shut and he kisses your eye lids, paradoxically sweet when juxtaposed with the harsh way he’s pounding into you.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks, and there’s playful mocking in his tone. If you couldn’t feel his muscles shaking, proving he is equally close, you would have felt more shame.

“Y-yeah…gonna cum.” You admit it on a whine. He feels so good and then suddenly his finger is between you, swirling over your clit again.

“Already? I guess that’s efficient of you,” he says and you clench hard when you laugh, making him let out a loud moan.

“Stop - fuck! You can’t clench like that,” he admonishes.

“Stop making me laugh then, asshole,” you say with no bite. He, however, bites your neck and laves his tongue over the skin.

“Mmmm, you’re sexy when you’re mean.”

You’re not sure what does it - his thrusts, his finger on your clit, his teasing - but one moment you’re rolling your hips into his and the next you’re writhing beneath him, cumming harder than you ever have before. You practically black out calling his name, so much so that you don’t even notice when he cums along right after you.

You come back to your senses to find him still inside you, trailing kisses up and down your throat and chest. You take a deep shuddering breath and grip weakly at his back.

“You gotta get up,” you say, pushing weakly at him with not intent behind the motion. Eddie shakes his head and buries it into your neck.

“Never.”

“I gotta get up and cross you off my checklist.” You tease with a breathless laugh which he returns.

“You can’t. We were so distracted the killer got us. We’re dead, remember?” His grin is so wide one of your trembling hands lifts automatically to trace his dimples.

“Fuck. The downside to being cool and hot is pretty disproportionate to the upside.”

“Speak for yourself,” he snorts, letting his hand come up to cup your jaw. “I’m staring at a pretty big upside.”

~*~

Tiny tag list (will come back later and add more people): @sacklerscumrag @theoncrayjoy @millenialcatlady @xxcatrenxx @cowboy-kylo

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson Drabble #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader

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thestoryofusstan · 3 months

Text

Sweet Creature

harry styles masterlist

pairing: kinda dark!harry styles x reader

summary: harry’s mother finds a girl on the side of the street one day while harry’s away. he hears about her for months, until he finally decides to see for himself. expecting her to be an undercover rat, he is surprised to find a girl more similar to a deer in headlights.

warning: kinda dark harry kinda alludes to him doing illegal, mafia type stuff but it isn’t specified. third person writing instead of second, READER DOESN’T USE HER REAL NAME!!! she will eventually just not yet.

—

harry had been hearing about some girl non-stop. by who, you may ask?

his mother.

his sweet, kind mother somehow found a girl who was living on the streets, took her in (gave her his room!), and is obsessed with her.

“oh, harry, she’s just the sweetest! gemma says she’s like a kicked puppy, but she’s just so sweet. this morning, i woke up, and she’d cleaned the whole house! and i asked her why, because i obviously didn’t tell her to, and she said she figured she should. you’d love her. proper sweetheart.”

and honestly, it was sweet. he probably would like her if he wasn’t the way he is. because the way he is, he thinks it’s a trap. he thinks she was never really living on the streets, and it’s a ploy. someone found his family and is trying to ruin it.

but, of course, he’d never let his mother know of the way he actually is and thinks, or what he does for a living.

“she sounds lovely, mum. what did you say her name was?”

“she says it’s belle. she’s always singing some french song. i think she lived in france before she got here.. i’m not sure. she isn’t very talkative.”

“she got an accent?”

“a little bit of everything, hazza. when will you come visit? i think you have to be the one to tell her that your room is hers now. she keeps saying ‘harry’s room’ and ‘your son’s room’. i feel horrible!”

“she’s probably just weary mum. if she was on the streets before, she probably just doesn’t want to jinx it.”

“you’re right.. gosh, she won’t even let gemma and i buy her things. she just borrows gemma’s clothes and apologizes a bunch for it. i’m not sure what to do.”

“i’ll come visit soon.”

—

and he did. a surprise visit in the middle of the night, because he was convinced he’s find this belle girl doing shady things .

except when he snuck in the front door, the house was quiet.

alright, he supposes, she’s stealthy.

so he goes upstairs and quietly opens his bedroom door.

and that’s when it’s a little louder. a girl is twisted and turning and mumbling in her sleep on his bed.

all she is saying, from what he can hear, is no. no, no, no, no, no. please, no.

and he feels a little bad, so he walks over to tap her. when that doesn’t work, he shakes her.

her eyes snap open and she has probably the worst reaction possible in this situation.

she fucking screams. like a goddamn banshee.

and sure, it lasts for maybe five seconds, probably four, but she definitely woke his mother up. and it’s so loud, he backs up to the doorway.

gemma was probably still passed out. she would sleep through the world ending.

“hey! it’s just me, calm down!”

she squinted at him through the darkness before yanking the chain on the lamp, turning it on.

he could hear her practically hyperventilating from the doorway.

she let out a sigh of relief when she recognized him from the photos in the living room.

“you really are jumpy, huh?”

“i woke up to a random man hovering over me,” she deadpans.

he almost laughs.

“it’s my room.”

and it’s like a fucking switch. her breaths are staggered and labored, but she still rushes out a whole ass monologue. kicked puppy, indeed.

“oh, my god. i am so sorry. i forgot. i can— i can take the couch— you probably want to sleep in your bed. i’m sorry, anne didn’t say you were coming by or else i would’ve cleaned up—“

the room is spotless, probably cleaner than when he stays in it, but harry doesn’t say that.

“i’ll just.. grab my blanket and stuff and go to the couch. i’m so sorry, i didn’t know—“

“relax,” he finally says. “i knew you’d be in here. i was just.. grabbing a pillow. didn’t realize mum was serious about you being jumpy.”

“oh.. uh.. are you sure? i can take the couch—“

“belle— belle, right?” she nods. “go back to bed. i have slept on plenty of couches. i will survive.”

“i feel bad.”

“well, don’t.”

he should feel bad. she is very clearly not dangerous unless she is a phenomenal actress.

“you’re not mad, are you? because i can sleep on the couch—“

“jesus, are y’gonna cry?”

“i can’t help it! i’m sorry!—“

“what on earth is going on— harry! what did you do!” anne asked as she rushed through the doorway, moving to sit next to belle.

“i didn’t do anything!” he defends.

“he didn’t do anything, anne,” she repeats. “just.. frightened me, is all.”

anne gives her a look before pulling her into a hug, and she just flips another switch and instead of watering eyes, she sobs.

who the hell is her acting coach? maybe he could take a few lessons.

“h, go get her a cuppa.. and there’s those baby yogurt melts in the cupboard.”

he doesn’t comment on the fact that belle is at the very least 19, and probably shouldn’t be eating baby food.

—

the next morning, belle made her way downstairs quietly. she was surprised to see harry making a cup of tea this early, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his peace.

she adjusted her earbuds in her ear (anne offered to buy her better ones, airpods or something, but she was fine with her earbuds, even if the wire was a pain in the ass), so they didn’t fall out as she walked.

once she made it into the kitchen, she walked into the pantry, grabbing some random granola bar.

when she turned, she jumped. harry was right behind her. well, in front of her now.

“sorry,” she mumbled, moving out of his way.

he muttered something she didn’t understand.

“um.. sorry about.. last night. i’m kind of jumpy.”

“i noticed.”

he was very short. he didn’t seem to like her much.

“you can.. uh.. take your.. room back.. if you want.”

“it’s yours. i’m fine.”

“are you—“

“i’m sure.”

rude. why was he so rude? what had she done to him? well, besides scream at him, but in her defense, he was just hovering over her! that’s weird!

—

harry still didn’t trust her after a week of being there. she kept to herself for the most part, although he was pretty sure he heard her and gemma giggling in the middle of the night.

he just couldn’t figure out who sent her. why she was here.

his mother explained her freakout when he showed up eventually.

“you gotta be careful with her, h. she’s like.. a bunny, in a way. if you aren’t careful in how you approach her and speak to her, she bolts. first day she was here, i asked her what happened, because she had this horrible cut on her cheek. locked herself in your room for a week. i think whatever put her on the streets is a sensitive topic, and was difficult for her.”

“i jus’ dunno if i trust her, mum.”

“well, i do. she’s sweet, she just needs to warm up to you. she warmed up to me and gemma after about a week or two.. and she’s been more jumpy when gem brings michael around. so.. she might just need a minute.”

“the whole thing just seems.. shady.”

“she’ll tell us when she’s ready. and until then, you’ll make her feel welcomed. speaking of, i’m gonna go wash her clothes. poor girl won’t let us buy her anything. she just has these same clothes she had and a few things gemma convinced her to use.”

—

a/n: little thing i wrote on a plane, part 2 soon-ish maybe

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry imagine #harry oneshot #harry fic #harry #styles #harry and belle #sweet creature series

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aspoetssay · 1 year

Text

DOMESTIC COD CHARACTERS X GN!READER HEADCANONS alejandro, ghost, soap, price, valeria, rodolfo, könig, gaz

This comes from a request of an anon from my main account. Thank you so much for the request, anon! I thought that it was such a good idea that most of the characters deserve to have a few paragraphs! I hope you will like it!

warnings: curse words and tooth-rotting fluff.

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

Lazy Sundays are a must. As much as he is a passionate man, who loves to go exploring—sometimes the warmth of the bed and you make him feel so lazy. That man will whine, protest and create chaos if you’ll refuse to stay with him in bed and do nothing. A planned lunch with friends? Cancel it. In need of groceries? You’ll get order something. Just stay in bed with him if you don’t want to be suffocated in his arms.

Loves to prepare food but likes it too spicy. You can handle spice—but that man could easily get on the Hot Ones and not even shed a tear. For him, the seasoning is chilli peppers. The way you have to watch him like a hawk and force him not to put more spice into the stew - your doctor is already concerned about your health after you ate some stew he made—you almost ended up in the ER.

Loves it when you prepare him food. Yes, it’s not enough spicy for him, but he admires the variety of cuisines you can make. He won’t admit it, but the ravioli you make with mushrooms are to die for.

He isn’t much of a sweets-eating guy, but an occasional muffin goes well with a cup of coffee. His favourite are the triple chocolate muffins and once he almost burnt his hands because he tried to take the trays out of oven without the mittens. Your look was enough to scold him without any words being said.

Enjoys cuddling way too much. If you two are spending the evening together and watching a movie, you better know there isn’t any personal space between you two. Just try to scoot away from him. That man will give you the most hurt look you have ever seen, ready to give you the most dramatic monologue in Spanish that you don’t like him. His love language is touch—please be kind enough to kiss his insecurities away.

Has a garden in the backyard. Absolutely loves to grow his own vegetables and loves it when you are helping him. It’s the most domestic thing he does with you and it always makes him feel better. It puts his mind off the horrors he has to deal with in his job and just focuses on nourishing and growing something. A plus side for you—that man works in the garden without his shirt. And maybe that’s the reason why you’re so eager to help him.

Always will make you a warm bath when you are stressed. He isn’t the type of guy to threaten to hurt someone for making you stressed. He will more likely make sure you will feel better—a warm bath, fuzzy socks, a cup of tea and a cupcake. When it’s hard - he’ll listen to you, knowing just when and what to say to make you feel understood and better.

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

That man is the definition of domestic. No mask around you, not a scent of gunpowder - nothing. When he is off the missions and with you - he is a different man. Not Lieutenant Ghost, but your Simon.

He really values quality time. Doing nothing with you, just being in the same room with you is relaxing. You couldn’t count how many times he has passed out into an hour-long nap just from how relaxed he was in your presence. He’d always wake up from a loud snore he’d produce, catching your giggle.

Not a very good cook, but he knows a few easy recipes that are divine. Somehow he manages to make an omelette so good that no other omelette compares—what the hell is he putting in there? In addition, he makes a hell of a good tea. It’s one of his love languages to just randomly get you a nice cup of tea without any words exchanged. Yet you know that the cup of warm liquid is his way of saying he loves you.

Loves working out with you. Especially after you two turned your garage into a working-out space. He was always very reserved and closed-up while working out because he usually did it among other soldiers, but with you it is fun! The way he puts you on his back when he is doing push-ups. The way he is looking at your ass without the care in the world when you are doing squats, just waiting to get his hands on your bum. When he’s working with you, he never wears a shirt—he loves seeing you getting distracted in your reps because he just flexed his muscles.

Enjoys reading anything. Some bullshit newspaper with dumb articles? He’s on it just so he could grumble like an old man that it was bullshit. Some gossip magazine you were reading? Hear him display annoyance over the Kardashian names. He loves reading Greek Mythology—it’s not complicated for him and he likes the way the hexameter flows in his mind. You could swear you heard him one night crying about Patroclus’ death, but you never mentioned it—

Big about back hugs. You making lunch? Back hug. You doing your skincare routine? His hands are around you and he is secretly waiting to be pampered as well. Only because of you he has a whole ass skincare routine because you were absolutely aghast once you heard that he washed his face a few times with dish soap.

Be sure that he loves cuddling. He’s very touch-starved and he needs reassurance about that. Can absolutely die when you kiss the top of his head or his forehead. Once, you scratched just the right spot on his scalp and you heard him purr—he gave you the look right there and then that if you’ll say a word - you’ll regret it. But you just continued scratching the spot and you confronted him later on—

Remember the way he loves taking naps? He loves napping with you even more! Especially when you are laying on him, already passed out. Once, he accidentally turned over in his sleep and squished you almost to death—it took quite some time for him to wake up and move away from you as you were just about to die. From then on, he’s always been a bit on guard while napping with you, but you always soothed him enough for him to drift off completely.

Not a fan of taking pictures, but you already have quite the collection in your drawer. Once you showed all of them, blabbering how perfect he looks and that was the first time you saw Simon flush. He was so overwhelmed with the compliments that he couldn’t handle them anymore. Grumbles and mumbles followed as he stormed out of the room and you were horribly sad that you didn’t have a camera back there to take a picture of his rosy cheeks.

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

Domestic Soap is a rare sight since he is quite the traveller and the chatter. He enjoys taking strolls with you, sightseeing, and travelling, but occasional evenings at home, doing nothing, are refreshing.

He loves to draw. He enjoys nothing more than sketching you when your attention is off to somewhere else - you always get too shy and too giddy when you notice that he is drawing you, so he does it secretly.

Once he gifted you a small sketchbook of sketches full of him and you. You started tearing up and he got seriously terrified—was he that bad at drawing? But once you clung onto his neck and expressed how talented he was, he was the one gulping down the tears. After that, you asked him to teach you how to draw—but then you quickly agreed that he should be the one sticking to it.

He is handy! Anything that needs to be fixed or changed will be done immediately. You don’t have to worry about flickering lights or getting new furniture since he can do it all himself! Yes, he does watch some tutorials on how to do something, but your garage is quickly filled with tons of tools and necessities for the household.

Shower time alone—what is that? You can be sure that once you even think about going to shower, that man will be already ready at the bathroom door. Once you were feeling too shy so you locked the door and he was whining like a lost puppy on the other side of the door. There was nothing more he loved than when you washed his Mohawk—even if he might seem like the 3in1 type of guy, he maintains a whole ass routine for his hair. You, taking care of it, means he trusts you.

Loves to watch reality shows with you. A little bit too invested in Too Hot To Handle, but he keeps on showing his concern when they keep breaking the rules. You always shut him up by asking if he’d manage to keep his hands off you, but he always says it is too different. And he boasts that his favourite couple always wins the money.

A big sucker for family celebrations. Can’t wait for Christmas or birthdays to gather with your or his family. He’s the type of person to make lame jokes around, but everyone loves him. He really is the star of any celebration except when it is another’s birthday. But most of it all, he loves to show you off to his family and friends. Can’t stop talking about you or giving you sweet looks. Couldn’t count on your fingers how many pictures you have where some aunty took a photo of you two—you laughing at his joke and him giving you heart eyes.

JOHN PRICE

Just like Simon, John is the definition of domestic as well. He loves having lazy mornings and lazy evenings as long as you are with him. If you tiptoe into the terrace while he is having his morning cigar and hug him from behind, that man will swoon instantly.

The one to bring you breakfast to your bed. He’s quite good at cooking and always surprises you with either an English Breakfast or something sweeter with a cup of tea of your liking. The presentation on the tray is always on spot—can do fabulous hearts on pancakes with Nutella.

Lets you take care of his beard. Now, listen—you see how well he takes care of his beard? It’s really important for him. You always eagerly help him to shave or to shape the beard, especially in the spots he can’t really see himself. There is just something about the way you sit on the bathroom counter, gently trimming his beard just the way he taught you.

Big on silly board games. Will absolutely crush you at Monopoly and Alias. Don’t even talk about any card games, because he might seem like he is an old man, but he quickly learns the rules and then no one can beat him. Every game night ends with you frowning and getting mad at him and him smugly saying that he will make it up to you.

Loves reading to you. Loves reading overall, but doesn’t spend much time doing so. That’s why, whenever you get on the couch into his arms with his book in your hand, he always smiles so widely that his cheeks start to burn. And when you admitted that his voice is the most pleasant thing you have ever heard—you can be sure that he will never deny your request to read for you out loud.

Big on dancing with you. Creating that cosy evening atmosphere when it is dark outside. When a stupid show is on the TV and he already goes to the Home Stereo and puts on some old, slow music, extending his hand to you. Either looking into your face or burying his nose into the crook of your neck while dancing—he just loves holding you close. Loves the way you giggle when he spins you around. Loves the way you wrap your arms around his neck and look him in the eyes.

Has a ridiculous amount of bucket hats. If it was up to him, he’d walk around the house you two share in them. But due to your protests, he only wears them outside. However, when you two are travelling and you put on his bucket hat to hide from the sunlight—that man is gone. Wherever you two are, you better hope your house or a hotel is close because he needs to show how much he loves you when you are wearing his hats.

VALERIA GARZA

It’s hard having Valeria over only for yourself. She is always not home. Always somewhere out there. Doing her business. Keeping you as far away from it as possible.

But some mornings, you would wake to find her all cuddled up to you—normally, Valeria would never admit that she loves cuddling up to you or being held by you. It was as if she always had to be on her guard, always to be superior and not show that she was quite fragile on the inside.

The way she would hum in pure ecstasy when you would pull her closer, gently stroke her hair because she knew well you won’t use the fact that she is without her guard against her.

You were the only person she shared her true smile with. No devilish grin, no mocking smiles—the first time you saw her truly smiling and her nose slightly scrunching - you were absolutely in heaven. You remember the way she absolutely demolished the pancakes you made one breakfast and the syrup was left around her mouth for you to kiss away. That’s when you received a smile from her and you knew it was only for you.

A big fan of your thighs. If you are sitting on the couch, watching TV, you better be sure that Valeria will lay her head on your thighs. You better put your hands to work and stroke her hair—make her time worth it.

Big on forehead kisses—there are countless forehead kisses you didn’t know about since she left in the middle of the night. She’d tuck you in, gently wrap herself away from your arms and kiss your forehead as if it was a butterfly’s touch. She’d admire you for a second—you were so beautiful.

Since she wasn’t home often, sometimes when she would come back - she’d find you waiting for her, drinking tea, doing some work on your laptop. She’d never specify when she is coming back, but it was as if you had a sixth sense for when she will come home. You better be sure that when she sees you late in the night, she will give you a kiss that will sweep you off your feet.

A whole different story is when you are sick. There wasn’t a time when you were sick and she wasn’t home. She was home all the time to take care of you. She’d spend restless nights just to make sure you were breathing and didn’t need something else. Your health was her priority - she couldn’t lose you.

At moments like these, she’d even show off her amazing cooking skills that only a sick state of you is allowed to see. She’d make you her grandmother’s stew which would make you feel better instantly, but you may or may not pretend to be sick just a tad bit longer so she would be beside you.

RODOLFO PARRA

This man does everything with you. He’s really big at doing chores together. Not only does he find that it’s far more efficient this way, but you two always make it far more fun than just swiping the dust—yes, the little dance breaks are a must.

Loves cooking with you. Anything really. Can be the sous-chef or can be the one giving you orders on what to do. It depends on which recipe you are making that day—if it’s yours, he will obey doing everything and if it’s his - he’ll let you do the easiest tasks because he doesn’t want to overwork you.

Definitely the golden retriever type of man so be prepared for his beautiful puppy eyes. He knows his power and he uses it against you. Just try to tell him no and face the way the consequences hit you on their own.

Always lets you have the last piece—I’m talking about anything. Last slice of pizza? It’s yours! Last piece of brownie? He’s already pushing it towards you. Last teabag of your favourite tea? Yours, yours and yours.

Really really big on hugs. Bear hugs precisely. Loves it when he can bury his nose into your neck and slightly squeeze you with his arms. The way your body fits in his always amazes him and he just can’t get enough of your warmth.

Always notices any changes you had. Went to the hairdresser? He will notice the one centimetre gone of your split ends. Changed your routine in makeup? Notices that you haven’t used that kind of eyeshadow before. Has all of the brands you used memorised and knows which product does what. Hell, he sometimes does your skincare or makeup for you.

Oddly good at handcrafting. If you are quite handsy with knitting, crocheting or sewing and you decide to show him how to do it, just know that he will quickly get the hang of it. He will even enjoy it and will never be ashamed to admit it. He thinks it’s amazing that you can create something with your hands and most of your gifts to each other quickly become something you two have made yourself.

KÖNIG

Domestic time with you means so much to him. Social anxiety can drain his energy and domestic time revives him. That doesn’t mean that you two don’t go out to have dinner or to watch a movie in the cinema, he just prefers to be home a bit more.

That man is a sucker for any romantic comedy. He will cry and laugh at any cliches and rewatch all of his favourite movies with you. If the couple is dancing in the rain, best know that he’s already looking at you with those eyes meaning that when it’ll rain - you two will be outside. Watching movies with you is relaxing - he knows you won’t judge the fact that he really isn’t into action or horror movies. His job puts him through enough. So romcom it is!

If you can sing or play any instrument, he’ll always listen to you do it. It’s very calming to him—hearing you practice, playing the chords wrong or hitting the wrong note always makes him smile. It feels refreshing to see you put your mind and soul into something so beautiful. Secretly, he takes some videos of you playing for him because he knows for sure that if you’d know he was filming you - you would stop playing.

Big on giving you massages. That man would do anything to get his hands on you, honestly… He enjoys the way you lean back to him when he gently kneads your shoulder blades. Please return the favor! If you want to put the giant man on his knees, a few gentle strokes down his back and he’s purring for you.

Really likes to colour with you those mandala colouring books. It might have seem silly at first, but you two are seated in the living room, only candlelight on the table as you two are colouring—one page for you and the other one for him. He always whines that he’s not able to choose the right colours, but always ends up with the most beautiful colour combinations making you rage out at him and poke his ribs. That man tends to doubt himself—praise him.

Likes to cocoon you into blankets and carry you around. No matter your protests, he will do whatever he pleases with you. Most of the time you just end up being placed on him during a movie, his lips buried at the top of your head and giving you small kisses.

If you take care of him of his fresh wounds, he will be very thankful for you. He never wants to make you worry, but with his size on the battlefield, he sometimes gets clumsy from the adrenaline overload. He appreciates how soft you are tending to him, placing kisses over scars and new bruises. Of course, after that, he receives a flick on his forehead from making you worry.

Big on asking random questions in the middle of the night. Just as you are about to fall asleep, comfortably wrapped in his arms, he’ll hit you with: “How many stomachs do cows have again?” The question makes you groan: “Four, my love, please sleep.” But that never shuts him up—then he will be concerned about the fact that you know the answer, and then he will google it and see some pictures that will traumatise him.

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

Loves to play video games with you. Yes, he is competitive most of the time, but if you are playing somewhere you two are in a team against others—you better know that he’ll protect you even in the game and praise you when you do a perfect headshot.

Despite him being a very outgoing partner, he sometimes needs quiet days. You know exactly when to give him his space and when to approach him with a cup of tea. He really appreciates the way you can read him as an open book.

Once you gifted him a huge set of Lego - Hogwarts edition and you saw his eyes sparkle like two shiny stars. He was seated all night putting it together and when he was finished, he was waking you up at four in the morning, getting you to the living room where the glory of his was standing. You swore you never have seen him smile like that.

Making sweets with him is quite frustrating. Because in 9 of 10 cases you end up with clothes dusted in flour or chocolate running down your nose—he’s playful. He’d do anything to make you squeal or laugh from the bottom of your heart. As an act of revenge, you always eat the last piece of cake you two have made together right in front of his face. Especially when he is already reaching for it.

Big on taking naps at a random time of the day—before going to sleep, he will kick up his legs on the coffee table and snooze out for ten minutes before joining you in bed. Likes it, even more, when you are the one to wake him up, but that ends up with you being on his lap, his lips peppering your body with small kisses while he is gently tickling you.

4K notes · View notes

comfortless · 3 months

Note

so. please consider: König is a prince (yeah we aren’t going full king this route, maybe he has an older brother or some complications having the throne to himself but either way he has some power just not all of it lol) and reader is part of a performing troupe that usually acts out plays outside of the castle. he goes out to watch them and becomes so desperate for her that he gets /her/ to perform as /him/ when the plays are about his heroic deeds or whatever.

i have had this idea stuck in my head for days and i just know you can bring it to life 🩵

the evil little König in my head took over. no one look at me. 🥩🏰

prince!König x fem reader.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. dubcon. mentions of adultery (not committed by reader or König), corruption kink (virgin!König), cunnilingus, light roleplay, scent & praise kink, smut (piv), reader is kind of evil here (König still manages to be worse), allusions to abduction.

“You are certainly lovelier than my wife, the Queen!”

He had his sword drawn, not high enough to elicit panic, but just enough to know that yes, there was a very present threat. This could be a bloodbath in an instant. Speak another word — he won’t refrain. He feels his teeth grit, grating, ash in the mouth and in the air.

The actors are unaware where they are stood on stage, and the mass of bodies surrounding barely take note of their Prince. A phantom. Loathed thing that he has always been. More hated than even their lecherous, stupid king. There’s only one thing he’s good for and it’s never been politics; there’s no need to garner up public appeal when your stage is a foreign field littered with blood and corpses.

Another insult to his poor mother and the city could be one too.

From a small wooden booth acting as a prop depiction of a brothel, steps a woman. Barefoot, bare flesh, the only thing she wears is a breast band and a loincloth of finely stitched lace. She isn’t a whore, not in truth, but she looks the part of the women his men rush to the second they’ve returned home. Ale and sex in abundance, and he’s never had the focus for the latter after a round of the former.

He watches as she sways, draws her hand to her forehead and bats her lashes while her other trails up her thigh to the hem of the piece concealing her womanhood. She stops with a laugh, turns to the crowd with sparkling eyes and says, “You lot should not cheer! The Queen surely deserves better than a womanizing fool!”

König’s never been one for plays, how tactlessly they slander the royal family and make jest of current affairs. This troupe, though… he thinks it’s done in taste. Or maybe it’s just her.

Even as the aging performer with his weathered face and messy gray beard acting the part of his father rushes to the pretty thing on stage and paws at her waist, König can not tear his eyes away.

The scene reaches its end when the brothel is burned, enacting something horrible the king had done several springs ago. Bereaved, the woman returns to the stage and bares her breasts, monologuing so sweetly as she feigns tears for her fallen sisters.

König swears to be nothing like his father but he still finds his trousers fitting more tightly at the sight, not foul enough to touch himself here, if ever at all. His heart aches with each fragile word spilled from those plush lips, and his cock demands further engagement with each gentle sway of her body and heave of her round tits.

His sword slots back into place at his hip when the scene comes to an end: the crowd a storm of laughter, the fire of the torches illuminating the street flickering, the actors dissipate behind the wooden stage, and all at once the play is over.

Tactless and impulsive, he thinks to thank her for not furthering the set-up for a joke, looks the part of a proper fool when he makes his way backstage where she’s sat wiping away carmine from her cheeks. The actress’ eyes go wide and hazy when she catches sight of him towering over her, the cloth and mirror slipping from her hands to rest on the table.

Of course, she takes it as a warning, asks him if he would prefer they only act out the current affairs— the recent siege of the southern kingdom, maybe? Or a story about the harvest festival? The gods or beasts? Anything she can sputter out to the man she easily recognizes as being the Prince.

König only finds himself further endeared when she dips her head as if ashamed and moves to conceal the bare skin of her stomach as though it would be insulting to see her in such a state of undress.

He excitedly tells her about the siege, of how he slaughtered those treasonous men and so valiantly brought their women and children to the capital to live much more honest lives, boasting while she looks on in acute, wonderous horror. That’s what he chooses, even pulls his hood from his face and drops it into her lap when he tells her she has to play his part.

The actress explains to him, docile and sweet, that she’s never played a male role and certainly lacks the stature to accurately represent him of all people. To which, he laughs, bids her a farewell with a flick of his wrist and wanders back out into the cobblestone and muck to finish up his patrol of the city.

A fortnight later, she returns to the stage in hastily put on armors, his veil hanging proudly about her head, a wooden sword clasped tightly in her hands. The crowd watching laughs at her expense as she tries in earnest to perfect the way she imagined his sword must have danced during that siege. The male actors fall with each tap of the weapon’s tip, and her voice takes on a forced, deeper tone when she speaks her praises to the kingdom she’s pilfered glory for.

König only sees fire, not in the flames of torches but lain out before him, a heat that courses from the picture of this beautiful little doe on stage straight down to simmer in his chest, his stomach. She’s so cute, pretending and doing her best just to appease him that he finds himself backstage again once the play concludes.

It’s just to talk, to congratulate her on a wonderful performance. He even presents a hefty sack of gold coins to her when she returns his veil, and she marvels at the donation, takes each piece and turns it in her fingers for a time before setting the little bag on the table.

Her brow scrunches for a moment before she settles on offering her hand out to him, fingertips ghosting over his upper thigh, loitering on the armor shell protecting him and drifting further up until he takes her hand and interlocks their fingers. Surely then, the actress comes to realize that her prince is as pure as the sisters in their temples.

She breathes out a laugh and shakes her head.

“I mean to pleasure you, my Prince,” she says, less meek now and more insisting. Her hand draws back to remove the prop armor from her body, eyes never leaving his own.

Though he considers the woman’s offer heavily, pulse stampeding and heart aching, he does eventually will himself to voice a weak refusal.

Never does he keep himself holed away from her for long, even after; König returns for each play whilst his men go about patrolling the city for prowlers and thieves. He watches each performance and continuously seeks her out backstage after. They talk each time, with him offering his suggestions and her clamoring for excuses as to why, no, she isn’t fit to play his role for another fight or some drab court meeting.

Finally, the same song and dance proves too much.

This night, there is no play and König still finds himself in the room cluttered with set pieces and props. The other actors have gone about seeking their own affairs for the evening; bedsides to coax comfort from or mugs of ale and bowls of bone to drown themselves in whilst gambling away the coins the hungering crowd has thrown their way.

She sits with him, perched up on her little table wearing nothing at all. Her skin is lit aglow by candlelight, the incense burning bathing all in the welcoming, warm comfort of lavender and rosemary. There’s ash in his chest again when he finds himself at her side, already aching with a want that should not exist, one that he would deny in full with bared teeth and blurry vision.

Only, she doesn’t prompt him with questions when her palms splay flat at the chest of his tunic, just grins like a wolf given a fat leg of mutton when she feels him begin to tense. She assures him that she’s only teaching him to act after demanding that he kneel, catches his jaw atop her hand and guides his face between her thighs where he then pants and groans at the foreign, enticing scent.

It awakens something in him, something bathed out and buried in blood, the very same that courses through his veins like a violent river now. A feral look and an iron grip on her hips that would leave bruises is all she gets. All until she hisses out the words, “I am your princess and you will do as I ask.”

The first lick is hesitant, clumsy, his stubble grazed over her most sensitive parts as he slips his tongue across the smoothness of her slit. He doesn’t have an idea of what he’s doing, only enacting the vile things he’s heard men about the castle speak of, how to properly take a woman apart and push her to not only want, but to need.

Mostly, she’s unimpressed.

When he gathers her taste on his tongue, he becomes a man possessed, ripped away from duty and sovereignty and brought down to the lowness of mere swine. He groans into her cunt, laps and suckles at anything his tongue and lips can touch, savors the sight, dewy and swollen when he presses a kiss to the bud that finally does get her to purr.

“Sweet boy..,” she coos to him when her hands find his hair, petting him so gently as he continues to lap at her clit. “You’re taking such good care of your princess, yes?”

His mind blanks entirely, driven forward with a renewed, feverish vigor as he dismantles her wholly with a drooling mouth and an unrelenting stare. Rationality should have pulled him away before it ever got to this point; she’s a peasant, and he can’t run amok fathering bastards and condemning himself to Hell for a simple woman. But that’s all beaten back by her taste, the way she writhes in his hold, keeps whispering her praises and lacing those soft fingers through his hair… no amount of devils or men could pry him from her cunt.

Only she does when her voice comes in a pant and her grip tightens to pull him back. The table, his face, all sticky and wet with what must have been her very essence, drawn out by a man lacking experience but so unknowingly eager.

“Take off your clothes,” comes her next demand, one he obliges with a great hesitance.

The tunic is pulled away with shaking hands, the tie of his trousers next. He mutters a curse below his breath when his cock springs free, so erect and angry it looks painful. The tip drools just as much as that fluttering heaven between her legs, pearly beads of preejaculate leaking down to stain the fabric and further condemn him to this impromptu fate.

He jerks when she wraps her hand around him there, whines when she leans forward to kiss its head.

“I can’t…” His voice sounds weak to his own ears, pathetic and miserable as he makes a mock attempt at prying her away with a gentle press to her shoulder. “My princess… we should not.”

He’s almost certain she’s a devil herself sent to exact some punishment upon him when her lips curl up into a grin and she lies back with her knees drawn to her chest. She speaks such words to him then that he would not dare to ever repeat, songs only the unknown could sing. An angel, perhaps, when she slips a finger into herself to demonstrate to him just what should be done… there, with panting breaths and whispers of heaven.

And finally, when his cock throbs and kicks at the sight, all resolve is entirely lost. He positions himself over her where she guides the tip of his manhood to her slit, praises his size when his hips give an involuntary twitch and he slightly dips into her, sampling her warmth and the resistance from something so thick pressing into her.

His world crumbles at the sensation, cobblestone replaced by the raging heat of brimstone and an obscene lust that clouds his mind and leads him to spear her open to his hilt.

He finds holiness in their union, bites back a roar when her walls tremble around him. She only laughs when his teeth find her shoulder, only sings more hymns into his ear as he fucks into her cunt at a reckless, brutal pace. The words don’t register, far-away and distant amidst the roaring tide of sensation. She’s so tight, so wet and yearning, quivering beneath him and clawing down his back.

“We shouldn’t, hm?,” she whispers in his ear, teeth grazing the lobe. His strokes become even sloppier, each thrust stuttered and heady when the sound of her voice pulls through the haze of bliss. “My sweet boy is so good at this, though…”

His voice is nearly a wail when he loses himself fully then. He holds the back of her thighs, fucks himself through an orgasm that leaves his head spinning and his body shaking as though he’s come down with some wretched fever. And perhaps he is ill, because he can’t bring himself to think of anything more than the divine rapture of stuffing his seed into the warmth of her pussy, can’t bring himself to pull his cock out of her even when he begins to soften.

His face is buried against her neck, professing his endless love as he breathes her in and ruts into her over and over until his cock is once again stiffened and drooling inside of the very cunt he would die to keep.

Surely, when her troupe begins to pack to drift further out into the kingdom for their performances to be seen… he could accuse them of slander, have the old man playing the part of the lecherous king executed, the others thrown into rat-infested cells, and the little princess tethered to his bed to warm his heart and his cock.

He will kiss away her tears, tell her that all could be forgiven if she would only let him make an honest woman of her.

#könig x reader #tw: dubcon

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mysicklove · 6 months

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im so normal about gojo, the strongest sorcerer of his time and his wife who's not a sorcerer and works as a ceo of a company that absolutely dominates him on a daily basis.

like yea, gojos over 6 feet tall and he could easily take your life away whenever BUT you're his mommy darling and he couldn't even bring himself to do anything without your approval.

gojo malewife agenda also; busy man that makes breakfast for his ceo wife in the morning, makes her coffee and gets her bag and laptop ready so she doesn't have to lift a finger. you reward him with a pat on the head and a firm kiss before you're out the door and his dick is hard IMMEDIATELY.

you get back home and he's already a the door, kneels to help your heels off and hang your coat in the closet. guides you to the kitchen where dinner is ready, and he's staring at you like 😇 very proud of himself cuz he's been the best boy.

anyway. gojo is the cutest thing I've ever SEEN

i LOVEEEEE this idea oh my.

hes like an overgrown puppy about it too. you have to praise every single detail about his work or else he gets all pouty and lets out the most dramatic sighs ever. and every day when he hears the, "aw satoru, you didnt have to do all this for me. youre so sweet." he gets all giddy and declares that he is the best husband out there.

but you do have a habit of teasing him, grabbing the back of his hair and pressing your mouth to his. he always ends up pinning you to a wall, only thinking, are you staying home? please stay home. dont go, its not worth it. and then you pull away as if nothing was amiss, leaving him with swollen lips and ruffled hair from where you affectionately ruffled his hair. the door shuts and he groans to himself, knowing that he has to jerk off now because of you.

but when you get home he is back at your heels, attending to your every need and staring at you while you eat his (frozen, pre-made) dinner that he just pulled out of the oven. and then he goes off on a tangent on how he cleaned the house, washed the sheets, folded the laundry, and you make sure to praise him accordlingly. but it is gojo, and even if the praise makes his cheeks flush, he was never just satisified with that. so he ends off his little monologue with a, "i do believe earth shattering sex would totally show how greatful you are of your adoring, hard working husband."

#thirsting hours #gojo thirsts <3 #tbh i see the full house husband thing more for nanami #er well he is more that he gets pleasure to serve you #gojo does it bc he wants to hear you coo at him and knows that if he does good he gets sex LOL

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exilethegame · 8 months

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How would the ROs in relationship react if MC accidentally introduces them as their husband/wife/spouse to someone without actually realizing?

Vethna: Just gets the absolute smuggest, most sly grin on their face and stands all proudly like yeah, you know what? I am MC's spouse <3. Probably wraps their arm around MC's and is all doting just because.

They'd bring it up later all coy and be like... "so... remember what you said earlier...?" (Vethna proposing core?)

Nikke: Doesn't realize what MC said until a second later. And then he'd just kinda furrow his brows and go wait a minute... and then wonder if MC actually called him their husband or not. The entire conversation would just be Nikke standing comedically in the background making faces, gaslighting himself into thinking he heard incorrectly. He'd randomly snap back to when someone talks to him directly just to immediately go back to his dramatic ruminating.

Probably overthinks it all day, to be honest. It'd awaken questions in him he never thought about before.

Jost: Would just slowly turn to look at MC, arms crossed, and glare at them like what the fuck did you just say? And if MC is clueless she'd just look all offended like how the hell do you not know? Just generally grumpy, but that's just Jost tbh <3

She'd drop it, though, and no, do not bring it up again.

Amilia: Makes a lil 'o' face and out of her surprise and excitement ends up thwacking MC on the arm without realizing it. Just stares at MC all !!! which would probably make MC realize what they just said...

She'd be very happy about it, though, and it'd likely end up with excited babbling about their relationship while the other person is just forced to stand there, awkwardly.

Sabir: Would have pretty much the same reaction as Vethna, except he'd take it the extra mile of putting his arm around MC and loudly referring to MC as his spouse throughout the conversation just to embarrass them.

"Why, my spouse here was just saying they would love to take a trip to the mountains, isn't that so, my love?"

Just absolutely rubs it into everyone's faces-- probably with a pompous accent just to really bring it home.

Syfyn: Literally dies on the spot. Murdered. Gone. RIP.

On a serious note... it's pretty much just that. She'd go completely still as stone and probably have the same internal monologue as Nikke: what did they just say? Wife? What? Hah-- no way. No... right?

Like, it would reach the point both MC and the other person are like ??? are you okay???

She'd definitely bring it up later and be like "hey, so... uh... what did you mean by that?" (Syfyn's having the "what are we?" conversation in a two year long relationship <3)

Freedom: Just completely goes with it, isn't really fazed much. They'd probably just smile and drape themself over MC as MC says it, looking all content and coy, and never bring attention to it again!

#answered #vethna #nikke #jost #amilia #sabir #syfyn #freedom

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pixiecaps · 7 months

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Heres a portion of Maxo’s ending monologue and some meta commentary.

q!Maxo: And what if I stay? At least they won’t have that planned out. How can I be so stupid? Of course, they know about the bomb. They literally know everything, see everything, its an all seeing eye, of course. They already knew about my plan.. But there’s a plan they don’t know. And it’s that I’m going to stay here. It’s over. Besides, I’m a danger to everybody, I’m turning into a code. I know now that I’m not the only one but at least it’ll be one less, right? It’s the desperation of not being able to do anything against the Federation. They always get away with it, man. They always get what they want. I don’t- I don’t know why I’m even still walking. … They’ve taken my bomb and stolen my idea and now they’re exploding it. They don’t care. At least, we found a way to escape. (Timer runs out)

cc!Maxo: (Closes game) And like that is how he dies. “Are you coming back as a ghost?” As of right now I am not thinking about returning as a ghost. (Plays sad music) Rest in peace qMaxo. Rest in fucking peace. I did all I could chat. I did all I could. … If I had reached the boat I would not have gotten on. I think what I would’ve wanted is to reach the boat, say goodbye to everybody, and die. But I suppose due to the timer the bomb blew up before that could happen. … So I’ve died. That is how it goes. This was the only thing I could do that the Federation could really not control. Killing myself.

cc!Maxo: (When a chatter mentioned the people who didn’t reach the boat) Chat I only know that I’ve died, it’s what I wanted for my lore. That I would’ve stayed there with the atomic bomb. In a fantasy world like the QSMP, of course I could revive, finally turn into a code, or whatever but for the moment all I know is that I’m dead. And I don’t have anything else scripted, from this moment on I’m dead and thats final. Thats the reality, and thats why I’m not… happy because I will for sure miss the QSMP. But since I personally take roleplay very seriously, for me there is no going back. I am dead. I cannot return as cubito Maxo. I can return as a spirit that haunts Roier once in a while, periodically, I could, I could but qMaxo is dead. It’s sad, I’m not super happy because obviously I spent a really great time on QSMP but by my own lore, man, I couldn’t do it any longer. I couldn’t handle returning to Quesadilla Island knowing I couldn’t do anything against the Federation. If I made a fucking atomic bomb and the boss of Purgatory goes and says, “Oh you have an atomic bomb? Okay. In fact, that’s a good idea. Let’s explode it, run to the boat, returning again to the island that you were in, because thats likely what will happen, and you’ll continue suffering.” I can’t do it anymore. I’ve lost Trump, my son, I’ve lost- I no longer trust people who can kill each other amongst themselves, by the lore.

cc!Maxo: The players themselves are super fun people and I’ve had a good time. What makes me feel shame is that, that I can’t roleplay with them anymore. To say it one way or another. Well, there could be things in the future the admins offer but as a player it makes me feel shame. Also, while it is true that recently I hadn’t been logging in a lot, the times I did I had a good time. I did a lot of cool things with these people.

cc!Maxo: I lost SOFIA, I lost.. everything. Everything that I’ve done, every idea that I had thought of for myself and others has been taken by the Federation. … I think that the Federation has so much control that is impossible to do anything against them. And everything you do against them they’ll use to further confuse the people. … For me I will no longer play [as qMaxo] because I am dead, that’s serious to me, I’ve decided my character has died in an explosion. Another thing is that I could occasionally log on as a spirit or something. If they allow me that then great! But if dying means not being able to play on the QSMP anymore then so be it. … This was necessary for the roleplay. … I didn’t die thinking, “Wow I found the answer.” I didn’t want to die because I found any type of answer. I died because of desperation. To say, look man I couldn’t find any answers.

Maxo mentioned it did leave him with a sour taste in his mouth that he didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to everybody since he ran out of time. So a chatter suggested he does canonical pre recording goodbye video to everybody. He said he’d likely consider it and do it so that his character gets the chance to tell the other characters goodbye and that he’s gone.

Rest in peace qMaxo, the original founder of the Theory Bros, and someone who gave his all to escaping the island no matter the cost.

#qsmp #suicide cw

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overthinkinglotr · 1 year

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I was watching LOTR with friends the other day and someone pointed out that a major reason film!Elrond is upset about Arwen being in love with Aragorn is because of Elrond's own broken relationship with Isildur.

In the films Isildur and Elrond are kind of set up as....a broken failed parallel to Aragorn and Arwen?

Arwen reassures Aragorn that "he is Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself," and "is not bound to his fate"-- but Elrond disagrees, confident that Aragorn will be just like Isildur.

Film!Elrond is so certain that trusting in mankind is a mistake that will only lead Arwen to misery because he once trusted in mankind, and the man he trusted ended up failing him. His ally from the line of Elendil ended up falling to the power of the Ring and dying; he believes Aragorn may do the same thing. He doesn't just want to save Arwen's life and keep his daughter by his side; he wants to prevent Arwen from experiencing the same betrayal/heartbreak he experienced. Film!Elrond is very stoic and unsentimental, but there are all these hints at Elrond and Isildur's past relationship throughout the series. Everyone likes to make the joke "why didn't Elrond just toss Isildur into the fire?" but to me the answer is, partially, because he cared about Isildur. They were allies who fought side-by-side. After describing what happened in Mount Doom all those years ago, Elrond tells Gandalf that "It should've ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure." And I think it's interesting that he goes into passive voice for a moment, instead of saying that Isildur specifically allowed to evil to endure--because he's also blaming himself for allowing evil to endure, blaming his own failure to be harsh with Isildur and take the Ring from him by force. He's regretting that he was merciful and didn't "just toss Isildur into the fire."

youtube

His complicated emotions about Isildur also appear again in the Two Towers. After insisting that Arwen needs to give up Aragorn as a lost cause and travel into the West, Elrond has a conversation with Galadriel where she guilt-trips him for abandoning Middle Earth/mankind. When she asks him "do we let them stand alone?" Elrond walks into the study, and spends a long moment looking at his mural of Isildur.

He then, in the film's canon, agrees to send military support to one of Isildur's descendants."I don't care about Isildur anymore, men are weak," Elrond says, standing in front of his elaborate mural of Isildur and his shrine dedicated to Isildur's sword.

And yes this is all, again, a drastic departure from his characterization in the book-- most of the Aragorn-Arwen-Elrond stuff in the films is a drastic departure from the book. The films radically alter their dynamics, including eliminating stuff like Elrond being Aragorn's adopted father and all the "their bloodlines are related" stuff and etc etc etc etc etc. But honestly, now that I see it, this interpretation makes the film!Elrond-Arwen dynamic engaging in a way I hadn't recognized before? In some ways it puts Isildur into the role that Elrond's mortal brother Elros played for him in the books, because Elros is cut from the films entirely. Isildur is the reason film!Elrond knows what it's like to have some kind of close relationship with a mortal and then watch them die. When Elrond angrily speaks about the folly of trusting men, or insists to Arwen that Aragorn "is not coming back" so she should just get over him, he's speaking from experience--he's projecting his own weird failed broken betrayal-ridden Thing with Isildur onto Arwen and Aragorn. And in this context, his hopeless monologue about how Arwen will regret staying by Aragorn's side also feels like it's partially from his own experience. "If Sauron is defeated, and Aragorn is made king, and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality." When he fought three thousand years ago Sauron was defeated, and Isildur did become King, and yet... TL;DR : Film!Elrond had a nasty kind-of breakup with a mortal man 3000 years ago and instead of dealing with it he decided "Men Are trash Weak" and began projecting all of his drama onto Arwen

#overthinkinglotr #lotr #XD #I like book!Elrond better in theory #but to understand elrond better id have to reread the s*lmarillion #sorry #no #X #also Im so glad the films cut all stuff about Aragorn/Arwen/Elrond being related #and all the Elrond being Aragorn's foster father stuff #I don't like it #hot take unpopular opinoin #alskdjfsdf #there are some things i wish the films hadn't cut but those aren't them #Youtube

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the-desilittle-bird · 11 months

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AN- Serving you these sweet preferences is my duty... even though it means failing mathematics test, cause I can't pass it anyway 🤣

Requests are always open and well appreciated!

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

HOTD Preferences

Defending Your Honor

Characters- Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon, Cregan Stark and Criston Cole.

Warnings- Slut-shaming, Curse, Murder (Daemon and Aemond), Fighting and Cutting off... something

Daemon 'Rogue Prince' Targaryen

You were Daemon Targaryen's paramour, with nothing to your name but his love and devotion. A mere dressmaker who somehow charmed the prince.

While your relationship was purely based on emotional supports and the physical attributes followed way later, the nobles didn't share the same thoughts.

Behind your back, you could hear their derogatory comments over you, questioning your relationship with the infamous prince.

"She must have a tight cunt for the prince to keep her so close."

"I am sure she is a witch and has fucked her magic into prince Daemon."

"There is no doubt that she will be ready to fuck and undress herself in front of anyone for money."

While Daemon would hear anything about himself with amusement, hearing things as such for his beloved made his blood boil.

In a feast in the honor of his own nameday, he made sure you were seated next to him with the Royal Family.

The family was welcoming but the courtiers weren't.

And he hears them again.

And goes crazy.

At the abrupt end of the feast, the Noble degrading you and your honor was taken to the Silent Sisters with a separated head or probably something even harsher.

Aemond 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

Aemond loves you a lot.

Everyone loves you, honestly. Except for some who think you are some scheming bitch, which secretly includes Otto.

During a normal session of the court, Aemond hears a member of a vassal house of Lannisters speaking rubbish about you.

Your honor was put to question and he won’t have it that way.

Interrupting the session, he calls the man ahead and when the spotlight is upon that man.

Aemond starts announcing the young lord’s “accusations”. And the whispers start.

But they are abruptly put to stop, by Aemond’s sword cutting off the lord’s head; much in a way Daemon had drove Dark Sister through Vaemond Velaryon.

And followed a long monologue about you and defending your honor and a threat of what shall happen if he is disobeyed.

All while that dead lord’s blood painted his face.

Otto ‘Hand of the King’ Hightower

You are his wife, or maybe courting each other, or betrothed to marry.

Either way, he is protective. Very. Very. Protective.

You are younger. Beautiful. Almost goddess like.

At a feast, you talk to a lord.

And there goes numerous rumours.

While Otto doesn’t believes it, others do.

And then, one day, you admit it. That the rumours were troubling you a lot.

And next, you hear that the man responsible for the rumours could never have children again, had you overjoyed and smirking. Found with the sigil of House Hightower next to him.

That was the very clear message to all.

Corlys ‘Sea Snake’ Velaryon

Corlys is possessive and protective of you, his darling wife.

You were from Dorne, and your Dornish practices aren’t quite far from your heart.

And that includes the flirtatious comments.

Corlys enjoyed that. But the other lords and ladies had a field trip, making rumours and what not.

When they hear them, he is angry and he throws a feast, intending to show what honour these people were talking of.

The feast was all normal except the wine was specifically strong and the servant ladies were all dressed provocatively.

And all of the lords were leering and everything.

Next morning, he organises a breakfast. And gives a loud and clear announcement.

All of it while the lady wives of those men were present and fuming with rage at the humiliation.

In directly, never talk bad about Corlys Velaryon’s wife.

Cregan ‘Wolf of the North’ Stark

You were of South and you arrived in Southern style.

And it made the lords of the North send you leering gazes.

And you were bold to admit it to Cregan who softly replied with:

“I apologise on their behalf, my lady. I shall see to it that it is taken care of.”

It was. But for only a few weeks.

And then came the feast before your wedding to him.

And the lords were drunk and again dishonouring sentences were exchanged.

The smile on your face was long gone and your jaw sat in a gesture of displeasure.

And it seemed to do something to Cregan. For one second, his direwolf was in front of the table; the other, that drunken lord was on the floor with the direwolf growling at his face.

“Since this day ahead, no one shall dare to dishonour my wife, your lady. Or, you shall not like what shall happen.”

And the smile on your face is sweet as you looked at your betrothed.

Criston ‘Kingmaker’ Cole

You were only a friend of his at that time.

And a Dornish lady.

A beautiful lady who was close to a member of King’s Guard.

And boom! There are rumours.

Penting up everything in his chest, Criston blasted when he heard a comment about you in the training grounds.

He challenged that knight or lord to a combat fight.

That fight ended with the lord being beaten to near death while Criston’s fists were bloodied.

You were told way later that something like that happened.

And while everyone were rather angry at his action, you were very very proud.