Tumgik
#and if it does it will be all because of this decision
Text
How Does Your Person View You?
This reading is the subjective point of view from your person. It might be or might not be true.
Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pile 1:
Tumblr media
You're always on the move and not very emotional. You go and get what you want and aren't afraid to fight for it. You defend your point of view/ believes , but you don't go out of your way to start conflicts. If you're being attacked, then obviously you'll defend yourself.
They see you're up in your head a lot. Very dreamy, imaginative, full of ambition. A little stubborn at times, but with reason. To them, you're standing on stable ground and have valid reasons to be stubborn.
They see you as a knowledgeable person and that you have so many opportunities to succeed in whatever you put your energy in (however they view success).
They don't see you as an emotional person because you haven't really let them see that part of you. When things are getting too personal, you might change the topic and revert back to the composed you.
They admire you. They see you so high up and that you are capable of achieving anything and everything. For most of you, your person has seen you evolve into this 'new' you. They want to know you better, including your emotional side.
Songs: More Than A Friend - girli | Washing Machine Heart (Speed) - Mitski | Two - Sleeping At Last
Pile 2:
Tumblr media
An old soul. You're not new in this world let alone, in this universe. They feel like you've gone through so much, but that you've learned from that and continued your path. You're not living in the past. You reflect a lot, but they see you applying what you have learned, into the present.
They think you're a bit lonely, even misunderstood, for some of you. You're so in tune with nature/universe/spirit - what that might look like for your person. You know what you're feeling, why you're feeling it, and what you'll do about it. They see you as a calm collected person.
There's this fear of getting close to you because they don't feel that they're at your level. They view you as knowledgeable in regards to spiritual topics and your person thinks they aren't so spiritual. They are open to it, but there's this irrational fear of you looking down on them for not knowing much.
Regardless of gender, they view you as a masculine person. You make decisions and act upon them. They're amazed by you and they think that you don't think very highly of them. You might have a bit of a resting bitch face without knowing.
Songs: She Likes A Boy - Nxdia | Miss You - Louis Tomlinson | Magia Blanca - Hermanos Carrion
Pile 3:
Tumblr media
You limit yourself a lot but they also see you so free, flowing, and in tune with yourself, but for some reason, you limit yourself so much. Your person is frustrated. They don't know what they can do to help you realize this.
"Why do they stop themselves so much? Why do they hold themselves back so much? Why do they hide so much? Why aren't they showing their authentic self, their talents, their light to the world?"
From their point of view, there's nothing holding you back from doing anything. The Devil and 10 of Swords are in reverse - meaning you are free to do what you wish, but you think so low of yourself for a reason they don't understand or see, causing all those opportunities and freedom from happening.
It seems that you're open and trust your person, that's why they see all these amazing things about you. They have strong feelings towards you, but they feel that if they let you know, you'll reject them because of your poor self-esteem.
You think you're the worst being in the world, but they don't understand why you would think such a thing. They see you as the brightest light. The brightest of them all.
"Why are they looking for a devil that isn't there?"
Songs: I Really F**ked It Up - girli | Chance With You - mehiro | Drinking With Cupid - VOILÀ
~*~*~*~
I hope you liked the reading! Thank you for being here!
242 notes · View notes
ratioaven · 24 hours
Text
spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!
aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong
something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says “the other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear life” stuck out to me.
i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. he’s terrified that he’ll lose. it’s an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like he’s confident he’ll win, when in reality even if he does win, he’s still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.
that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and what’s ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking he’s confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.
so why does he act this way
Tumblr media
all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but it’s ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. it’s how he’s able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.
as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.
but this brings me to my next point.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesn’t seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, he’s still able to pull it off. he’s still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.
but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.
that says more than enough about his character.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. he’s witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.
and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.
i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isn’t easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.
let’s all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.
253 notes · View notes
lucky-slice · 2 days
Text
Do you understand how much kevin respects neil? And i don't mean when it comes to exy, like sure there's a whole lot of you're not good enough followed by you will make court bluh bluh bluh, i mean fundamentally as a human.
Kevin and Neil's conversation after the truth of Neil's father is revealed drives me absolutely insane because I think it highlights a lot about how Kevin views Neil.
so indulge me for a bit....
I think a lot of people forget, in light of Andrew choking Kevin for not telling him the truth, that Kevin's initial reaction was to tell Neil to run.
Tumblr media
*sorry for the quality - these are all screenshots off my phone
Kevin's instinct is to tell Neil to save himself, despite what that would mean for the team's success and for Kevin himself. This is significant to me for two reasons.
It highlights that Kevin genuinely cares about Neil outside of his exy potential. For most people, this would be a pretty obvious response to finding out your teammate has a guaranteed death sentence if they stick around, so it might not seem all that meaningful, but Kevin was raised in such an environment were you continued to play no matter what - even at the risk of death. Kevin is unflinchingly callous when it comes to exy and his teammates (*see his reaction to Seth's death), but he is frantic in his concern for Neil in contrast to his fairly passive response to basically anyone else's wellbeing outside of exy. Neil's death will have no real impact on Kevin. If Neil dies or goes to the ravens, nothing changes for Kevin. He is not at a greater risk of being hurt by Riko or the Moriyama's nor will his exy career be effected. That's not to say he would tell Neil to stay if he cared about him any less, but there is a desperation that implies a depth beyond just that of a teammate.
The fact that Kevin is frantic and desperate for Neil to leave, gives weight to his decision to keep teaching Neil in the aftermath of the revelation.
Tumblr media
Neil doesn't want to run - he wants to be Neil Josten until the end. He gave Kevin his game and now he's asking him to keep it and Kevin obliges.
Tumblr media
This is essentially Kevin promising that he will keep Neil's secret. He will allow Neil to wear his mask and continue teaching him despite the fact that Neil is essentially a dead man walking. This, to me, is Kevin ultimately respecting Neil and his choice. At any moment, Kevin has the ability to got to Wymack or Andrew and give Neil the chance at surviving, but that would mean betraying Neil.
Some people (certainly the foxes) would view refusing Neil's request as the proper and morally correct thing to do. But I think Kevin's immediate acceptance of Neil's decision is both immensely meaningful to Neil and also a signifier of a shared understanding between to two.
Imagine how impactful it must be for Neil, who has never had autonomy over his own life and has been marked for death basically since he was born, to be told that not only will his decisions and his autonomy be respected, but there is someone who will stand by his side on the court, knowing the whole truth, until the very end.
Kevin doesn't have much to offer Neil at this point. He can not give him a future - he'll be long dead before he can ever make court, and Kevin is a coward - he is not andrew, he can't stand up against the Moriyama's or Riko or Neil's father. Kevin can not protect Neil in a way that matters. All he can do is promise to keep Neil's secret and offer him a few more months of being Neil Josten.
Tumblr media
I'm not including this to disparage Andrew or to suggest that he does not respect Neil, but this highlights that Kevin knows the decision to keep Neil's secret is one only Kevin would make. Andrew without a doubt would immediately try to get Neil to leave or attempt to get him into protection. I'm not passing a judgement of morality on what would've been the right thing to do, but I do think Kevin's reaction is indicative of the fact that Neil and Kevin understand each other in a way that no one else really will.
Neil and Kevin are a parallel's in a number of ways. Kevin lived the life that Neil was supposed to have and they are two parts of one story.
To them exy is not a game, but it's not really about exy either. It's about deciding to stay just to play for a couple more months even though you'll wind up dead because playing means you finally get to live after years of being a ghost. It's about playing to be the best no matter what, even though the consequences are having your hand smashed and the life you know completely demolished. It's about playing even though you're shaking with fear and anxiety because you need proof that your life, whether it be running to survive or living under an abusive hand, was not a waste.
Kevin agrees to keep Neil's secret because if the roles were reversed, Kevin would like to believe that he'd be strong enough to ask Neil for the same thing. This is obviously conjecture and a heavy heavy reading between the lines, but I'd like to think there's some truth there.
Tumblr media
Finishing up with this line because it makes me a little emotional.
Kevin starts the conversation by calling Neil "Nathaniel" and ends it by calling him Neil again. Its right there in the text, "it was a promise". Kevin is offering Neil a life that is fully his - not his father's, not Riko's, but Neil's to do with what he would like, even if its only for a couple more months. If that's not respect, than I don't know what is.
150 notes · View notes
literaila · 3 days
Note
okay but like do you think gojo and oc would ever have a baby of their own, giving tsumiki and megumi a sibling, or are their adopted children enough?
sometimes i like to think oc would agree to become a teacher just to feel like all her students are also her babies.
i am personally of the belief that satoru wants a million children. and he says this, verbatim, when you get together.
“oh, just by the way we’re having ten kids, kay, love ya!”
but then there’s the fact that he doesn’t care where they come from. biological children, adopted children, curse wombs, mahito’s silly little transfigured humans… you got ‘em, he’ll take them.
you, on the other hand, have always been… wary about kids. i mean there’s no doubt that you adore them, think they’re precious little angels to be bestowed on only the best of beings—i mean, really, the reason satoru sought you out to help with megumi and tsumiki is because he knew you liked kids.
still… there’s that doubt, that worry that you could never be enough for a child. that you could never give them a childhood that you wanted and deserved.
teenage you is the gloomiest of them all, and if you asked her, she’d probably say no.
but then a stupid man brought home two children unannounced and swore he was going to help with them (he does… occasionally).
so, without warning, you gets the kids you’ve always (secretly) dreamed of. and who could ask for more than megumi and tsumiki, really? who even could?
(so obviously that fear is quickly washed away. i mean, there’s days, weeks, months of doubts where you’re sure that you’re doing everything wrong. sure that megumi is never going to be able to live in society as a normal human being, and that tsumiki is going to suffer from her soft, easygoing heart.
luckily satoru is also there to prove that if you think you’re doing anything wrong, he’s doing it ten times worse.
and sometimes he sweet talks you. but only for the rewards, of course.
you both learn that parenting is less about being perfect than adapting to the needs of the tiny beings, bending at their every will…)
still, even though you love megumi and tsumiki like they’ve crawled into your veins and strained all livelihood from you, having your own biological kids is a bit different.
satoru is all for it, no doubt, but he doesn’t push. he understands your hesitation—especially with how difficult everything’s become as the kids get older. the increase in curses, the rising fear that the world isn’t a safe place as is, and could never be a safe place for another baby.
(but don’t expect him not to stare at you when you’re helping a lost little girl across the street. or holding the baby of a friend. really, he’s just reminiscing… he’s not planning anything… probably…)
though, it doesn’t help either of you that satoru teaches the first years. in hindsight, you shouldn’t have let him make that decision, but it’s too late now.
satoru tries to bring every student home. even if they’ve got two healthy, loving parents—he’s calling a lawyer to draw up legal paperwork the moment yaga tells him there’s a new student about to come to jujutsu high.
what? the house is big enough for a guest, isn’t it? why do you think satoru was so pushy for all of those extra bedrooms?
(and you’ll scold him when there’s a another place set at the table. you’ll ask megumi to show the new student around the house, pointedly, and then you’ll make him recite the lengthy list of things he’s not supposed to do with every kid he meets (again)
but really, you don’t mind.
you’ve always thought that hearts were rather expandable things, and your son and daughter have only proven that fact.
and there’s a little part of you that can’t deny the admiration you have for satoru. his need to coddle every student of his, to comfort them endlessly, even if they don’t want it.
if you had to guess, you’d say that satoru’s heart is the stretchiest.
so you only tug on his hair a little. and then you’ll sit right next to him at dinner, letting him hold your hand under the table).
and there’s been a couple of times where you bring someone of your own home. just as a little payback, of course. no other reason….
148 notes · View notes
sayruq · 3 days
Text
Palestinian Ministry of Foreign Affairs The ministry said that adopting the resolution is a step in the right direction to end the five-month war, to allow the entry of aid, and to begin the return of those displaced.
Hamas official Basem Naim The Palestinian group Hamas said it was committed to the conditions of the resolution and said Israel must be held accountable in adhering to it. “It is the role of the international community to oblige Israel and to end this double standard,” Basem Naim, a senior official in Hamas’s political bureau, told Al Jazeera. “The question is ‘How strong is the international community to oblige Israel to implement this resolution?'” he said. The group also stressed the necessity of reaching a permanent ceasefire that leads to the withdrawal of all Israeli forces from the Gaza Strip, and affirmed its readiness to engage in an immediate exchange process that leads to the release of prisoners on both sides.
Israeli ambassador to the UN Gilad Erdan Erdan said the resolution failed to demand a ceasefire without “conditioning” it on the release of captives in Gaza, saying it “undermines the efforts to secure their release”. “It is harmful to these efforts because it gives Hamas terrorists hope to get a ceasefire without releasing the hostages. All members of the council … should have voted against this shameless resolution,” he said.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu Shortly after the resolution passed, Netanyahu cancelled the visit of an Israeli delegation to Washington, DC, which the US had requested to discuss concerns over a proposed Israeli invasion of Rafah, a city in crowded southern Gaza. The US abstention was “a clear retreat from the consistent position of the US”, and would hurt Israel’s war efforts and bid to release the hostages still held by Hamas, the prime minister’s office said.
US White House The White House said in a statement that Washington’s abstention from the vote “does not represent a shift in our policy … but because the final text does not have the language that we think is essential, like a condemnation of Hamas, we could not support it”. White House spokesperson John Kirby said that US officials were “very disappointed about Netanyahu’s decision not to send his advisers for talks at the White House about the Rafah operation”.
Tumblr media
236 notes · View notes
goingmerryfics · 2 days
Text
Arguments w/ Shanks, Buggy, & Mihawk
Tumblr media
Content: Gender Neutral reader, no NSFW. Maybe some slightly angsty stuff? Not really though.
Shanks
Arguing with him is either exhausting or it’s pointless, there’s never an in-between
Shanks doesn’t really take most arguments seriously because they’re either started by something extremely unimportant or he’s already made his decision and he’s not going to back down on his opinion
Pointless, because he’s not going to change his mind and he’s laughing at you while you’re trying to talk to him
“You’re so cute when you’re angry.”
Yup. Pointless. It’ll just make you more angry and him more entertained
The exhausting arguments are when he’s actually serious- and while he’s not mad at you, he’s mad that you can’t see his reasonings for doing what he’s doing
Especially when it comes to keeping you safe
Shanks won’t back down and it’s impossible to change his mind while he’s this pissed off, so it’s always best to just separate and come back later to talk it out when you’re both calm
While you do what you need to do in order to relax, Shanks festers in his anger and reflects on the things that were said between the two of you. His crewmates try to cheer him up- they offer him booze, they crack jokes, but he’s not in the mood for either and everyone is concerned
Truthfully, he’s worried. While he’s still not willing to change his mind, he doesn’t want to lose the relationship you two have worked so hard to build and maintain
He gets up out of his seat 3 times to pace around, mind racing back and forth on if he should go talk to you, and then convincing himself that it’s best to wait for you to emerge first so he knows you’re ready to talk
But he grows tired of waiting, and does actually end up coming to your shared room to resolve the issue
You’re still steaming just a bit. Your arms are crossed over your chest, and you don’t look up when he enters. You know it’s him, because a few others on his crew have already come to check on you, and you’d asked them politely to leave you be. But you don’t protest when he comes to sit beside you
He doesn’t touch you
It’s painfully silent for a while
Then he finally speaks up and breaks the tension
“I’m sorry. That got a little more heated than I wanted it to.”
You peek up at him just a bit. He notices how red your face is, and a strike of fear shoots through him at the thought of possibly having made you cry and then left you on your own for hours
He stretches out his hand, offering it to you to hold, and you shift in your position to take it
He goes into a rant on how much you mean to him and how he’s only doing what he has to do to keep you and the rest of the crew safe
“Because I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
You do
You also know that no matter how many times you two get upset with each other, you’ll always find your way back into his arms
Buggy
Arguing with him would come often, but the content of the arguments is what matters here
Only for the reason that Buggy is adamant about being correct in every situation, even when he is not and knows it
Everyone knows it’s best to just simply let him believe his delusions and let the natural consequences come through
But this guy seriously has weirdly good luck, and somehow all his delusions seem to come true for him in one way or another
Half of the time it’s just funny watching him be completely wrong about a subject, other times it’s a little infuriating
Arguments don’t last long between the two of you, though
Buggy craves attention, and attention from his favorite person is a must. It’s basically a necessity of life
Food, water, shelter, you. Not in that order, though
He realizes too late through his incessant rambling and gloating that he’s said something that hurt your feelings and immediately starts to backpedal
“Wait, wait, wait! That’s not what I meant! What I meant to say was-”
He’s red in the face, almost so much so as his nose
He hates to admit it, but you look really good glaring down at him like that as he tries to save his own skin
He clams up, sweating. Unsure of himself. Not sure what he was even saying a second ago
As much as you need time alone to chill out, he can’t seem to leave you be. It’s scary for him, seeing your usually smiling face so serious
He takes a seat outside of your room, and then breaks into pieces no, literally while he waits for you to emerge again
It takes you a few hours, but he’s there the whole time. His feet are pacing around, his head is whining, cheek on the floor. His hands are tapping and picking at the dirt in the wood, but every part of him lights up when he sees you again
“Aha! I see you finally caved. Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”
You pause, and then move to go back inside before he yelps and his hands grab at your ankles. His parts come back together again, using the rest of his body to hold you in place
“Wait! I’m sorry! Please don’t go back!”
He shouts it all in a rush. He’s crying, and there’s snot running down his nose
He looks like a damn mess
It kind of makes you laugh at how desperate he is for you
he pouts up at you and you cave
He basically crawls up your body to hug you. You hug him back, petting his hair and waiting for him to relax, sitting right there in the doorway of your room. People pause as they pass, but a sharp look from you stops them from staying for very long
Mihawk
If Mihawk is actually worked up enough to argue with you, there’s a good reason for it
Usually he makes his point and that’s that. No other words exchanged, nothing more than a slight glance towards you
Mihawk is an introvert, and he gets exhausted from others very easily. He’s not trying to be rude or dismissive towards you when he does this, but that is how it comes off sometimes
He’ll turn his attention back to his book because after he’s said what he wanted to, he figures everything is fine. He understands his logic, why wouldn’t you?
But you, like a lot of people that aren’t Mihawk, are more emotional than he is
Your silence isn’t acceptance, it’s hurt
Only when you get up to leave the room does the thought cross his mind that maybe what he’d said didn’t come off correctly, and you might have just been insulted. But he figures you would come tell him if that were the case, so all is well and he returns to his book
This could go forever, really. Until he notices that you’re giving him the cold shoulder, and then he would stop whatever he was doing- even if he were in another room at the time of realization -and find you to clear things up right away
“Darling, we need to talk right away.”
Straight to the point. He doesn’t really ask you if you want to talk, because he knows if he doesn’t at least make an attempt at this it will haunt him like Perona’s ghosts all night
The thing about Mihawk that not many people know is that he’s got this cool, collected, silent aura about him because he simply does not have the energy to play nice with everyone
So when he’s just arrived home from a Warlord meeting, or somewhere that he was obligated to be present for, all he wants is time to himself to recharge
Having a relationship and balancing this need was something he was still learning
But he loves you so much and the thought of upsetting you over a misunderstanding gnawed at him and gave him massive amounts of anxiety and uncomfortability
He’s not this untouchable guy that everyone thinks he is. You’ve seen this; he laughs and cries like everyone else does
And you understand him. He couldn’t ask for someone better than you are
If you’re willing to, he’ll take your hands and kiss your knuckles.
“I apologize for my behavior. I should have given my words a second thought before I spoke them out loud. What can I do to make this up to you?”
It’s an easy thing to answer- it’s all you wanted since he’d returned, why you kept invading his space before he was ready to emerge and what lead up to the situation in the first place
You tell him you want him. His attention, to be wrapped in his arms. You just want to spend time with him, even if that’s in silence
He can work with that
He presses a kiss to your forehead and makes you promise that you’ll tell him if he ever says or does anything to upset you again. He wants to communicate, not lose out on precious time with you over something small
He goes above and beyond, though. He makes up a very romantic candlelit dinner that night for the both of you to share and even if it’s a very quiet dinner, (minus the music playing softly in the background) it’s perfect
136 notes · View notes
Text
I owe you a kiss - Pt.5
Pairing: Minchan x femReader
Word Count: 3431
Summary: Chan and Minho enjoy their evening together before realizing how much they truly missed each other over the past six months. After their shared lazy night, they get an important call...
Warnings/Tags: fluff, domestic shit, cuddles, smut, touch starved!chan, soft!min, soft!chan, they're cheesy af sorry, amnesia, angst
A/N: This is mainly sweet and fluffy...I swear🥺🖤
PART FOUR | PART SIX (coming soon)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Minho smiles softly to himself as he watches Chan making them dinner. He sneaks up on him and wraps his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. “You're doing well,” he compliments him. 
“Yeah?” Chan chuckles. 
“Mhm,” Minho hums, and Chan gently blows on a spoon with some of the sauce before holding it up for him to taste. Minho does, and it's quiet for a moment. “Channie.”
“That bad?” he asks nervously. 
Minho reaches into the cupboard above them and grabs the salt. “You forgot the salt again?”
“Shit, you're right,” Chan groans, and Minho giggles at him. 
He plants a soft kiss on his cheek and squeezes him. “It's not bad, love. Just needs a little salt. It happens.”
“What would I do without you, huh? All that spice missing in my life,” Chan jokes, and Minho snorts. 
“Mhm, sure, salt is the only spice you'd be missing,” he comments, making Chan laugh. 
“Dummy,” he giggles and adds some salt. “Okay, almost done.” Chan turns in his hold and looks at him with a soft smile. His heart melts at the sight of Minho in a shirt of his, a pair of comfortable sweatpants and his glasses. He soothingly fondles up his arms and plants a kiss on his forehead. “You're so pretty, you know?” he asks softly, and Minho giggles. Chan gently brushes his hair back, which has gotten longer, and caresses his cheek.
“That's because of you,” he fondly rolls his eyes. 
“Oh, really? Didn't know I was part of the process of creating you,” he snorts, and Minho gently shoves his chest. 
“You know the saying about how one gets prettier when they're happy,” he says and searches his eyes. “You're the one making me happy.”
“Who's being cheesy now, huh?” he smirks. 
“Yeah, yeah, your sauce’s gonna burn if you don't stop staring into my soul soon,” Minho points out, and Chan's eyes widen before he spins around quickly. 
“Oh, baby,” he curses as he realizes Minho tricked him, now giggling behind him. “You can't shock me like that.”
“My bad, didn't know you were so-Chan!” Minho protests with a squeak as Chan tickles his side and tries to squirm away. “No, no, don't you even start that,” he says and jokingly raises his fists, ready to fight him. 
Chan grins and gets back to finishing dinner. 
-
After dinner, they're cuddled up on the sofa and Chan's feeding him with small brownie bites from time to time. A movie is playing in the background, and he doesn't pay much attention to it. He feels truly happy here with Chan for the first time in a while. Chan's hand is soothingly running through his hair, mindlessly rubbing down his back in between. It's peaceful and comfortable, and Minho can't help but wish you were here as well. His thoughts start wandering, and suddenly, Chan pulls him into his lap, gently kissing his cheek, and lets him cuddle up against him. Minho inhales his so familiar scent and buries his nose in his shirt for a moment, feeling a sense of home wash over him. He doesn't know why, but the urge to be as close as possible to Chan clouds his senses with sheer force, and his grip on his shirt subconsciously tightens. 
Chan picks up on it and doesn't say anything, simply letting his hand travel down his back and then rest on his thigh to test the waters. 
Minho tenses up in his lap and bites his lower lip, unsure if he should tell him to move his hand away or continue whatever the hell he's doing. Chan makes the decision for him, mindlessly rubbing his thigh, and Minho sits up straight, looking at him with blown eyes. “Channie?”
“Yeah?” he asks, breath hitching as their eyes meet. The pure love and vulnerability in his husband's eyes make his stomach all fuzzy. 
“I…uh,” he stops himself, unsure if he should tell Chan. It's been so long, and he isn't sure if Chan finds him attractive in this sense at the moment.
Chan searches his eyes before connecting their lips to a soft kiss. Minho's hand shoots up and cups his face, humming into the feeling. “You were saying kitten?” Chan asks quietly as he pulls back again. 
“I miss you,” he says, not knowing how else to express his feelings. Chan blinks at him in confusion for a moment before realizing what he means. “You're right; those six months have been very long.”
Chan hums softly and searches his eyes. “You're sure?” he checks in gently, and Minho nods almost timidly. “You uh..you still want that?” he asks. 
Minho frowns at him softly. “Do you?”
“Yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just…I didn't think you'd still want me after all those months of keeping my distance and-.”
Minho shuts him up with a long, fierce kiss. “I'll never stop loving you even if there are times when you don't know how to give anything back,” he tells him, and Chan knows he's telling the truth. Those four months before the accident prove every word. “And I'll always want you, Chan. We got married because I want every piece of you, every sweet smile, every rough edge, every bit you may be insecure about. I chose you, and I'll choose you again and again...Okay?” he asks sweetly. 
Chan blinks at him, stunned, eyes shimmering suspiciously. “Okay,” he whispers. 
Minho presses their foreheads together and gently fondles up his chest. “Nothing crazy. Just you and me. Lazy and soft as you love it.” 
Chan's grip on him involuntarily tightens. “Now?” he breathes out. 
“We can make an appointment in two weeks if that's what you'd like. I'm free at-,” he breaks off giggling as Chan gets up with him in his arms.
“Idiot,” he mutters softly and carries him upstairs to their bedroom, lowering him into the mattress. “I'll be back in a moment,” he promises and kisses him longingly. 
Minho smiles and watches him gather everything they'd need. Chan climbs back into bed and takes off his glasses for him with a soft smile. Minho's hand makes its way into his curls and pulls him into a slow, sweet kiss. Chan gets onto his knees and pulls him up, straddling his lap. He helps him out of his shirt and kisses him again. Minho's hands slip beneath his shirt, gently pulling it up, and Chan mewls into the kiss as his fingers trace his skin. “M-Min,” he stammers, and Minho blinks at him before teasingly brushing his fingertip over Chan's nipple. His husband tenses up with a soft moan, and Minho's eyes widen. 
“I completely forgot you haven't been touched at all in half a year,” he admits and gently pushes him back down into the mattress before climbing in his lap. He experimentally grinds down against him, and Chan's head falls back with a beautiful moan. “I think I know what you need now,” Minho smirks and falls back into the pillows, grabbing the bottle of lube close to him. Chan watches him, stunned, as Minho shoves down his sweatpants and boxers with a swift move and covers his fingers in lube. “Enjoying the show?” he asks teasingly and Chan nods, laughing softly. Minho relaxes before gently working his first finger inside his hole, lips parting with a gasp. 
Chan had seen him do so a thousand times whenever Minho got too impatient for long foreplay, but he'd never get tired of the sight. The way his face slowly contorts with pleasure as he works in another finger in no time, the way his body tenses when he hits a good spot, the soft pants, and the low moans he tries to hold back in the beginning. Minho squints at him. “Well, get undressed, pretty,” he tells him and bites his lower lip hard as he slowly stretches himself with his fingers. 
“You're insane,” Chan giggles softly but does as he says and throws his clothes onto the floor next to Min's discarded shirt. By the time he's done, Minho is ready and instructs him to get comfortable next to him. Chan does and watches him curiously as Minho climbs into his lap. A few soft kisses down his neck and a few soft strokes are enough to make him whimper already. Min giggles before slowly sinking down on him. Chan's hands grip his hips, bracing him as he does, and he can't hold back a moan at Minho's relieved expression, finally feeling him again. 
Minho moans sweetly as Chan's fully buried inside of him and takes a moment to get used to the feeling again. “Fuck, I missed you,” he chuckles breathlessly after a moment, and Chan giggles, squirming a little beneath him. 
“I don't think I'll last long,” he tells him, blushing a little. 
Minho smirks and gently pats his chest. “That's okay, love. We have all the time we need tonight, yeah?”
Chan nods and is about to answer, but his jaw drops with a weak groan as Minho lifts his hips. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers, and Minho takes it as encouragement to keep moving. None of them expects it, but after a few slow rolls of Minho's hips Chan starts struggling already. “Min-fuck, wait, please-” He tenses up with a loud whine of his name and paints his walls with thick ropes of cum. Minho watches him, stunned, as Chan beneath him weakly thrusts back, riding out his orgasm. Their eyes meet, and Chan turns crimson red, covering his face with his arm. “Oh God, no,” he whines softly. 
Minho giggles and leans down, gently easing his arm from his face. “Hey, no hiding,” he says softly. 
“This is embarrassing,” he protests softly. 
“I told you, darling, we have time,” he assures him. “I'll take it as a compliment,” he smirks and Chan's jaw drops a little before he laughs. 
Chan takes a deep breath and gently fondles Minho's thighs, sinking deep into his eyes. “Okay, you can move,” he tells him after a bit. 
Minho kisses him lovingly and moves on top of him, moaning softly as he rolls his hips. “Chan, please,” he breathes out. 
Chan gets the message and lifts him off his dick, flipping them over so Minho's on his back now. He braces himself on his arms next to his head and captures his lips in a long, sweet kiss, hand fondling down his side. Minho beneath him moans beautifully and buries his hand in his hair. “I nearly forgot how pretty you truly are,” Chan tells him, and Minho doesn't protest, blushing at his words. “But you're still as beautiful as ever no matter what you do,” he goes on and kisses Minho's neck, making the younger one whine softly. “It's ridiculous sometimes how much I long to be close to you in every way possible.”
“Channie,” Minho whispers with a shy smile, wrapping his legs around his waist. “My sweet Channie.”
Slowly, Chan pushes his dick back inside, making them both moan out shamelessly loud in pure relief. He pushes deeper with every slow drag of his hips until he's fully buried inside him, and Minho sighs contently. Chan's hand digs deep into his golden skin as he grabs his thigh and Minho clenches around him. Chan kisses down his jaw, starting a slow, gentle pace for now. “I missed you so much, baby,” he admits. “Not just back in Australia.”
“I know, love,” he assures him and soothingly fondles his head. “I missed you too, so much.”
He moans sweetly as he pushes in deeper and buries his face in his chest. “Shit, baby, you feel so good. So tight and warm for me, kitten.” Minho whimpers in response, so high and desperate it ignites a fire deep inside Chan he hadn't felt in a while. Thrusting forward, Minho's head falls back with a soft, breathy moan. “Taking me so well, kitten, fuck,” Chan tells him, the room slowly filling with the sound of their skin slapping over and over again. 
“K-Keep talking,” he barely gets out, his insides burning in need already. His grip on his hair tightens and he can't stop the whimpers and tiny moans leaving him. 
“You’re so pretty, baby,” Chan tells him and adjusts the angle of his hips a little. “So-ohh- fucking pretty.”
His next thrust has Minho arching off the bed, mouth falling open with a loud whine and eyes fluttering close. “Ch-Channie,” is all he can say before Chan repeats the motion, making his thighs tremble. Minho turns his head, burying it in the pillow a little, and moans obscenely loud at another drag against his prostate. 
“Shit, Min, I'm so close,” Chan curses, and Minho beneath him babbles some nonsense back, completely overwhelmed. “Want my kitten to come all over me.”
Minho mewls brokenly, and his eyes roll back before he tenses up with a silent scream, coating Chan's chest with his hot release. His hands twist the sheets and Chan's hair, body spasming beneath him as Chan picks up the pace, chasing his own high. Minho's high-pitched whines fill the room, mixing with Chan's desperate grunts, but he doesn't ask him to stop. “Channie,” he whines weakly. “Fill-fill me up, please.”
That's all he needs, and his body stills, shuddering heavily before painting his walls for the second time tonight. Chan's world explodes in hot pleasure before his eyes, and when he opens his eyes again, he's cuddled up safely in Minho's arms. He buries his face in his neck and plants a lazy kiss there, making Minho sigh happily. 
“Shit, I missed this,” Minho whispers, and Chan hums agreeingly in response. Minho softly kisses his head and runs his hand through his hair. “We gotta clean up.”
“Just a minute,” Chan mumbles drowsily and Minho can't deny him. The way he buries himself in his body makes his heart beat faster, knowing how long it had been for Chan. 
After another five minutes, he gently urges Chan to get up. Chan pushes himself up with a soft groan but picks him up and carries him to the bathroom. They clean each other up in the shower, washing their hair and spent bodies with soothing touches. Minho smiles happily at him as Chan rinses out the shampoo for him, hand running through his hair. 
Chan meets his eyes, and his world stops for a moment. Small water droplets rest on his lashes, his lips wet, and his skin glistening beneath the water. His eyes are so soft and vulnerable that they stir something deep inside of him, and Chan can't fight the urge to hug him close and bury his face in his shoulder. 
“You're okay?” Minho asks gently, soothingly rubbing his back and playing with the edge of his wet hair. 
“Yeah,” Chan answers quietly, tears burning in his eyes. 
Minho can tell by the way his voice quivers, unrecognizable to everyone who doesn't know Chan as well. He gently pulls him back and cups his face, worriedly searching his eyes. “Channie love?”
“I just…I know I haven't been easy those past few months, and I've been an asshole to you not only once,” he sniffles softly, and Minho's smile falters a little. “Sometimes it's just hard to believe you love me that much you can forget about all of it.”
“Channie,” he whispers, eyes brimming with tears. “I haven't been exactly easy to be around those past months either, have I?”
“I…thank you for giving me a home all those years ago and never leaving,” Chan tells him, lips quivering. 
Minho giggles sweetly, a tear dropping down his face. “I love you so much, Channie love. So so much,” he tells him and pulls him into a loving kiss. 
Chan kisses back fiercely and smiles at him. “I love you too, Minho baby.”
After getting dressed and changing the sheets, they're back in bed, facing each other. Their legs are entangled beneath the blanket, and they're as close as they can be, the tips of their noses touching. “Thank you for today,” Minho smiles shyly. 
“I'm glad you liked it,” Chan smiles back just as shyly and giggles. 
“How are you holding up with everything?” Minho asks gently. “You've been so focused on me lately.”
Chan soothingly squeezes his hip. “I'm glad to be back home,” he tells him kindly. “I wish she were here, but I'm okay, knowing she's getting better.”
“Mhm, I hope it won't take too long anymore,” Minho agrees and gently runs his fingers through Chan's damp curls. “But I think, given the circumstances of the past six months, we're doing well.”
Chan hums agreeingly and gives him a small, soft kiss. “Can you hold me tonight? Just hold me and don't let go?” 
Minho's face softens, and he plants a tiny kiss on his forehead. “Of course.”
Two days later 
Minho paces the bathroom once again, taking deep, controlled breaths. He tries to fight it all back down, all the guilt, all his worries, and fears. He just wants to be there for you, hold your hand, and comfort you like Chan is doing right now. Cursing quietly at himself he runs his hand through his hair shakily and takes another deep breath. “Man the fuck up,” he tells himself and shakily washes his hands. He rubs his face with the cold water, washing away all the tears, and dries it off with a few paper towels. 
Half an hour ago, they got the call that you were awake. Chan picked him up from work and drove them here, but so far, Minho hasn't dared face you. He's been crying for you to come back to them for months, and now that it's time, he is terrified. 
He stops in front of your room, hand lingering above the door handle, and hesitates. Surely, you'd hate him, right? You'd hate him for driving, for getting you into an accident. He subconsciously takes a step back, and it takes him every tiniest bit of his willpower to open the door and step inside. 
Minho meets Chan's eyes as he slowly walks into the room, and Chan's face softens. He must look horrible. Inhaling softly, he turns to look at you and swallows hard, meeting your eyes. You reach out for him with tears in your eyes, and his body moves on its own. Before he knows it, he's sitting at the edge of your bed and pulls you into his arms as you start crying. He soothingly rubs your back as you allow yourself to cry for the first time since they're here. “Oh, honey,” he whispers and swallows down his tears. “I'm so sorry, my love.”
You only hold onto him tighter, shattering his heart a little. Only hours ago, he wasn't sure if you'd ever hug him again. If you'd ever really wake up even. Minho buries his face in your shoulder and soothes his mind with your scent. You're here. You'd be okay. He'd make sure of that. 
Minho kisses your head and sniffles softly. “God, you're okay,” he says, and suddenly Chan's hand finds his lower back. He looks up and sees the pain in Chan's eyes, making his heart drop to his stomach. “What's wrong?” he whispers with wide eyes. 
“She's okay so far,” he promises and swallows hard. “But she can't remember the last two years.” Minho looks down at you, almost a little panicked. “Which is okay because that means she remembers the first seven years of our marriage and the three of us dating before. Min, that's not all bad, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods timidly as your hold on him tightens, and a sob shakes your body. 
“The doctor said there's a chance it'll all come back in a few months, we can make this work,” he says, and Minho presses his lips together, eyes filling with tears rapidly. “It's okay, it's okay,” Chan says softly, and Minho whimpers his name, holding onto you tightly. Chan quickly gets up and hugs you both close, kissing Minho's head. “I promise you, it's okay, Min,” he whispers, and Minho nods, trying to calm his racing heart. “It's just the last two years, we'll make this work.”
Minho holds you tight and nods again, hiding in Chan's chest. His husband is right. They went through a lot to get here; they'd manage this. You still know who they are, you still know they love you, you just don't know what happened over the past two years. It would be okay. 
PART FOUR | PART SIX (coming soon)
Tumblr media
MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES
Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)
@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @harshaaaaa @lost-in-avoidance @dprkbyn
136 notes · View notes
scekrex · 2 days
Note
Ok, but no one talks about the fact Adam was literally MADE to reproduce. I know for a FACT he cums buckets and no one can convince me he doesn’t have the biggest sensitive balls in the show😤 I want to overstimulated him while telling him what a good boy he is. so bad 😭😭
P.S love your Writing!!
Oh nah bc HE DOES cum buckets and his balls are SO FUCKING SENSITIVE I fucking love you for this request so here ya fucking go!!
But I still want more, don't know what I'm after
pairing: Adam x male!reader
warnings: language, anal sex, sub!Adam, dom!Reader, praise kink, overstimulation
note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers
“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” the first man moaned loudly as his hands gripped your hair firmly, forcing you to move your head back and forth at a quick pace. Your eyes were on his face, drinking in every little emotion the first man had on display, his mask was somewhere on the floor, just like his clothes. His eyes were shut and he was visibly enjoying himself, the brunette was kind enough to let you hear how much he was enjoying himself. “Best fucking head- shit- I've ever got,” he mumbled mindlessly and you slapped his hip bone harshly, drawing another moan from him.
To you it was quite entertaining that the taller male thought he was in charge when really he wasn't. Yes, he was controlling the pace and yes, he was thrusting inside your mouth, but was he in control? No. Because you simply allowed him to use you, you had given him permission, had even offered it to him - oh how Adam was so clueless how that decision would backfire on him.
The brunette was sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you in-between his legs, sucking him off, giving him ‘the best head he ever got’. Your hands were sliding up and down his inner thighs, whenever your fingers got even close to the brunette's balls he started to shiver - a spot so sensitive yet so tempting for you to touch, to explore. It's not like you've never touched his balls, or licked them, but it wasn't something you were doing daily, simply because they were so sensitive.
Adam's fingers in your hair tightened and his breathing became harder, louder. He opened his eyes a little to look down at you, to watch you swallow his dick - the first human dick that had ever been created. And oh fuck the image of his erection disappearing inside your mouth did things to him, good things, the best things even. “Close,” was the only warning you got before the first man picked up the pace yet again and it only took him a moment longer to actually fulfill his promise and come undone in your mouth.
It wasn't physically possible to swallow it all, not for you and not for another mortal soul. It was simply too much, yet you were always eager to try your best and drink as much as you were able to. However your best was far from drinking it all - so fucking far away from it. Adam's fucked out eyes watched as his cum leaked from the corner of your mouth, he watched the white liquid staining your lips, your chin, fuck, even your cheeks. It was everywhere, inside your body, on your skin, on his skin - some of it dripped on the floor and you knew it would be a bitch to clean that shit up later. Because for now you had other plans.
You kept moving your head through his orgasm, which resulted in a lot of his own cum dripping down his shaft, onto his balls. And who were you to leave your partner all dirty covered in their own fluids, right? So you pulled your head back, Adam's still hard dick slipped from your lips and hit his stomach. You quickly grabbed his legs, yanked them upwards and placed them onto your shoulders, the first man was quick to cross his shins behind your head so that they wouldn't slip and fall. The sudden shift of position and the lack of energy due to his post orgasm haze caused Adam to fall onto his back with a quiet moan. Good.
You were swift to lean in again, your tongue pressed itself against Adam's dick as if it were providing the air that filled your lungs - the reality wasn't as far off as it may have seemed. After all it was his seed filling your stomach. His dick was clean in no time and while you licked and teased it, you felt it slowly going soft underneath your tongue - Lord have mercy with this man because he was not ready for what was about to come. Because the brunette lifted his upper body a little - only the slightest bit - and made grabby hands at you, expecting you to get up off your knees and give him the cuddles he always desired after sex. But you weren't done with him just yet so you ignored his silent request for physical touch and licked down his shaft until your tongue met his balls.
A violent shiver went through his body and you heard how the first man inhaled sharply at the sudden and clearly unexpected contact. “Fuck, no, please,” he whined quietly, the pleaed was muffled by his own hand that he had lifted to bite into. Another request you ignored - if the brunette wanted you to truly stop he'd use the safe word you had agreed on. Unless that was the case, you were good to keep going. At first you just licked the ejaculate off of the sensitive skin, one of your hands held onto his hips, preventing him from thrusting his hips, the other was squeezing his thigh. Adam drew you in closer with his legs, and you chuckled softly at his reaction, “You’re such a good boy for me, you know that?” And while Adam desperately tried to hide it, you heard the whimper that fell from his lips at your praise. “Too much,” he cried out as your lips wrapped around his balls and sucked them inside your mouth - the first man thought he was gonna die from the overwhelming pleasure that flooded his body.
His nails dug into the sheets as his body tensed up and he felt his dick harden again, the tight heat that surrounded his testicles felt heavenly and like his personal fall to hell at the same time - he knew he wanted more despite his body telling him otherwise. “Please,” he mumbled, a whine of your name followed as he pressed the back of his head against the mattress, desperately trying to buck his hips, but you had pinned him down good. “You sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby,” you hummed, your lips stretched into a wicked smile that bittered your sweet words. “My handsome angelic baby,” you mumbled against the sensitive skin of his nuts and Adam flinched a little at the vibration that sent through his lower body parts. “Being so fucking good for me.” And Adam found himself nodding violently in agreement, huffing out excited, “Yes, your good boy.”
The brunette tossed his head from side to side, trying to get used to the unusual amount of pleasure that fueled his body, his dick was fully erected again, throbbing for attention in the most painful way and yet Adam was too lost in desire and lust to do something about it. He wanted more. More praises, more touches, more friction, more love. And yet his body screamed at him that what he had was already too much, that he wouldn't be able to handle more. Adam's hands moved from the sheets to your hair again, pushing you away while also trying to get you closer, to get more. And you let him.
Overstimulating the first man wasn't something he was used to - you weren't even sure if that was something you could get used to in the first place. But over stimulation was so rarely done that he had no chance to even deal with it properly - usually the both of you were too fucked out for it, too spent so that all you were able to do was wrap your wings around each other and fall asleep covered in soft feathers. The golden feathers of his wings tickled your hand that was holding down his hips but you simply ignored that, you were too focused on pleasuring the brunette. And then the hand that had been squeezing his thigh softly wrapped around Adam's dick and he was done. The first man covered himself in his own cum as he moaned your name on the top of his lungs. The white liquid was quick to run down his sides, staining the once pure feathers of his wings and the sheets underneath them. The pain that had been throbbing through his dick was gone and so was the desire for more, exhaustion wrapped Adam in a tight blanket and you watched as he almost immediately closed his eyes to take a deep breath.
“You look absolutely stunning, Adam,” you hummed as you got up, your knees made a cracking sound at that - fuck next time you definitely needed a pillow to kneel on. You climbed onto the bed next to him. “Shut the fuck up ‘n’ c’mere,” he simply mumbled, his voice was hoarse, probably from screaming and moaning for you, as he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you flush against his chest to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. “You’re fucking dirty,” you complained but Adam just gave you a tired hum, rolled you two over while wrapping you up in his wings, “Don’t fucking care, just wanna sleep.”
109 notes · View notes
fizzfags · 3 days
Text
EMIZEL/FIZZFANGS ANALYSIS
the long awaited. under the cut bc its really long and im fucking insane. (this does not necessarily focus on them as a romantic pairing, just the way they interact with each other. interpret it in whichever way is most compelling to you/what you see fit.)
EMIZEL:
the most notable thing about emizel is the fact that he is mainly motivated by status and climbing the social hierarchy in whatever situation he is currently in. in his human life, that was climbing the ranks within the demons. after he dies, he doesnt really understand the social hierarchy within vampire society, but he does understand that its very important to at least be in good standing.
Tumblr media
(episode 2)
he has an inherent disrespect towards authority, also seen with his father, (which i will get to later) as seen with this interaction with arthur. he's insistent on meeting the important figures within vampire society in la, and prioritizes this over, say, learning how being a vampire actually works. in the same episode, he also tells arthur "It just seems like we have similar goals, you know? I clearly don't know what I'm doing in vampire society. You do. So I need to learn. And you did say you'd take responsibility for teaching me." keep in mind that this is only a week or so after he was turned. things become interesting when we see him interacting with said important figures.
Tumblr media
(episode 4)
in a stark contrast to arthur, hes relatively polite and respectful. obviously, this is to build favor for himself within the community of important and respected figures. also notable, he is lying out of his fucking ass. this is probably my biggest piece of evidence against the people that genuinely believe that emizel is unintelligent, because he clearly knows what hes doing.
Tumblr media
as stated in the tweet, he gets killed/injured makes stupid decisions so often because he's used to operating under the rules of the demons and normal human society, and he hasnt learned that consequences and rules are enforced much harsher in regards to vampires. his rash and impulsive personality/decision making skills/opposition to authority figures that he doesnt like just isnt compatible with vampire society, and this leads to him getting hurt (see any and all of his interactions with edward)
Tumblr media
(episode 4)
so, we know he lies to get what he wants (status, respect, etc) and doesn't feel bad about it. now is time to address his upbringing. obviously, it was not great. he has a very negative relationship with his father, and it wouldn't be too big of a stretch to describe it as potentially abusive. "Listen, I've lived with this guy my whole life. He's always kind of been a piece of shit to me, so do what you want - I couldn't care any less. But, if you're making me choose between my wellbeing and his, then I'm always going to choose me. Besides, I can't do any of that mind shit anyways." (episode 2) we can most likely assume he joined the demons relatively young, as a way to escape or have a place to stay other than his dads house. this is also probably the source of his opposition to authority, especially those that act negatively towards him.
Tumblr media
(episode 6)
episode 6 is very interesting. emizel risks his life to go back to the unseen one to ask a very specific question: "why did i get abandoned with my father, and why did shilo get to stay?" also noting that his most precious memory is one he had with the demons. when shilo asks about this question, he gets very defensive, because he knows that shilo would have an answer for him, but its not the answer he wants. if he tells them, they wont let him go back to the unseen one. of course, his question is left unanswered, and he asks it again in episode 10.
another very interesting thing happens in episode 10: he willingly gets rid of all memories of his father. he had a lot of other things he could have given up, but he specifically chose his father. with the definite negative impact his dad must have had on him, and how highly emizel prioritizes strength, it wouldnt be a stretch to say that he viewed the trauma of living with his father as a weakness, something to get rid of instead of grow and heal from. it would take time, a resource he isn't willing to share.
Tumblr media
so, why is emizel so motivated towards power and status? with all this, the answer is pretty obvious: he wants to be able to build the life he was never able to have. power and status means money means opportunities means choices means a better life. he wants an escape from la, from his father, from everything he's had to deal with growing up. hes constantly reminding himself that its not fair, its not fair that shilo got to live that way, its not fair he was abandoned and stuck here. so he wants to make it fair for himself and the rest of his posse. those he considers his family. his jealousy motivates him.
so of course a wrench is thrown in everything when he loses that emotional connection to most of his friends (except theo. which i will get to) and finds himself just not caring anymore. the thing hes built his life around, spent years climbing the ranks - all for nothing. but what else can he do but continue on. find another distraction, find another goal.
THEO:
we don't know much about theos past other than he (supposedly) lives in the suburbs and has rich parents. (referenced in episode 8) though this is debatably canon, i think its interesting if it is because it brings up a lot of questions. most notably, why did he join the demons? the most obvious answer is that it's the same as emizel: his parents suck. though of course none of this is canon, so moving onto the things that are.
the first major event that happens to him is emizel being turned. he sees emizel less, "No shit, really? You know Emizel? How is he keeping up? He's kinda, been disappearin' every night." (episode 2) and we can assume emizel is a big part of his life. (which i will get to later) and then, thanks to shilo, a core aspect of his personality is stripped away. his entire life is essentially turned on his head, and he can feel something missing. so, as seen in episode 5, he turns to alcohol. its no surprise why, he's lost the sense of normality, his routine, everything he was used to. so he may as well do this. a lot of theos more interesting aspects only really show when hes interacting with emizel, so time to get to the fun part.
FIZZFANGS AS A WHOLE:
a very interesting thing is that emizel and theo act very differently when talking/interacting with each other than any other character. dialogue-wise, they both talk a lot faster and "messier" around one another, interrupting themselves and eachother to finish each others thoughts.
Tumblr media
(episode 3)
just by their conversations, you can tell they're very close. this particular instance also has two other interesting things in it: theo asking what he can do to help emizel, and condi specifying that theo would be the only person emizel would tell about being a vampire. to address the first part, here is a complete list of all the times theo asks emizel what he should do/what he should do to help/etc (and this is an incomplete transcript, so ive probably missed a couple.)
"Alright, you lead the way man, let's do it." (ep 1)
"What's going on here? What do I do? What do you want me to do, man?" (ep 1)
"No man! I'm not leaving you, man! I can take him. I can still take him." (ep 1)
"I'm not leaving you, man!" (ep 1)
"Well, how can I help you with the non-soda related-?" (ep 3)
"Yeah! I mean... What should I do first?" (ep 3)
"So you just let me know whenever you need? I got you, bro." (ep 3)
"So, uh… Anything I can help with?" (ep 5)
"Don't worry, man. I got you. Where am I taking you?" (ep 5)
"So, um… how, c- how can I help you, man?" (ep 8)
this fucking crazy interaction:
Tumblr media
(episode 3)
so it goes without saying that theo would do anything for emizel. and he does, he stays in the alley even after he gets hurt, he stays even after he watches emizel die. and when emizel crawls over to him, dazed and hungry for blood, he doesnt run. he only runs after emizel tells him to. another really important thing about their relationship is the fact that they're both a constant in each others lives.
Tumblr media
(episode 8)
its kind of like they sort people into two boxes: "theo/emizel" and "everyone else." and the other will always be their highest priority. emizel drives to the other side of la just to see theo. after emizel dies in the club, his first instinct is to go find theo. theo is the only person that the unseen one appears as to him. in episode 8, the first step to his plan is finding theo.
Tumblr media
(episode 6)
even if he hadn't just lot a good amount of emotional connection to the rest of his friends, i think he would still be a lot more urgent to go save him. and again, his first thought is to check if theo is there. if theo's okay, if he's safe.
Tumblr media
(episode 5)
and theo does this too. he insists that emizel is his only friend, the only one he trusts. speaking of trust, that is the most crucial aspect to their relationship. they trust eachother a sickening amount, they regularly put their life in the others hands. when emizel drinks theos blood, its not "is he going to hurt me?" its "how can i make this the safest?" because theo trusts emizel not to hurt him, even after knowing he's killed ~12 people.
Tumblr media
(episode 3)
and here, emizel trusts that theo loves him enough to be okay with this. note that arthur doesn't even bring up love, emizel is the first to. arthur only brings it up after emizel says that. because emizel knows that theo loves him and trusts him, emizel knows that theo would do anything for him.
Tumblr media
(episode 9)
and emizel, notorious for not letting anyone close enough to hurt him, tells theo that if he wants to, not needs, wants, he can kill him. that theo can kill him, if he wants. because emizel doesn't fully trust himself alone, but he trusts himself when he's with theo.
Tumblr media
and theo trusts emizel too. despite seeing what vampires can do in a frenzy, he trusts that emizel wouldn't hurt him, just as emizel trusts that theo would stop him before anything could ever happen. and emizel is a notorious liar, so we can assume that he doesn't/wouldn't lie to theo, which would explain why theo trusts him so much.
Tumblr media
basically, they'll always be there for eachother and theo would do anything for emizel and emizel will always come back to theo in the end and they love eachother and despite everything they are together. theyre completely inseperable.
tl;dr: emizels main MOTIVATION is status, while the most IMPORTANT thing to him is theo
109 notes · View notes
lenaellsi · 24 hours
Text
after my latest rewatch I am even more convinced that crowley really doesn't have the intense self-loathing issues he's commonly depicted with. like he has some regrets and bad memories and insecurities like everyone does, and he's under an insane amount of stress basically always, but he's very confident in who he is. he's not particularly happy about being a demon, but that isn't the same thing as hating himself for it. he hates hell, not himself.
like. he’s not upset about being called one of “the bad guys” because he agrees, he’s upset because he knows aziraphale is wrong, and because this is evidence that aziraphale still believes in a philosophy that has divided them since even before his fall. he has never once considered himself less than aziraphale or any other angel. I think it's clear that he's pretty offended by that implication, actually!
“crawly” as a name is too squirming-at-your-feet-ish for him because he knows who he is, and he sees value in that person. his depression and his worrying relationship with his own life and safety come from his feelings on god and predestination, not from self-loathing. crowley does not believe in the system. he doesn’t believe in the idea that people are purely good or evil, and he’s sure enough of himself to know that he's not either. that's why he's able to make the choices he does. he's able to act in the gray spaces between heaven and hell (see: job, the flood, the "virtues of poverty," armageddon, etc etc) because he is confident enough to make those decisions without worrying about what the powers that be say about what's "right" and "wrong."
that doesn’t mean that he’s not self-conscious. he’s very concerned with what humans think of him, what aziraphale thinks of him, and (out of self-preservation) what hell thinks of him. he hides his eyes and puts on a cool, flashy persona to hide the more vulnerable parts of himself. I think everyone does that, to a degree, but it's especially obvious in crowley because of how it manifests in his glasses. he's been burned (literally) before, and he knows better than to show weakness when he could be hurt like that again.
and re: the "I never meant to fall" thing--he's upset about being a demon, yeah, because the fall sounds like it sucked, and his job tortures him when he's Good or just Bad in the wrong way, and he's deeply lonely, and the love of his life has a complex about their relationship, and he's trapped in a system where he has to blindly follow one of two nearly-identical sets of bullshit morality rules or be executed. but again, he's mad at god, heaven, and hell for all of that. I'm sure he's angry at himself for all sorts of reasons often enough, because crowley is generally a pretty angry person, but he doesn't hate himself in any sort of existential "I am an unlovable monster" way.
maybe sometimes he regrets falling. maybe sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he never did. maybe sometimes he hates his fucking line manager and wishes he could do any other job for a while. but no part of crowley thinks that he is any worse of a person after the fall, or any less worthy of aziraphale's company. he just thinks aziraphale thinks that, because of the amount of times aziraphale has told him so.
115 notes · View notes
billfarrah · 5 hours
Text
I genuinely can't believe there are actually people coming for Young Royals for showing a character empowering themselves enough to remove themselves from a toxic situation and framing it as Wille "running away from his problems."
Removing yourself from a toxic situation which has caused you nothing but suffering and trauma and grief is not running away from your problems and it's genuinely such a dangerous thing to imply.
Why does Wille have to stay in a role he's never wanted, to please parents who have never accepted him for who he is or what he wants, who want to dictate how he lives his life and how his boyfriend lives his life and what path he takes in life and how he portrays himself to the media?
The show is literally about personal autonomy and finding the strength and motivation to be radically yourself regardless of what is against you and Wille's decision is portrayed an act of bravery. Leaving the monarchy is not "running away from his problems" - he's removing himself from an institution he does not believe in and does not want to be a part of and choosing to take a journey of self-discovery where he can discover who he truly is, who he wants to be, without anyone breathing down his neck or telling him whether he is allowed to have tattoos or how short he is allowed to cut his hair. Wille should not have to beg and fight with his family and with the royal court to be accepted.
The ending of the show never implies that Wille's mental health struggles are suddenly over and done with. Nobody is saying his anxiety and issues with anger have disappeared. Nobody is saying he will never struggle again. However, majority of his mental health issues throughout the show are directly linked to his role and the pressures it puts himself under. Leaving that all behind doesn't solve every problem he could ever had, but it alleviates a large amount of stress. Have people never left a stressful situation or relationship behind and suddenly felt an immediate and monumental relief?
I'd also like to point out that the ending of the show is not Wille abdicating. He has to officially renounce his claim to the throne for that to happen. He's simply just telling his mother how he feels and what he wants to do. The journey is not over for Wille and there will no doubt be many hardships ahead for him, but now that he's released himself from this and is for the first time sure of what he wants and sure he is able to deal with it, he is more equipped to deal with what's ahead than ever before.
Wille removing himself from the expectations of his family and the royal court are demonstrations of him working towards bettering his mental health, because he is finally able to recognize that the situation has always negatively affected him and he finally feels powerful enough and not drowned by anger, resentment and anxiety to leave it all behind and start over.
If that isn't bravery, I don't know what is.
142 notes · View notes
allthefakepeople · 18 hours
Text
the interaction between wille and malin in ep 6 is super interesting to me because wille is showing a degree of professionalism and confidence that he doesn't show very often. Throughout the series it appears as a way to show that as much as he doesn't see it, he does have the makings of a good Crown Prince, even Kristina has said it
this makes it all the more important that you realize that wille's decision at the end of the episode is because he doesn't want this and not because he can't do it. we've seen plenty of evidence throughout the seasons that wille actually has a lot of solid leadership skills and the right mindset as a leader when he puts them to use in the right places
but none of that matters because he doesn't want that life or that role
124 notes · View notes
randomdragonfires · 15 hours
Text
Take Me Down To The River, And Bathe Me Clean [One Shot]
Tumblr media
Text Divider by @saradika-graphics
SUMMARY | The Gods have sent her for him, and he'll have her if it's the last thing he does.
WARNINGS | 18+; Canon AU; Smut; Heavy Religious Themes; Obsession.
WORD COUNT | 10.1k
A/N | Another one of my older stories, because @toms-cherry-trees reminded me of this one! This was originally beta-read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs.
Tumblr media
She walked in sin, and had him in a trance.
A lowly servant girl, that was all she was. If he had been in his right mind, he would have never noticed her; never given her the time of day. Dragons did not spend their time entertaining sheep - especially in a time of war, when there were many and more important things to attend to.
The blood of the dragon ran hot, and his had boiled when he saw her for the first time. They said murder and bloodshed turned men into insatiable monsters and opened the doors to affluence for whores - of course, somebody had to draw benefit from the lust that came from making it out alive from battle. The men thought the cunts they got to sink their cocks into were their reward for victory; in truth, they had lost to women who made good use of war-tainted fools’ hot-headedness and filled their pockets with gold.
Aemond was different, however. While men spent their nights with women who screamed loud enough to keep every surrounding soul awake, he had taken to keeping away from sins of the flesh to keep himself in the light of the Gods. In the faint whispers of firelight, Aemond Targaryen would pore over war strategy and books of politicking, history, philosophy and diplomacy - that was when he was not reading passages of the Seven-Pointed Star, to give himself some sort of comfort during uncertain times of war.
He was a kinslayer already. He had to work doubly hard to appease the Gods now. He was a warrior and a Prince through and through, and he knew better than to give in to carnal desires that would mean next to nothing to him in the face of the lessons of the Gods that he had been taught. 
And then, she happened. She had walked in moonlight, and she had been sin incarnate.
On his first night as Prince Regent, he informed the maidservants to keep the candles burning in his study at the library, so he could continue to ponder over strategies to proceed in the fight for the throne. He had walked in while struggling to keep up with the pace of his thoughts, his calculated decisions seeming wrong at every turn and terribly in need of further thought. With his hands held behind his back so tightly that they would have gone red, Aemond walked to the private library where his study was set up - and she had been there.
He did not know if he had seen her before. He did not know if she had attended to him earlier, or if she was new to the Keep. All he knew was that she had been bent over a candle, the low light of which had given him a warm view of her soft face and the breasts that threatened to spill out of her tight servant maid’s dress. Her loose braid had fallen over her shoulder as she shielded the fire with her hand from the night air, and he watched her as she had looked at the flame intently, hoping it would keep.
With her shy little eyes and sharp nose, pouty lips, and nimble hands, she had Aemond’s attention completely, his mind already swirling with thoughts of her, of who she was, of what he could do to her.
Aemond’s very heart felt like it had been knocked down to his gut, with how heavy it was at the sight of her. There was a sense of unease about the slow loss of bearings in him, a feeling that he did not know what to make of. Illuminated by candlelight, she was the loveliest sight he’d ever known - almost divine, like a gift from the Gods themselves.
He could have her if he wanted to; burn her if he wished. He was a Targaryen Prince, now the solemn ruler of the realm - what was he, if not the living personification of fire itself? His peculiar thoughts threatened to give way to those of a sinful nature, and Aemond was painfully aware of it both in the chaos of his mind and the tightening of his trousers.
Through his hazy one-eyed gaze, worsened by the dim darkening of the night, he watched as she tilted her head ever so slightly. It took him by complete surprise how her neck called for him, for his touch. All he wanted was to run his fingers over the newly exposed skin from jaw to collarbone and squeeze her neck in his firm hold; just enough for her to feel his strength and burgeoning desire, but not so much that she’d beg to be let go of.
In the Hour of the Wolf, illuminated by the bright candlelight, Aemond Targaryen had seen the lowly servant girl for the very first time. And the moment her eyes had met his one violet orb, he knew he would never be able to let her go.
“Your Grace,” she murmured; whether it was in reverence or fear, he did not know. What he did know was that he enjoyed the respect from her, just as much as he did watching her bow down to greet him, giving him an ample view of her chest once more. Her voice was an almost quiet, tired one - one that might have belonged to a woman who would choose to stay quiet and unseen if she could manage it.
It was the nature of servants to put the wishes of the royal family above their own - so, of course, even if she wished for quiet, she would have to open her mouth and greet him with the respect that was his due. 
So far, she hadn’t disappointed him. She gripped the sides of her skirts while she waited for him to give her leave, and he wondered how far he could take this little game that he had begun to play. Would she be a willing participant in this dance of theirs that he had wanted to partake in with her? Would she put his needs above her own? Or would he have to bend and break her to have her?
“Continue,” he said, in a harsh tone that masked the growing curiosity in him. Who was this girl that had managed to capture his attention so effortlessly? Would she be warm to the touch like fire that she covered with her hands, or cold like the ice in his wine? Who was she? What was she?
He was a devout follower of the Faith, and was very well apprised of the punishments for indulging in sins of the flesh. He also knew that it would take an otherworldly grip to pull and lead him astray, and to his disappointing yet exciting realisation, he was sure that she had gained that power over him in a matter of moments - like nobody else ever had before.
If he had felt unease at how easily he had found himself willing to give in, he hadn’t bothered with it right then. Somehow, he had known that she had been worth it.
He took his seat at his chair by the desk - his scrolls, parchments, correspondence, and books already laid out for him. She had quietly walked over to the shelves with a dusting cloth in hand and had begun cleaning the older books on the shelves within his line of sight.
He watched from the corner of his eye, all the while trying his best to read from the book in hand. But his efforts had been in vain, of course. How could he have won, when sin herself was tempting him from across the chamber? How could he, when she was right there, mesmerizing him with every movement of hers?
If he hadn’t been so caught up with the voices in his mind, he would have seen her watching him from the corner of her eye and smiling, ever so slightly. Only a moment, and she had disarmed him. Sin was dangerous - and he now knew how.
Her mere existence had left him defenceless against her effortless pull toward him, and the notion that she had not even intended to hold his eye like this and yet still had - she so very much had - only worsened the weakness creeping up on him. 
He was not Aegon. He was not the rake who dishonoured powerless women over a moment’s weakness. He was not the man who seeded women who were not worthy of his blood. He was not the man who indulged in sin. And yet, as he had watched her curious eyes trying to make out the titles of the books she wiped, the fear of becoming that man grabbed him by the throat.
Those who indulged in sins of the flesh were cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells - and no pretty face was worth that fate, no matter how ethereal she seemed to him. No Targaryen would suffer that fate - he was the blood of the Conqueror; he would not be anything less than ideal. He would not be the first to slip and sin.
So why did he find himself rising from his seat and walking towards her? Hands held back and his breathing even and steady, Aemond watched as she stilled, cognizant of his presence as his dark shadow fell over the shelves in front of her. She did not turn to see him or try to run.
She froze with her eyes fixed on his unsteady, dark shadow, and he enjoyed the nervous beads of sweat that began to form on the nape of her neck, right below where the stray hairs of her braid fell haphazardly. She swallowed, and Aemond's eye followed the slow bobbing of her throat with great intent. 
Was she fearful? If yes, she would have had every right to be. He certainly was afraid - of being carried away by sin.
That was all she was. Dirt and sin, both of which he should stay cleansed of. And yet, his hands moved of their own accord - the tip of his thumb wiped away the beads of sweat forming on her skin, drop after drop. Her breath hitched in her throat in surprise as gooseflesh arose in the wake of his touch and the warmth of his breath, and Aemond could not help the cutting smile that graced his lips then.
Could he conquer sin? He did not know. But he wanted - oh, he so wanted - to learn. And if there was one thing he truly enjoyed, it was learning. With that singular thought in mind, he moved her face by the chin to the side - giving her a view of his unmarred side if she wished for it.
She looked straight ahead, making no attempt to look at him. His hand was yet to leave her chin; if anything, his grip had only gotten tighter. In close proximity, he saw the way her hair curled on her sweat-dampened skin; the way her breasts heaved as she took in laboured breaths to calm herself down as a Prince of the realm touched and held her in his tight grasp.
Aemond’s thumb lazily caressed her jaw and lower lip, fingers holding onto her like she was a startled little fawn who would run if he let her. In close proximity, the swell of her backside grazed his clothed bulge for just a moment - enough to drive him mad with want and take a step back. But even then, he did not let go.
How could sin manage to look so innocent? How could she remain so ignorant of what she was doing to him?
Those who committed sins of the flesh would spend the entirety of the afterlife making their way through the dark expanses of the Seven Hells, and she… she was a test of will. The Gods had clearly sent her to test him, for why else would he have been so easily swayed by a pretty face?
“What do they call you?” He rasped into her ear, while she, to his utter shock, lifted her lips up slightly - enough to send his senses into action. She smiled like she knew the realm's biggest secret, and wouldn't tell anyone until she'd let it unfold a bit for her own amusement.
All of a sudden, there was no chasm, no oceans to separate them - all that they had between them was a slight fraction of space, just enough to breathe. His nose brushed her earlobe and she hissed - if he had not been close to her, he would have missed it.
Her name tumbled out of her lips in faint song-like whisper - a voice made to seduce - and Aemond was convinced that she was some sort of otherworldly creature - a siren, or a fey. Her voice went straight to his cock, and his eagerness was evident as it hardened. She was yet to make even a slight movement - every part of her remained still, and if she were not breathing, he would be convinced that he had killed her with the forwardness of his actions.
His hands reached down to her neck, and he continued down as he traced a path down the soft skin of her arms with the tips of his fingers. His hands reached hers, and he pried her fingers apart, allowing him to intertwine his with hers. He guided their joined left hands to wrap around her waist, and her eyes followed his movements as her head hung low.
The laces of her worn-out brown dress called for his fingers to run through them. The sight was the most inviting one he ever knew, and he let go of her other hand to let his finger work through the first loop. He gulped at getting to see a new plane of her body - it was a very small patch of newly won skin, but it had made his mouth water and mind race nonetheless.
He wondered what it would be like if he simply swooped in, pushed her braid aside, and planted his lips right there, but Aemond managed to hold himself. Would she push him away, or would she welcome him and encourage him to work his way through the second loop? Would she let him go further down her back until his mouth reached the swell of her backside?
His calloused fingertip tapped the skin under the newly removed loop on her back once, twice, thrice. The gooseflesh that arose and the audible gasp she let out felt like the biggest victory Aemond had ever known.
He decided then that if he were going to conquer sin, he would do it looking her in the eye. After all, Princes had to be honourable - and it was not honourable to approach prey from behind.
He turned her around, and she was quick to take a step back - her back hit the old wooden shelf behind her, and he towered over her, his presence a looming threat to her virtue as one of his hands rested on the side of her head, while the fingertips of the other grazed her neck. He drew his face closer to her, and her breath hitched, and he was infinitely amused by what her thoughts right now could be.
He pulled her face up by the jaw, and now she was forced to look at him - he expected to see fear for her modesty, nervousness for her virtue, and shame for her birth and station, which took away her agency when being held so close by a Prince.
He had not expected to see eyes that matched his own fire. Was he hallucinating, or was she truly holding her own against him in silence? He did not know. But what he did know was that meeting her vision from up close had stunned him. From where he was, he would have been able to count the number of lashes on each eyelid if he so wished - and it was that realisation that broke his reverie and made him draw back.
Sin and shame. He had to be far removed from both, and yet, he had almost allowed himself to be drowned in them. Near where she had stood, he had seen the bound books on the shelves. With his one eye, he had made out the title of The Seven Pointed Star, and he awakened - as though he had been doused with ice-cold water.
How quickly had he been drawn toward her? How easily had he almost given in to temptation? His first night as Prince Regent, and he had already teetered close to sin, dancing at the edges of Seven Hells as the Gods’ most tempting offering had lured him in.
“Leave.” His voice, hoarse from being in close proximity to her, had carried through the air but seemed to have failed to reach her. It seemed as though she had been looking through him, past him, and his words had fallen on deaf ears. She had seemed to be in thought as she ignored his grunt, as though she was waiting for him to take his words back and ravish her right then.
He expected to loom over her, to engulf her - he had not considered that she might perhaps seek to do the same thing to him. The thought of being controlled or met by an equal unnerved him like nothing else ever had.
So he repeated himself and held his hands behind his back, waiting for her to follow his command and swallowing the spit that had collected in his mouth. She quickly picked up her rag from the shelf and had gathered her skirts, eyes downcast and flitting about in confusion and shock.
If he looked closely, he might have noticed a slight knowing smile - one that indicated that this was far from over.
She bowed to him, eyes confident - she said much and more with her eyes, he found - as though his hands had not touched her only a few fleeting moments prior. She made away into the corridors - out of sight, but certainly not out of mind.
He let go of breath that he didn’t know he had been holding only when he had heard the definitive slam of the doors following her exit.
He who holds his own against temptations of the flesh would hold infinite power and control over his senses, the Holy Book had said.
His one eye trained over the spine of the Seven Pointed Star, and he sighed. He had looked sin in the eye and won tonight, resisting his urges. But given how she had plagued his thoughts so strongly even after running away, how long would it be before he gave in?
Tumblr media
Aemond Targaryen was not a man of depravity.
He was not a man of sin. And yet, it was terrifying to him how he very easily could be whenever he was even remotely in her presence.
It was maddening how gooseflesh arose on his skin even when she was farthest away from his vision, blocked by many others who were positioned closer to him. His palms would become drenched just at the sight of her skirts billowing as she took a turn, without even having seen her face or body. Just the mere sight of the edge of her skirts was enough to drive him mad with want; and want her, he did.
On some days, he would have to sit with his hands held together tightly at the supper table while she served the food, if only to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing her hand. His heart beat loudly and heavily in a steady thump, thump, thump - so definitive, he wondered if his family could hear it at the table.
What was worse was that she knew. She knew the maddening effect she had on him. Her lips curled up just slightly at how his eye would flit to her chest while she bent down to pick up his plate from the table. After dinner, before he could catch her and keep her in his hold, she would be gone. Regardless of the time of day, he sought her out like a moth to a flame. It did not matter where he was; it was always her that he wanted.
The shame of being driven with want for her touch - a mere servant girl’s touch - had taken over him, consumed him entirely. It spread through him faster than wildfire ever could, and hit him like a well-aimed arrow through to his heart. Only a week ago, he had been swirling with thoughts of battle and regency.
On one particular day, he had caught her tending to the gardens while walking in the corridors of the Red Keep. It was instantaneous how he immediately managed to make out her form even from far away. He stepped closer to the railing and watched with a stoic expression on his face and yearning in his mind, still completely befuddled as to what this servant girl had that had pulled her to him in an instant.
Soon enough, the girls who were with her had dispersed, and she’d waved them goodbye before going back to kneeling down next to the bushes, taking good care to not damage the roses as she dug out the mud.
Hands caked with dirt, possibly. The idea should have repulsed him, but the thought of her placing those very hands on him and tracing a muddy path down his chest knocked the very breath out of him in an instant.
Each day in the following week was torture for him - catching glimpses of her in pieces, in fragments, but never entirely and never enough to properly see her. Each sighting of her skirts, her hair, or her back was a moment on its own, frozen in time. She’d taken good care to make herself scarce, so much so that he worried.
Had he frightened her with his forwardness? Did she fear him? Wanting her was supposed to bring her closer to him, but it seemed to him that all it had done was push her away, oceans apart.
It killed him - how his mind, heart, and soul sang for her, a siren song so rich in wanting that it would leave nothing but destruction in its wake as he sought her out - and yet, she hadn't met his eye after that night when she’d run away from him, but she smiled.
He remembered clearly the way his fingertip had grazed the slightly exposed skin of her back; the way her breath had hitched when his fingers ran over her neck, and how she’d frozen for a moment when she felt his warm breath on her. And her voice - gods, her voice - he kept her name and her voice running through his mind like a desperate prayer, as though it was the only word that would bring him salvation from all the sins that he’d committed.
He remembered the slight upward curve of her lips, almost as though she was challenging him to go further. He thought about her all day, every day - and yet, it seemed as though it was never enough.
When this game of hide and seek had become too much for him, he’d take to the comfort of the night to relieve himself in the privacy of his bedchambers. He knew it was a sin to touch himself and spill into his own hand - but if he had to commit a negligible error to keep himself from committing a grave sin, like taking her no matter how much he wanted it, he would have to.
Aemond spent his days thinking her name, and his nights voicing it out in moans, grunts, and gasps as he let his hand work his painfully hard cock. Each time he pleasured himself, he remembered how her hands felt against his own - he imagined those hands on his cock, stroking each vein of his back and forth until he had himself drowning in pleasure, with white-hot spend spurting all over his hands and stomach. He imagined her hands coated with his seed.
She was an enthralling beauty. Calm, but with tempestuous eyes. Quiet, but with a flame to match his own. He'd hold a torch for her forever if that's what it took. He wanted her like he’d wanted nothing else.
His eye would remain closed throughout - the irony of his eye having to be closed for him to properly see her now did not escape him. It was a need, to be able to have her in some shape or form - almost as though he was at the edge of his body, and she was the only one who could save him from losing himself.
He imagined her face resting on his chest, her breasts pressed onto him. Her hands on his cock, his down her skirts. He’d let his mind take him all the way, and each time he spilled onto himself, he drove himself mad with more want - it was a vicious, endless cycle. He continued until he tired himself out and went to sleep, his last word of the night always being a faint and needy whisper of her name as he wondered what it would be like if she was sharing his bed, his heart, his life.
The shame would engulf him soon after he woke, and he’d grit his teeth at how the gods had chosen to play him. If they wanted him to be righteous and good, why put her in his path? If he was meant to resist her, why make her irresistible? Why play him for a fool? The unanswered questions, those that sound like he had been screaming into a well, gave way to a gigantic lump in his throat.
What she’d made of him - this pathetic, needy, pining mess of a man - could not stand for much longer. If he had to throw himself at the feet of the Seven and beg for penance, for absolution, for peace and quiet - he would. He would do it a thousand times over. He hated that he loved the feeling of wanting her. He was lost on what he could possibly do with the emotions creeping onto him through his blood as he pondered over the contrast.
With his intent and goal clear in mind, Aemond walked to the Royal Sept. He decided that he would fall at the Father’s feet, beg for mercy in his judgement, and pray to be forgiven. He would apologise to the Mother for playing host to foul and sinful thoughts that should have had no place in the mind of a Prince. He would leave himself at the mercy of the Maiden and make his shame known for wanting to defile a woman who’d done nothing but go about her duty. 
She was there, bent down on her knees at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, praying. She was right in front of him.
The Sept was empty, save for him and her. Aemond’s hands went to his back quickly, and he managed to stop moving his feet to silence the clicking of his boots. He watched her intently, fiercely, unnervingly.
He may have come to the Sept as a pathetic man wanting to give the Gods their due for his sinful indiscretions, but her presence had immediately taken him to who he was a week ago on the fateful night when he met her - a starved man who was mad with desire for her.
There was something to be said about how he’d come to the Sept ready to beg for forgiveness - only for the pathetic thoughts to become a distant memory as she invaded his mind once more. He was a hunter with a primal urge again.
Hot, ready, and absolutely ravenous, ready to stake out his prey - with her knees bent and her face unassuming as she let the comforting and safe feeling of the Sept take over her, she had no idea what dangers to her virtue the man stealthily standing behind her posed.
But Aemond did. He mapped out every inch of the skin that he could and could not see from where he stood, and he knew exactly how he wanted to touch, enjoy, and worship every inch of her. From where he stood, the entirety of her looked so small that she could have fit into his one hand. He closed his fist at the thought of holding her tight and watched.
The light from the stained glass windows reflected and fell around her in a bright ring of fiery orange and light rose, and she looked lit from within as the light illuminated and surrounded her. She may be wearing an old, worn-out servant maid's dress - but in the divine light of the Sept, surrounded by all things holy, she was nothing less than a goddess to Aemond.
Standing at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, she was a Goddess he wanted to claim; in mind, heart, and soul. The Maiden had fallen from the skies and had taken to taunting him with her beauty.
In the light, all he saw was her. Everything around her had vanished, and she was all his vision could register. It was almost as though the Maiden was offering her to him, asking him to indulge, rewarding him for all his years of obedience.
Everything fell into place, and all his thoughts made sense. She was sin, but she was the reward too - perhaps knowing that already was the reason why she had smiled. Only she was visible to him in a grand Sept adorned with many religious relics - a clear sign that she was all he was meant to see.
How could he not have her? He’d spent years being the obedient son, the good son. He’d spent years studying the blade, learning the histories of his realm and the philosophies. He made sure to be the ideal son his mother wanted, and now he was a Prince Regent of Westeros. A powerful man within his own right.
And all his time being good had finally led him to her - a sinful indulgence. And if he had earned the power he had, he had earned her too. She was his, and soon he would make it known - to her and to the damned Gods. He would make them all watch from above - all the Gods, the Old, the New, the foreign ones and his Valyrian ones - as he worshipped her in their place, as she usurped them in his world. She would be a goddess, and he, a devoted, starving, and humble man - on his knees for her.
He glanced over at her and then at the Seven statues one last time before walking away, his coat flying sleekly behind him as she finally finished her prayers and turned around. He forgave her for consuming him, his thoughts, and invading his very being. His hand stretched out and laid floating mid-air, reaching out for a girl who had not yet sensed his presence.
In the distance, as a second son walked away with his mind made, the young servant maid’s ears picked up the hauntingly familiar, fading sounds of his boot-clad purposeful gait. The candle she lit at the Maiden’s feet melted away, the sight making for something ethereally beautiful in the bright light.
She walked away soon after, and did not notice as the flame sputtered, faded, and went out.
Tumblr media
Aemond Targaryen was a man starved.
This game they played, this push and pull, was enough to drive a disciplined and restrained man like Aemond to his wit’s end. His nights became longer as he stayed up to pleasure himself and moan out her name until the entire corridor heard it; his days became longer in her absence too, as he stayed alert, trying to find her in some corner or another. This dance that they paired up for was an absolute tease - he always found himself reaching out for a hand that did not fall into his grasp, one that he missed by a fraction of space each time.
She would walk into a corner and be gone before he could catch sight of her; he spotted her braided hair in a sea of heads from the dias once, but he could not keep up as the servants moved to work. In the library, in the corridors, in the gardens, in the common rooms - he’d missed her narrowly everywhere.
He had always been a man who worked for what he had. His dragon, his sword skill, his intelligence, his fearsome reputation - Aemond worked hard to earn every single one of his known traits, and as was the natural order of things, he was made to earn her too. It made his patience run out slowly and swiftly - but he did not give up. He would not.
An offering from the Gods was never simply handed over - there are many trials and tribulations to be faced first. And in his case, it would mean finding her first.
One fine day, he did.
He had seen her enjoying herself. She held a basket of dirty clothes to be taken to wash, and her companion was hidden by a wall. Aemond knew that pursuing her right here, despite every bone in his body wanting to, would not be a good idea - he could not afford to be found lusting after a serving girl with such intensity.
But he could stay around for a while and hear her speak. He did love her voice - the hold her siren song had on him in each waking moment was absolutely crushing, and he’d let it take him.
He stood out of sight and heard her talking about the Holy Day festivities out in the city, and when he heard the voice of her companion, his blood ran cold. A man - she had been speaking to and entertaining the company of a man. She was giving him her laughs freely and her company with nothing in return - laughs and time that should have been his.
Her lips curled up in the most captivating way, and it hurt and angered Aemond to think that it was not meant for him. He once again heard the man speak about taverns and dances happening all night on the day of, and Aemond’s hand clutched the hilt of his dagger. 
"Vaogenka Andali," he seethed. [Andal scum]
It would be so easy, so simple to rip his throat out right now. He could easily kill him and take her, claim her right there as the man watched Aemond take her in every possible way with his dying breath. He would do that to every man who dared to meet her eyes and put himself in her path, for he was the only one with the right to behold the sight of her.
Sin of course, was a common temptation. No wonder everybody wanted to partake. No matter. She was his. And judging by her next words, it seemed that she knew it too.
“Apologies, I’m already spoken for.”
His hold on his dagger loosened as his mind and heart caught up with her words.
He loved the push and pull of this sinful game they played, and it seemed that she did too. His smile was harsh and cutting, dripping with victory and pride at knowing that his want for her affections was uncontested. He slowly slinked away, and completely missed how she leaned her head back at the sound of his boots, only to spot his silver hair in the distance.
He missed her sly smile once more.
That night, her words ran through his mind over and over as he imagined her whispering sweet nothings in his ear while letting him slip his cock into her cunt, The mental image of her wanting, moaning and at his mercy while he fucked into her mercilessly had sent a shivering bolt of pleasure to his spine. It was the sight of her looking up at him and batting her lashes innocently that did it for him, and sent him careening to his peak.
On the seventh day of the seventh moon, a day considered holy for the New Gods, the prayers at the Royal Sept were to happen late in the morning in the presence of the royal family and the courtiers. Aemond had to make an appearance in the beginning as his mother welcomed those of the court and noble houses, and so he stood, with his hands held behind his back, trying to spot a familiar face amidst the throngs of people who had gathered.
There are very few serving girls around, she was not there. Where would she be?
Aemond took his leave, and he watched as the High Septon took his place at the front and led the proceedings. He walked out of the Sept through the backdoor, with the faint and dull sounds of prayer running through his ears as he remained within earshot.
“The Seven themselves walked among the Andals in the hills of Andalos, and it was they who crowned Hugor of the Hill and promised him and his descendants great kingdoms in a foreign land…” 
The Septon’s voice reverberated through Aemond’s mind, and given all the shame he had felt and the conflicted nature of his thoughts ever since he met her, he felt the need to listen to the Word of the Gods. And so he froze in the darkened, empty corridor, with his back leaned onto the wall and his hands held together on his front, finger tapping incessantly into his thigh as he listened.
“The Seven had promised King Hugor a golden land amidst towering mountains…”
Promises. What had the Gods promised him?
Almost as though they had heard his prayers, she had walked in. 
She was what the Gods had promised him.
She looked no different from the first time he’d seen her, and his mind was racing. His throat had suddenly gone dry, and his voice was seemingly stripped away from him as he finally faced her.
He’d wanted her for too long, and now she was right in front of him; his for the taking. He would not let her go this time.
The basket that she held in her hands had a variety of fruits that he presumed were for the lords and ladies to eat once they’d finished with their prayers. If his assumptions were right, she was on her way to join those at the Sept to pray. 
The Maiden as he saw her, was on her way to the Sept to bless them with her presence. And Aemond was about to show her that he was the most devout man in the Kingdoms. It did not matter how loud the echoing sounds of their prayers were - he’d worship her like none of them could.
He stalked toward her with the cadence of a starved man, one that had been kept away from his prey for too long. And what was he, if not that? The High Septon’s voice was faintly audible to him, but nowhere close to impactful enough to sway him towards any other course. 
“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” Aemond heard him say. No, none of them managed to penetrate his thoughts - but this woman, this Goddess amongst men… She owned him. She had his heart, his soul, and everything that he was.
She quickly dropped the basket and her eyes followed the one stray apple that rolled away from them both. She couldn’t for long however, not when he’d pushed her to the wall and held her by the soft skin of her cheek.
Her eyes, meeting his own. His legs lodged on either side of hers. His hand, digging into her waist like he wanted to bruise her, brand her, mark her as his.
She turned to look sideways, and seemed as though she was worried about people walking in on them in the dark, isolated corridor. He pulled her face harshly to meet his eye once more - Aemond knew that they’d all take the front entrance and not the back - they’d be left alone, if only for a little time.
He will have her today. He will have her if it’s the last thing he does.
He ran his fingers over her forehead, slowly bringing them down to trace her eye. Her eyelids shut immediately, and her breath hitched as he travelled further down and met her nose. He cannot stop now  - he will not stop - and he got to her lips, fingers hovering over the outline. He felt the faint dampness from when she’d probably licked her lips not too long ago, and gasped.
It was all he could do to not slip those fingers inside.
Her eyes are locked with his one violet orb, and he looks into her as his fingers map out every little plane of her face. He felt his knees going weak as she held her own against his intense gaze, fire matching his as she refused to break contact with his eye. His voice was hoarse and it was almost painful to let the words out, but he knew that he’d explode if he did not. 
“Do you… have any idea what you do to me?”
“Perhaps I will be better served if you tell me,” she whispered. There was no fear in her, he noticed. He may have seen her as his prey to claim, but it seemed that she was determined about keeping them both on equal footing. It only drives him toward her a lot more. His fingers travelled down to her chin, and made their featherlight way down her neck, moving as her throat bobbed while she gulped. When they reached her bosom, he watched as she audibly gasped, and wondered what other noises he could elicit from that pretty mouth.
“I have been driven mad with want. Sinful, uncouth thoughts that befit a lowly barbarian, rather than a prince. All because….” He gulped and her eyes still did not move away from his. He holds her chin to raise her face, while letting the other wander over her gown and fall on her clothed breast.
“Pride goes before a fall.” the High Septon’s faint voice reverberated through the dark corridor. Aemond is the blood of Valyria; closer to the Gods than men. With his unquestionable blood and status came a sense of pride that ensured that he’d never be looked down upon, pride that he’d never let go of. But tonight, he will. For her, he will. For he does not want to fall - he wants to fly high, higher and higher still with her.  When he faced her, he realised that he would go on his knees in reverence if she asked. 
“I’ve thought about you ever since I first saw you,” he said. His hands squeezed her breast as though he was testing out the action, and he saw how the back of her palm hit the wall and the other gripped his doublet, trying to find purchase as the faint pleasure shot through her.
“You… you are special. You are the Gods’ answer to all my prayers… You….” he took a long breath as he studied her face, looking for any signs of discomfort. “You…”
She raised her eyebrow as though she challenged him to continue, and he wondered if he should. He heard what he’d said, and it sounded no less than delusional - but how could it be wrong, if it felt so right?
“The Gods… they sent you to me.” My Goddess, he thought. “What do they want? What do you want?” 
The hand on her breast continued to knead at her soft flesh through her clothes, and his other hand descended too as soon as he watched her lips part - but that wasn’t enough. He needed an answer. So he stopped his ministrations and asked again, stern voice giving way for nothing apart from what he wished to hear. 
“What do you want from me?”
“I only want you,” she breathed out, her hands covering his as she caged them over her chest.
The Maiden had come to bless the earthly beings with her presence, with her love, and she wanted him. Wanting to wait no longer, his lips found hers.
The air crackled with an electric intensity as their lips met, desire and longing fueling the moment. His hands trembled slightly as they traced the curves of her face, fingers brushing against her soft skin with a reverence that bordered on worship.
Their kiss deepened, and he pulled her closer, his body pressed against hers, feeling the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat matching his own. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her as their tongues intertwined. The taste of her was intoxicating to Aemond - a heady blend of sweetness and fire that seared itself into his memory, branding him with a hunger he never knew existed.
Time seemed to slow, the world around them fading into obscurity as they lost themselves in the intensity of their union. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and he reciprocated, as if afraid that she might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Every fibre of his being was consumed by her, by the intoxicating sensation of her lips on his, the soft sighs that escaped her, and the way her body moulded seamlessly against his. 
He pushed them both towards the wall and let his hands rest on the stony surface, caging her. She leaned forward and caught his lips this time, letting her hands wander over the planes of his shoulders, his arms, his clothed chest. Aemond’s hand grasped at her neck and squeezed - enough to elicit a gasp from her, but not so much that she’d beg to not be choked to death. 
Her hands snuck in through the hem of his doublet, fingertips grazing over the bare skin of his abdomen. If Aemond dropped dead right then, he would die a happy, blessed man. Blessed by a Goddess herself.
“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” the High Septon recited. He recognized the words from the Holy Book, and could not help but agree. As the taste of her lips consumed him and her touch left him in a mindless frenzy, he knew.
Her touch on his bare skin ignited a fire in him that already burned bright, and as he readied himself for more, the High Septon’s distant words echoed through the darkened corridors once more.
“Men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One.”
And right then, a Prince of Valyrian blood, a man closer to the Gods than to men, kneeled. Just as the Seven preached kneeling down to the divine deities, he listened. Aemond was quick to hold her ankles and swiftly pull his hands up her legs, hiking her skirts up with each passing moment. The chill of the air around them hit her newly exposed skin instantly, as he made note of the gooseflesh that arose on her calves. He pushed his face forward to kiss her knees as his hands continued their way up, pulling her skirts all the way up to her hips and exposing her already drenched clothed cunt to him.
When his lips met the apex of her thighs, she let out a loud moan. Aemond was convinced right then, that pleasuring her was what he was put on the earth for. What better purpose can a man have, than to satisfy a Goddess amongst men?
As though they could not survive without each other’s touch any longer, her hands pulled at his hair - she wanted more, and he was all but a devoted soldier at her feet, giving her all that she wished for. He pulled her smallclothes down to her ankles, and parted her folds to bring her wet and wanting cunny to his line of sight. 
He looked up to face her, and her heavy breathing and heaving chest filled him with energy beyond that which he was humanely capable of handling. His Goddess had perhaps blessed him already, but he would be amiss if he did not properly pay her his obeisance. She’d sensed what he intended to do almost immediately, and through her barely hidden lust and half lidded eyes, she murmured.
“Anyone could come. Anyone could see.”
“Let them.” 
He pushed his head between her thighs and licked from her opening to her pearl, already drunk on the taste of her. She arched into him, and he took good care to tightly grip onto her thighs, keeping her and her skirts in place so they'd not disturb him. It would seem that his hot breath on her and his nose nudging her bud was enough to have her lose all sense of control and moan, and he relished in watching her let the pleasure take over her with each movement. He then sucked at her pearl diligently before fucking into her with his tongue once more and she pushed herself at him like she couldn't have enough.
“Those who indulge in sins of the flesh would be cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells.” The High Septon’s voice echoed through, but Aemond was far too gone, far too cuntstruck as he became addicted to the feeling of her pearl between his lips. Why would he be bothered about trudging through the Seven Hells, when the Seven Heavens were right here, between his beloved’s thighs?
He was sure he heard someone, but he was too in deep to care. He’s drowning in her; the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent of her and everything that makes her the Goddess that she is to him. 
After all, how can he not? The Seven themselves had shined their light on her and sent her for him, had they not? The deeper he buried his tongue in her weeping cunny, the more the intoxicating smell of her engulfed him. And he let it. He’d let her take over him a hundred times over, for every lifetime that the Gods see fit to bless him with. 
A thin streak of light escaped in and illuminated her thigh, and he heard her moan wantonly as his tongue continued its unrelenting assault. Her pretty sounds only served to drive him mad with want, and he pressed his nose into her bud as he continued to feast on her and pushed her against the wall with a hand splayed across her stomach, pressing into her as she grinded against him.
Her hands tightened around his head and pulled at his spun-silver hair. Her cries of pleasure were the only sounds he heard as she toppled over the edge, her mind a haze as white hot pleasure coursed through her. Seven save him, Aemond was not a greedy man - but it was with greed that he did not let a single drop of her go to waste and continued to pleasure her through her peak as he lapped it all up. When he stood back up, he did so with a glistening chin, painted with her slick. 
He knew very well from the moment he saw her, that if he touched her once, he’d never let go. What he had not anticipated was how little patience he’d have - for as soon as she recovered from her peak, he quickly freed his cock and sheathed himself in her in one swift thrust. Her thighs quivered in his hold and her hands flew to his shoulders, looking for purchase as she struggled to stand on her own - her knees seemed to have melted under his touch.
He lowered his head onto her shoulder, letting the feeling of her tight heat warm his length for a moment as he stilled. She clenched around him immediately and he mouthed a path of feather light kisses down her neck. Every bead of sweat was visible to him and he breathed it all in, following it with a firm lick up the skin that left her shivering under him. He let his hand rest and pull at the hair on the nape of her neck, cold from being dampened by sweat.
It would seem that his Goddess was as impatient for him as he was for her, and couldn’t wait for him to lay his claim on her. While he was content to stay buried to the hilt in her wet cunt for a while, he knew that they were risking it all - anyone could walk in at any moment, and they had to make it quick. 
The thought of being caught out like this, buried inside of her, would usually shame him. But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed - how could he? He’d let them all watch as he took her in all the ways a man could a woman before he let her go for fear of strangers. After all, dragons did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. Especially not when it is a Goddess’ satisfaction that is at stake. 
“Lives are like candle flames that can be snuffed out by an errant puff of wind,” the High Septon said, and he agreed instantly. If life was finite, if he could die today, wouldn’t it be prudent to take pleasure from a divine deity that presented herself to him, wet and wanting?
Her hand moved to the back of his neck and she breathed into him, her warm breath hitting his lip as he kissed her once more. She was as desperate as he was, pushing against him in search of pleasure - pleasure that only he could give her - was all the indication he needed as he began thrusting into her, hard and fast.
She let out a choked moan as he smiled against her lips, his own a sharp line that looked more arrogant than happy - as befitting a Targaryen Prince. She lowered her hands and let it slip under his doublet once more, letting her hands roam free over his back and planting her nails into the skin. Aemond was sure that red blood had bloomed where she’d dug into him, but the heat of her, her walls clenching around him were all that mattered.
He locked her in his tight hold - one hand pulling at her hair so she’d look at him while he fucked into her mercilessly, and another on the small of her back, fingers ghosting over the top of her backside - and she was caged in by him. He held her so tight, like he worried that she’d disappear if he loosened his hold even just a little. Their kisses were all tongue and teeth as he rutted into her, hitting her rough spot with each thrust. He groaned as her lips parted, a thin line of spittle between them as he lost himself in the feeling of her.
Her back hit the wall repeatedly and the heavy thuds were in tandem with the wet sounds of his cock in her cunt. Her heavy breaths, the tightening of her stomach, the touch that she sought out and all the sounds that she made, the ones that he'd never tire of hearing, were enough to drive him to madness.
Her hands roamed over all the bare skin she could find, and when he thrusted too harshly she would reward him with blood red crescent-moon cuts with the tips of her nails. “I have… waited… for so long…” Aemond panted, his words punctuating each push into her. “Imagined having you like this, tight and warm around me,” he grunted.
She let out a choked moan, followed by her fastening her legs around him as he lifted her up and continued to let her know how much he desired her. 
“Fucked into my fist each night to the thought of you… Wrong, so wrong…” he growled, and his hands quickly went up to her chest and pulled her neckline down, freeing her breasts. He kneaded at the flesh and marvelled in how perfectly they fit in his palms, almost as though they were made for him to have and hold. With each touch, he felt the heel of her feet press into the small of his back through his clothes. Nudging him, taunting him, driving him mad.
“Want you so much, you’re mine…Issa jaesa.” [My Goddess] 
Every declaration was accompanied by a rough thrust and he felt hot pleasure blooming in his lower abdomen. But he wasn’t ready, not quite yet. Not if she wasn’t. He needed her to peak with him and truly join him as one. He needed there to be indisputable proof that she was his. The thought of her spending the day with his white hot spend running and drying down her thighs was what pushed him to circle her nub with his long finger and thrust animalistically into her, coaxing moans and a blooming warmth in her belly.
“Yours, my prince. Only yours…” she murmured in between gasps, and she peaked immediately after. He was powerless as she clenched tightly around him, and in a few slow yet definitive thrusts, his release came soon after. 
Looking in between their joined bodies, he ran his hand up her stomach and held onto her sweat-coated breast. No sight in the world had ever been so divine.
“Death is never far in this world, and seven hells await sinners…” the High Septon’s voice said as he finished his sermon. Having just found his life’s greatest pleasure in her, he found that he did not mind the Holy man’s words. 
He may be a Valyrian prince closer to God to others, but in front of her, he was only a man. And what power does a man have against a sinful temptress like her? How was he to possibly stay away? If this is how good sin felt, then Aemond realised that he would not mind being left to rot in the Seven Hells if he would be allowed the memory of her in his mind, heart and soul for eternity. It would be enough to keep him alive in the land of the undead.
He stayed buried in her until he softened once more, his hand twirling a dampened stray curl on her neck as he continued to knead at her breast and roll the soft nipple with the other. His soft kisses on her neck were only made better by her tired breaths, and he bit into her neck quickly before he let go.
He missed the warmth of her touch immediately as he pushed his cock back into his trousers, and corrected himself to make himself presentable once more. When he caught a glimpse of the stray hair on his shoulders, he looked around to find his leather hair tie - only for her closed fist to reach out to him. He opened his palm and she let the hairtie fall onto his hand, and he smirked at the normalcy of the action.
After he set his hair in place, he clutched his hands behind his back as he watched her correct her sleeves and smooth down the skirts of her worn-out dress. She smiled at him when she was done with her clothes and put a hand in her hair to tame it, and with her mischievous yet charming grin, she healed all the scars in him that she had not caused.
When she was done, he found the stray apple that had rolled away from her basket and put it in with the rest. He handed it to her and could not resist letting his hand push away the fine hairs that stuck to her forehead. When he finished, he kissed her well, and he kissed her true - no trace of the roughness with which he’d taken her only moments ago, a soft reminder of his claim to her that he'd just staked. 
Their foreheads met and he held her by the back of her head, and he smirked as he heard his Goddess speak once more.
“Will you come to me again?”
Tumblr media
NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!
MASTERLIST
127 notes · View notes
Text
Levi's Intelligence
Levi's intelligence is often overlooked, probably because he's compared directly to Erwin and Hange. Erwin and Hange are both extraordinarily intelligent, but Levi is immensely intelligent himself. He is able to read people (better than any other character), and he knows how to make the best use of what he has available. Many other users have done a wonderful job expanding on Levi's emotional intelligence, so I wanted to expand on some of his feats of general intelligence:
I. Ability to Both Think Long-Term and Make Quick Decisions While in the Midst of Battle
After Historia and Eren are captured by Kenny and the MPs, Levi avoids immediately chasing after them—similarly to how he approached the situation with the Female Titan. The overall strategic goal still remained keeping Historia and Eren safe, but Levi was able to recognize in the moment that chasing after them would not have successfully led to achieving that objective. Levi adapted his tactics, and the Scouts were overall more successful in their mission because of it.
Without Erwin, Levi is able to lead his remaining team to safety and take down an MP compound without casualties. They are all able to regroup and come up with a plan to rescue Eren and Historia because of Levi's quick thinking and long-term planning during this battle.
II. The Reeves Negotiation
Much has been said about Levi's kindness and compassion in this arc, about how he's interested in saving the city of Trost at no tangible benefit to himself (and after being directly mistreated by its citizens earlier in the same arc), but what I want to bring attention to is (1) that he was able to recognize the opportunity for a negotiation and (2) his skills at bargaining.
Directly after taking down the MP compound (Chapter 54: "Location of the Counterattack"), Levi and his team encounter Dimo Reeves, the boss for the Reeves Company as well as the merchant responsible for blocking the Trost gate earlier in the series. Levi is able to intuit that there is more to Dimo Reeves' "deal" with the MPs than meets the eye, so he brings Dimo Reeves outside to look over Trost together and converse. This demonstrates Levi's skill at reading people. No other character had indicated an interest in holding a conversation about Dimo's motives.
Dimo reveals how the Reeves Company has been at the mercy of the Interior MPs and how he has been following the MPs' orders to avoid getting immediately killed and losing everything—to protect his employees and their families. This conversation directly leads to a negotiation and then a deal being formed between the Scouts and the Reeves Company.
Tumblr media
When Levi is laying out the conditions for the deal, it is evident that Dimo does not seem initially receptive. Levi uses the word "trust," which Dimo balks at.
Tumblr media
However, Levi's third condition, which is actually the most unimportant and superfluous one, results in Dimo accepting the deal. Why?
Tumblr media
"Seems you're even greedier than a merchant." Dimo says this, as he is familiar at interacting with and respects other merchants. Levi added the third condition in, not simply because he wants tea and other luxurious goods, but because it brings himself down to Dimo's level. Without this condition, the deal may not have gone through. It is exactly this condition that results in Dimo "trusting" Levi as an equal.
This negotiation is also more evidence toward Levi's ability to think long-term. This deal between the Scouts and the Reeves Company benefits the Scouts for the remainder of the series.
III. Luring Kenny Into a Bar
Tumblr media
Expanding on Levi's ability to make quick decisions while in the midst of battle, one of the best examples of this is Levi's first encounter with Kenny during the Uprising arc, where Levi lures Kenny into a bar and is able to defeat him as a result.
This goes beyond Ackerman prowess, as that is more related to superhuman strength and heightened combat reflexes. This is specifically a feat of intelligence; it's a sign of Levi's ingenuity—using aspects of the environment to his advantage. By luring Kenny into a bar, Levi is able to procure a weapon to even the playing field. Kenny himself is impressed and adds in that Levi was not taught these tactics by him. Some of the specific tactics of note:
III.a Use of Reflection
Tumblr media
Levi is able to procure a shotgun while simultaneously taking cover from Kenny. He converses with Kenny to keep Kenny focused on him and not the bar's patrons, and even though Levi is facing away from Kenny, he uses the reflection off the alcohol's glass to properly aim the shotgun.
III.b Chair and Figuring Out the Firearms' Weakness
Tumblr media
Levi knew he was going to be ambushed from up top as soon as he left the bar, so he threw a chair out the window to both distract and waste his opponents' shots. I'm fairly certain Levi was the first one to notice the main weakness of the anti-personnel vertical maneuvering equipment.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The main weakness, as Armin explains above in a later chapter, is that they need to reload after shooting twice. Levi first threw a chair, forcing one of his opponents to shoot twice, kills that opponent, and then uses that opponent's body as a shield against the other two guys' shots.
IV. Final Battle - Infers Immediately Armin is Alive
Tumblr media
This one is pretty self-explanatory, but Levi is the first to infer that Armin has to be alive, given the way Titan powers work. As such, Levi is able to keep the others focused on the battle in front of them, knowing that Armin is alive and unharmed. This again speaks to Levi's quick thinking while in the midst of battle; it is often more difficult to make these sorts of judgments while in a fight-or-flight situation. Keep in mind as well that Levi is also grievously injured here, so it is even more impressive, how quickly he's able to make this inference.
V. Final Battle - Leadership and Planning
Tumblr media
Full stop, the Alliance would not have succeeded without Levi, and part of that is because of Levi's ability to take charge and come up with a plan. This is the plan that they followed throughout the entire duration of the Battle of Heaven and Earth, and it is a plan Levi came up with, directly in response to an unexpected change in circumstances.
This again shows off Levi's skill in adjusting tactics to achieve a strategic objective. Even though the commanders are the ones often in charge of this, Levi is clearly very capable and adept at this himself. Right before this panel, everyone was arguing on how to proceed. Levi came up with the best overall plan, and in addition to that, formulated the two teams required to carry out that plan.
105 notes · View notes
drdemonprince · 1 day
Text
I was never really certain about my transition in the way that most gatekeeping hormone prescribers and curious members of the public demand that a trans person be. I didn’t “always know” that I was not cisgender. I haven’t “always known” anything about myself. Very few truths about me have always remained true, my existence is too interpersonal, contextual, and ever-evolving for all of that. (So is most everyone else’s, I think). I don’t think that the fact I’d eventually choose to exercise my body autonomy at age 30 by taking hormones is a decision I could have foreseen when I was a child. All that I knew about being transgender when I was a kid was a fact that most children intuitively know: gender assignment was a violation of my freedom, of everyone’s freedom in fact, and it was wrong. As an infant and then a child and teenager, people kept imposing labels on me; they kept forcing me and my body into prescribed gendered boxes, and while the specific labels and boxes never really felt like the right ones, the most disturbing part about it all was the forcing. No coerced identity would have ever felt right. Children can tell when secrets are being kept from them, and when adults are restricting their choices. They notice that they and the other children are being lined up boy-girl, boy-girl, without ever being told what a girl or a boy even is. They can see their parents frowning when they reach for the doll with the shimmery hair, or climb atop the neighbor kid on the playground. Kids know that they are forbidden from sitting with their legs spread wide or flicking their wrist, and their gender illegibility is shamed in them, long before they get any answers about what gender means or where it comes from or why it’s so important that they make themselves easy to understand.
Like the cloned children in Never Let Me Go who grow up being conditioned for a life of forced organ donation, children in a cissexist society grow up conditioned to fall within certain gendered boundary lines, and by the time they learn that the reason for this is almost completely arbitrary, they can’t imagine any alternative. Not until some of them hear about gender transition and find the prospect very compelling, for some reason. You can say that reason is because some of us are inherently trans, but there’s absolutely nothing in the way of brain science, genetics research, or even sociological data to back that up. Besides, the search for a biological “reason” that people are transgender or queer runs counter to the goal of queer liberation in the long run. Science only needs to explain the existence of transgender people (or queer people more broadly) if our existence is in some way aberrant or a problem. If queerness is accepted as a form of human diversity that simply exists, then there is no need to excuse it by claiming that it is never a choice. It can be a choice, if a person wants to make it, and hopefully it satisfies them, but maybe it won’t. Freedom to choose means freedom to forever be dissatisfied, to search endlessly for more, and yes, to capable of making a mistake. I would say that viewing myself as transgender was a choice. I decided to break away from the straight, female categories to which I had been assigned, and doing so allowed me to view the legal and societal power structures that had restricted me more clearly. It helped me better understand myself. But that does not mean the actual act of breaking away was always the truest reflection of who I am. The version of me that transitioned was a person on the run — and how a person behaves, thinks, and self-conceives when they are fleeing is not a great reflection of whom they might be if they were safe. If we all lived in a world free from mandatory gender assignment, and where our bodies were not mined for meaning about the kinds of sex we liked, the clothing we should wear, the personality qualities we have, the roles we should play in society, and the connections we are allowed to form with others, who knows who each of us might be. But none of us get to live in that world, or ever gets completely free from the frameworks of heterosexuality and the gender binary. These frameworks shape every legal institution we encounter, every school we attend, every item of clothing we put on, every substance we take into our bodies, every piece of paperwork that ever gets printed about us, and every look another person ever gives us. And so we make due with rewriting and recombining those frameworks as best we can. It should come as no surprise that those us who break away from the binary have to experiment and revise how we understand ourselves quite a bit — sometimes getting things “wrong,” sometimes searching forever for the semblance of something “right.” Sometimes reveling in the “wrongness” of all the available options is kind of the point.
I wrote about my detransition, retransition, and the eternal dissatisfaction that is probably the corest truth of my identity. It's free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.
132 notes · View notes
Note
WIBTA for mentioning college again to my online friend, despite her telling me she knows it's not for her/not making a decision about it right now?
We both turned 18 this year, and are in our last years of highschool, and hopefully will both graduate this year! We met two years ago, and call and play games together sometimes, send each other selfies, share our silly crushes—she's the best girl friend I have right now and im very grateful for her.
Some info about me: both of my parents grew up very low income and from rough places and got full scholarships/a deal(like they pay for your college, and then you work for them after), because of this they're financially doing much better than both their families(my mother regularly sending money back home to pay for surgeries , bills, etc.). All of this is to say I've been raised with the mindset that higher education is my ticket to bettering my life, and I take school very seriously. I live in an area with a lot of immigrants, and all my friends do plan on going to college. Here is my disclaimer that I know college is *not* for everyone, and you do not need to go to college to be successful. But my friend is in the same stage in life as me, and I think it could be beneficial for her. She's not the best student at all(also home-schooled and does online schooling), but she's passing all her classes. We've talked about it before and I've asked if she's thought about college, and she said no because everyone in her family who went was just left with debt. Additionally she's not motivated in school now, so she doesn't think she would be motivated in college and would just end up as a "money dump". She's also talked about college with her mom, who said that she was only 18 and didn't need to make decisions about it right now. Right now her plan is to get a minimum wage job after high school(she's mentioned a fast food chain). I do think it would be good for her to get out of the house because right now she's basically stuck at home because her mom doesn't like going places. To my knowledge she has no friends irl, because of the homeschooling. Which is one of the reasons why I think college would be great for her--the chance to be with other people your own age.
We've only talked about college one time where I just asked, and after that I haven't mentioned it because I don't want to act like I have any say in her life decisions or make her feel bad. I've just been thinking about it lately because logically to me it seems like if she did want to go to college, now would be the best time because she would have the support of her online school where she has a counselor. Her mom didn't go to college and she isn't in regular contact with her dad.
For more context my family is middle class and I'm not sure what her financial situation is, but I do know comfortable but not deeply so. I would hate to bring up college if it's something she knows she cant afford( but long term I think going to college would help her make more money than any job she started now, which is why Im thinking about bringing it up again). I don't know if this is enough context, and I'm willing to provide more! I'll admit I'm not the smartest teen out there, so if you see any thing wrong with my thinking or think I'm a total asshole please tell me and I'll check my behavior. Im also keeping in mind her lack of motivation that she mentioned she had in school, and of course her mental health and wellbeing is of like. the utmost importance.
so, would I be the asshole for bringing up college with her again, despite knowing her situation? I really love this friend and the last thing I would want to do with her is be disrespectful and insensitive. thank you for very much, Tumblr! any advice you can give in the comments would be greatly appreciated.
What are these acronyms?
84 notes · View notes