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crushmeeren · 5 months

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Everyone in this NSFW One Shot is aged up/18+, if you have any issues with that—remember this is a work of FICTION!! so just block me & move on lmao

Warnings; cursing, teasing, dirty talk, praising, soft! dom Tamaki, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy sex, pussy eating, fingering, vaginal sex

Note; for the lovely anon requester, I super loved writing this, I love Tamaki—the soft dom version of him hits the spot 💕🤤 also I tried really hard to make this a good soft dom, I hope I did it justice.

•••

Tamaki is, more often than not, tightly wound into a ball of nerves. Not to say he hasn’t gotten any better at being able to handle the reigns of his anxiety, because he certainly has.

It’s just, there’s always a small undercurrent of unease lingering in his belly. Skyrocketing his heart rate, making his fingers shake with adrenaline each time he gets interviewed after a villain beat down.

He’s ashamed to admit that even when he’s with friends the unsettling feeling remains, albeit only in a small amount. It lurks in the back of his mind—never truly gone completely.

That is, unless he’s with you, and now, with your baby girl too. Funnily enough, his hands were as steady as they’d ever been when he first held his sweet baby.

His heart didn’t race, he wasn’t choking to death on butterflies—okay well, those things actually were happening, but not in an oh my god the sky is falling type of way. It was in an oh my god I love my family so much I’m gonna throw up kind of way. Tamaki was drowning in his feelings for the two of you. So much so that he thought he may burst into tears (he did).

Tamaki’s sweet little Chiyoko is only two years old now, but fucking hell—he’s started to want to have another baby so goddamn badly. It clouds his mind constantly, marring his thoughts.

He wants another little one to raise, to teach them how to be better than he ever has been. Another person he can completely be himself with, who he’ll love unconditionally. Always striving to give his kids a better world than the one he grew up in.

Although, what really snapped the pathetically thin thread that was left of his patience was when he came across what must’ve been the 10th pregnant woman while out on patrol today.

All Tamaki could keep picturing was you. With your belly so cute, so swollen & round. An image pops up behind his eyelids. Your lovely face, your lower lip pushed out so sweetly in a pout, tits spilling over the top of your bra. Tamaki swallows, throat dry as cotton as he works to keep a steady pace while he walks the streets.

He knows his cheeks are burning bright red, he can feel the heated flush crawling up the back of his neck—up to his ears. Tamaki pulls his hood further over his face as his mind sharply turns down a much filthier path. Vividly picturing you riding his cock while you’re 6 months pregnant. How unbelievably tight your pussy always is, how he’s able to place his hands possessively on your belly as he lets you fuck yourself on his cock. Watching your tits bounce beautifully.

Oh god, oh shit—he craves the satisfaction of fucking another baby into you so much his balls ache. His heart stops momentarily as he feels his cock rapidly thicken against his thigh, hot & heavy. Tamaki is urgently speed walking back to his hero agency because he’s pretty sure the stretchy spandex of his hero outfit is not going to hide his humiliating boner.

•••

Later on that evening, after your daughter has fallen asleep, you find yourself with your hands bound to the metal slats of your headboard. Soft, smooth silk caressing your skin. Binding your wrists together above your head with just the right amount of pressure to keep you from breaking free.

Your skin is starting to feel stretched too tightly over your bones, entire body flushing hotly as Tamaki traces the pads of fingers feather light over your bare breasts. Both of you are naked & he’s been playing with you for what feels like a lifetime. He teases you relentlessly as his thumbs lightly circle your nipples until they pebble up. You can feel your pussy throb.

“Tama,” you whine his nickname lowly, arching your spine as he grips your left tit playfully—desperately pushing further into his touch, you’re craving so much more from your husband. His other hand trails your lower belly idly.

“Hm? What is it my goddess? This not enough for you?” Tamaki teases you with a soft voice, punctuating his words with a rough squeeze. Making sure to pinch your nipple in between his fingers. Your feet are planted on the mattress, thighs spreading even further to fit his lithe frame as you cry out.

“Hah! Oh fuck—no, not enough Tamaki,” you complain with a breathy moan, straining against the silk that ties you down. Goosebumps litter your arms as he rests his warm palms over the bumps of your ribs, fingers splaying out under the swell of your tits.

“No? My, that’s a bit bratty of you,” He murmurs playfully, warm breath tickling over your skin as he presses a kiss to your sternum.

“Baby,” you choke out, tilting your head down to stare at him, eyes pleading. “Please I want your mouth so bad.” Fingers dig into your ribs, forcing a squeaking noise out of you. Tamaki only hums in response as he presses a line of kisses down your soft belly, lowering himself onto his own as he makes his way to your pussy.

“Here?” Tamaki asks innocently before he bites a kiss into the sensitive skin of your hip bone. Your hips twitch, trying to get his over head to your pussy—which is starting to ache, no doubt puffy and slick from being so turned on.

“No,” you whimper, fingers curling into fists, nails digging into the flesh of your palms where you’re bound. Tamaki places his palms on the underside of your thighs, easily pushing them open further for him.

“Oh, so you must mean here hm?” He snickers, dipping his head to kiss the inner part of your thigh, close to the crease, near where you want him the most. He nips at the skin there sharply, making you gasp.

“You know that’s not it Tamaki,” you huff, wiggling in place, frustratedly tugging at the silk yet again. Your shoulders ache a little bit and you have the insanely strong urge to tangle your fingers in his soft, purple hair.

Taking action, you maneuver your legs until you can rest your thighs over his shoulders, heels ready to dig into his upper back. He instinctively wraps an arm around your thigh. The other hand snaking up to brush his fingers through the small patch of curly hair you left above your clit. It makes his cock twitch because it’s like a neon sign pointing him straight to your pretty pussy.

“I’m not quite sure what you want then my goddess,” Tamaki sighs, pretending to be disappointed. “Ya know, only good girls get what they ask for, you should use your words better lovely,” He remarks thoughtfully, pinching your clit between his thumb and fore finger, trying to bite back his smile. One of his canines pokes out over his bottom lip.

“Tama!” You suck air in through clenched teeth, pressing your pussy towards his mouth—but the arm around your thigh is like steel. It makes your pussy drool. “Fucking—Tamaki, please baby, I want you to eat my pussy,” you bite, teeth grinding together in frustration.

“Oh! I see, why didn’t you just ask me in the first place? Such a good girl though, using your words,” Tamaki teases. His warm lips brush over your clit when he speaks & you could strangle the man right there.

You whimper, his praise forcing a thick warmth to your lower belly. It swirls around intoxicatingly, dripping down into your pussy. His wet tongue is so close to your clit you want to rip apart the silk tie. Tamaki takes his chance to wrap both arms around your thighs.

“Tamaki if you don’t—fuck!” Your complaint is cut short. Jaw falling open, fists clenching, when your husband’s warm tongue parts your slick pussy. Moving up to swirl around your clit slowly. Warm shivers race up your spine as he kitten licks over your sensitive flesh.

“Holy shit Tamaki,” you keen, voice watery & thick with pleasure. “Please don’t stop,” you beg, thighs threatening to suffocate him as you cross your ankles over his back. He rewards you with soft lips wrapping around your clit, sucking happily & flicking his tongue at the same time. He teased you so much before that you’re already starting to feel an ominous knot tighten up behind your navel.

“Tama I wanna, oh god—nngh! Fingers, want your fingers in my pussy, please!” You plead, silk cutting into your wrists as you pull painfully. You vaguely remembered to use your words & it pays off. He hums approvingly, making your eyes squeeze shut from the ticklish vibration. Tamaki smoothly lets go of one of your thighs.

With no resistance, he slips his two middle fingers into your overly slick pussy. Stretching you just enough to help you get closer to bliss. He thrusts them at a steady pace—never letting up the suction on your clit. Tongue teasing under the hood in the way he knows you love.

“Fuck! Just like that, Tama please, m’gonna cum,” you whine, tilting your head to look at him again, meeting his gaze. His eyes are half lidded, pale cheeks colored in pink. He’s so pretty it hurts. Your hands start to throb from tensing so hard—circulation cutting off.

The knot of your orgasm tightens frighteningly fast. Tamaki pumps his fingers three more times and just the sight of him is too overwhelming. The base of your skull digs into your pillow as the water balloon pops. Pleasure gushing through your limbs like warm waves.

Your mouth opens in a silent O shape as your entire body goes taught. Your back arches off the bed, stomach muscles clenching. Your pussy acting as a vice while you cum around Tamaki’s fingers. He moves fluidly with your hips as you roll them into his mouth.

Your husband pulls his mouth off your overly sensitive clit with a pop. Fingers still fucking the life out of you.

“Look at you, such a good girl, cumming on my fingers so sweetly,” Tamaki coos. His pink tongue pokes out to lick the slick off his shiny lips. He moans at the taste. The sight pushes a whimper out of your throat.

After a few seconds, your body begins to melt back into into the mattress below. Thighs releasing their death grip on his head. You breathe heavily, watching Tamaki push himself up with one hand, sitting on his haunches. His fingers are still in your pussy & you swallow thickly at the realization.

“You’re too good at that,” you breathe, chancing a peak at your husband’s full, hard cock. It’s a pretty dick. Thick & pale, sticking straight out, pink at the tip. It twitches a few times at your praise. His precum making the tip shiny & saliva gathers in your mouth. You want to lick him clean & swallow him whole. Instead you snap your gaze to his face.

Tamaki is already smiling down at you like he’s read your mind. He takes his fingers from your pussy slowly. Thumb rolling over your clit, making you wince.

“I know you wanna suck my cock but m’gonna knock you now, okay sweet girl? Want me to untie your hands?” He whispers sweetly, running the knuckles of his clean hand over your cheek. You nod, humming softly—only slightly embarrassed by his nasty words.

“Please,” you laugh, tugging on the silk for emphasis. He chuckles gently in return, leaning over to untie your wrists. As he does, the warm, spongy tip of his cock accidentally glides through the mess he made of your pussy. Massaging your puffy clit, making you both moan simultaneously. The weight of his cock making you burn like you have a fever.

Tamaki’s eyes are intense as they stare into yours. He lets you free, hands hovering nearing your face. You pause, flexing your fingers, blood flowing through your veins. You can feel the tension smoldering deliciously between you both, close to blazing.

Hands plant themselves on either side of your head. Tamaki’s warm lips are suddenly smashing against yours desperately. He tilts his head to the side as his lips meet yours over & over. Your fingers finally tangle through his soft hair, tugging on it roughly. He lets his sharp canines catch on your bottom lip in return. Hungrily swallowing the moans he’s pulling from you. A wet tongue only plays with yours briefly.

Tamaki breaks the kiss, sitting back on his heels. Your hands fall limply to your sides when he moves away. He places his palms on your inner thighs, pushing them wide open. You let out a sound of protest, lower lip jutting out. He bites the tip of his tongue, looking amused. The man loves to see you pout.

“Don’t pout my queen, I know what your pretty cunt really wants,” he teases, lightly slapping your clit. You jolt in surprise, fingers fisting the soft material of the sheets.

“Yeah—okay, please fuck me,” you agree, noticing sweat beading in the hollow of your throat.

“I’m gonna stuff you full princess,” Tamaki says, voice airy & light. One hand keeping you spread, the other gripping the base of his shaft & he pushes his slick cock head inside. His jaw clenches at the tight warmth of your pussy.

“I know Tama, c’mon, wanna make you a daddy again,” you tease, wolfish grin pulling at your lips. Tamaki pauses, blinking at you in surprise—cheeks a soft pink. He looks too cute. Said man raises an eyebrow, slipping the rest of his cock in without any warning. Punching a strangled sound from your lungs as you grip your pillow for leverage.

“My queen’s got a filthy mouth,” Tamaki croons, hooking your knees over his elbows—effectively folding you like a pretzel as leans forward. Hands braced by your shoulders this time. “It’s hot,” he giggles. The glare you level him with holds no heat behind it.

He wiggles his eyebrows playfully and pulls his hips backwards teasingly. He only pulls out halfway before thrusting forward smoothly. You grip his shoulders, head falling backwards into the mattress. His cock is so so good.

“Fuck—Tamaki, f-feels amazing,” you moan throatily. The glide of his cock along the inside of your walls is heavenly. Splitting you open just the way you love. He lets the way your body writhes underneath him guide his pace. Wanting to make you howl. You desperately move your hips the best you can to keep up with him.

“Yeah? Your pussy fits me like a glove princess, makes me feel so good.” Tamaki pants slightly, warm breath ghosting over your face. He’s drinking in your breathy moans like a parched man.

“Mmhmm,” you whimper, hanging onto his muscled forearms now. “Harder, please Tama,” you beg, feeling breathless. Your face scrunches up in pleasure as your eyes flutter shut. All you can focus on is the slick feeling of his cock gliding in & out of you, carving out a space.

“That’s such a good girl, asking for what she wants—just like I told her,” Tamaki praises, voice low & sweet like honey. He gives you what you want, making it his goal to curve hips slightly so he can hit your sweet spot dead on.

Your nails dig into his flesh & your back raises off the bed the best it can in this folded position. Your veins are buzzing with pleasure as he fucks you. Eyes rolling so hard back into your skull you’re afraid they’ll get stuck.

“Tamaki!” You almost sob. “I can—ah, oh my god, fucking feels like you’re hitting my cervix.” Your legs flex over his elbows, his strength keeping you pinned however he chooses.

“It’s called a mating press for a reason baby,” Tamaki huffs a laugh, his eyebrows pinching in pleasure as the sound of his pelvis smacking your ass pushes him closer to the edge.

This continues for a while. You’re unsure how long. Tamaki keeps making you cum so intensely you see stars. Hearing going fuzzy. Your hips are starting to ache & then you’re begging him to cum inside you—making his already stiff cock twitch repeatedly. He wants to fill you up so so badly, he just also loves making you cum.

“You’re so sweet when you cum on my cock like that princess,” he whispers. The pretty moans leaving his mouth are music to your ears.

Tamaki knows he’s toed the edge as much as he can & now he’s about to explode. Your pussy squeezes rhythmically around him from your latest orgasm & it’s not helping. His groin aches.

“Tamaki, cum inside me baby,” you murmur, hands reaching up to frame his face. Unable to help the little ah sounds spilling out of you.

“I can’t wait to see your belly stretched with my baby again, such a good mama,” he coos softly, tone brimming with love. Sweat has started to drip from his chin onto your neck & you’re just as sweaty as he is. “Fuck, m’gonna cum, you’re made to take my cock, made to give me babies, my goddess,” Tamaki whines, thrusting shallow & desperate.

You can’t deny the way it makes your pussy flutter around him with the way filth leaves his mouth so easily. Those tiny squeezes must be enough to push him over the edge because he shoves his cock inside you completely. Curly, coarse hair at the base of his cock teasing your clit. Tamaki fills you to the brim, choking on the moans in his throat. Stuffs you with small thrusts, sucking in air through his teeth when he starts to get over sensitive.

You feel so full, wanting so badly for him to get you pregnant. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him to your chest as Tamaki drops your legs. You let out a groan of relief, feet tingling as you crack your toes. The two of you catch your breath for a moment, hearts thundering.

Eventually, your husband rises, sitting back on his calves. Forcing you to drop your hands to the bed once again. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he pulls out of you slowly, admiring the sticky, white cum coating his cock. He groans as he tracks the way his cum trails out of you. Before he can think better of it he drags a thumb over your pussy. Gathering a bit of his cum & wrapping his lips around his thumb to suck it off.

“Tamaki!” You gasp, cheeks burning from the nasty sight. You’re ashamed to admit that it makes your pussy throb.

“I wanted a taste,” he teases, pulling his thumb from his mouth with a wet pop. A surprised laugh tears out of you & then suddenly Tamaki is laughing too. You both giggle as he lies down on his side, facing you. Placing a palm over your lower belly. You slowly intertwine your fingers with his, resting your hands back on your stomach.

“You’re lucky we didn’t wake up Chiyoko,” you mumble, halfhearted in your attempt to scold him. He just laughs.

“I would’ve put her back to bed my queen,” Tamaki teases. You hum, content with his answer, body floating.

“I can’t wait to be pregnant again,” you say in a hushed voice, eyes drifting shut as you relax.

“You’ll be just as beautiful as you always are,” Tamaki whispers in a voice so sweet it’s tooth rotting. The two of you both enjoy the post orgasm haze for a little bit longer before you do anything else.

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki x reader #tamaki smut #tamaki amajiki smut #amajiki tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #mha oneshot #mha smut #mha x reader #my hero smut #my hero x reader #suneater #suneater x reader #bnha amajiki

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solarsturniolo · 4 months

Text

Nothing // M.S.

by Natalie 💋

summary: Inspired by the song Nothing by the Script

tags: @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @mattsbratt @oversturn @simplysturn @soursturniolo @megamett44-lover @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @plasticferal @cupidsword @liz-stxrn @sturniolosreads @sturnioloskies @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44

warnings: lowkey kinda heart wrenching / drinking / borderline addiction / swearing / toxic??

DISCLAIMER: This story is fictional! I am aware that the triplets are sober. This is a little thing I like to call 'story telling'.

text - reader

text - matt sturniolo

Word Count: 1739

So I stumble there, along the railings and the fences

I know if I faced her face, that she'll come to her senses

Every drunk step I take leads me to her door

If she sees how much I'm hurting, she'll take me back for sure

“Please be up. Please be up.”

“...mmph…Hello?”

“...H-Hi.”

“What is it?”

“...C-Can I come over?”

A heavy sigh. “No, Matt-”

“Please,” he interrupted her, afraid that if he didn’t she would hang up. “I miss you.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“I haven’t-”

“Goodnight, Matthew.”

“Fuck- fine, six,” he mumbled, sniffling sharply and rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “I had six-”

“Six what, Matthew?”

“I…I-” he paused, sniffling again. “I miss you, can I come see you?”

“No, Matthew.”

“Stop it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Stop calling me that, you never call me that.”

“You need to get some rest. I’m calling Nick-”

“No, d-don’t go. Please.”

“Matt, you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“I just need to see you again,” he stated, sniffling again. “Please, I…I’ll leave you alone if you let me see you one more time.”

Another sigh. “How do you plan on getting here.”

“I’ll dr-”

“No you will not.”

His heart leaped. She still cares. She doesn’t want anything to happen to me. There’s still hope. “Uber?”

“Where are you right now.”

He looked around. “Outside.”

“Is there anything around you?”

“Trees?”

“Where are Nick and Chris.”

“Insid-”

“You make my blood boil,” she groaned.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped. “I miss you. I-I love you.”

“Stop.”

He sniffled again, a chill running through his body. He pulled his thin jacket tighter to his body. “Can I come see you?”

“Matthew, where are you.”

“I c-can get an uber, or I can walk. I don’t mind walking-” he whispered, his voice breaking again. He sniffled. “Please, I need you. I need to see you and hear you and..and feel you.”

“Matt, are you safe? Where are you. I need you to answer my questions.”

“I’m at home,” he mumbled.

“Where.”

“The driveway.”

“I will send you an uber, but this is the last time.”

Click.

___________

The knock at the door startled her, despite anticipating it at any moment. She got up from her spot on the couch, making a beeline for the door. She opened it and in stumbled a drunken Matt, who dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms gently around her thighs. He rested his cheek on the plush of her thigh.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She would give in if she did. She could hear his soft sniffling and the sound of his lips leaving soft kisses to her thigh. “I’m s-sorry, please look at me. Please say something.”

“You can’t keep doing this, Matt. You have to let me go.”

He sniffled again. She felt the warm dampness of his tears on her skin. “I c-can’t.”

“You have to.”

“Please don’t make me,” he sobbed. She finally looked down at him, her heart aching at the sight of him clung to her legs, completely broken. “I need you, I can’t-”

“You need to find a way,” she insisted, reaching behind her to take Matt’s hands out of their interlocked state. He refused, holding her tighter. “Matt, you need to let me go.”

“You’re all I have,” he hiccuped, looking up at her with watery bloodshot eyes. His lip quivered, a tear rolled down his cheek. “I-I have nothing without you,” his voice croaked.

She sighed, sinking down onto the floor. She gently stroked his cheek, wiping the tears off of his face with her free hand. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

He sniffled. “I don’t want you to go, p-please,” he begged her. “Don’t leave me.”

“You know I can’t stay with you,” she whispered to him. “You do this to yourself every night. I’m so worried about you, Nick and Chris are worried about you.”

He looked at her, his face blotchy and red from crying. His eyes were even bluer than normal. “Y-You are?” he asked, leaning into her touch as she held his cheek.

“Matt, everyone’s worried about you,” she replied. “You have so many people that care about you, why are you torturing yourself like this? It kills me seeing you like this.” She brushed his messy hair out of his face, looking into his glossy eyes.

“Please- one more chance,” he pleaded, moving in close to her. He rested his forehead against hers, their noses gently brushing together. “One more…I can’t lose you. You’re the only person in this world that I want,” he continued.

“Matt…”

“You’re the only girl I want to wake up next to,” he whispered, his hand coming up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb delicately tracing her chin. His lips ghosted over hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You’re the only girl I wanna take out and show off, you’re the only girl I want to lay next to at night. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I…I’m so fucking scared. I’ve never been this vulnerable and open with another person before,” a soft sob fell from his lips. He bumped his nose gently against hers, their lips grazing. “Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll go away,” he stated.

“Matt-”

“Say it. I’ll never bother you again, I’ll never call or…or show up uninvited again. But you have to say it,” he whimpered, his eyes opening to look into hers. His free hand cupped her other cheek. “Please look at me,” he pleaded.

She pursed her lips, opening her eyes as well to look at him. As soon as she looked into his deep blue eyes, she felt herself melting. Matt’s gaze softened, noticing her more relaxed state. He leaned in to close the gap between them, only stopping when he felt her cold fingers touch his lips.

“You have to let me go, Matt,” she whispered again.

His lip quivered, a whimper getting caught in his throat, tears threatening to spill once again. “Say you don’t love me,” he repeated.

She stayed silent once again. She couldn’t say it. She knew deep down that she loved him, and that a part of her always would love him.

“I can get better, I can be better,” he continued, looking down at her with tearful eyes. “All I want is to be better for you-”

“You can’t go a single night without drinking yourself dumb,” she stopped him. “You can’t change, Matt. You’ve had the opportunities-”

Matt shook his head in disbelief. “Please, I-I know I can change-”

“You can’t.”

She went to stand back up, her heart shattering as he clung to her for dear life. “N-No, please,” he hiccuped, his fingers digging into her clothed hips. “Please,” he sobbed, looking up at her with his glassy blue eyes, his pupils blown out and bloodshot. “Don’t…Don’t push me away. Don’t push me out,” he whimpered.

She stood her ground, refusing to look down at his pathetic state. She refused to touch him, knowing if she did, she wouldn’t be able to let go of him. “I’m calling Nick.”

“I’m begging you-”

“I can’t let you stay again. I can’t keep letting you hurt me.”

Matt’s lips parted in disbelief, a stray tear rolling down his cheek and falling from his chin. “Hurt you?” His eyes glossed over with pain, one that he had never known before. “H-How…What do you mean?”

She pursed her lips, her eyes closing as she tried to think of the best way to word what she wanted to say. “You always do this, Matt. You come over, you do this every time. I always give in because-” a pause interrupted her sentence, her questioning if she should say it out loud or keep it a distant shout in the back of her head. “Because I love you, and…I can’t not love you.”

A glimmer of hope replaced the sorrow in his eyes. “I never stopped loving you,” he spoke, his voice wavering, his nerves shot from the lack of control he had over himself in this moment. He rose to his feet gracelessly. His hand felt cold as it touched her cheek, though the gentle caress of his fingers on her skin made her melt. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you, let me prove it to you.” He watched her face, examining any little change in her expression. Please don’t let me go. Please don’t push me away.

“I can’t go through this again, Matt,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. “You have to promise me-”

“I promise, I promise. Fuck, I swear on my life,” he enveloped her in his arms. “I promise,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her head. He felt her arms snake around his waist, hugging him back, and he nearly collapsed as relief flooded his body. “I love you so much,” he mumbled softly into her hair, kissing her head again.

“We have to start slow,” she spoke softly, setting her boundaries. “I can’t jump right back in like none of this ever happened-”

“I know,” he replied. “I know, that’s fine, I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“You’ve sobered up quite a bit,” she sniffled softly, and it was only then that Matt released his embrace, pulling away to look down at her. She looked up at him, smiling softly as a tear rolled down her cheek, glimmering in the moonlight.

His thumb brushed across her cheek, wiping the tear from her face. “Why are you crying?”

“I missed you, Matt,” she replied. It felt like a stake being driven into his heart, it stung. All of those nights of him wallowing in his own self pity, wasting away his potential, all of those nights thinking she loathed him, thinking he would never be able to feel happy again; It was all in his head. None of it was real. She never felt that way about him. She waited for him, she loved him through his mistakes, through his flaws, through his lowest moments. Nobody had ever been so loyal to him before, apart from his family. Nobody had ever waited to catch him when he fell.

“I missed you too.” More than you could ever know.

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 month

Text

plan b

___

foreword: thank you to this anon, this was just the right amount of sitcom Spider-man pointing meme-ery that I needed. wrote this with husky!neighbor!Eddie since I thiiiink I’ve established that version of him is modern so hopefully this aligns with my made-up canon. lol.

wc: 1.9k

cw: weight mention (in the context of finding meds, no numbers used), embarrassment on R’s end of kink discussion, frenemies vibes between R and Eddie (they get under each other’s skin but in a hot way <3), Eddie is soft-domming in public, no actual smut but still +18 mdni

DISCLAIMER: Plan B can really fuck your shit up and shouldn’t necessarily be used when introducing new kinks. Please do your research and consult w/ a medical professional before using. Putting the fiction in fic with this one.

_____

Christ, there are too many options.

Your vision is swimming in the Family Planning aisle, fluorescent overheads of the CVS taking up residence in your left temple.

You press your fingertips against the spot, massaging gently as you pull different brands of boxes from the shelf to inspect the instructions.

This one says take within twenty-four hours, that might be- oh, shit, there’s a weight cap. Dammit. And this one’s… twice the price? For fucking why?

Frustrated, you shove the expensive thing back in place. The words on the blue label next in line catches your eye- Pre-Seed Fertility Lubricant- and you snap your hand away, as if scorched. Nope. Opposite of what you need. Christ. Pre-Seed?!

It’s almost giggle-worthy. You take out your phone, glancing up and down the aisle; the store is empty this late at night, just an older woman behind the front registers who had greeted you earlier with bored corporate formality, eyes fixed on her magazine.

Picture of Pre-Seed, taken. Check that one off the list. The only person who you’d want to share a laugh over text about this with is the one person who does not need to know why you’re in the goddamn Family Planning aisle at ten PM. On a Thursday.

At least, not yet. You lock your phone, pocketing it before zeroing in on the purple and green-themed Plan B that boasts One Tablet, One Step.

Although it’s pricier than some of the other morning-after pills, it’s the only one that you feel fully confident about buying. You give the box a little toss, feeling the next-to-nothing weight of it in your palm. Fifty bucks for a tiny pill, one that you may not even end up using- but you’ll be goddamned if you’re caught unprepared.

“Can I help you find anything?”

Your blood flashes cold, then hot, as you realize who the voice belongs to- attention focused elsewhere, you didn’t hear Eddie sidling up the aisle until now.

He’s leaning into his arm on the nearest shelf, grinning wolfishly at his own joke, chocolate eyes lit up at having found you here. He looks obscene- biceps and chest bulging at the stretched fabric of his t-shirt, hair unspooling dark curls from a low bun, black ink tattoos rippling over his bare forearms and peeking out from beneath his collar.

Honestly, you don’t know why he wasn’t stopped at the door by the woman on night shift. He’s bordering public indecency with those fitted Levi’s alone.

Fortunately the shock of hearing Eddie’s low voice is not enough to send the Plan B in your hand flying- too late to reshelve it without him seeing, you cling to it tighter, plastic creaking under your grip as you pray to every god ever that he doesn’t notice.

“Oh! Hey. Hi. Haha, very funny.” Well, that was smooth, but at least you said something comprehensible. “What’re you doing here?”

Eddie doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, using his free arm to reach for a pack of condoms near your head- “Late night shopping. Stocking up for the weekend. Can’t seem to keep these around, seeing as I’m being fucked out of house and home.”

”Well… apartment,” you correct, heart leaping at the smile lines that jump around Eddie’s eyes. This is good, maybe you can just keep him talking and find a second to shove the Plan B into a random spot or perhaps launch it into the sun-

Nope, too late. Mid-crinkle, Eddie’s eyes drop to the package in your hand, and you watch his face drop as he processes multiple trains of thought at once.

“Oh, shit. Is that… did we…?”

There’s a pinch between his dark brows, likely running through the last few weeks of your hookups (which have all been protected) and trying to do the mental math; you shake your head, trying to stammer through the flush of embarrassment that’s overtaking your system.

“No, it’s not- not from us. Not from you. I mean…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably from one sneaker to the other as words hit a jam in your throat.

Eddie’s in a full frown now, pushing off the shelf, standing to his full height, confusion and hurt seeping into his expression, voice quiet and pitched deep- “Is it from someone else?”

“Oh my god.” This was a nightmare, right? You’d like to wake up now. “No, no, not from anyone else. It’s-”

A sharp exhale, a shake of your head, and the words loosen all at once- “I was gonna get it for us, for me, for this weekend, if you wanted to give me a reason to use it.”

Eddie goes as still as you’ve ever seen him before, fingers stopped in their usual constant tapping, blinking at the box in your hands.

His face smooths.

Then he smiles.

Your stomach flips.

Eddie slides the condoms back into the wrong spot, not bothering to look as he leans in close enough for you to smell the spice of his cologne as he says in a sex-dipped timbre: “Well if you wanted me to fill you up with my cum, why didn’t you just say so?”

A horrified, awkward squawk escapes before you can bite it back; your head whips down the aisle to make sure no one else was within earshot of his dirty mouth as you blindly shove the Plan B away, deep into a shelf. “Oh my god. Jesus christ.”

”Eddie is just fine,” he responds mildly, the cool demeanor to your rapidly heating one as his grin simmers wicked between dimpled cheeks.

“Forget it,” you start, shaking your head and making to brush past, embarrassment flooding in hot, “Just forget-”

Eddie catches you by the elbow, effectively locking you in place with a single move, but he’s not looking at you; with his free hand, he snaps up the slightly crumpled box and scans the words.

“Y’think one will be enough?”

The flood subsides, gives you pause enough to stutter out, “W-what?”

Eddie’s fingers flex on your arm. He turns the box over in his big hand, rings glinting. “We’d better get two. Just in case.”

Your skin feels the impression of his palm even after he lets go, like a Polaroid in rapid reverse as he grabs a second box, warmth fading fast from your skin. “I don’t think- I mean, that’s not how they work, I should probably find a more permanent sol-”

“Just for the weekend.” His eyes are back on you now, self-satisfied smirk giving way to something darker, more intense. “Yeah?”

A shiver casts goosebumps down the length of your body. He’s goddamn toying with you, in the middle of a fucking CVS. Despite your flare of irritation, you nod, voice nearly a croak as you echo, “Yeah.”

The grin lights up his face again. “Good girl.”

Eddie doesn’t give you time to react to this (verbally, anyways- your cunt is most certainly responding to the praise despite your best efforts to remain unaffected), using one large hand to hold both boxes and another to press at the small of your back, leading you down the aisle.

Truthfully, you’re grateful for the help (regardless of his dominance-based tendencies that don’t usually get you this easy); based on the ringing in your ears, you’re doubtful of your own ability to navigate the maze of aisles.

Eddie walks you both to the front register, and you watch as if outside of your own body while the cashier scans the barcodes and Eddie swipes his card.

He pockets the receipt, slides a finger through the handles of the plastic bag, and holds it out between your bodies. Right in front of the goddamn cashier.

”For you.”

This brings you back to yourself, a bit, mortification giving way to annoyance (a much more useful emotion in this scenario), and you snatch it to your chest. It’s your turn to grab Eddie’s elbow, half-dragging him towards the exit.

“Come again soon,” the cashier calls, still in monotone.

So close. You’re less than a yard away from the sliding glass doors that would have swallowed Eddie’s reply- but as it stands, he gets in one last cheerful wave, an award-winning, dimple-charmed smile to match his bright response.

“She will!”

Damn him. You give a final tug and you’re both out in the parking lot, glass doors closing automatically with a whoosh behind you, cool night air kissing at your cheeks.

”Seriously?” You’re mature enough to recognize that your anger is misplaced, adrenaline-fueled, but that doesn’t stop you from whirling on Eddie, giving his shoulder a sharp shove that (unfortunately, tantalizingly) doesn’t move him an inch. “I can never return to this fucking store. Thanks for that.”

Eddie really doesn’t help his case, grin turned shit-eating as he rustles through his various pockets for his pack of cigarettes- “Careful, sweetheart- you know how hot and bothered I get when you’re mad.”

”Unbelievable.” You turn on a swift heel, slipping the bag loops up your arm to dig for your keys. “You just got me blacklisted from our local drugstore and you don’t even care.”

There’s the snick of a lighter behind you, while your car a few spaces down chirrups and blinks in response to the furious press of your fob’s unlock button.

Eddie chuckles, sardonic and unsympathetic. “Too bad this is the only CVS in the whole world. I think you’ll live, princess.”

Ignoring this, you stomp towards your car, petulant, bag rustling; the door is half-open when Eddie calls, “So, are you coming over tonight, or what?”

“Obviously!”

The door slams with more force than you intend, sound ricocheting across the lot.

From the respite of your tinted windows, you watch as a streetlamp-haloed Eddie takes a drag from a cigarette, smoke drifting thick around a hazy visage of the hottest man alive. (Maybe you’re a touch biased. But your opinion is based on personal accounts, so fuck the naysayers.)

He tips his head back to look at the stars, pale column of throat illuminated- with a flush of realization, you scoff. He’s putting on a show for you.

Two can play, you think, driving your seatbelt into place with a click. But first I’m gonna have to make a stop at home. Namely for new undies.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #husky!neighbor!Eddie #husky!neighbor!eddie x reader #eddie x reader

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multi-fandom-simp · 1 year

Text

Forever and always.. or maybe never.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Hanahaki Disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: Some say that you cannot die from a broken heart, but how wrong they are. When your lover and husband, Aemond Targaryen begins to find comfort in another, the universe takes pity on you. Well, if you can count a deadly flower disease as pity.

❗️TW❗️: Profanity, mention and descriptions of blood, descriptions of choking and vomiting, hints to infidelity, mild mature scene, violence, character death, angst

(A/N: Hello, this is my own take on Hanahaki's disease with Aemond! Feel free to comment your thoughts, I am always open to criticism and feedback! I hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 3.3K

Your love for Aemond hadn’t always been unrequited. At least you’d like to think it wasn’t. Both of you had grown together in the red keep as children. The two of you read together, ate together, and overall grew together. Aemond was your best friend before he was your betrothed. Whenever his mother was busy, it was your side that he clung to. The two of you were so attached at the hip that Alicent even took you to driftmark with them. You and the beast that came with you of course. No one really knows how you stumbled upon a hyena pup, nor how you tamed it to your side as a child. Nevertheless, they never forbid you from having it. If the Targaryens could have their dragons, and the Starks their dire wolves, then certainly you could have the tricky little beast that you insisted on calling Lark. In some ways, Alicent was thankful that you insisted on keeping it. After all, it was your hyena that stood between Aemond and the other children on that fateful night in driftmark. The beast had acted as your legs and ran faster than you could to reach the devastating brawl before you. Despite Aemond’s wails of pain, Lark refused to let the guards come too close. Only when you arrived did she move aside. Regardless of being young, that was the first night you realized your feelings for Aemond Targaryen. The very sight of him bleeding and broken struck you so deeply that you felt as if you had been maimed too. Alicent had noticed the change as well as she watched you stand by her son's side whilst he received stitches. Her dark eyes gazed deeply at how tightly you held Aemond’s hand, as if he would disappear. Aside from her, no one had ever loved her son this passionately, not even his own father.

“Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders” Rhaenyra demanded.

“ Was the blade of your son’s knife not enough sharpness for the night?” All eyes turned to you in surprise. You had never been known to speak out if it did not benefit you. Most of the time you were seen standing to the side, watching while others tore each other apart. Aemond could always see past it, see your true intentions. He knew you were studying how different people fought and where their weak points were. You had been around the red keep long enough to know that Lucerys Velaryon was Rhaenyra’s soft spot, and tonight you planned to use that against her.

“ You should watch your tongue when you speak to me” Rhaenyra warned, her eyes flickering over to her father to see if he would do anything.

“ or what, you’ll have Lucerys cut it out like he did Aemond’s eye” The neutrality on your face was enough to both scare and amaze Aemond.

“ You dar-”

“ Enough! My son has lost an eye and now you insist on arguing with a young girl?” Alicent moved up next to you, a hand on your back in support. She knew how terrifying it was to stand alone in a room full of adults scrutinizing you. That’s how her wedding felt after all. The queen’s hand never wavered through the interrogation of the green children. You held Aemond’s hand and she held you. Until things escalated that was. When the queen rushed towards Rhaenyra you stepped in front of Aemond. Shielding him from the sight of his mother in the midst of such violence. All Aemond could see in the midst of chaos was you, and all you could see was the river of blood on Rhaenyra’s arm. Little did you know how familiar you would be with crimson rivers in due time.

It was shortly after that night when your betrothal to the second son was announced. Alicent assured that it was needed to form an alliance between your family and theirs, when in reality it was a match made to ease the worried queen’s heart. In her eyes, no one else was a better match for Aemond than you, and for the longest time, you believed her. Oh, how foolish you were.

Six years passed with ease for the two of you. The first four were filled with fleeting touches, deep conversations, and young love.

“What is this, my lady, a journal?” Aemond’s voice floated around you as his chin found purchase on your shoulder.

“ And if it is?” You hummed, closing the leather-bound book a bit too quickly.

“ Then I fear I must inspect it. Wouldn’t want my future wife to be keeping secrets from me.” You recognized the playful jest in Aemond’s voice and wasted no time in rushing up from the bench.

“ Not so fast, my love.” Aemond chuckled, ensnaring you from behind.

“ Aemond!” You protested, smacking his locked arms with the leather bound book.

“ Have I ever told you how much I adore it when you fight back?” Aemond snickered, his breath hot on your neck.

“ You pervert!” You feigned offense before looking ahead to your pet, “ Lark, get him girl, c’mon!”

“ You know she won't come. That ole girl loves me as much as she loves you." Aemond smirked, whistling for Lark in the way you taught.

" Traitor." You grumble with a hidden smile as the Hyena trots over to the pair of you casually.

The two of you were married when he was seventeen and you were sixteen. Your union was repeated twice over. Once in front of a sept full of people, and then in the tradition of old valyria. Aemond wanted reassurance that you would never part from him. Your marriage fueled two more years full of what was now mature love.

The edge of your teeth pulled at the pillow of your bottom lip as you stared at the dark oak door. The sound of jeering men swarmed your thoughts and threatened the bile at the back of your throat. You tried to hide your discomfort for Aemonds sake, but he was keen to your reactions by now.

“ Do not fret, my love, I will not let them hear your noises. I would never let them hear what is only meant for me and you.” Aemond spoke lowly, using your hips to turn you towards him and away from the door.

“ They’ll hear regardless.” You muttered bitterly, “They’re sat out there with their ears pressed against the door just wa-”

“ I said they would not hear you and I meant it” Aemond murmured into your ear with a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath it.

“Aem-” You sighed contently.

“That’s it..sȳz riña.”Good girl. Your breathing faltered as the pet name slipped past his lips. He had figured out how much you liked to be praised from your journals.

“ You r-remebered…”You managed to gasp as he trailed down your neck.

“ I remember anything and everything that has to do with you, my love. I always will.” Aemond promised between wet kisses. You shouldn’t have believed him, but you did.

You never would’ve thought that you could fall deeper in love with Aemond Targaryen after that night, but nine months later proved you wrong. The sight of him by your side as you delivered your son set permanent hearts in your eyes. He had not cared for the blood or screams, only you and the babe. The babe who he later named Aemys because it was as close as he could get to amethyst, your favorite color. Every little detail of the things he did revolves around you. That’s what fueled your denial the first time you coughed up blood.

Your eyes stared hard at the bloody petal laying in your palm. Had that come from you? You had read strange tales of those who bled flowers, but you believed it only to be fiction. Surly your blood would not change at the ripe age of ten and nine.

“ The flower that once bloomed love will soon bloom blood. “ Helaena aimlessly mumbled to herself from beside you.

“ What..?”Your heart sped up as you analyzed her words. No one had ever paid any mind to her silly riddles, except for you.

“ Blooming blood blooms a burial.” This time Helaena was focused on you as she spoke. Her eyes filled with unknown sorrow. You left Aemys to play with his cousins as you rushed to the library. No one else was there to question your sanity as you pulled book after book from the shelf to find the old dornish fables that lay hidden among them.

“Hanahaki..”Every word, every page, and every definition seemed to tear you apart further as you read. No other condition led to flowery bile except for this one. Aemond loved you though. How could this be possible?

Your thoughts would be answered two morrows later when Aemond returned from his siege of Harrenhal. Everyone had expected to see him arrive on dragon back alone, certainly not with a strong bastard. A gorgeous strong bastard at that. You felt your chest tighten as you gazed upon her dark flowy locks and enchanting eyes. Oh by the seven, how could you spite him for loving someone like her? If circumstances were different, then perhaps you too would fall under her spell. It wasn’t until you saw the way she clung to Aemond’s arm that the coughing fit started. This had to be it. What else could it be? Aemond hated physical contact with strangers, yet he let a previously unknown wetnurse cling to him like a paramour. The harder you thought about it, the harder you coughed. The fit only resulted in a petal or two, but in time that would grow. The longer Alys rivers stayed, the worse you got. Both you and the universe could feel Aemond straying from you, even if he spoke differently.

“I am not in love with her!”Aemond snapped, reaching his breaking point in this petty argument that had started hours ago at dinner.

“ You do not see the things I see, Aemond. The way you defend her, encourage her, look at her…all in the way you used to look at me-” It took effort to fight down the sickness as you fought. It had been months, but you made no move to tell Aemond, you couldn’t.

“ I do not love her as I love you-”

“ Yes, but you love her!” You cried in outrage, gripping the wall near you for support. Everything became so out of focus as you spoke the words. It was the first time you had ever admitted it to yourself. The dew of brick cooled your skin as you leaned against the wall. Your body trembled with deep echoey coughs as petals tore their way up your throat.

“ I did not mean to make you sick, dear wife” Aemond spoke softly and simply. Wife. He had never called you that before, not even on your wedding night. It was always my love or Ñuha prūmia. How ironic for him to call you his heart when sooner or later he would be the reason yours cease to beat.

“ Just go, Aem, please.” You pleaded, turning away, “I do not wish to fight.”

“ As you wish.” Aemond’s bow before he left was the final straw to crack your heart open. Why must he be so formal when you stand dying a few feet away? How can he not see how badly you suffer? Were the shadows beneath your eyes, or the crack of your lips not big enough clues for him? Would you need to be dead for him to finally understand?

Unfortunately for you, that’s exactly how it was going to be. Everyone else around you had begun to notice the shift in your behavior. The fatigue, the paleness, and the emotions. Alicent first noticed it when she sat in the nursery with you, Helaena, and the children just after supper. She saw the way your eyes refused to leave Aemys as if it would be your last look. The way you held him was the same way she held Aemond when he lost his eye.

“ He’s a clever boy.” Alicent smiled as Aemys recited a word back to one of his cousins.

“ That he is.” You agreed, melancholy ghosting your lips. It hurt the queen to see you this way. You were a part of her almost as much as her children. You came to her as a child she was not forced to love nor conceive. Yet you wormed your way into her heart as if she had carried you. The sight of you so sickly and sad tugged at Alicent’s heart.

“ You’re sick, are you not?” Alicent proclaimed in observation rather than a question.

“ Mhm, In a way I suppose I am.” You hummed out softly. It had gotten to the point where it was hard to speak most days. The petals had begun to come up in thick, dry heaves, with occasional thorns that tore at your throat.

“ Have you told Aemond?” The queen inquired.

“ Aemond is the reason I’m sick in the first place.” You grumbled before sighing in defeat, “ Or I suppose it’s more of my fault. I was foolish to think he would ever actually love me.”

“ You don’t mean-” Alicent’s soft words trailed off abruptly. Alicent Hightower was no stranger to the hanahaki disease. She too had suffered through it once. Except she learned how to get around it.

“ I do.” You answered simply, with no trace of sadness or indifference.

“ There are ways around it my d-”

“ Such as forgoing my love for Aemond, I know. I could live a long life if I cast aside every loving memory I hold of him, but alas it is not that easy. I have tried, if that brings you any comfort. In the midst of the night when my eyes are swollen from tears and the blood in my throat is so thick I cannot breathe, I have tried, and I have failed.” Alicent’s eyes well with tears as you speak, almost as if she’s dared to imagine you in such dismay. You reach out to soothe her hands comfortingly, but she grips onto yours tightly instead.

“ It is not easy, but you must keep trying.” Alicent urges, a wobble to her voice.

“ There is no reason for me to put myself through the agony of erasing my happiness when I am already in physical torment. The sight of Aemond is the very reason I wake up every morning. Hearing his laugh, seeing his smile, and feeling his warmth are all things that have kept me going. Forgetting those would be forgetting myself.” You reason, a wisp of remembrance in your eyes.

“ If not for yourself, then for Aemys” Alicent argues.

“ Aemys is one of the reasons I have chosen to give up. Every time I look at him I see Aemond. They are alike in everything but the eyes. The mere sight of that boy reminds me of the night he was made, of the love and passion Aemond had for me. Yet he no longer holds in regards to me. I would rather Aemys hear stories of his parent’s love than grow up with two plain parents.” The child in topic bursts into giggles a few inches away, stealing your attention from the queen. Your eyes crinkle with happiness and you move to turn towards him, but Alicent holds firm.

“ Aemys needs his mother.” She argues once more.

“ He does not. Aemys will have a loving father and grandmother by his side. Alongside his aunt Helaena, Uncle Daeron, and three beautiful cousins. Even Aegon cares for the little rascals’ life.” You chuckled.

“ That is n-”

“ Please, I have made my choice. I appreciate your council, but it is too late. I fear after I lay my son to sleep, it will be my last night alive. I thank you for all the love and comfort you have given me in my lifetime. I love you, mother.” You pressed the meat of your cheek against Alicent’s hand in farewell before standing.

“ If you’ll excuse me-” As you stood to retrieve your son, Alicent excused herself from the room hastily. Never did she think she would find herself running through the castle’s corridors, but yet here she is. Alicent’s heels had been long forgotten and the emerald hem of her dress dragged upon the stone as she made haste to the library, where Aemond would be.

“ Aemond! Ae-” The frantic shrill of the queen mother’s voice echoes throughout the shelves.

“ Mother?” Aemond calls out, emerging from a row with a disheveled Alys in tow, “ Is something wrong?”

“ You hide away fondling a wet nurse while your wife withers away! Have I truly raised you this way?” The despair in Alicent’s voice takes Aemond by surprise. He reaches out to hold her arms, but she pulls away.

“ She is not withering away, mother. She has assured me that it is just a small cold.” Aemond speaks calmly, in hopes to ease his mother’s franticness.

“ A small cold!? She has every sign of hanahaki disease and you have not suspected a thing?” Alicent refuted.

“ Because it is not possible! I love her!” Aemond snaps.

“ Not enough!” Alicent sighs, “ In no world should I have had to be afraid of letting her go in fear that I would not see her again. She has accepted her death, Aemond. How far out of love have you fallen with her to the point where your wife greets death openly?”

Aemond doesn’t bother with a reply because he’s already on his way out of the door. His pounding steps reverberate through the empty halls and the tremble of panicked breathing surrounds him. Fear nearly eats him alive as he reaches the door to your marital chambers. Never has he been terrified to open those doors to the sight of you. He had never once feared finding you dead, but now he has. Slowly but surely, Aemond pushes the giant oak open. He spots you knelt on the balcony in your nightdress, looking up at the stars. Lark lay whining at your side until she hears Aemond shuffle forward. Much to Aemond's surprise, the hefty beast that once worshiped him as you did, bared its teeth to him.

"Please.." Aemond wasn't sure if he was pleading to Lark to let him pass or to the gods for your life. Either way, the Hyena was the first to answer him. Lark moved aside slowly so that Aemond may pass, but still kept defense from a ways away.

“I-” Before a word can even escape his lips, you’re lurching forward. Aemond rushes forward and sinks to his knees to hold you. The convulsions of your stomach can be felt as he circles your waist.

“ I’m so sorry, my love, please.” The cold wash of fear grips his spine as blood and flowers paint the floor. He has no idea what to do. You’re not saying anything or doing anything to cease the onslaught of terror, yet you’re not pushing him away either. On the contrary, you’ve tangled your fingers with the hand he has over your stomach.

“ I love you. I’ll always love you.” Aemond croaks helplessly into your hair as you lean back against him. It’s too late, you had once said. It seems that the universe had agreed. Your breathing rattled to a stop and the grip of your hands weakened. “ I love you. Forever and Always. I promise.” Aemond whispered, pressing a salt-soaked kiss to your temple as he felt your heart slow. The thump that once echoed through your back onto his own heart stuttered to a stop, and with it so did Aemond’s world.

Part 2

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon angst #aemond targaryen angst #angst

1K notes · View notes

meinetranen · 11 months

Note

I have a Miguel o’hara request! It’s the first time him and the reader are intimate together and when he finishes he rips up the bed sheets with his claws coming out at the sametime along with his fangs coming out and attaching themselves to the readers neck and he’s just acting very ferally but then afterwards he’s a little embarrassed and he doesn’t let the reader move to clean themselves up because he wants to keep his cum inside them for as long as possible loving the idea of a part of him being lost inside them like that. Thank u if u do this request if ur busy no pressure ur works amazing !

(I got you and thank you)

FERAL.

18+ MDNI!

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: It's you and Miguel's first time together, and Miguel happens to go feral.

Warning: Smutt, breeding kink, marking (mentions of blood from Miguel's fangs), Miguel loves your boobs, p in v (please use protection its a fan fiction for christs sake), love marks, and I think that's it?

(I do not speak Spanish, so if I make a mistake, please tell me. I do not mind.)

Miguel and you were watching a movie on your bed, but it was quickly forgotten when you two got close, gazing into each other's eyes as you both leaned in, meeting his lips.

The kiss already became so heated as you held onto his shoulders before your hands roamed on his back as Miguel entered his tongue inside your mouth, exploring you.

One of his hands was at your lower back, but the other was on your waist, slowly traveling down your hips.

You didn't stop him.

Miguel's hands went past your pants, meeting the hem of your panties, feeling his heart race against his chest.

Your breath quickens from his motions, and you shudder a little when the tip of his fingers traces your skin and the edge of the fabric. He seems amused by this, just by teasing you and it leaves your clit aching for more to the point you buck up your hips a little towards him.

This turns him on, and his erection only grows as his cock aches in his pants.

Miguel's fingers go past your panties, feeling your wet folds. You let out a soft whimper, feeling his finger rub against you.

"Tell me what you like," he murmurs, his head lowering down to your neck.

"My clit... rub it gently." Your breaths become heavy from the sensation of his fingers and the way he kisses your neck.

"Hmm," he hums. "How many fingers can you handle?"

"Two," you say.

You gasp quietly when he sinks his fangs into your neck, already drawing blood as it trails down your shoulders.

"You can handle one more..." he growled against your skin.

You let out a quiet moan when Miguel begins rubbing at your clitoris at a gentle pace like you said before two of his fingers enter inside of you, pumping them in and out of your cunt.

Miguel's lips never leave your neck, continuing to trail kisses as he sucks on the kiss, leaving marks for people to see.

Then, he enters another finger inside of you, stretching your walls while they clenched around his fingers.

His fingers curl a bit, hitting your g-spot, and you arch your back, your moans filling up the room while the movie is completely forgotten.

"Sabes tan dulce..." he whispers. You taste so sweet...

The pleasure fills your body, and your body is trembling from this satisfaction inside of you. You know you're closer to your climax while your sounds grow louder.

Miguel, however, pulls his hand away, and you whine from the lost feeling. You begin to question why he stopped, but he lays you on bed, bringing his fingers to his mouth.

Opening his mouth, you could see his sharp fangs, but what caught you was that he licked his fingers, taking in the taste of your cunt.

Later, he removes his shirt, showing his exposed muscular upper body, grabbing your hips towards him as you let out a yelp.

"I want you," he lowly says, gazing down into your eyes.

"I want you too," you whisper.

Miguel didn't hesitate, and he helped you remove your clothes before you were lying down beneath him, fully naked.

"Eres tan bella... Simplemente pura perfección." You're so beautiful... just pure perfection.

One of his hands went to your breasts, squeezing them gently as he leaned in, opening his mouth and capturing your hard bud into his mouth, sucking on your nipple.

Your hand went to his hair, gently pulling on it as he seemed to let out a quiet groan.

"Just so perfect... todo mío." He grumbles against your breasts. All mine.

Miguel raises his head away from your breasts as he gazes down at you. His hands went to his pants, unzipping them as he let out his aching hard cock.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as you took in the sight, seeing how thick and fairly large his cock was.

Miguel hovers above you again, holding onto his cock as he lined it up against your entrance, gazing into your eyes, waiting for an approval, and you gave him a nod.

Slowly, he slides it in, and you both gasp from the feeling.

He hisses quietly, enjoying the feeling of your tight warm walls around his cock.

You wrap your arms around his back, eyes shut closed from the feeling of being full. His cock stretching your walls.

"'S too much..." you gasp.

Miguel lowered his head to your neck again as he whispered, "Be a good girl and take it all in."

Without hesitation, Miguel begins thrusting his hips against your own, and you moan out loud as his paces are brutal.

"Miguel—" you moan and gasp at the same time.

"Mierda..." Miguel bites onto your shoulder. "So tight around me..."

Your nails dig into his back, and he groans from the feeling, clearly enjoying it as he continues to thrust inside of you, clearly drunken by the feeling of your walls around him.

The feeling of your orgasm was coming back to you, and that same pleasing sensation spread all over your body.

"Miguel... I'm gonna cum—" you moan, arching your back as the reach of your orgasm fills your body, releasing yourself onto his cock.

"That's it... let it all out." Miguel encouraged against your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin.

His thrusts continue. However, one of his arms reaches above you, and before you know it, his talons come out, grasping onto the sheets. This stuns you a little from this new sudden act from Miguel.

He knows he's so close, and something snaps inside of him.

Gazing down to your eyes, a pleading look behind them. "Let me cum inside of you, please..."

You raise your brows, clearly stunned from the question, but you feel something inside of you.

"What?" You ask through panted breaths.

Miguel's hands grasp tighter onto the sheets, tearing the fabric. "I need to breed you, Y/N. Let me cum inside of you, please..."

Your lips slightly part from his pleading, and you've never seen him like this before.

"I want to fill you up with my cum." Miguel continues to plead, his hot breath hitting your face.

But you couldn't resist that pleading look on his face as he began to get closer to his climax. Your hands went to his face while you nod in approval.

"Okay," you whisper.

Miguel places a sloppy kiss onto your lips before he hides his face into the crook of your neck. His pace is faster and rougher, and his talons are ripping up the sheets.

Again, his fangs sink into your neck more than once as blood drips down your skin as he's panting against your ear.

"Te sientes muy bien, querida..." he whispers against your ear. "Joder... estoy tan cerca—" You feel so good, dear. Fuck... I'm so close—

Miguel continues attacking your neck as you hold onto him desperately as your body moves with his rough pace. The sheets are completely torn from his talons digging through the bed, making contact with the mattress.

"Voy a llenarte, hacer que te conviertas en mamá..." I'm gonna fill you up, make you become a mom...

Miguel's movements then stop, and he lets out a loud groan into your neck, cumming inside of you.

You feel something warm inside of you, and you brush a strand of his hair away from his sweaty face before he lays down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You look up to the spot where Miguel had attacked your bed. "Never knew you could do that," you chuckle.

Miguel eyes the area and avoids eye contact with you, clearly embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry about that..."

"It's okay, I thought it felt nice too." You smile down at him before sitting up.

"Where are you going?" Miguel's grasp around your waist tightens.

"Oh, I'm going to clean myself up," you state.

"No te atrevas..." Miguel pulls you back down onto the bed, trapping you below his body. "Stay, I don't want my cum leaking." Don't you dare...

You stare up at him, clearly surprised, but you feel your hips raise when Miguel places a small pillow underneath them.

"I want to make sure that my cum doesn't go to waste." Miguel's eyes bore into yours. "That's how good you feel, cariño."

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara

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tabootoji · 24 days

Text

"KISSIN' AND HOPE THEY CAUGHT US..."

LET'S DESCEND TO THE BOTTOM TOGETHER - PART 1 OF SELFISH DESIRES

✰ - SYNOPSIS: suguru doesn't care whats going on around him when he's with you (or) you have to deal with suguru's high sex drive even when people are around. (ft. manami suda) ✰ - WC: 6.0k (got a lil excited, next parts might not be as long) ✰ - TAGS: reader is black and curvy, tongue kissing, nipple play, v. fingering, dry humping, dirty talk, praise, semi public, obsession/possessive, finger sucking, f. orgasm, spanking, size diff., groping, spitting (mentions of thigh riding, manhandling, dacryphilia, v. intercourse, cockwarming) no use of (y/n), all lower case ✰ - A/N: planning on making this 4 parts. this is my first fan fiction, so i hope you all enjoy :)

“you may enter.”

you hear the tall buddhist priest next to you beckon in another wavering soul into the ‘restoration’ room of his monastery, where he helps those who cannot see the cursed spirits that torment them due to negative human emotion. geto suguru. with the low base of his soothing voice, he asks the human what troubles them, already gripping his hand out to extract the grotesque mass curled around their body like it's second nature to him, feigning interest in what the human has to say.

your sitting in a soft assortment of colorful patterned meditation cushions besides geto-sama, who lazily leans his muscular arm to rest his head on the tall bejeweled throne he sits on, long legs overstretch against the other arm of the royal seat. he turns the spirit into a small glinting black orb, flashing a beautiful smile on his angled face, giving the mortal the same teachings he gives all the others who come to his temple seeking help through his ‘rituals'. his smile doesn't quite reach his dark eyes, you notice. you're all too familiar with seeing the many facial expressions geto-sama fakes to the public eye, and the alluring ones he graces only you with.

sugeru geto is a very busy man. throughout the day his schedule consists of leading worships, performing healing ceremonies, and ensuring that those occupying or taking care of his temple for his group were performing their roles dutifully. his soft spot for you is eminent - his heart can't bear being away from you for too long. so when he can, he integrates his pretty princess into his program. even if it means just having you sit with him during these dreary cleanses of monkeys that flock to the boat load into his home, he knew he could endure tending to whatever role he had to fulfill.

as he took out his disinfecting deodorant to sanitize himself after the mortal exited the room, he snuck a glance at the ethereal being beside him.

you sat cross legged on the arrangement of cushions on the floor alongside his throne. your kasaya and yukata robe that was similar in color to his hugged your round and curvy figure in a way that was so hypnotizing. you two are the only ones to wear these colors in the entire temple – a clear message to all on who you were and what you meant to him. your thick, tight curled strands of hair that usually cascaded the sides of your face down to your back were currently pulled into a slick and refined bun held together by an embellished hair comb clip. he admired this hairstyle on you – he had a better view of your illuminating melanated skin, your full lips, your cute button nose, and overall your captivating beauty.

his narrow eyes landed on your sweet wide ones, a slight blush cascading the canvas of your round cheeks. he smirks knowingly, realizing that both of you caught each other staring at one another. “are you doin’ alright little one? hope you're not too bored. are you comfortable?” he asks you.

“y-yes, i’m f-fine.” you stutter out. “please do not worry about me geto-sama.” you shift your gaze to the side, still slightly embarrassed at the fact he caught you eyeing at him. but you can't help yourself. you have almost no choice but to gawk at the dashing man before you. the man that saved your life all those years ago.

you took note of the way his head laid on his hand, his long, luscious black hair covering his back. one strand that seemed to slip out of his top bun framed his handsome face. because of his height, his form draped completely across his seat. you are but in awe of his beauty, no wonder anyone who was blessed by his presence describes the man as charismatic, charming, godly

geto-sama rolled his eyes, the thought of how he could try to make you gasp call out his given name briefly went through his mind before he chuckled lowly. “stubborn girl. how many times do i have to tell you – 's no need for honorifics between us. come, sit with me.” he holds his hand for you to take. you eye him hesitantly before placing your small hand in his large one, and he pulls you to him.

he guides your short frame to sit on his lap and you let out a shaky sigh, feeling his arms wrap around the swell of your hips, holding you closer to him as your thick thighs take perch onto his pelvis. he always initially asks you to sit on him when you stay during his sessions, and your bashful nature allows you to refuse him at first, giving him some minuscule excuse along the lines of not wanting to tire him out by carrying your heavy weight for too long. but you know too well that you cannot deny him of anything for too long.

“i apologize s-suguru…” you turn to say to him. you notice his large ears with protruding piercings perk up at your melodious voice slipping his name through your lips. the all consuming need he has for you courses through him yet again at the mere sound of your voice. he folds his hands together on your round stomach, leaning his head into the crook of your neck, feeling your nape get hotter to the touch as you continue, already making a mental note of his request. “...i always feel inclined to. after all, you are my savior.”

suguru presses his lips to your shoulder, pecking it as he hums, thinking of that time all those years ago that he was blessed to have met you. in the first beginning years of his guise as a priest, you graced his presence by bowing at your feet, begging him to take you into his group. you had nowhere else to go - a rather weak curse user who spent your whole life abused by the mortals who raised you because of your divine gift of sight. you found a way to escape from your brutal environment and followed the rumors of a cleric who provided housing and leadership to those that can ‘see’ things others can't, while relinquishing those plagued by the manifestations of their own despair.

poor little one, suguru had thought when he first laid his eyes on you. you had presented battered and broken at the front of his door steps. it’s not your fault you were raised by dim witted monkeys. when you raised your head and bore your watery eyes from the ground to his, he looked deep into them and saw your potential. he saw the pain and turmoil you faced from your upbringing by those unlike you, and he could relate, having mortal parents himself. the dangerous path you took reminded him of why he himself broke away from jujutsu high.

not only was he inspired by your gull, he was entranced by your delicate beauty that shined through your frayed outward appearance. he was overcome with the need to save you, shape you into the heavenly form of yourself he knew you could be, and in the back of his mind hoped he’d be lucky enough to one day call you a lifelong companion.

suguru took to you instantly, informing everyone in the monastery of their new member, and that all should treat you as they would treat him – or they would face his wrath . he had you reside in a room compounded with his, and while all others in the temple had clear and thorough roles to fulfill every day, the only thing suguru asked of you was to do whatever filled your heart with contentment and happiness.

and how else could you possibly do that without the kind and striking jujutsu sorcerer who took you in with no questions asked, the first person in your life to ever show you such kindness, the man you practically fell in love with the first time meeting him, by your side as much as possible?

after all this time you're still incredibly grateful that suguru not only allows you to cling to him, but that he still always seems pleased every time you're in his presence. little did you know, suguru was thrilled at the idea that you may feel the same way he does. the idea that the reason you're so attached to him was because you're as fond of him as he is of you made his heart swell.

as more and more time passed, the both of you felt yourselves spiral into a never ending pool of emotions filled with passion, exhilaration, and most of all, desire.

at first, suguru intended to respect your boundaries, never attempting to cross any dangerous lines when it came to you. but after some time, gentle and friendly gestures between companions became sensual and air stiffening tension between two budding lovers anytime you both were within close proximity of each other – which was almost all the time. hugs and cuddles turned into intimate embraces if you both clung to each other for too long. soft kisses on the hands and face turned intense when they lingered on the most sensitive spots of your bodies that only you two know of.

you both grew so close to one another, you eventually began asking suguru if you could stay in his room with him during the nights, which pretty much ended up with the both of you permanently living together in the same room. you both continued to muddle the borderlines of your relationship until the flooded gates opened that allowed both of you to indulge in each other to your hearts' content without having to feel guilty about it.

that's all you can think about now when suguru begins trailing wet puckered kisses from your collarbone to your neck, stopping at the sweet spot below your earlobe and focusing his attention there by kissing it, making you involuntarily squirm in his arms. suguru manages to pull you even closer to his hard lean body.

“sometimes i wonder if you're the one who saved me, little one.” he whispers in your ear, before leaning down, blowing a puff of cold air from his mouth down the slight trail of saliva his lips left on your neck, causing you to shiver and turn your head to face him.

suguru’s smile grows wider as he looks into your warmly rich colored eyes staring intently into him. “‘s there something you need from me, princess?” he asks teasingly, watching you glance down to his full sultry lips before quickly making eye contact again with his brown luminous ones again, swallowing harshly.

suguru is the highly esteemed leader of the sanctuary you call home, so you try to hold yourself to a respectful and reverent standard that should be held by anybody who could even think of being by his side. but it's as if your body betrays you when you're with him - especially this close .

your heart begins beating so fast it feels like it's banging against your chest. the temperature of your body increases till you feel like you're on fire. all the muscles in your body tighten up, your breathing quickens, and you're unable to ignore the pool of wetness that forms in between your legs that compel you to rub your thighs together for relief.

you get so caught up in your body going into overdrive that you almost forget that suguru had asked you a question. you blink once to remember, before scrunching your eyebrows together in a pout, too sheepish to express your feelings of lust out loud.

fortunately, suguru decides to have mercy on you - he knows how coy his girl can be - lifting one of the hands that gripped your waist and using it to cradle the side of your face, slotting his fingers to the back of your head to gently hold you in place.

“hm. it’s ok darling. know exactly what you need. stick your tongue out f’ me. need your lips. need to taste your mouth.”

the words that roll off his tongue in his ravishing voice make you audibly gasp out. suguru was never the type to beat around the bush with you. but him directing such inappropriate words to you with such ease always made your entire body tingle.

you listen obediently, slowly sticking out the wet mass in your mouth for him, closing your eyes as you feel your face heat up in anticipation.

suguru smiles down at you. his docile, precious girl. his eyes darken with desire as you comply for him without question. always ready for me to make a mess of her. so cute. he thought, before sliding his own tongue out of his mouth to rub against yours, dancing and twirling them together, exchanging saliva with one another, making you moan out with your sweet voice while holding on to his robe for stability. he grips the back of your head tighter and pulls your face closer to his to deepen the kiss, sucking on your moist tongue and swallowing the rest of your pleasant noises into his mouth.

for suguru, this is heaven on earth for him. having your bodies pressed against one another, groping at each other until one or both of you become undone in each other's arms. he’s almost embarrassed to admit that he’s already sporting a straining erection underneath his garments from just kissing you alone.

you both continue to explore each other's mouths with your tongues, sucking and biting where you can as you continue to share the same breath for some time. suguru begins to untie the string holding your yukata together, feverish to see if your body was expressing excitement just as much as his was.

suguru releases your lips with a parting ‘mwah’, admiring the strings of saliva connecting your lips to his. he takes his thumb and swipes the bottom of your now swollen bottom lip, the result of his oh so greedy suckles during your mouth watering make out session. he takes note of how fast you’ve already turned putty in his hands from just fucking your mouth with his tongue.

he continues to undress you, pulling your attire enough for him to peer down at your stubby, erotic figure. your busty ample breasts bigger than the grips of his hands could hold were perky and well rounded. your taut brown nipples stood at attention the minute they were exposed to the cool air in the room, waiting for him to tweak at. your voluptuous stomach hung out, and suguru couldn't help but to salivate at your contours and rolls. his eyes finally wandered down to your puffy folds and thighs that glistened, already covered in your essence of messy slick.

suguru barely considered the possibility that another monkey may knock at the door anytime now to request for another one of his healings. because in his eyes you were a delicious dessert handed to him on a silver plate.

and right now, he had every intention to completely consume you. interruptions or not.

“s-suguru, someone might come in…” you voice out exasperatedly. it was almost frightening how you felt like prey that had finally been caught under his gaze, but it also sparked something inside of you. regardless, you tried your best to think logically. what would a mortal, a member of the group, or hell – even the maids or various service workers that constantly roamed and checked on every nook and cranny of the temple – think if they came into the room and saw this situation?

their superior, their god, roaming his fingertips against the arms of a half exposed, weakly curse user that squirmed in his lap with his every touch?

your concerns slowly begin to fade the more lost you get in his persistent touches, feeling his mouth press against your ear as the pads of his fingers brush against your pebbled nipples, getting ready to tease and twist them till you jerk in his lap so much you leave a puddle of your own cum on his lap. only suguru was able to pull this primal urge from deep within you, making you lose all sense of reason from his caresses alone.

“oh honey, don't think i’ll be able to stop myself anyway.” he murmured in your ear before licking up and down your earlobe, stopping at the lower spot behind it, and starting to swirl there with his hot wet tongue while he flicks his digits in swift movements against your erect nipples, proceeding to grope at your mounds while tightening the grip on his digits to rub and pull tightly at your responsive areola's that elicited the most adorable sobs of pleasure from you.

if suguru were being honest, he didn't care who or what was around him anytime he craved a taste of you. every time he got a look at your divine figure, blinding heat took over and before he knew it, he seemed to always have a bothersome hard on with you in his sights. distracting erections would refuse to go away even after he tried to relieve himself (multiple times), but to his surprise, you were all too willing to help him by not only giving your appetizing body, but your tender heart as well. of course for suguru it wasn't just all about the sex, even if he did choose to use it to express his devotion to you, alot. suguru derives the greatest pleasure from showing off your relationship to all.

so what if a useless monkey came in?

who cares if any of the staff members came to check on them and saw their leader's overbearing stature unraveling his pretty girl with only his calloused hands?

all the better for him. anyone could and should see with their own eyes how infatuated he was with you and only you.

suguru chuckles as he watches you whine and try not to buck your hips while he continues to fondle your stiff nubs. fussy girl. “s’ ok love. you don't have to hold yourself back. know how much you need this. oh … and you're not even wearing any panties. you can be so bad when you wanna be.” he teases you, letting go of your large tits to finally give attention to your increasingly soaking pussy.

he would have liked to have picked you up and turn you to face him, soothing his needy girl by letting you grind your twitching clit against his big thigh till you came, leaving a trail of your wetness on him as he slurps and tongues at your dark colored nipples. but with the way your glazed eyes looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together, lips parted, a bit of drool spilling out and sliding down the side of your jaw, he could tell you were getting desperate. shit – so was he.

he’ll give you exactly what you need – he’ll stuff his perfect girl's dripping cunt with his fingers till you explode all over him.

you flush at his accusation, quick to remind him that it was his suggestion for you not to wear underwear under your robe around the temple anymore so he could have “ easier access to your sweetest spot wherever he wanted.” “s-suguru!” you exclaim. “t-that's because...you told me not to –!” you jump in sugurus lap at the end of your sentence when he gently pinches the bundle of nerves between your thighs.

“i know sweet girl. ’s just so fun teasing you~” he practically purrs to you. suguru could be so mean sometimes! but you love him, even when he pokes fun at you.

you look up at him briefly to give him a small smile, before putting your attention to his fingers pulling apart your smooth lips that were already sticky with your arousal to get a better look at your pretty pink pussy. suguru can't help but whistle at the sight of your delicate flower. “look at her. isn't she just lovely?” hearing him refer to your cunt in the third person had you biting your lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip out, feeling yourself clench around nothing.

suguru drags a single one of his thick digits up and down the entrance of your drooling hole, picking up his pace a bit, enjoying the squelching noises your pussy makes as he strokes it. collecting enough of your juices on his finger, he slides it inside your rigged, tight walls and wiggles it deep inside you as his big palm kneads at your aching clit. “ always so fucking tight..” his voice rumbles out, and your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. you arch your back while he continues to prod and poke inside of you.

suguru busies his unoccupied hand by pushing away any part of your robe that touched his lap, then unties his own yukata to reveal his painfully stiff lower half. he had also decided to stop wearing underwear beneath his robe, thankful for his idea now as his angrily red cock begged for some kind of stimulation. he slits it upward in between your plump bottom, so now every time you pushed against him, your thick round ass cheeks would give his now full hard on some much needed friction.

he slightly bends you forward briefly to admire the sight before him – his two toned, veiny, and ridiculously thick eight inch cock was enveloped in the cellulite of your fleshy rear end that involuntarily jiggled about with any slight movement. the obscene view made him let out a staggering groan. he lands a crisp ‘slap!’ down one of your big cheeks that makes you yelp in surprise. your eyes widened as the sting from the impact began mixing with your pleasure.

unbeknownst to you, suguru was in awe, watching the swell of your curved ass moving in ruptures that imitated moving water from the ‘thwack’ he gave it, enjoying the vibrating sensations to his aching length. he shudders, feeling himself twitch against your soft skin, his bulbous tip releasing a drop of precum out of his slit.

suguru had to seriously control himself before he threw you up like a rag doll and fucked into you right then and there with his lengthy girth ruthlessly. he wanted to bury himself to the hilt in your wet cunt that was grasping his beefy finger so tightly. he wanted to see your twinkling eyes quiver as fat tears fell from them while you cried out on his cock. he could practically picture you bouncing on his lap, desperately trying to meet his thrusts like the good girl you were.

get ahold of yourself suguru, he muses, shaking his head, gritting his teeth and sucking in a harsh breathe. he needed to focus on stretching out your tense little hole first so you could take all of him properly. above all, he wanted to make sure you’ll enjoy yourself just as much as he would.

he pulls you back to his chest, holding the side of your hip with one hand as he begins a steady pace with the finger inside of you. “tsk, naughty girl. already sooo wet for me. was it ‘cause of our kiss? or have you been like this the whole time?” you moan out his name once he’s finished, indirectly answering his question.

“aww, my poor baby. 's my fault, i’ve spoiled you rotten. now when my pretty princess goes too long without me payin’ attention to her, she gets so needy, hm?” you open your big thighs wider to accommodate his rapidly moving hand, confirming his claims as his digits pump in and out of you. you feel his rough finger trace every inch of the ridges inside the slippery walls of your cunt.

your panting now as suguru continues to play and toy with your body – the feeling quickly becoming an addiction you have come to crave at an unhealthy rate.

“oh! oh y-yes! m’ sorry suguru, p-please, need you…to pay attention to me!” you squeal out, feeling him add another one of his fingers inside of you, because how could he refuse his baby's delightful request? he guides the hand on your wide hip to rock against him, and you move them in juicy circular movements as his fingertips continuously graze against your g spot, causing your pussy to gush all over his hand.

you can feel drops of his warm sticky precum dribble in between your ass, and suguru uses it as a lubricant while he humps behind you, grunting heavily in your ear. as he increases the speed his fingers surge into you, he matches it with the grinding of your bodies.

“i know princess, i know.” suguru gasps out. “my little doll jus’ needed me to take care of her desperate pussy.” he pants. suguru just loved to watch his kind, quiet girl spasm out in ecstasy in front of him, because of him. he achieves so much satisfaction from knowing that he’s tinkered with your body so much, he’s practically trained your cunt to be his personal cock sleeve. you can't go mere moments around him without your pussy leaking down your legs.

“‘d-desperate…only for you, my love …” you breathe out in your angelically soft voice, causing suguru to moan at the dirty words you whispered to him. you both extract the same feelings of greed and unadulterated lust out of each other. you can dive into each other's darkest desires without any shame.

“are you feeling good, little one? talk to me gorgeous.” suguru hums, wanting to hear more of your seductive words and noises in your sultry voice.

“ah...a-ah! oh god ! mph…! feels so good sugu-suguru ! love it so much..” you cry out, thrashing around as an entertained suguru smiles at your words of affirmation, pressing a wet smooch on the side of your face.

your moans and pants now begin to increase in volume unapologetically. suguru is so happy when you let loose like this, it’s when you're the most confident in yourself. just looking at how exquisite you look as he fingers you, he pledges to find new ways to crack into your hard shelled exterior so he can see you like this more often.

maybe he could find out what extracurricular activities you're passionate about to keep yourself busy during the day. but suguru knows in his selfish heart that he wants you to spend all your time with only him, as you both continue to taint each other while you lose yourselves completely to your urges. right now, he’s determined to help you let go of the last strings of sanity you're clinging onto to keep yourself from descending to madness from the enthralling level of pleasure you're experiencing. he wants to hear you scream his name out so loud, the entire temple will know what he's doing to you.

so he adds another finger into you, now pushing three of his digits into your messy cunt. the strong grip he has on your hip is bound to leave ghosts of his touch on your skin the next day as he helps you grind down on his lengthy fingers while you fuck yourself on them, babbling out broken sentences that get interrupted by your cries and hiccups. he’s pumping into your burning heat so fast now, that every thrust makes your huge breasts bounce around erotically. you are such a sight to behold in suguru’s eyes. he looks at your pupils practically glow with hearts as you turn into a puddle of mush.

you're close – he can tell by the way your pulsating hole convulses around his digits, sucking them in so much he can barely pull them out, leaving his hand covered in your tasty fluids. the room is filled with the symphony of obnoxiously pornographic squelches your poor cunt makes.

surguru leans his head over your shoulder and spits a fat glob of his warm spit onto your clit, presses his thumb against it, and rubs tight succulent circles into your love nub, making you start to see white. he grasps one of your small hands in his large ones and holds it against your squishy chest, pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipple again while he turns his face to you to lick up the drool still spilling out of your pink lips.

“my sweet, sweet girl. you're so damn beautiful, so gorgeous. ‘gonna come on my fingers? don't be shy, let yourself go. wanna hear my pretty bird sing. come for me, little one.” hearing his sweltering voice whisper such vulgar words to you was all it took for you to release the balloon threatening to burst inside of you. your orgasm hits you hard, disorienting you as your vision blurs. your fluttering cunt sprays down sugurus arm and lap, drenching them in your juices. your hips finally give out, suguru having to support your body as you fall back on to him, letting out a final loud moan.

you sit against him in exhaustion, your chest heaving as you try to catch the breath that was ripped out of your lungs. suguru pulls his fingers out of your gummy walls, watching in amazement as strings of your slick stay attached to his digits. he holds his hand soaked with your cum up as the bright light beaming in the room catches it, a sheeny glow that reflects all over his palm leaves him starving for your taste.

he begins licking his hand clean, rolling his eyes to the back of his head as he shudders at the rich taste of you on his tongue. not wanting to waste a single drop, he laps up your essence that's all over his palm. once he's finished, he looks down at your tired out face and laughs to himself. already fucked out, n’ i havent even put my cock in you yet. suguru wasn't complaining though. he enjoyed seeing your mind and body so blown from pleasure you can barely move or form coherent sentences.

he leans his forehead against yours and presses your cheeks with his hand to pucker your lips for a kiss, entangling his tongue with yours yet again to swirl the taste of yourself in your mouths. suguru sucks on the fat of your bottom lip, nibbling on it softly before pulling away slightly to give you a dazzling smile.

“how’re feeling now, little one? all better?” you somehow find the strength to nod your head, closing your eyes as he peppers your face with more kisses. “yes…i feel…m-much better. thank you…suguru…” you murmur, still reeling from your powerful climax.

“‘s good my love, i'm glad. because now… 'm gonna make you feel even better.” his smile quickly turns into a mischievous smirk as he gently pushes you forward so you could feel his long shaft throb against your backside.

suguru was just about to put his hands under your arms to lift you up and raise you down onto his pelvis, when there was a sudden knock at the entrance door of the room. you quickly sat yourself up on sugurus lap, wrapping your robe around your still exposed front, and tried to look as presentable as possible before the door slid open. suguru pouted. he was just about to fuck you silly on his dick.

it was sugurus secretary, manami suda. she bowed her head briefly before strolling to the center of the room. the way she swished her hips as she walked showed off the fit her sleeveless dress had on her body. she turned her full attention to suguru as if you weren't even in the room and spoke. “geto-sama, you have one more healing ritual before the day ends. afterwards, there's a meeting you must attend with all the leaders…” manami trails off and raises an eyebrow at you when she notices you suddenly stiffen in the middle of her talking.

due to the placement of both of your robes and you hiding sugurus bottom half as you sat on him, manami was unaware of the movements of the jujutsu sorcerer she spoke to and how they were affecting you. during her drabbles about his upcoming schedule, suguru busied himself with grabbing your hips and grounding his stiff rod against your supple heat, your leftover cum assisting him with his desperate humping. while you tried (and failed) to keep as still as possible, suguru gave out a thoughtless, automatic response to his secretary. “thank you, manami. go ahead ‘n let the last one enter then.”

manami nods and gives a final bow, sashaying away and flipping her salmon colored hair to give you a skeptical glance before she exits the room. when the sliding doors slammed shut, you hid your now reddened face in your hands, suddenly feeling self conscious. you now realize that you must have been so loud before. what if manami, who already seems to detest you, or someone else in the temple had heard you? how would you be able to face them you thought.

clueless to the internal conflict you were facing with yourself, suguru wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head with a satisfied hum, before sitting both of you up properly on his pedestal while the two of you wait for the last pitied mortal to come in.

“let’s get through the day as quickly as possible, hm? can't wait till we’re back inside our room.” he whispers seductively to you, contributing to the warmth rising in your cheeks. honestly if it were up to suguru, he’d still fuck you senseless infront of whatever monkey was coming in to complain about their problems. he’d have even continued what he wanted to initially do to you before manami came in, uncaring if anyone walked in on him filling his girl up.

if others didn't get that he constantly needed intimate time with his woman, he had no problem satisfying their curiosity by showing them all the dirty things he does to you. the thought only manages to spur suguru on, and he decides that he wants to see you melt even more for him. however, suguru takes into consideration how modest you thrive to be in public settings with him, and decides to have some ‘pity’ on you.

so while suguru continues to play his role as a kind hearted cleric during his final healing ritual of the day, he periodically raises his hips up to grind himself between your puffy folds, no barrier separating the two of you now, embracing you securely so you're constantly reminded of his longing for you.

surguru gets so worked up from this, he changes his mind on being nice and asks you to at least cockwarm him, feeling his hard cock involuntarily twitch against you from the need to feel your cunt swallow him greedily. excuses for your refusal fall on deaf ears as you try to reason with him. after grumbling, suguru eventually realizes you may have been right after visualizing the risky idea:

the crown of suguru’s fat sensitive cockhead bumping against the squishy spot deep inside of you that pushes you over the edge, a spot only he can reach. unable to move, both of you falling to pieces at the guaranteed snug hold your pussy would have on his engorged length. his poor dick would have no choice but to release hot beads of his precum inside you that would only add to the mess of your sloppy pussy as you clenched, feeling your heartbeat from within.

suguru almost thought he’d cum on the spot from just his filthy imagination alone, and you would no doubt follow suit as he feels your cunt spill more slick on him every time his bulb-shaped tip repeatedly catched on your abused clit, stimulating it with his agonizing thrusts. suguru will give you both what you need later, when he pounds into you mercilessly for hours in your shared bed, fucking you within an inch of your life. he can't wait to feel your pussy leave a mess down his heavy cock, milking him for everything he’s worth.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #suguru geto #suguru geto smut #suguru getou x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic

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mads-nixon · 7 months

Note

Hey Mads,

I saw your requests are open. Could i please request a Dating Eugene Roe headcanon? Thank you 💕

Dating Eugene Roe Headcannons

Eugene Roe x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: My first ever BoB fic was about Gene, so he holds a special place in my heart. Thanks for requesting! I loved writing these!! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

So you and Gene meet in Aldbourne when Easy first gets moved there in September of 43' (you meet in october).

You're sitting in a coffee shop reading in the corner, and he thinks you're easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Being a shy guy, Gene doesn't say anything to you the first time he sees you. He just subtly glances at you from his spot across the shop.

Turns out, he isn't as subtle as he thinks and you totally notice the staring but don't mind it because you think he's very handsome.

You come into the shop every saturday morning, and every Saturday morning, he's there as well. After a few weeks of sneaking glances, you decided enough was enough.

You walk over and introduce yourself to him, and BOY does he go red when you say that you've noticed him.

Despite the awkwardness of the beggining of the conversation, things fall into a steady rhythm, and you find yourself enjoying his company.

Gene's very soft-spoken and respectful (the BEST listener in the whole company if you ask me)

You get to know each other a little bit, and when you have to leave, you write down your address on a table napkin with a grin, telling him you're free the next day at 6.

The next day, he shows up to your house at 5:55 with a bouquet of roses, wearing his dress uniform. He offers you his arm, and the two of you are off to Swindon for the night.

It ended with a sweet kiss under the stars at your porch (there was no light on because of the black-out being in effect)

from there, it was history, and you soon fell for the cajun medic, and he fell just as hard for you.

Whenever he gets weekend passes, the two of you go for day trips to Swindon or London, strolling down the streets softly talking.

In London, you take him to Crystal Palace Park, where you lay out a soft blanket and have a cozy picnic. Your head lays on his lap, and he gently runs his hands through your hair as he talks about his family back home.

You LOVE hearing the different stories of his grandmother and her healing abilities. It only makes sense that Gene would become a medic to help people, following in her footsteps.

As his training continued and the concern of Sobel leading the company grew, Gene began to bottle up his anxieties and distance himself from you slightly.

I feel like Gene is the type of guy who wouldn't want to tell you his problems because he doesn't want to add to your plate, so he suffers in silence.

You confront him about it and he sighs before telling you everything about Sobel and how incompetent he is. (you hate him with a burning passion...possibly more than Eugene does, but it's close.)

Sunday dinner with your family becomes a weekly thing as time drags on. Your dad was hesitant to bring an American into your house, but he likes Gene more than he ever would have thought.

I'd like to think that Eugene buys you small trinkets that reminds him of you (idk where this came from but it's in my mind now)

OKAY...JEALOUS GENE IS HOT, MAN

we all know he can get fired up (after moose get's shot, he rips Dick and Harry a new one), but what gets him really fired up is when he's jealous

Some nights when you're out at a pub, men will make passes at you despite him sitting right there...boy it grinds his gears.

I have a feeling he would just sit there silent because if he opens his mouth, he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself (imagine his *angry* look after Sobel screws up the training mission in curahee) .

You notice and reach out for his hand over the table, trying to calm him down. "I'm going to get us some drinks," you squeeze his hand before getting up.

Gene's eyes follow you as you waltz across the room, and he takes a deep breath.

His gaze falls to the table for a moment, and when he turns back to you, he sees red. There's a British soldier at the bar who's all up in your personal space and is getting closer every second. Eugene can see the discomfort all over your face.

He shoots up from the table and quickly makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you behind him as he faces the guy.

"Do we have a problem here?" He asks, looking down at the man with fire in his gaze.

The Brit cowers instantly, taking his drink off the table before walking away. "No, sir."

Even through the man was super annoying, seeing Gene like that is incredibly hot, and you turn him around and kiss him.

He calms down pretty quickly after that.

Whenever they have to leave for Upottery, you share a sweet goodbye filled with tears (a lot from you and a few from Gene), and promises of writing.

You keep in contact through letter for the whole duration of the war, and the second he can leave after it's over, he comes straight to Aldbourne and asks you to marry him.

Tag List: @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @flowers-and-fichte @merriell-allesandro-shelton

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!

#band of brothers #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #eugene roe headcannons #band of brothers headcannons #hbo war headcannons #gene roe #eugene doc roe

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 months

Note

S, I just came up with this idea. Listen..

Sebastian just losing it for Steve, he loves Chris, he's fucking weak for him. But sometimes, he looks at Steve on the screen in CA:TWS or Civil War, and just can't take it, he wants that guy. And imagine him talking Chris into role playing Steve just for him, when he's got the blonde hair, the bulk and all that. He just wants to be treated well by Steve, and not as Bucky, just himself, he can't help it.

That was it thank you very much.

I do love this idea! I love it a lot. And I think this kind of fits with my fic, "Character Bleed," obviously it's not the same concept, but if you haven't read that, I think you'd like it 👀

I mean, we know that Chris feels like this for Bucky on a PG level. Remember that con panel where he said he has a soft spot for him, bursting out with "I was gonna defend Sebastian, he's not a villian, he's a victim really!"? I remember it well. I especially remember Sebastian's happy little, 'he loves me' wiggle. It was the cutest!

(16:53-17:21)

So... I can totally see this happening with Sebastian in a PG-13 to R-rated way 😏 and I would like to imagine that it spills out of Sebastian accidentally, too.

Over the years and years of playing these characters, so much of Sebastian has become tangled up in Bucky, so much of Bucky is tangled up in Sebastian (which reminds of the top Chris quote in this gif set, too), and after the years of being with Chris, his infatuation still the same, maybe even worse now, realistically, it's only natural.

His heart speeds in his chest whenever he sees Chris and, usually, the effect is the same when he sees him larger than life on screen, portaying a character. Chris only has one face and it's just so goddamn handsome. He can't help it. C'mon! It's not fair! What's a man supposed to do?

And no matter how embarrassed Sebastian is of his simmering, latent, years long crush on Steve Rogers because of his affection for his boyfriend, Chris Evans--who is real and not fictional and more than enough, of course--he'll never say it willingly.

It only comes to a head because of the fucking sledgehammer to the head that is Nomad Steve Rogers.

That's so much closer to the Chris that Sebastian gets to love every day with his thick beard and his natural, untamed body hair and just his bigness, but it's also still so Steve.

It's Steve elevated.

It's Steve irresistible.

It's Steve knee-weakeningly hot.

So knee-weakening that when they're shooting, Infinity War over one of the the weekends, too wrapped up in each other to go out with the rest of the crew, hitting the town, it happens.

They're wrapped up, consumed in each other. Sebastian is pressed roughly back into their rented apartment bed, the sheets mused and ruined, the air thick, and his legs are spread as wide as they can be but they're still tense, still squeezed tight around Chris' impossibly broad shoulders. Those fucking shoulders--they're just so huge that he can't not press against them, no matter how shamelessly he opens himself to be taken and he loves it.

He loves how little and surrounded Chris makes him feel, always having to fight to make room for him. He's so big. Larger than life especially when he's been bulking and working out like a madman for the silver screen. Jesus, it feels as though Chris hardly fits between his legs sometimes. Like. Shit. He belongs there, between Sebastian's legs, having his way with him, wringing all the pleasure he wants from him. But he's so big!

Big and heavy, pressing down on him. Keeping him in place as if he would dream of going anywhere else. He dreams of this--Chris' palms broad and hot and owning, gripping handfuls of his thighs and ass, groping him, leaving finger- and handprint bruises where no one else will see. Underneath his costume, bruises that will ache when he stretches later, warming up for stunts and making his face warm with the secret, too.

(If only the makeup artists could see, they'd tease him and tut at him, playfully scolding him for getting it so hard when he knows he has to be on camera. Couldn't he have waited a few more days? Couldn't he have controlled himself for a little longer? God, Sebastian shudders impulsively, hot.)

So, Chris' there.

He's taking up space there, between his legs. Big, broad, and feverish, taking handfuls of him, taking mouthfuls of him, devouring him, first leaving marks across his skin with his lips and teeth and tongue, then sucking him off like he wants to kill him. Murdering him with how good it feels. Hot. Wet. Tight. Sucking him down, the slick, soft insides of his cheeks, the thrilling edge of his teeth, just hinted at, the depth of his throat.

Oh, God.

It's so distracting. He's so good. So good at this. He's gotten so good at this over the years that Sebastian is losing his mind. He loses his mind every time, now. He knows just what he likes.

So, Sebastian's grasping the sheets, fisting them so hard his knuckles are white, whimpering. Breathless. And Chris does fucking something, something with his tongue that he can't comprehend when he's so hard, throbbing, he just--

Sebastian arches and moves, feverish, squirming, reaching swiftly, grabbing and holding onto Chris' hair, dyed dirty blonde and long enough to really fucking hold on.

Then, to make it worse, Chris goes with his frantic hold, letting himself be directed, humoring Sebastian for now, until he wants to take control back; he dives deep, deep throating him, humming, letting him sweat with the vibrations that gut him. So overwhelmed with how fucking erotic it is, how good it feels, Sebastian is groaning, mouth open. He can't think. He can't stop.

It simply escapes him.

He can barely see through the tears in his eyes, his head spinning, but he's blinking, staring down at his shaking hands fisted in that blonde hair, and whining, "St-Steve!"

Suddenly, Sebastian is cursing how good of an actor his boyfriend is--how willing he is to "yes, and" because while Sebastian wants to curl up into a ball, tingling with arousal that's being rapidly taken over by superheated embarrassment, his nerves spitting and sparking like faulty wiring, Chris is chuckling. Just for a moment, though. The dark vibrations feel like fire. Hot as fuck. But that laugh, rich and dangerous, disappears and is replaced with Chris' touch. Chris has let go of one of his thighs to gather his right wrist, then his left--Sebastian hadn't even realized his hands had unweaved themselves from his golden fucking head of hair, making him see double, but they had. His hands are covering his own mouth. They were. Chris is putting them back in his own hair and he's--

"Ohh, oh, God!"

He's making him hold onto his hair and he's pushing himself down, down, pressing his nose to the flat of his lower stomach, swallowing around him, making him feel so good that his hips jerk sharply up. Chris doesn't choke and Sebastian dies. Just a little bit. Dying. He's sucking him like a beast and he's just, just... it's like he's urging him on, it's like he's--

Without his hands to cover his mouth and shut himself up, Sebastian moans again, "Steve!"

It's like he's trying to get him to say it!

Between his legs, Chris is determined, there's just the hint of a smirk on his mouth, curled up around his aching cock. And in his eyes--

Sebastian knows that look.

Fuck.

He knows it!

He knows the determination; he knows the steel in his gaze; he knows the dangerous glint and he fucking sees Steve.

"Pluh-please, please!" Sebastian gasps, overwhelmed, trying to hold himself off but failing spectacularly, "please, Steve!" His outcry is immediately followed by half-whimpering, half-panting, "'m sorryy!"

He's so fucking embarrassed that his face is tingling; he couldn't be blushing more, but he also can't stop himself, his body is rushing, pulsing, throbbing, and too sensitive to stop. It's too much! There's no brakes, only more gas.

Steve, Steve--Chris, er, whatever.

Chris won't have it, though.

Chris isn't just looking at him with that bastard fucker, stubborn stare that's pure Steve Rogers--Steve Rogers who won't and doesn't know how to put his head down and give up, not giving up now--Chris is lowering his voice and putting that lilt in it that's booming, authoritative, and empowering.

Actually, that voice is not so different from his usual, deep, rumbling, this-is-making-my-dick-hard voice, and the association is going to ruin Sebastian for the rest of his life. Every time they're on set from now on, he's gonna think about this and he's gonna fucking die of mortification.

Chris has so easily slipped into that voice. That role. Criminally easily, he's started being Steve.

Steve.

Steve ordering Sebastian around like he's making calls on a battle field as he pulls off his cock with a slurp, leaning his broad shoulders back, confident and cocky, a fucking leader, "you're gonna cum for me, baby. C'mon. I see it. It's right there. I know it is." While he talks like that, he jerks Sebastian off hard. Dick wet and sloppy from his dreamy mouth. Squeezing his throbbing hard-on until Seb gasps hard enough his throat hurts, he's going raw.

"You're gonna gimme what I want, baby," Steve tells him, "and you're gonna show me how pretty you are by cumming."

Sebastian is just a man.

Just a man on edge with an order to fall over it. So, he cums.

Hard.

He cums, pumping, throbbing, and shattering in Steve's hands. A fucking wet dream worthy man--his flowing, blonde hair, his voice, his beard, his stupidly broad chest and shoulders, his torn, dusty uniform, his hands, and those fucking gloves. Sebastian can see those gloves, his rolled uniform sleeves, exposed forearms, all of it. He can see it painted on the back of his eyelids as his eyes roll back, breaking apart with pleasure.

He makes a mess of Steve's beard and plush lips and the site of it, when he manages to peel his eyes open, it makes him wanna cum again.

Now.

Please.

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #sebastian stan #chris evans #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #steve rogers #stucky #bucky barnes

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claudemblems · 2 years

Text

Bookish Romance | Malleus + Leona Headcanons

Summary: How Malleus and Leona act with an s/o that loves to read and go shopping for books

Notes: I only just finished the Savanaclaw chapter but that's not going to stop me from writing for Malleus

Malleus Draconia

Finds you unbelievably adorable.

Though he doesn't quite understand how fictional stories can make you so excited, he's just glad to see you have something that makes you so happy.

"Child of Man, could you tell me what you find so fascinating about these stories? I wish to know what exactly intrigues you. Perhaps, if it is within my power, I can recreate the scenes with you."

100% turns into his dragon form just so you can soar through the sky on him like the characters in your fantasy novel. What, you didn't expect him to do this for you? Don't you know how much Malleus Draconia, crown prince of Briar Valley, is willing to make all of your dreams come true?

He'll even rope the rest of the dorm into these reenactments. You need princes fighting for your hand in marriage? Good thing Diasomnia has 3 other willing members! (They didn't actually get a say in all of this).

It's a bit embarrassing for them, but they don't mind it too much. The boys adore you, and they'll do anything to see you and Malleus smile. Sebek and Silver will still insist they're only doing it for their young master, though (they're just shy okay).

If there's a certain book you can't find or that has gone out of print, Malleus ensures that you WILL get it no matter what. If that means using his royal title and demanding a publishing house to make an extra copy just for you, he won't hesitate to do so.

You've tried to keep yourself from mentioning you want things now because they keep mysteriously showing up at your door. You appreciate Malleus' thoughtfulness, but you know he drives his staff crazy; they're the ones who have to fetch your gifts on his behalf.

Malleus truly has no impulse control when he wants to spoil you, which is all the time.

He LOVES when you cuddle up next to him by the fireplace and read your books aloud to him. The stories are always entertaining, but more than anything, he just enjoys listening to your voice.

Even better if you fall asleep on him in the middle of it. It makes his heart flutter in his chest every time.

He'll quietly carry you back to your room, careful to mark the place in your book where you stopped before giving you a kiss on the forehead, bidding you goodnight.

He wonders if you'd like to have him read stories to you, too. Perhaps you'd like to hear a classic fairytale. He knows a delightful one about fairies and sleeping princesses.

Leona Kingscholar

Oh no, he's got it bad for you.

He's not really into reading books that much himself, but there's something so heartwarming watching how your eyes light up when you spot your favorite series in a bookstore or how you make grabby hands trying to reach a volume from the top shelf.

You're ridiculously cute. He won't admit it to you, but it's blatantly obvious to everyone else.

He will, however, tease you relentlessly.

He has no problem grabbing the book you want and holding it above your head, just far enough out of reach, a smug smirk on his face.

"You've gotta work to get it, Herbivore." "Just give me my book, Leona!!! 😠"

The angry pout you give him makes his heart go all soft and mushy. Who gave you the right to be so adorable? It only spurs on his teasing side even more, if only just so he can look at your adorable expressions.

His favorite thing besides napping is watching you ramble on about the plot of a book or your favorite characters. You get so animated when you talk and he can visibly see the joy beaming on your face. He's so used to dry conversations with other people that he isn't used to someone talking so earnestly with him, or rather, excitedly rambling about nonsensical things. It's intoxicating.

You'll be several minutes into your tangent when you look over and see Leona, head resting in his hand, gazing at you with the fondest smile you swear you've ever seen him wear.

Your heart can't help but skip a beat at the sight. Is this how he looks at you when you're too lost in your own world to notice? The thought makes your cheeks flush.

"Herbivore, you didn't finish telling me about what happened next. You can't just leave me on a cliffhanger like that."

And once again, your eyes are shining with delight as you continue gushing over your favorite book. Leona can't hold back his growing smile, no matter how hard he tries.

Out of all the herbivores he's met in his lifetime, you are truly the most endearing of them all.

#[kat writes]#twst #twst x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader

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mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

Note

hnnnn in my soft era so could i perhaps request a skz reaction to you prepping a whole self care day for them 🥺 like face masks massages everything cuz i love them

stray kids reactions to their s/o preparing a self-care day

genre: fluff

word count: 0.8k

warnings: extremely fluffy

please like and reblog if you enjoy :D

bangchan

if there's anyone more deserving of a self-care day, it's bang christopher chan. he's a workaholic, it's in his nature. it's admirable but you want him to have some time for himself. so when he finally has some time off for some quality time with you, you've got a whole pamper session planned out. face masks, delicious food, and pop on a feel-good movie. if you ask him though, his favourite way to relax is by cuddling and/or making out with you. depends on his mood but it's cute either way. it's always a self-care session just by being with you, you don't even have to do anything special for him ;-;

lee know

minho is into skincare routines and eagerly wants to be that couple who do it on each other. he mainly wants to see you with one of those fluff hairbands on because he says you look adorable. he will take lots of selfies of you both with them on because he's cute like that. when it comes to actually applying the products to your face, he's not going easy on you. can be quite brutal and also starts laughing at you because he makes your face look all strange with a mixture of products on #donttrusthim #menacetosociety

changbin

changbin will marry you on the spot if you suggest giving him a massage. he goes to the gym every day and works hard on his body. massages are always appropriate and always needed. he will literally melt if you ask him if you can massage his back and he will make happy binnie noises and have that cute smile on his face awww. just the whole routine of it, especially if you use proper massage oil, makes him feel so relaxed and refreshed. he will also return the favour and want to massage you too he's really good with his hands

hyunjin

hyunjin is all heart eyes when you reveal to him you planned a self-care day for the both of you. sheet face masks: on. sad, emotional romance films: on. tissues: ready. let's go. yes, hyunjin likes to spend his self-care day with you by indulging in his emotions and crying over fictional characters. he has you watching the notebook or me before you idk something to make you both bawl. it's so fun, 100% recommend. he's got a cute little candle lit and he's holding you close for comfort. it feels very... hyunjin in there, that's for sure.

han

hannie just wants to laze around and do nothing. that's his self-care day. because he's always doing something. it's very rare that he actually gets a mental break from things. cuddles are very important to him so he might pop on an anime or a cute little movie whilst being snuggled up in your arms. will 9 out of 10 times fall asleep like that. he's just so comfy and relaxed and your comforting presence creates the perfect mood for sleepy time. you both fall asleep with each other :( it's an adorable sight.

felix

this fluffy boy is having the best time of his life. he has so many ideas for a self-care day that he actually doesn't know what to do first. fluffy blankets and plushies are obligatory. felix wants to binge-watch a load of comfort movies, mostly disney and marvel, you get the idea. he just wants to snuggle up with you and be near you. you both will talk through all the movies and make fun of everything that's happening. for the sadder moments, of course, the laughter will stop and you both will hold each other, holding back tears.

seungmin

seungmin's idea of a self-care day consists of you, a good book and an unlimited supply of tasty snacks. you knew this, and so preparing a pamper day would be a piece of cake! just laying back with a cup of coffee, you leaning on his shoulder, reading the latest best-seller; he can't imagine being more at ease with life than he is now. it warms his heart that you wanted to day a self-care day with him. he will shyly thank you and shower you with extra love because he really appreciates your efforts.

jeongin

i really do see jeongin going out in his pyjamas to the grocery store in order to get some snacks for your self-care day. only if you come with him, of course. he's so excited when you mention the idea to him. he feels like it's been a long since he's spent one-on-one time with you. being busy with promotions for their latest comeback and whatnot, he loves to take any opportunity he can to chill out with you. this man is really into marvel so a marvel marathon is not too much of a shock. you guys don't go to sleep until the very early hours of the morning.

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rate-every-bat · 6 months

Text

Today's bats: Woobat and Swoobat

The Pokémon franchise is very near and dear to me, being the second special interest I picked up as a kid. (Can you guess what my first one was? 🦇) This precious duo are Psychic/Flying type, and were first introduced in Pokémon Black and White.

Environmental Impact: There's a real ecological niche for these guys!! Pokédex entries reveal that, like many real-world bats, the Woobat family are cave-dwellers, echolocating to navigate and hunt for Bug-types. Unlike real bats, they're said to leave heart-shaped impressions with their distinctive noses on cave walls. They're beneficial to humans as well: a heart-mark from these guys will bring good luck, and hearing the echolocations of "courting males" will induce a good mood. I think IRL bats are equally able to impart good moods, but that might just be me. (Those echolocations can also reduce rock to rubble, though, so stick to mating season if you're going out Swoobat-watching.)

🦇🦇🦇/5

Beauty: I love when fictional bats map onto real species, and these two are an obvious send-up to the Heart-Nosed Bat. Bulbapedia also pointed out that Woobat resembles the Honduran White Bat, which I can see a little less strongly. I really love their toothy grins (shared by another dear favorite family, Munchlax/Snorlax). Their shiny forms are green and orange, which are just as darling as the standard-issue powder blue. Their signature move, Heart Stamp, is especially precious. Altogether, I have a real soft spot for these little guys' looks!!

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇/5

Power: As Pokémon go, their typing isn't bad. The Flying secondary type eliminates the typical Psychic weaknesses to Bug, while making them doubly (quadruply?) effective against Fighting. They still have a wide array of weaknesses, and their stats aren't much to write home about. However, the Pokémon games taught me that any Pokémon can be a great teammate if raised with love, so I'd say Woo and Swoo still pass.

🦇🦇🦇/5

Overall: Woobat/Swoobat always has a place on my team for it's looks and battiness alone. I'll take a heart-stamp any day of the week.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇/5

(Today's sources: Bulbapedia, Bulbapedia)

#rate every bat #bats #pokemon #woobat #swoobat #video game bats #media bats

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 6 months

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Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

TW for SA. Yes, even though Jonathan didn't touch her, it was a form of sexually violation. We don't bring this up enough or the fact that Nancy shoved her feelings about it aside and then slept with him after being convinced to. It wasn't fair to all parties involved, but most importantly, Nancy and Steve, that this was how they started out. Yes, Steve was violated, too. I will be addressing that in another chapter. If you're going to do this in fiction, address it so all parties can have closure. Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to my fellow SA victims. Yes, I am a victim of SA, and some of my feelings bleed through there. This is for me and others like me. I also felt like I needed to do it for Nancy and her character, whose agency is constantly being taken away. She was in control when she slept with Steve but not when Jonathan took her picture and it was certainly in question when she slept with Jonathan. People always flip it around so Jonathan doesn't look quite so bad. Sorry, this is so long. I hope I did Nancy justice.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Jonathan wanted to give Nancy her stuff back, which was awkward, to say the least. Unfortunately, he got called into the Hawkins' Post when Nancy showed up, and so, he left her with Will. It was another awkward moment. What do you say to the person who's older brother you dumped?

"I'm glad you and Jonathan are able to be friends," Will said.

"What? Oh, yeah, me too," Nancy said and paused. "You're not upset with me for breaking up with him, are you?"

"No! I mean, it sucks but if things aren't working out between you, you shouldn't make yourselves miserable trying to make it work," Will said. "Jonathan told me some of what happened, not all of it, and he's glad that it went the way that it did. It could have gone much worse. The fact that you still want to be friends with him means something to me, too. I'm glad that he'll have someone to hang out with who isn't me."

"Yeah, me too," Nancy said softly.

"Of course, I understand if it's still awkward. If you want to leave before he comes back, he said your stuff was in a drawer in his room," Will said.

"That'd be great, actually. I promised Holly I would take her to the mall. I thought I would surprise her with an old friend," Nancy said.

"Steve?" Will asked.

"Yeah," she said and turned to head towards Jonathan's room.

"Nancy?" Will asked.

"Yeah?"

"You're a great big sister," Will said.

Nancy was grinning from ear to ear when she entered the room. While it was true that Dustin was her favorite and apparently, Steve’s as well, she did have a soft spot for Will, too. Nancy hummed thoughtfully as she looked around the room. She pulled out the bottom drawer of Jonathan's desk. Nope, she didn't see anything that looked like it belonged to her. Just to make sure, she pressed her hand to the back of the drawer. Nancy frowned when she came into contact with a small cylindrical object. Curious, she pulled it out. It was one of Jonathan's rolls of film. She wondered what was on here. Her curiosity won over, and she unrolled it, holding it up to the light. Her heart stopped. No, these photos were destroyed. Jonathan wouldn't still have copies? The proof was in her hand, though. He had somehow kept them.

She vaguely heard the front door open and the sound of Joyce's voice filtering in from the other room. Nancy knelt on the floor, still clutching the evidence in her hand. Everything had happened so fast then. . . Will went missing. . .Barb went missing. . . There was a monster on the loose, and she didn't have time to think about Jonathan taking those pictures. It wasn't just of her. It was of Tommy, Carol. . .Steve. She thought back to their argument in the woods.

"You said I was saying something, and that's why you took my picture," Nancy said.

"I saw this girl trying to be someone else. It was like you were alone or you thought you were, and you could just be yourself," Jonathan had said, and as she thought about it, that was fucking creepy.

You were alone, or you thought you were. No, there was someone in the bushes taking a picture of her most private intimate moment.

"That is such bullshit," Nancy had told him. "I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I'm dating Steve and you don't like him - "

"You know what? I just thought it was a good picture," Jonathan said.

So, him saying earlier before that he shouldn't have taken that photo that had been just bullshit? The more Nancy really thought about it, the more she realized how wrong it all was. . . How wrong Jonathan was and how he wasn't even sorry for taking that photo. He had invaded her privacy, not just hers but Steve’s as well. She felt sick to her stomach. She had slept with someone who didn't care about whether or not her privacy had been violated and who didn't understand the boundaries he had crossed even with his reason for doing it. Keeping the copies of the photos had proven that. And she had gotten mad at Steve for breaking his camera when he was just defending her and himself. She thought about Jonathan's hands all over her, and she wanted to be sick. She kept pushing it away, pushing it down and pretending like what Jonathan did wasn't that bad. She had gotten mad at Steve for wanting to pretend that everything was okay for one night when it was really her who was pretending and laying it all on Steve, too.

"I saw this girl trying to be someone else."

"This isn't you, Nance."

Why wasn't it her? Why was sleeping with Steve. . .being with Steve wasn't for her? Why couldn't everyone see that it didn't matter what it looked like on the outside to them? On the inside, Nancy wanted to be with him. . .wanted to make love to him. It only mattered what she wanted, what Steve wanted. They made the assumption that she didn't really want Steve, and without even really realizing it, she started to believe it, too. She had always been a planner when it came to the things that had mattered to her. She had planned on being with him the moment he started talking to her. She had made plans to sleep with him. All that she wanted was for it to mean something to him, and it did. When she told him to stop, he did. When it came down to it, Steve had made sure that it was her who made the first move when it came to initiating sex because he knew she felt more comfortable taking control and he wanted it to be what she wanted. . .the way she wanted it.

Sure, she had feelings for Jonathan, but she hadn't planned on sleeping with him. . .on acting on her feelings because something had been holding her back. It hadn't been just Steve, but it had been the most important part. She had been slightly drunk that night and filled with a euphoria that her plan to take down the lab was going to work. . .that she was finally going to get justice for Barb. She had wanted it to be Steve beside her. She had been set on believing that she had been settling for Steve, but maybe it was the other way around. Maybe she was just settling for Jonathan. God, she was an awful person. The sound of Joyce walking down the hallway with Will broke Nancy out of her thoughts.

"Why are you here without Jonathan?" Joyce asked.

"I'm not alone. Nancy's here. Jonathan had gotten called to the Post. Nancy came here to collect her stuff," Will said.

"Oh, that's always tough," she heard Joyce say, and then she popped her head into the room. "Nancy, honey? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Really," Nancy said weakly.

"I would believe that if you weren't crying," Joyce said.

Nancy hadn't even noticed it until she had pointed it out. She touched her cheek and realized it was wet.

"Oh, I am crying," Nancy said. "He kept this."

"What is that? Is this one of Jonathan's film strips?" Joyce asked. "Full of sentimental photos?"

"I wouldn't call them sentimental," Nancy scoffed.

"May I see?" Joyce asked softly.

She really didn't want to, but she knew Joyce, and she knew how determined she could be. She released the roll into her hands, biting her lip. Joyce held the strip up to the light. Nancy watched her pale considerably, and she rolled it back up. Joyce turned to Will, who was standing in the doorway looking concerned.

"Will, go into your room and blast the music," Joyce said. "I don't want you to hear any of this."

"Mom - ," Will started to say and she gave him a look.

Will looked at Nancy and then wandered off toward his room. A moment later, they heard the music blasting.

"Do you drink coffee?" Joyce asked softly.

"Yeah," Nancy said.

Joyce helped her off the floor and walked her into the kitchen. She started the coffee and placed a box of tissues in front of Nancy. The roll of film was placed on the table, and honestly, it felt like it was staring at Nancy. Suddenly, Joyce set a steaming mug in front of her.

"Do you want me to call your mom?" Joyce asked softly.

"What? No, I'm okay," Nancy said.

"I understand if you wanted to press charges against Jonathan," Joyce said gently.

"Press charges?" Nancy asked.

"For taking those photos of you with Steve. That was Steve’s house, right? The night Barbara died?" Joyce asked. "Look, when Hopper gets busy with work, he usually comes over to complain about Mike and El. If you feel that it's what you need to do, I'm not going to be mad at you, sweetheart."

"I couldn't do that to you and Will," Nancy said and sipped her coffee.

"So, what do you want to do?" Joyce asked.

"I just want to move forward, but I need time to let myself feel all of this. When Barb died, I tried so hard to pretend that everything was alright, that what he did was okay because, in a way, it led to us finding Will. We knew what happened to Barb. I pushed what he did to the back of my mind. He captured me in my most intimate moment. It was my first time with Steve. . . With anyone," Nancy said. "And the bigger picture was Will and Barb. It made it easier to focus on that and push everything else aside. It was too much on top of everything else."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Joyce said.

"I understand, I think, why he did it," Nancy said.

"You do?"

"He spends so much time behind the camera that he can't see the boundary line, and in some way, I think he uses that to keep people at arms length but at the same time, trying to get to know them. And I understand that he probably doesn't even know that he crossed a boundary, that it's harder for him to recognize that. He uses the camera to push people away, and sometimes, in doing so, it hurts them because it's easier to do the wrong thing in order to protect yourself from being hurt. I think if he just steps out from behind the camera, he'd get a clearer picture," Nancy sighed.

"I noticed that too," Joyce said softly.

"I know all of that and know he wasn't intentionally trying to hurt me, but he did. He crossed a line, and I just need time, I think, to be around him again," Nancy said. "I don't know how to do that, considering I work with him."

"You leave that to me," she said, patting her hand and squeezing it gently.

"I think it wouldn't have been so hard right now if I hadn't acted on my feelings for him," Nancy said.

"I think it would help you if you talked about it with someone. It doesn't have to be your mom, but it might be better if it was," Joyce said softly.

Joyce didn't say anything else, just squeezed her hand as they finished drinking their coffee in silence. A moment later, they heard Jonathan come through the door, and judging by the sound of his voice, Hopper had arrived at the same time that Jonathan did. They immediately noticed the tension in the room.

"What's going on? Nancy?" Jonathan asked, and she refused to look at him. "Is that my film? Did you go through my things?"

"Oh, getting mad about your invasion of privacy is not something that you want to do right now, Jonathan Byers," Joyce said.

Nancy's jaw clenched, and her cheeks flushed with anger. She picked up the film, stood up, and chucked at him. It bounced off his head and landed near Hopper's feet.

"You asshole! You kept copies of the photos!" Nancy shrieked.

Joyce placed her hands on Nancy's arms, rubbing them in comfort.

"Nancy, honey, I got this," Joyce said.

Hopper picked up the film and unrolled it, held it up to the light.

"Jesus," Hopper said, and his jaw clenched, his eyes looking at Jonathan in anger. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you would be in if anyone else found these? Do you have any idea what you did to Steve and Nancy by taking these photos? Do you know what this photo is?"

"It's just a picture, and I forgot I had them," Jonathan said.

He actually looked guilty, and Nancy wondered if he actually felt bad about taking them or that he got caught.

"They're just pictures," Jonathan repeated.

"Considering both Nancy and Steve were underage at the time. . . You were, weren't you?" Hopper asked, and Nancy nodded. "That's child pornogrophy! Even if Nancy didn't charge you, I would still have to arrest you for that alone. Not to mention taking the photos of the other kids involved without their consent. I could add harassment charges to that as well as trespassing. With what a hard ass Steve’s dad is, he could throw everything at you, and he would have the resources to do it, too."

"I was looking for Will," Jonathan said defensively.

"The minute you started snapping these photos is the minute that you stopped thinking about Will, so don't use your brother to try and escape the fact that you fucked up," Joyce said and sighed.

"Do you want to press charges?" Hopper asked Nancy.

"No, I just want to go home," Nancy said.

She suddenly realized that she wasn't all that angry right, she was mostly just tired. Just so drained of everything. Maybe she'll be angry later.

"Hop, do you want to take Nancy home, please? I want to talk to Jonathan," Nancy said.

"Sure," Hop said and looked at Nancy softly as he pocketed the film. "Come on, kid."

The first few minutes of the ride back home was a silent one at first.

"You going to be okay, kid?" Hopper asked.

"I thought it didn't bother me what he did. I thought it was Steve who was overreacting when he broke Jonathan's camera, but maybe it was me who was underreacting. I want to forgive him, but I think I need to feel everything that I've been pushing away right now," Nancy said. "In time, I think I will be okay."

"I've seen you take on anything. You're one of the strongest kids I know," Hopper said. "You're definitely going to get through this. You got someone to talk to? I'm terrible at giving advice, but I've got two ears."

Nancy laughed as she thought about Steve and Eddie.

"Yeah, I've got friends," she replied.

They fell into silence again as she thought about what she was going to tell Steve and Eddie.

"So, Steve broke Jonathan's camera, huh? Good for him," Hopper said, and Nancy laughed. "You know, I have to ask Steve, too. I'm not going to arrest Jonathan either. I can't with the pictures that are also on the film."

"I know," Nancy said softly. "Steve would never tell his dad, by the way. He hates his dad."

Once they made it to her house, she climbed out of the vehicle and thanked him before entering her house. Karen was busy doing laundry, so Nancy quietly climbed the stairs to her bedroom, where she threw herself onto her bed. There was a tiny knock on her door, and she smiled when Holly's blonde head popped into the room.

"Nancy?" Holly asked, and suddenly Nancy remembered that she was supposed to take Holly to the mall.

"I'm sorry, Holly, I know I was supposed to take you to the mall, but I don't really feel good right now," Nancy said. "Can we do it tomorrow?"

"Okay! I'll be right back," Holly said.

When she came back, her arms were full with her blanket, pillow, and stuffed rabbit. She threw them on the bed and struggled to climb on up.

"What are you doing?" Nancy asked.

"Moving up my nap time, duh," Holly said. "You can snuggle with Bobby since you don't feel so good."

Nancy smiled as she held her rabbit to her chest while Holly snuggled into her side. God, she wanted to stay like this forever. She couldn't wait to spend time with her tomorrow. It will be a brand new day and one step closer to a new beginning.

Chapter Five

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weemssapphic · 1 year

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I desire. And I crave.

part one

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

series page

summary: Jane Murdstone suffers from Hanahaki Disease. The object of her affections? Her lady’s maid. Too bad she would rather feel the cold embrace of death than confess her feelings. ~ For those unfamiliar with the Hanahaki Disease trope: HD is a (fictional, lol) disease where someone begins coughing up flower petals because they have unrequited feelings for someone. If not treated, the disease is fatal. Treatment is either a. the feelings become requited, or b. surgery (the caveat here is that the feelings for that person disappear entirely).

words: ~5k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: slight angst/angst with a happy ending, Hanahaki Disease, blood, mentions of death/near-death experience, fear of death, unrequited love (or is it), hints of soft!Jane but also angry!Jane

That man to me seems equal to the gods, the man who sits opposite you and close by listens to your sweet voice

and your enticing laughter— that indeed has stirred up the heart in my breast. For whenever I look at you even briefly I can no longer say a single thing,

but my tongue is frozen in silence; instantly a delicate flame runs beneath my skin; with my eyes I see nothing; my ears make a whirring noise.

A cold sweat covers me, trembling seizes my body, and I am greener than grass. Lacking but little of death do I seem.

Sappho 31

Jane Murdstone doesn’t have a soft spot for anyone. She prides herself on her calculating, cunning manner, takes joy in inciting just a little bit of fear in those she comes in contact with. A little healthy intimidation keeps people on their toes - and, in Jane’s mind, there is nothing worse than a person who is lazy or slow-witted.

No, Jane doesn’t have a soft spot for anyone. Except perhaps her lady’s maid. And only a little bit, really. It’s just that Jane has rarely met anyone who is able to keep with her like you are.

What had first endeared her to you had been how quickly you’d caught on to your duties when you’d been hired, and how extremely meticulous you are - outshining any other maid or servant she’d ever employed with your eye for detail.

What has her swooning (if, of course, she were even the type to swoon, which she isn’t, thank you very much), is realizing how your intelligence and quick-wit rival her own.

She has often even caught you smiling slightly when she’s made a cutting, sarcastic remark towards another servant. Others cower in fear (which has an appeal all of its own), but you are unphased, seeming to appreciate her wit like no one else - it makes Jane’s heart flutter in a most unfamiliar way.

Today, Jane sits at her vanity, allowing you to pin up her hair for the day. She watches you in the mirror - you avoid her gaze, focusing intently on ensuring not a single hair is out of place, which gives her the freedom to stare. Her eyes track your movements, the painstaking way in which you push each pin into place, the concentrated way in which your pink tongue darts out ever so slightly and your brow furrows as you work.

Her gaze lingers on that tongue of yours, between full, soft lips, and Jane feels a warmth spread through her core. Her entire body tingles as your fingers brush against the nape of her neck, the gentle touch sending a shiver down her spine. She curses internally at herself - she should not be having such sinful feelings or thoughts about a maid. But you aren’t just a maid, are you?

She knows that her feelings aren’t professional. But you don’t seem interested in her anyway, only engaging in conversation when spoken to (although, really, that is what Jane had initially requested) - and you’re young, anyway, much younger than she is. She realizes she hasn’t had many personal conversations with you - she certainly doesn’t know where your interests lie. Men, women? Perhaps both? She allows herself to get lost in her musings, to indulge in the thoughts of lustful fantasies that will never come to fruition.

You push the final pin into place and look up, catching Jane’s eye in the mirror. Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush, and Jane quickly averts her gaze.

“Is it to your liking, milady?” comes your voice, slightly timid and perhaps a bit breathless.

“It’ll do,” Jane replies airily, regarding herself in the mirror. Of course it is to her liking - she has never felt more beautiful since you’ve come into her service - her previous lady’s maid had never been able to do her hair just right (her work, in general, had been so sloppy compared to yours).

As Jane rises to her feet, her thoughts, regrettably, lingering on you, she feels a tickle in the back of her throat. She begins to cough. It takes several seconds for the cough to ease up, and when it does there is a strange burning in her lungs that has her pressing her hand to her chest.

She turns to find your hesitant gaze upon her.

“Are you feeling ill, milady? Shall I make you a mustard plaster?”

Jane scoffs. She doesn’t feel ill. “Don’t be absurd, girl. It will pass. Fetch me some pepper tea and begin the rest of your duties, before you fall behind.”

“Yes, of course, milady. Right away.” You nod curtly, your gaze still curious and uncertain, before turning on your heel and hurrying down to the kitchens. Jane scolds herself for the longing she feels for your presence as soon as you vacate the room, shaking her head lightly and perching at her vanity to await your return, her throat beginning to tickle with another cough.

~~~

You’ve been working as a lady’s maid for Jane Murdstone for close to two years now - and they have been, for the most part, the most comfortable years of your life. After a bit of a rocky start (it had taken you quite a bit of time to be able to properly decipher Jane’s moods and get used to her cold demeanor and cutting, sometimes even cruel remarks) you’d settled into your routine and even gotten to like the abrasive woman.

She isn’t exactly kind to you - you aren’t sure if she’s ever been kind to anyone in her life - but she doesn’t seem to show quite as much disdain towards you as she does towards the other servants. She seems to recognize your diligence and intelligence, traits that she appears to value, and though she’s never openly thanked you for anything, she sometimes gives you a look of approval when you manage to anticipate her needs without her having to speak them aloud. That look alone always makes your heart beat just a little faster.

In turn, you admire her quick wit and sharp tongue, her ability to use words as a weapon and find a smart response to anything within a matter of seconds - you wish you possessed these traits, although you sometimes wish she would go a bit easier on others, particularly the other servants.

You adore her intelligence and share her love for poetry (sometimes, she asks you to read to her and, recently, she has occasionally started to ask your opinion on certain lines - it makes you nervous, but you would do anything to please her).

And she is beautiful. Her silky raven hair accentuates the icy blue of her eyes and her fair skin, while her unusual height and soft curves never fail to bring a flush to your cheeks. You often wonder how she hasn’t found a husband yet - if you were a man, you’d have already asked her hand in marriage long ago. There must have been suitors in her youth - you imagine a young Jane Murdstone, fresh-faced and innocent, and you shiver. She likely thinks herself too good for the likes of some foolish man, you think. Which she is, of course…

Pinning up her long, dark tresses always brings you more joy than you care to admit. Sometimes, if your mistress appears to be in a particularly pleasant mood, you allow your fingers to linger in the lush locks, taking your time with each and every wave. It is almost a sensual experience for you, though you would never admit it out loud. Definitely not to Jane herself.

When you finish with her hair and look up to find her regarding you in the mirror, you worry she has sensed your dawdling and is gearing up to reprimand you. Her response, however, indicates she is pleased with your work (you’ve learned that “it’ll do” is often the highest praise you’ll receive from your mistress, and, for that, it makes your heart swell).

A brief coughing fit causes you concern, and, of course, Jane refuses to allow you to properly care for her. It is not your place to argue, though, so you do as you’re told and scamper down to the kitchens. You leave the cup of tea on Jane’s vanity, then dismiss yourself to begin patching up a dress that Jane had requested you fix.

~~~

Jane’s cough appears to worsen over time, though she doesn’t necessarily appear ill. It puzzles you as much as it troubles you - she refuses every attempt from your side at finding a cure, be it a home remedy or allowing the doctor to stop by.

You decide to do something kind for her to ease her worries - you can sense the cough is beginning to perplex her as well, though she doesn’t say anything. Rising early, well before you are to assist Jane with dressing, you sneak into the gardens, intending to pick some flowers for your mistress.

Your eyes immediately land on the white phlox decorating the garden path. You are painfully aware that Jane is well-versed in the language of flowers, as ladies of her status often are, and would likely assign a meaning to whatever bloom you gift her, so you must be cautious. White phlox seem safe enough - pure intentions, honest commitment, faithfulness - all sentiments that can easily be written off as your devotion as a servant, with little room for misinterpretation.

Methodically snipping off a fistful of flowers near the edge of the flowerbed, where they won’t be missed, you find a small, ornate vase for the blooms and carry the bouquet carefully up to Jane’s bedroom.

You knock, as you do every morning, waiting for Jane’s smooth voice to call out “you may enter” before slipping in through the door.

“Good morning, milady.” You curtsey as best you can with the vase held firmly in your hands. “I brought you a small gift.”

Icy blue eyes fall to the bouquet, widening ever so slightly. You think you see a blush creep up her cheeks, though you quickly write it off as a trick of the light - you’ve never seen your mistress blush before.

“What’s the occasion?” Her eyes don’t leave the bouquet as she speaks, and she takes a step towards you as if transfixed.

“None, milady. I wanted to give you a token of my appreciation, is all. You have been very good to me in my time here - I hope the flowers can brighten your day.” You try not to blush or stutter as you speak, though Jane’s impenetrable gaze (that has begun to track every inch of your face) makes this difficult for you.

She is silent for a moment, as if allowing your words to sink in, her face an impassive mask. Finally, she speaks.

“They are very pretty.” She clears her throat. “Please place them on my nightstand.”

Her lips curve upward, stretching timidly towards her ears as she watches you follow her orders, and your heart races. When you turn back to face her again you can sense a hint of admiration shining through in those piercing eyes of hers, and it makes you giddy.

~~~

Jane’s cough is persistent. It doesn’t ease up as the days and weeks go on, and Jane wonders if maybe she should see a doctor, or allow you to try some other form of home remedy - even though she appears not to have any other symptoms of illness. These worries are always brief in nature, however, and she manages to push the thoughts of illness far from her mind. Until one morning just after you’ve left her bedroom, having brought her a small bouquet of white phlox from the garden.

As she admires the flowers, her thoughts drifting to the faint blush that had colored your cheeks as you’d gifted them to her, Jane feels a weight on her chest, accompanied by a light tickle at the back of her throat. The tickle quickly turns into a scratch and before she knows it, she begins to cough again. She covers her mouth and when she pulls her hand away, there is a single tiny, white petal nestled in her palm. She recognizes the petal immediately - it looks just like the petals of the phlox that decorate her nightstand.

She furrows her brow. It can’t be… She shakes the thought from her head as quickly as it comes, tucking the petal into the drawer of her nightstand - she knows no one would dare open it - and clears her throat, the scratchy feeling already fading.

~~~

You are lacing up Jane’s corset as usual, trying to tamp down the blush that dusts your cheeks when your fingertips occasionally brush against Jane’s back. Unable to help yourself, you allow your fingers to linger just a moment longer - too long. Jane stiffens under your touch and you wonder if you’ve pushed too far, but then she begins to cough and sputter and you drop the laces of the corset as if burned.

“Milady… are you alright?” you ask apprehensively, concerned by the exaggerated heaving of Jane’s chest.

“Leave,” she rasps out, raising her hand to cover her mouth. You stand rooted to the spot, too worried to heed Jane’s warning - and you are sure it was a warning.

“You insolent girl, I said leave!” she croaks, not sparing you a glance. The venom in her voice between coughs surprises you and spurs you into action - you rush out of the room, not daring to linger long enough to curtsey, shutting the door behind you. Jane’s coughs can be heard just a moment longer, before they begin to subside.

You return to your own chambers, pacing nervously as you wait for further instruction - the rest of your morning duties would involve tidying your lady’s chambers, but you are almost certain you aren’t currently welcome there.

A knock shortly thereafter causes you to bolt to the door, smoothing your skirt before opening it just a crack. You feel a weight on your chest when you see the younger chambermaid, Emily, standing before you.

“Hello, Miss. I am to inform you that Miss Murdstone is not feeling well today. She does not require your presence and requests you do not attend to her chambers,” Emily says timidly.

You stare at her in shock. “O-okay.”

Emily digs around in her apron and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I am to give you this as well, so you’ll have alternative duties to perform.”

Numbly, you take the paper, thanking Emily who nods in sympathy and turns to leave. You unfold the paper and scan the list - they are tedious duties, busy-work, and you are sure you will be finished quickly; things like replacing the water in the flower vases, dusting the books in the library, fixing up a loose thread in the sleeve of your mistresses overcoat.

You carry out these duties with a heavy heart, trying to keep your mind from wandering to Jane, from wondering what is wrong with her and why she won’t allow you to attend to her. The last time she was ill, you’d been asked to wait on her hand and foot, bringing her medicine and water and reading to her at her bedside. You wonder if you’ve done something to offend her - the thought alone makes you sick with worry.

~~~

Days turn into weeks and Jane withdraws more and more. You have come to expect a list of daily duties waiting for you by Jane’s door - you are no longer given permission to enter her bedroom, a room which Jane now seldom exits.

Rumors about Jane’s illness spread amongst the servants - you, being her lady’s maid, are eyed curiously by the others at mealtimes, though no one dares to question you about the mysterious cough that has Jane retreating from society, not showing up to supper and refusing any form of sustenance that is brought up to her bedroom.

One morning, you see Emily exit Jane’s chambers. At first, your blood boils - why is Emily given permission to enter Jane’s chambers, and you aren’t? What’s so special about Emily? What have you done to displease Jane?

Then your eyes drop to the bedsheets that Emily carries. Brilliant white, dotted with specks of deep red. You feel as though your heart drops all the way down to your feet - you are certain it would drop even further if that were at all possible. Your mind races - that can’t be blood? If it is… then Jane is more ill than you’d thought.

Your stomach churns and you make eye contact with Emily, who doesn’t bother to hide the worry on her face as she rushes past you, attempting to shield the sheets from view. You consider pestering Emily about Jane’s condition, however your pride is too great - you would have to admit that Jane no longer trusts you enough to speak with you, let alone see you. You are sure everyone knows by now anyway, but you refuse to admit it aloud.

You perform your duties half-heartedly and with a hollow pit in your stomach, often lingering outside Jane’s bedroom door when no one else is around. Occasionally you hear fits of coughing, and they often sound strangled, as if she is choking on something.

The first few times, you call out to her, asking if she is alright. At first, she asks you to leave, in a harsh yet utterly spent tone. After a while, she stops responding at all - and then, even later, you stop asking, choosing to simply lurk for a moment before carrying on with your day.

It is a random Tuesday when you decide to try again - you bring a cup of her favorite tea, clinging to a tiny tendril of hope that she will be pleased at your thoughtfulness. You knock on Jane’s bedroom door, receiving no answer.

“Milady, I have brought you some tea. May I come in?”

Still, no answer.

“I’ll just come in for a moment to leave the tea with you, milady.”

You push open the door as you’re speaking and walk up to Jane’s bedside, determined. If Emily can, then so can you, you think.

Jane is livid.

You barely have a moment to appraise her, to assess the state of her illness, before rage settles over her features. She pushes herself up from the bed with great effort, closing the short distance between the two of you and ripping the porcelain cup out of your hands. The dark liquid sloshes over the rim of the cup and stains the rug underneath your feet - Jane either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Get. Out.” Jane grits out, her voice scratchy like sandpaper, and you shrink back, taking slow, tentative steps backwards towards the door. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat - you have rarely seen Jane in such a blind rage, and it has never been directed at you before.

“Please, milady, I only wish to help! If you could just-”

“NOW!” Jane bellows, lifting the hand that holds the teacup. You know she is about to throw it - you rush out the door, closing it behind you as the cup smashes against the wood, shattering instantly.

That night, you have trouble sleeping. The shattering of the porcelain still rings in your ears, the fury on Jane’s face at the mere sight of you is imprinted on the back of your eyelids when you close your eyes. Your heart aches, grieving for Jane’s health - and for the loss of Jane’s presence in your life.

A few weeks after the incident, you overhear a conversation in hushed tones behind the closed door of Mr. Murdstone’s office that brings tears to your eyes:

“-sister. Is she still ill?” It is the voice of Mr. Browning, a business associate of Mr. Murdstone.

“Gravely, I’m afraid.” The usually impassive Mr. Murdstone, who has never sounded anything less than harsh and confident, clears his throat - his voice has wavered and this alone alarms you greatly.

“Is there a prognosis?”

“She refuses to allow anyone to see her, even her lady’s maid. I am unsure of the nature of the illness but it seems-” he clears his throat again. “-it seems she won’t make it past the turn of the season.”

You turn away from the door - you’ve heard enough. Bile rises in your throat, and your knees buckle as your legs threaten to give away underneath you - you take unsteady steps to your room, allowing yourself a moment to break down in the solace of your bed as the tears you’ve managed to keep at bay begin to fall, staining the pillow beneath your head like a patchwork of droplets.

~~~

Jane knows what’s wrong. No one else may know it, but Jane knows it, and it fills her with a sense of dread she’s never felt before.

At first she’d thought nothing of her cough. But once the petals began expelling themselves from her throat, she knew. Hanahaki Disease was rare, but she’d seen it in action before. She always thought herself above it all - she wasn’t one to give her heart out so easily, she wasn’t foolish enough to feel something for someone who didn’t want her. And, since no one wanted her, it was quite easy not to want in return.

But she’d overestimated herself. And she’d allowed herself to show softness, to show weakness. She’d allowed herself to fall in love.

It had slipped through her grasp, that pesky feeling, trickling smoothly through the hairline cracks in her metaphorical armor like a tiny stream, going entirely unnoticed until it was too late.

And now, she is paying the price. Of course, Jane thinks bitterly as she sits at the edge of her bed, recovering from a particularly harsh coughing fit, glowering down at the petals in her hand as if they’d personally aggrieved her. Of course she would fall for the one person she can’t have. Someone who holds no love for her in their heart.

A fitting end for cruel, cold Jane Murdstone. Dying unwanted and unloved, just as she’d always been. In her weakest moments she allows herself to succumb to her longing for you, imaginary scenarios running through her head of the two of you, happy - of a world where you love her and where she isn’t faced with her impending demise.

As she thinks of you, she begins to cough again. It hurts, as if thick, thorny vines are encircling her lungs, tightening in a vice-like grip with each passing day. The petals come out in a steady stream - they feel like shards of glass, cutting at her throat from the inside. A metallic taste fills her mouth and, as she looks down at the heap of tiny, snowy petals, she sees droplets of blood staining them red.

Jane hides the petals in the drawer of her nightstand, each new petal accompanying the last. She feels silly doing so - shameful even - and it places a heavy burden on her heart that weighs her down like lead. But if no one finds the petals - at least not while she is still alive - then she doesn’t have to bare her shame, her cowardice, for the world to see - for you to see.

And she vows never to let you see her like this - you must never find out. She cannot bear to witness the concern in your eyes when she feels unwell - it causes her great guilt, to think she may be a source of worry or pain in your life. She also cannot bear the thought of your disgust at her unrequited and entirely unwanted feelings towards you. Even if it means she must be cruel to you. Even if it means she must ignore your attempts to reach out, or channel her fear into rage. Even if it means she may never see you again.

There is a surgical procedure, she recalls, to rid oneself of Hanahaki Disease - with the price of ridding oneself entirely of the feelings causing the disease. Jane considers it, but she knows that in order to get treatment, she would have to admit to her unrequited feelings, in front of her brother, no less. The thought is humiliating. And there is a weight on her chest when she thinks of forgetting her love for you - something that, despite being the reason for her dismal state, has brought her a joyful reprieve from the dull ache of her general contempt for everyday life.

So she shuts you out. She shuts everyone out. She will die alone, and spare herself the inevitable heartbreak and humiliation. It is the only way.

~~~

You are woken early in the morning - earlier than usual - by a persistent knocking at the door to your chambers. For a moment you think you’ve overslept, but you quickly realize that isn’t the case. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and comb through your hair with your fingers to make yourself more presentable, then pad over to the door and open it. There’s Emily again, a grave expression on her face that makes your stomach twist and causes you to lose any sense of formality.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Miss Murdstone, she’s not well. Mr. Murdstone has requested your company at her bedside immediately.”

Your heart sinks and it feels as though ice is sluicing through your veins.

“T-thank you. I will be right there.”

Emily nods and bids you farewell, and you rush about your chambers to get dressed for the day - you doubt Jane would appreciate you giving up all sense of propriety and turning up in your night clothes. You pull your hair back, pinning it haphazardly in place before starting off towards Jane’s chambers, your walk turning into a jog turning into a run. You catch your breath at her door before knocking.

Once.

Twice.

There’s no answer.

“Milady? I’m coming in,” you call, trying (and failing) to control the tremble in your voice.

Entering her chambers, your eyes fall to the bed and you realize why you hadn’t received an answer. Jane lies on her back, eyes closed, cheeks sunken in. She looks like she has lost quite a bit of weight, surely a product of her missing meals for the past weeks. She is deathly pale and as you approach her with caution, you see the sheen of sweat on her brow. Her dark, matted locks spill over the pillow and stick to the perspiration on her neck.

“Milady? How are you feeling?” You drag the stool from her vanity to the bedside and settle down timidly, eyes raking over her weak form.

Her pale eyelashes flutter against her cheeks - you can tell she’s trying to open her eyes. Even in this state, gaunt and sickly, she looks hauntingly beautiful to you, so much so that it claws at your heart.

A cough racks her body, her shoulders shaking violently, her chest heaving. Her head lolls to the side and her mouth falls open as she coughs up a steady stream of small, white phlox petals.

You freeze when you see the petals. At first, horror washes over you at the sight of her gagging, at the deep red blood accompanying the petals. A slow understanding spreads throughout your entire body. Hanahaki Disease.

You’d had a cousin die from the disease when you were a child - you curse yourself for not recognizing the signs. There’s a pit forming in your stomach.

So Jane Murdstone has fallen in love.

Tears well up in your eyes and your heart clenches painfully. Jane has fallen in love - and she will die because of it.

She will die, leaving you alone and in search of new employment. She will die, not knowing the affection you hold for her in your heart. She will die, and you will have to go on without the sparkle of her eyes holding you captive whenever you catch her gaze, without the soft, melodic lilt of her voice brightening your dullest days.

You’ll miss her terribly (you already do). You like her, you really do… no, that isn’t quite right - you love her. The realization hits you like a train. You love Jane Murdstone, and it doesn’t matter.

You reach out tentatively and place your hand on top of Jane’s, squeezing gently. It’s the least you can do, to reassure her that you’ll be there for her when no one else seems to be. You shiver at the contact with her skin - it is quite cold in contrast to the warmth of your own, and this is more than you’ve ever dared touch her.

With your other hand you brush away some stray petals that stick to the blood on Jane’s cheek. There’s blood trickling out of her mouth and you swipe your thumb firmly down to her jaw, wiping it away as best you can. She should go out with dignity, you think.

“Milady, can you hear me?” you ask quietly. You don’t receive a response.

“Who is it?” You ask the question more for yourself than for her, you know she’s too weak to speak and you aren’t even sure she can hear you anyway. A single tear rolls down your cheek - you wipe it away with your sleeve. Your throat constricts, but there is something you want to say - you clear it roughly. When you speak, your voice has a pleading edge to it, desperation oozing out of your every pore.

“I love you, Jane. Please don’t leave me.” Any other day, you’d be afraid of being fired on the spot - for speaking out of turn, for voicing forbidden affections towards your employer, for addressing her by her first name. Today, you suppose, it doesn’t matter anymore. You feel lighter having said it - and heavier knowing it may be the last thing you ever say to her. Now that it doesn’t matter any longer, you lean over Jane’s face and press your lips firmly to her forehead. Perhaps this way she can feel she is loved, even if it’s not in the way - not by whom - she needs.

shout-out to @dianneking for being the catalyst to me writing this hehe <3 plus, gonna just tag everyone who has had the (dis)pleasure of me pestering them about this for the past month haha (love u): @yourlocaldisneyvillain @anti-bright-places @eveymay @scream-queenlover @orchidsshine @sapphicsbeloved @mrs-hilmarson

#jane murdstone #jane murdstone x reader #i desire. and i crave.#i desire. and i crave. series

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bluedalahorse · 1 month

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a love letter of sorts

I have such a soft squishy place in my heart for the secondary Hillerska students. It can feel tempting (and even safe) to believe that each of them will never change, that they will become their parents, that they will send their own kids to Hillerska where those kids will repeat the same mistakes. But we are told in season 2 that the enrollment numbers are dropping. At the end of season 3, the school may fight to keep its doors open and it may or may not succeed. And our characters will keep growing up and encountering the world. I choose to believe that everyone we’ve gotten to know has had some kind of seed planted, that there is at least one future where they break with the patterns of their youth, and the values they were raised with.

Let me read the story about Vincent learning to spot and overcome his internalized ableism and understand that a school that graduated him without meeting his individual learning needs wasn’t actually supporting him. Tell me about how Nils comes out to his family and it goes surprisingly okay, but things get tricky when he decides he wants to run a different sort of company, with different sorts of business practices, than his father does. Show me Stella and Fredrika’s blissful summer of first love, followed by a devastating breakup, followed by the slow and silly and scary rebuild of their friendship, until they’re those amicable lesbian exes, you know the ones, we all know the ones. Or what about when Maddie starts to recognize (and then has to question) the more performative and culturally appropriative aspects of her witchcraft, and tries to do things better? What would it look like for her to move from radical slogans and aesthetic toward true liberation work?

I say this not out of naive optimism but out of the love I feel for these fictional characters I spent time with over the past few years, and out of my love for a good story. I don’t see why I should have to shut the door on these Hillerska kids and forget about them and divest from their progress. I love a good character arc. I love an imperfect, not always linear journey that begins from a deeply flawed starting place and ends up somewhere wholly different.

Each of these characters is the beginning of a story, and therefore a gift.

#young royals #yrs3 spoilers #adding the last tag to be safe

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aleksanderscult · 8 months

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Favorite Darkling quotes

I'm gonna write my favorite Darkling quotes 'cause a) I'm bored b) I love him and miss him so much.

Anyways I'm not gonna rate them cause every one of them is fucking iconic (as he is).

Let's get into this!

"Blue sky. Once more. Speak my name once more... Don't let me be alone."

These might be my most favorite quotes of his. His last words. 'Cause with his last breath he showed that he was only human after all. Cruel and damaged, yes. But still human.

There is no safe place. There is no haven. Not for us. There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.

I ADORE these lines. Less than 24 hours ago two Grisha tried to kill him (one of them a supposed friend) and what did he tried to do after that? Create a safe space for his kind in order for them not to go through what they went through. If he's the villain for this then I wish we had this kind of villain in our world.

‌"All men can be made fools."

OKAY OKAY LISTEN. I love this line for two reasons. Firstly, cause it's true. Every person can be made a fool. BUT! Secondly and most importantly, he hints to Mal and Alina (Alina actually cause Mal didn't know he was there) that he was made a fool too because of Alina. He fell in love with her and felt hope for the first time after centuries that this new person would be like him, live with him and spend eternities together. He would no longer be alone. And she seemed that she wanted him too as far as he could tell. And then what happened? She run off, found Mal and turned her back on him and their country. That mostly disappointed him, I think. In a large degree. And he must have thought what a fool he was to trust her and fall for her. Hence that amazing line.

Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.

And boy did he not make it? Years after his death in R&R and people still talk about him. He made a mark not only on the world but on people too (no pun intended for Genya I swear. I love her😭). He made a huge impact and even antis have to admit that. Actually more than the actual protagonist but anyways *coughthe fact that the villain made bigger impact than the heroes in the storycough*

"Fight me as long as you're able. You will find I have far more practice with eternity."

You fucking iconic legend with your fucking iconic lines. And yes, I believe him. No matter how many decades Alina would fight him, he would be unmovable.

‌"It’s harder when you like them. You mourn them more."

That line is so true. The more you care, the more you get hurt. I'm sorry but a quality that people often overlook about the Darkling is his wisdom. I would sit and listen for hours to him talking about life, love, death and people. After so many centuries he's so knowledgeable.

Also, this line makes me wonder how many people he had loved, lost and mourned. Because obviously he talks from experience. *Sigh* I would die to read a book about his whole life before Alina.

He only wished that it wasn't winter. He wanted to turn his face to the sun and feel it warm him. He'd been a long time in the dark.

Yeah he's cruel and manipulative and the villain and blah, blah, blah. But again this line proves his humanity. He loves the sun (how much are you willing to bet people that his favourite season is Summer😏), he loves the sunlight, its warmth and light (another clue that Alina is his soulmate dc what anyone says). Our baby was resurrected and first things first he wanted his wife beside him and the sun to hit his face (priorities people🥹😍).

"Then I'd be alone too."

(*whispering*don't cry, don't cry, don't cry)

So. Heh. I may have a soft spot for fictional characters that suffer from loneliness. Probably because I have suffered from it too most of my life (🫠). I'm sorry but you can hate him all you want alright? No one can stop you. But people that don't feel an ounce of sympathy or pity for him and what he has gone through are just useless to talk to. Most of all he wants someone to make him company to this endless sea of eternity.

Deep blue like the True Sea. Red like the roofs of the Shu temples. The pure, buttery color of sunlight—not really yellow or gold, what would you call it? All the colors you couldn't see in the dark.

(fuck. lost control of my tears after all)

Baby shadow summoner can control the dark and its blackness and yet he loves all colors that are bright. But most of all the sunlight.

(DARKLINA STANS RISE)

Also, he made the Grisha keftas blue, red and purple because he loved these colors the most, change my mind *sip tea*

‌"Fine. Make me your villain."

Ah, yes. The cult classic one. Honestly, this line makes me feel bad for him. Cause he has tried the peaceful solution so many times (not with just Alina but generally). At this point he's like: "Fuck it. If I have to become a monster then so be it." They leave him no choice and furthermore he's obviously grown tired of trying diplomacy.

"I’ll be certain you hear it when I make her scream."

I froze the first time I read this line but now I laugh every time I do. Here he shows how petty he can be and how much shame he doesn't have (in your face Mal😚).

‌"My Alina. You cannot run from me."

OKAY LISTEN

I know it sounds creepy but "my Alina" and "I'll always find you" MY DARKLINA HEART GUYS

‌"I know what you thought, what you always thought of me. It's so much easier that way, isn't it?"

My strategic baby. But this line is also sad. Cause he knows how Alina views him and, even if he hides it well, deep down I bet it hurts him.

‌"You two have a bad habit of acting like fools and calling it heroic."

Isn't that the truth tho? Our boy spitting facts once again. Also this line can be applied to other characters from different fandoms as well.

‌"I seem to be a victim of my own wishes where you are concerned."

TRANSLATION: I TEND TO FORGET ABOUT THE WORLD-DOMINATION PLAN CAUSE I WANT TO BE WITH YOU, LIVE WITH YOU, LOVE YOU, MARRY YOU, HAVE 7 KIDS WITH YOU AND DRINK SOME TEA ON THE PORCH TOGETHER WHILE THE SUNLIGHT HITS US

TRANSLATION NO2: I GOT MY ASS KICKED CAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY THINKING THAT I WAS KISSING YOU AND WOULD FINALLY HAVE THAT WEDDING THAT I WAS PLANNING BABE

Is this line a kind of love confession or what? 🥺🙃

‌"We all have our secrets."

Mostly I love this line cause it just sounds cool. But after I read the book for a second time I realized that it could tie with the "Demon in the Woods" book. It's a nice little nod. If you get it, you get it😉.

‌Why did you go to her? Because with her he was human again.

A nice (though bittersweet) little way to end this post. 🥹

With Alina he felt human again. That part that was buried deep beneath him and rarely if not ever got out. Do you remember how she made him laugh with her honest remarks on "Shadow and Bone"? How his eyes closed and his breath stopped when she reached to stroke his cheek on R&R? How he broadly smiled when she laughed about how common his name was? That was Aleksander Morozova (especially that last part). The boy that grew up forcefully and was thrown to a cruel world too soon, too violently. They were these 400+ years that made him cruel. It was eternity that broke him. Loneliness and pain that made him withdraw. Until Alina came. And she could bring to the surface that buried, broken boy. And it felt good to him (although inconvenient too). She made him feel vulnerable. And when he was resurrected he seeked her out to feel that way again. Human.

*sigh*

Thanks for coming to my ted talk guys. 😔✌️

Feel free to write in the comments your own favorite quotes of him 😊❤️

#my boy wanted love and company #somebody please hug him #but also he's so fucking iconic #slay #r&r #shadow and bone #ruin and rising #siege and storm #grishaverse #quotes #favourite quotes #the darkling #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #pro aleksander morozova #alina starkov #darklina #pro darklina

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