#A great source of nearness to God

[wayti-blog]

If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle.

Vincent van Gogh

[jemmo]

i just finished alice in borderland s2 and im dehydrated from crying, still kinda confused and extremely in love with aguni

[swampjawn]

God I love animation. I love it for the way it can bring anything to life beyond the constraints of boring ol' reality, but also the ways that it's inextricably linked to, and draws on the conventions of live-action film-making.

So fuck it, let's look at how Hayao Miyazaki straight up copies some camera framing techniques from his predecessor and the other most influential Japanese filmmaker of all time, Akira Kurosawa! (Kurosawa really was the master of framing scenes around his characters, so he's a great source of inspiration)

(btw, this is a screenshot from this TV special where the two met for the first time just after the release of Kurosawa's final film. It's pretty interesting, and also very cute how nervous Miyazaki seems to be to meet one of his idols.)

Specifically, how the two each choose to break the 180 degree rule (well, not technically 'break' in the case of Kurosawa) to show their protagonists' changing destiny in "Throne of Blood" and "Princess Mononoke".

For anyone who doesn't know, the 180 degree rule is a basic film-making rule of thumb which states that in any scene where two characters interact, you should draw an imaginary line between them and the camera should always stay on one side of that line.

("In the Mood for Love" - Wong Kar-wai)

This way, one character is always looking to the right of the camera, the other is always looking to the left, and the audience doesn't get confused by the geography of the scene. Crossing this line can be disorienting, but when done intentionally, it can convey a paradigm shift of some kind in the scene.

In this scene from "Throne of Blood," (a feudal Japanese retelling of Macbeth) Washizu's wife Asaji discusses tactics with him and tries to convince him to aspire to the throne and to assassinate his lord Tsuzuki while he sleeps.

As two servants appear to notify them that Washizu's sleeping quarters are prepared, the camera dollies left and around the characters' backs. This camera movement is motivated by the motion of the servants' torches outside the room, but it also signifies a change in Washizu's outlook.

Washizu is completely silent for most of this scene, contemplating his wife's advice. But as the camera slides behind his back and across the line of action, the scene is now re-framed, illustrating his change in perspective.

He's been convinced and the trajectory of his life is about to change - and now, facing away from the camera, is the time for action.

Because the camera slides smoothly across the line, Kurosawa isn't technically breaking the 180 degree rule. Miyazaki on the other hand, takes it a little further.

The complimentary scene in Princess Mononoke comes near the start when the wise woman of the village reads Prince Ashitaka's fortune after he's cursed by the wild boar spirit. She tells him that it is his fate to leave the village and travel to the west, where he may be able to lift the curse on his arm. The trajectory of Ashitaka's life changes in this moment too. As he accepts his fate, the change is symbolized by him cutting off his hair, but also by the camera jumping the line.

Throughout this dialogue scene and even as he cuts his hair, the simulated camera sits just slightly to the side of Ashitaka's left shoulder.

But once it's done, for the final shot, the scene is reframed and we jump to the other side, where Ashitaka is now looking to the right of the camera instead of the left.

Making the camera dolly across a scene like Kurosawa's version in 2D animation is no simple task, so this transition with a simple cut is in a way subtler, in another way a bit more jarring, but it conveys the same meaning.

This is the moment when our protagonists make the choice to embark on a new destiny and re-frame their lives.

This has been an excerpt from a short video essay I made a while back, which not many people watched. I think this is at least in part due to my failure to package it well, and it seems you tumblheads like this animation/cinematography analysis stuff, so this is an experiment to see if, with the help of y'all, and a new title and thumbnail, it's at all possible to give this video a second wind in the eyes of the Youtube Gods!

So if you found this interesting, I'd appreciate if you checked it out! Thanks for reading!

[akpaley]

Made smooth and slick of seas and strands Tides that turn at your commands A heartbeat held by heavy hands

More Kaijja character writing. Roughly 1200 words on the beginning of her romantic relationship with the flesh god.

---

He does not mind solitude, but when you lack other obligations he does not mind your intrusion either. It is perhaps not usual, but it is natural to be fascinated with a god. You intrude often. You call it an extension of work, and the two of you do work through problems together. He was surprised, once upon a time, when he inflicted experience on you to demonstrate the severity of his edicts and you, not unshaken but still engaged, asked if he felt such detail in the experience of every person he faced. He had not been asked to use his power as a tool of empathy, not after imposing such suffering, not in centuries, but it is commonplace between you now. You wonder to what extent he can feel you enjoy it, even when it is excruciating. And the intellectual exercise is useful. Many times simulation of similar encounters has helped you watch for signs of tension, has made you more perceptive to the way your interlocutors conduct themselves and react to you. It is practical, and there is a quiet selfish pleasure in understanding the way he sees and feels the world.

Mirjat tells you it is unusual for Iokhar's Advocate to be his friend, or even to like the man, and you understand that but you do not relate. He is beautiful when he attempts to be terrifying, he is rational when he cannot intimidate, he is deeply intensely perceptive, and in his own stoic way he is oddly soft. Perhaps kind is a better word. He cares much more deeply than he shows. There is a selfish little thrill in that as well, knowing that you have brought out in him qualities most others never see. Knowing that you surprise him, a man who can feel everything but your thoughts just standing across from you. You accomplish a great deal in your tenure, but it is this that most often produces that quiet sense of pride.

He shows you change. In theory this is to make a point, but the point is unnecessary. You are not asking about something of immediate importance. It is after hours and you are asking about a story, about old scripture, from a primary source. This is not uncommon, and alongside speaking in words he chooses to sate a curiosity he knows you will have. When he has pulled you back together into the right shape you grin up at him. He studies you, near expressionless, and says "This is inappropriate." It is the strangest declaration of love you will ever receive, and you see it for what it is immediately. It should shock you, but somehow it does not. You agree. The evening ends with a veneer of stoic professionalism.

You will talk about it the next day. You will talk about it for the next week. You will see a degree of begrudging openness from him that you will not realize has been kept from you until you see it for the first time. You seek counsel, as is the responsible thing to do, but find that there is very little doubt as to the choice you will make. Mirjat appeals to your career, to the work that you've done, to the work that you might still do, and you find the arguments that have driven you all your life unconvincing.

You split your evenings between discussions with Iokhar and your own private consideration. You know the thrill of new intimacy will cloud your judgment, and he does too, but you both recognize that no matter what decision the two of you make your relationship will change. The idea of a purely professional relationship absent discussions of philosophy, history, art and other work feels galling, having experienced a relationship that is mutually irreplaceable. Later the idea of being irreplaceable to him will raise warmth in your chest and bring a smile to your face, but in that week while you assess it is simply a fact to be weighed. You are problem solving. Your feelings are data, but you do not have time to feel them fully. Only that they tell you what you want. You will resign with two weeks left in the season and half a term unfinished. It will take you most of the remaining two weeks working with your Clericy to choose Devadas as a successor, swear him in as Kalidas, and get him up to speed.

You already spend a great deal of time working during the on season, but for the better part of two weeks private time is practically nonexistent. This is a major adjustment, expected by no one, and by the time Iokhar leaves Kalidas must be prepared to represent him fully in the Council of Advocates. Anything you knew, anything you were working on, must be written down in such detail that it can be picked up where you left off. While you will join the Clericy of Iokhar, thus becoming available as a resource, it will take another month for the Clericy of the Petitioner Saints to determine this is the appropriate course of action and you must prepare for the contingency in which your full abdication from governance is determined necessary. It is not until the final night that you and your god finally have proper time together again. You sit quietly for much of it. He holds you and seems unpracticed, which to be fair you are as well. A decade is not a short time. A century and a half is longer. Yet, for all that, the mere ten months in front of you suddenly seems very long indeed.

"I would hear your voice when I am gone," he tells you, and it is less vulnerability than simple truth.

"I'd love to hear yours too," you say with irony, "but I suppose one of us will have to wait."

"I will not shirk my duties," he says, "But--"

"I would not ask you to." He pauses and then drops the apology. "Come back next season with stories for me." You smile as if this is a usual farewell, a friendship set aside to be picked up where it left off upon his return.

Very calmly, he takes your hand in his and matches his gaze to yours. For the first time you can feel the sensation of his own body mapped to yours, and you feel his quiet simmering hunger for you, individual fibers of his being humming beneath his skin for touch that a human lover could never even pretend. You feel it in the strands of your own muscles, suddenly yearning to rise up from beneath your skin and embrace the man in front of you. It is nearly overwhelming. Your breath catches and you do not dare break his gaze for fear it might stop. His voice is a low rumble in his chest. "I will." 

It is a greater promise than you asked for. It will stick with you during the long months of his absence, haunting your prayers and quiet moments and intruding on your activities unprompted.  

Upon his return, he will admit that this was the point.

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

The way Matt is playing Ludinus I think really encapsulates something Brennan has said about a lot of villains: Personality predates ideology. Ludinus grew up in a world scoured by the gods and suffered a great deal of trauma because of that. He's remarkably intelligent. He's also immensely self-centred, incredibly selfish, utterly incapable of considering that he might be wrong, and unable or unwilling to to do the level of self-reflection required to identify these traits in himself and work around them.

The result has been a man who has looked to the source of his trauma and wants them dead because they hurt him, specifically, regardless of any good they do for anyone else. And over his centuries of life he's constructed an ideology where he is Exandria's savior for doing this. The gods are oppressors, they feed off mortals and are stifling our progress. They need to die so that mortals can reach our true potential and no longer run the risk of being struck down for nearing their level. Their deaths are for the good of everyone, not just to soothe one old man's desire for petty vengeance. Anyone who disagrees with him simply hasn't been presented with all the facts, because he's so smart and always right so he can't be interpreting the evidence in a myopic, emotional way. Any collateral damage incurred over the course of pursuing his goals is either an acceptable sacrifice or somebody else's fault or both because he cannot ever be wrong. His desire for control over everyone else is simply for their benefit because he knows better.

[illnessfaker]

tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

[nats-firefly]

you better lock your phone

sorority!natasha romanoff x reader

summary: Natasha only wants your attention

warnings: smut 18+ only, smoking (r smokes), strap-on use, implicit drinking, power bottom!nat, choking, scratching, face slapping

a/n: repost!

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 2k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

divider source | gif source

Everyone at the party had their eyes on her that night. Everybody but you. The entire night, you found yourself constantly prying your gaze away from the woman. She was captivating; the way her dress clung to her body, the way her sweet laugh would fall from her lips, and god the way she looked at you with her round green eyes drove you insane–it was impossible to not look at her.

Her body glistened with sweat as she danced with her friends across the room, her short hair swayed with her body and you tried focusing on the lukewarm beer in your hand.

“Do you know if she’s seeing anybody?” You attention was dragged away from your phone as a guy from the hockey team bumped your shoulder. You grimaced, looking him up and down.

“Why would I know?” You mumbled into your drink as you chugged half the cup down and avoided answering him. You didn’t want him anywhere near what was yours.

“Aren’t you her roommate?” You clenched your jaw and looked up at him, mumbling more to yourself than him.

Natasha tiptoed to your room, it was 3 am and she was having a hard time sleeping. Usually her fingers would do the trick and on nights when they wouldn’t, yours would be a great replacement. But today she needed more.

She saw the faint flicker from the TV from the bottom of your door and pressed her ear to the door hearing the faint sounds of one of the cartoons you liked playing on the TV, before knocking three times. She heard you shuffle before your voice telling her to come in.

She wordlessly entered the room, a smirk growing on her lips as she pushed your back onto the headboard and straddled your hips. She pressed your lips together in such desperation your mind cleared and all that was left was Natasha and her voice moaning your name.

“She’s not seeing anyone,” Your voice was cold and you moved your eyes back to your phone, making your way to the back of the house, pulling out your pack of cigarettes.

The walls vibrated with the beat of the music as you leaned your back against it before putting a cigarette to your lips and lighting it. You leaned your head against the wall, trying not to think of your redheaded roommate.

“Hey, do you have a spare cigarette?” A girl you knew was part of Nat’s rival sorority approached you, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail swaying in the wind as she walked closer to you.

“Uhh, no, but I can share,” You said holding it out to her, she smirked and took the cigarette from your fingers, taking one long drag and blowing the smoke lightly next to you. “You’re Wanda, right?”

“How did you know?” She asked, settling next to you against the wall.

“My roommate is in Tri Delta,” You said, before taking a drag yourself. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Of course you would’ve,” She pushed herself off the wall and stood in front of you before pushing her body closer, making your hands instinctively hold her waist. “Tri Deltas can’t keep their mouths closed.”

You smirked, that’s not the only thing. You put the cigarette back on your lips before you felt your head being turned to the side by your chin and your cigarette yanked from your lips.

“These are bad for you, you know,” The redhead threw it on the ground before stomping on it and looking back up at you. “I wanna go home.”

“Go by yourself, she’s busy,” Wanda pressed her body further against yours, your attention focusing on her. Natasha’s nails dug into your arm and pulled you away. Her pouty lips and goosebumps down her arm from the cool breeze ignited an urge to give her your jacket.

“Another time, Wanda,” You said as Natasha turned around and started walking in the direction of your shared apartment on campus. “It was nice meeting you.”

Natasha walked with purpose, she was furious. She had everyone’s eyes on her during the party, yet she was still dissatisfied, because none of them were yours. You walked silently behind her, your phone buzzing with new texts from an unknown number.

hey it’s Wanda, Carol gave me your number haha :)

You almost bumped right into Natasha who had stopped right in front of you, her eyes burning into you as she quickly glanced down and saw your text. She had to hold back a growl. “Keys.”

“Am I just your personal purse when you bring me to these parties?” You reached into your pocket and handed her the keys, allowing your eyes to roam over her body.

“When you’re not busy flirting with some Delta Nu bimbo, yes,” She said, sickeningly sweet before roughly taking your keys away from your hand and opening the door. You quickly typed out a reply, walking into the building and waiting for the elevator next to the fuming redhead.

hey :)

Wanda quickly replied, every text filled with more and more attitude and becoming more and more suggestive. She might as well ask you what you’re wearing at this point and you hadn’t even made it to your floor yet.

With every ring Natasha heard she got more and more impatient. You were hers and who the fuck does Wanda think she is to come onto you of all people. Natasha walked out of the elevator with a huff, making you finally look up at her. Your smirk only grew as she fumbled with the keys as you slowly made your way down the hall towards her. 

Your phone kept buzzing and you could feel Natasha’s annoyance radiating off of her. It edged her on, it drove her crazy, you enjoyed it. You barely got through the door before your body was slammed back onto it and your phone was snatched out of your hand and Natasha gripped your throat. 

“Did you forget who you belong to, whore?” Natasha dipped her head down into the crook of your neck, her warm breath dancing over your skin. Your hands gripped her hips, making her skirt ride up. She tightened her grip when you didn’t answer, pressing her body against yours, bucking her hips when she felt your strap pressing against her. “What? You’re gonna act shy now? You had a lot to say to Wanda a second ago, what happened?”

You pressed your nails into her hip, moving her hips against the strap and making her chuckle against your skin. “’M gonna show you who you belong to.”

She pulled your body off the door by your neck and pushed you into your room, the back of your legs hitting the bed before you scooted up. Natasha straddled your lap and let you rise her skirt up, revealing her lack of underwear and clearly soaked folds. 

She threw your phone onto your bedside table and entangled her hands in your hair as you sat up, your hands reaching around to her ass and pulling her closer to you with each buck of her hips. You connected your lips together, shrugging off your jacket and disconnecting your lips to pull your shirt over your head. As soon as your neck was exposed, Natasha attached her lips to your skin, sucking deep marks all over your collarbones and neck. 

Natasha pulled away, pushing you back down onto the bed before she shifted off the bed and pulled your pants down your body, her eyes glistening at the site of her favorite silicone toy between your legs. She shrugged out of her dress, the only piece of clothing that was previously covering her body.

She moved back onto you, but this time straddled your thigh, her wet pussy connecting directly to your skin and making you moan. Your phone vibrated again and again from the bedside table, it pulled Natasha’s attention before you paid attention to it, only really looking at it when Natasha growled.

You started to reach up to put it on silent but the redhead beat you to it, clicking a few buttons before grabbing your chin and making you look at her once again. 

“Look at me,” She connected your gaze as she bucked her hip, your hands going back to her hips and guiding her movements. She wanted your eyes all night, and she finally had it now. She wasn’t gonna give in that easy. Natasha’s nails dragged down your chest as she lined herself up with your strap, slowly lowering her hips while she applied more pressure to your nails.

You moaned feeling the hot trails down your chest, not being able to take your eyes off the woman on top of you. Natasha started bucking her hips against yours, her hand coming up your body and pressing the tip of her index and middle finger against your lips. You sucked them into your mouth, making her moan and speed up her movements. She removed her fingers and gripped your face once again just as she was almost to the edge.

“Who do you belong to?” You knew exactly what she wanted you to say. But she was so desperately waiting for your answer to push her over the edge you had to wait. She rutted her hips against yours in desperations, her whiny and needy moans quickly filling the room as she moved closer and closer to the edge.

Her short red hair clung to her skin and her breasts bounced up and down with her movements. Your eyes trailed down her perfectly sculpted body to where your hips met, watching as the dildo went in and out of her, loving the wet sounds that came with every movement. She groaned and let go of your chin before bringing her hand back across your face, the stinging sensation making you moan.

“Answer me,” She meant to sound harsh, even threatening, but she failed to hide the need in her voice, the pure want dripping from her tone. You smirked, bucking your hips up to meet her thrusts and making her crouch over your body, her hands scratching and gripping onto your chest.

“I don’t belong to anybody,” You said, planting your feet on the bed and gripping holding hips in place before thrusting up into her as she fell apart in your hands. Her loud whiny moans filled the room and you were definitely getting a noise complaint in the morning. She came undone on your strap, her arousal dripping onto the fake cock and the sheets below you. Her grip lightened for a second before you flipped the two of you over, and burying yourself deeper into her. “Don’t belong to anybody but you.”

You kissed her salty skin as you pulled her hips up into yours and mercilessly thrust in and out of her. She screamed out, her hands gripping the sheets below you as you brought her over the edge for a second time, leaving her a shuddering mess. You slowed your thrusts, leaving light kisses along her jaw then her lips, before completely pulling out of her and moving to the bathroom to remove the strap.

While you were gone, Natasha looked back at your phone, which had its camera pointed at the both of you since she put it there. She smirked as she quickly sent it to herself then to a certain Delta Nu bimbo.

video.mp4

sweet dreams, Wanda 

She locked your phone and set it back on the bedside table. Then, as she always did, she dragged herself out of your bed, collected her discarded dress, and walked to her room, softly shutting the door behind her. 

When you returned from the bathroom your bed was empty. You pledged your loyalty to Natasha almost every time she would come to your room, she would make you say it, tease it out of you with her skillful fingers and conniving hips. And yet, she would still always leave you with only the memory of her body between the sheets in her lingering perfume.

You got back under the covers and plugged in your phone, your screen lighting up with a notification from Wanda.

invite me over next time ;)

[mehiwilldoitlater]

I literally grew up watching DBZ on Toonami reruns as a kid.. and it’s got me thinking…..

The Destined One (if you fight you know who to get the True Ending) receives Sun Wukong’s memories, but is clearly still his Own Self.. he gets to keep his individuality but now he has the knowledge and wisdom of Daddy OG Wukong’s previous experiences…

But what if….. it worked like a Namekian absorption fusion? Like with Piccolo and Nail?

like The Destined One literally Has OG Wukong chattering away in his head like a little subconscious Jiminy cricket.. but with more quips Less guidance and WAY more Shit talking. 

((Oh God, this thing is so breaking funny?! Like WHAAAAAA?Okay, okay, let me spice it up a little. Beware, slighty suggestive at some point))

After the Memories of Sun Wukong were bestowed on him, he became the new Sage (to the dismay of the Celestial Court). Everything seemed pretty fine with Yuán Fèn. He was strong; everybody accepted him as the new Monkey King, and his wish was to live happily ever after with you. 

At first, it was just a small thing—a small voice that he heard from time to time. Just like when you think that someone is calling you and then nothing! He blamed the successful events; he not even needed to let you worry about!

While he was stirring his own tea, sitting under the tree at your side, he heard it again.

"Young one!"

He stiffened his neck, looking around, but he came back to his tea. No one was calling him; it was the fifth time that day. How strange...

Then, things started to get REALLY strange. He started to hear full sentences, or after he had responded to them, he even received another remark!

"I can't believe you defeated my stone self with that stance."

"I can't believe that I'm turning into some kind of demented monkey with the old save powers."

"I HEARD THAT!!"

He suddenly loosed his own balance and started you and other young monkeys.

He thought he could handle it; he could handle a god as Erlang; he could handle this too!

He couldn't be more wrong. 

"You look awfully tried. Are you sure you're sleeping well?"

He just nodded, just hoping that the Great Sage could spare him some sleep in the afternoon from his continuous blabbering. 

At the end, he finally confessed everything to you. It was noble to know that he didn't want to obligate you to handle this thing with him, but instead you simply accepted it.

After all, you were soon to be King and Queen; you wanted to share his burden!

"Sooo...what does he say? About me, I mean..."

Yuán Fèn stayed silent, expecting something from the voice in his head.

"Umm...nice hips! She's going to bear a lot of kids, young one!"

"He said you're okay."

Things started to get strange when Yuán Fèn started to actually see him.

He almost had a heart attack the day that he saw him, and oh my, if he wished to get rid of him. 

You believed that it wasn't such a big deal; Wukong must have been a rational creature to leave your privacy alone! ....Wrong.

The sound of your sigh and panting emitted in your small abode. The only source of light is a small candel, near the end of it. 

His hands held your hips, while your lips kept on caressing his cheeks, leaving kisses and small bites. He tried to restrain a laugh, but the rumble in his chest took it away.

"Did you like it?"

He mewled, his tail moving restless around.

"I don't know him, but do I enjoy the view!"

Yuán Fèn suddenly screamed, making you fall from his hips, causing you to hit your head in the side of the bed, exposing in that motion your chest to the ceiling and to an invisible monkey that only the young one could see.

"W-WHAT THE -"

"DO YOU MIND?!"

"Uh, uh, uh, you should mind that boner in your thoughts! I think she would love to take care of that!"

And, while your lover tried to protect you from a pair of eyes that wasn't even there, you started to feel your desire and passion slowly fade away.

Things didn't get better, and now frustration started to get attached to you, like some kind of parasite. You were fed up, he was fed up, and Wukong... he couldn't find the situation more amusing.

"Am I in front of him?"

"Yes?"

"What does he do?"

"He's just...staring, just staring."

You clear your throat, while, only for Yuán Fèn, the old sage gave another bite to the peach, looking at the small human that was acting all big in front of him. You took enough control, and finally.

"Sun Wukong... I need to fuck, like for real. Leave us alone for... I don't know, 48 hours."

In his head, the poor monkey felt the great sage equal to Heaven laugh like never before.

@sleepingdramaqueen

@sun-jglim

@crimsonflameproxy

@everlastingmoonlightsworld

@biankanoir

@cromboloni

@miraclecherryblossomsblog

@masksandfeathers

@certifiedsimpinggalore

@cinnamonroll-anon

@justrandomlypassing

@cute-angi

@dressycobra7

@virtualexpertanchor

@szynkaaa

@sleepydang

[kaidabakugou]

𖤐 OCTOBER 7TH | "PLAYING WITH FIRE" 𖤐

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑! 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐗 𝐅! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

♱ — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜʀᴏɴᴇꜱ ᴛᴇʀᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟꜱ | ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴꜱ | ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ | ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ | ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ/ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴋɪɴᴋ | ᴘᴜʙᴇꜱ | ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ | ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ | ꜱᴘɪᴛ | ɴɪᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏ | ʜɪɴᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ | ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx | ꜱᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴋɪɴᴋ | ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ | ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ | ʜᴇᴀᴛꜱ | ᴛᴇᴀꜱɪɴɢ | ᴋɴᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ | ᴋɪʀɪʙᴀᴋᴜ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ | ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀ ꜱᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ | ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴋɪʀɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ

♱ — 𝐖𝐂: 6.4ᴋ

♱ — 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: ᴇᴇᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇʀᴇ!! ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟɪᴇꜱ!! ꜱᴏ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪᴄᴋ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘᴏᴏᴋʏ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʏꜱᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!!♡

𝕹𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖜���� 𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖆 𝖆𝖌𝖔,

𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙.

The taste of ash weights heavy on your tongue when you descend through the clouds towards the glare of fire below. The heat from the smoke prickling at your skin causes you to tighten your grip around the black spikes on Kirishima's back where you sat atop the crimson dragon as he rushes towards the commotion below, massive leathery wings tucking close to his large body - far too large for a juvenile like himself as his shadow swallows the night sky behind him when you emerge from the sea of smoke revealing the magnitude of destruction the town has suffered in mere moments. Streets that were once booming with vendors and some of the finest establishments you could find this far south of the kingdom, now nothing but ruins that further crumble under the weight of the wind from the red dragon’s wings as you continue to hurry towards the source that caused such calamity.

You'd traveled from the west with Bakugou, the dragon prince, and his dragon Kirishima, the Crimson Dread, under the orders of the king to deal with the issue of a fiery dragon that's been rumored to have gone rogue and has been terrorizing the southern towns at night. Upon your arrival the immensity of the situation was evident when the ancient bridges that connected to the neighboring towns were demolished for the river below to swallow, something only the great scaled beasts could manage, leaving the southerners to result in new measures and travel by boat.

It was only your second night in the town when you were setting up the fire place in your inn with Kirishima whilst you waited for Bakugou who ventured into the other side of town in search of something to cook for the three of you for the night, when the thunderous sound of an explosion in the distance alerted you. Rushing to the open area of the plaza where Kirishima could shift without causing damages to the housing nearby as you quickly mounted the dragon and headed towards the commotion. The orange glow of fire blazing in the horizon only feeding the worry that sat heavy on your chests knowing Bakugou was near that area of town, and now as you fly through the core of where the beast continues to wreak havoc, you could only pray to the gods above that he was okay.

A piercing roar ahead pulls you from your thoughts as it collides with the crackling sounds of Bakugou’s explosive magic followed by the clashing of steel from his dual swords. The silhouette of the onyx dragon comes into view amidst a pit of fire, your eyes frantically searching for your prince as you spot him beneath one of the beast's hind legs trying to wriggle out from between its three prehensile talon-tipped toes that hold him captive as the chest of the dragon begins to glow a deep orange hue, preparing to spew a stream of deadly fire upon him that was sure to leave a flaming crater in its wake from the force - one that not even Bakugou’s fire resistance could survive.

Swallowing the vile lump that builds in your throat at the thought, you lean forward against Kirishima’s back, the rough scales of the dragon’s armor brushing along your palm when you reach for the large spikes of his torso. The ones that prepare him to attack once you give him the command, but just as you take a sharp inhale to give him the order you're interrupted by the rumbling of snake-like hisses building up a thunderous roar as Kirishima leaps towards his opponent.

Catching the attention of the onyx dragon as he directs his fire towards you, but the Crimson Dread is not only known for his size, but also for his abnormal speed and agility that was rare for a beast of such calamity as he quickly rises to flash his hind legs. Sharp claws locking onto the beast’s neck, pinning him down as the horrid screeching of both dragons clashes together - one from anguish in a desperate attempt to be released and the other from a raging hunger for blood as Kirishima's claws pierce through the black scales, slashing the dragon’s throat open causing it to wriggle beneath him as it chokes in its fiery blood. But the red beast remains unsatisfied as he leans down to grasp the head of his victim in between his dreadful maw before tearing it from its body and tossing it into the fiery pits of its own creation followed by a victorious roar that seems to further agitate the flames that surround you.

You press your palm to his scales in an attempt to calm him despite how taken aback you were from his actions for he has never acted on his own without his rider’s orders regardless of the ravenous creature he was. Gently caressing his heated scales whilst you coo down at him as his snarls slowly shift into low rumbles under your touch when your soft voice reaches his ears between haggard breaths. Shaking his head with a final blow of smoke through his nostrils as his scales shudder from head to tail until he returns your pets with a content purr, letting you know he's calmed down before directing your attention towards Bakugou who was already climbing up the dragon’s side to join you on his back. Unharmed, lest a few scratches that oozed with blood yet nothing you couldn't heal later with your magic.

“All good?”, bare chest pressing against your back as he leans forward to press his palm to the crimson scales alongside yours as you look over to your side where his head rests on your shoulder. Only answering with a nod when your eyes meet his vermilion ones, not all there as he looks lost in thought before your gently nudge him with your elbow as they focus on you again, sharing the same concern for your dragon but nothing to fret about right now considering the long night you've all had as you feel him relax against you before signaling Kirishima again. Taking to the skies once more as you fly back into town for the night since you couldn't do anything else for now until the fires die out with morning come.

The ache in your muscles melts away as you sink deeper into the hot springs, the warmth enveloping your body when you rest against the edge to peer up at the night sky where remnants of the smoke from the fires obstructing your view of the stars as the faint orange hue of the horizon begins to fade, letting the sound of the water around you prevent your mind from thinking back on the prior events.

Once a dragon bonds with one rider, no other person can bond nor ride them throughout their life for they will remain loyal to their mount until they are parted by death, but Kirishima is the first ever dragon to bond with two riders. Claiming both Bakugou and you as his mates, a rare case in history that not even the wisest of maesters could decipher, tossing it up to be a result of his shifter abilities. But being a mate to the great fiery beasts of this era was not for the faint of heart as dragons undergo different stages in their lifetime that could be overwhelming for some, and your dragon’s recent stubborn behavior could only mean the beginning of one thing.

You lean over the edge towards the tray that rested on the rocks near the natural basin, reaching for the bowl of hot water to pour it over the previously strained matcha before taking the chasen and begin whisking. Too distracted to notice the water rippling behind you but your ears prick at the sound of low purrs approaching, hearing him before you feel him as sharp claws circle around your thighs. Curving along the plush skin of your hips to trail up your sides causing the hairs on your spine to rise towards your nape as he presses his nose above your rear before following the prickled skin up towards your shoulders in a slow calculated pace that causes your toes to curl against the hot stone below until his nose finds the crook of your neck - inhaling deeply as he savors your scent, the smell unlike any other causing his tail to slowly sway from side to side through the water whilst the purring amplifies. Feeling the vibrations against your back when he presses his hot chest to your skin as you lean into his frame, claws circling your abdomen when scaled arms hold you close causing you to hum at his touch as you settle back into the water.

The heat that radiates from him rivals the one around you as hot puffs of air fan across your skin, feeling the tips of his forked tongue ghost along the back of your ear where his nose is nestled into your hair. An occurrence that wasn't foreign to you since the three of you often slept wrapped around each other and Kirishima would find solace in sleeping with the smell of his mates right under his nose, but there was something different in his current demeanor.

When a dragon's heat is near, there are often visible warning signs to heed to avoid falling in their grasps when overcome with lust. The scales along their skin tend to darken in color, one of the more elusive signs to notice considering the change is very minimal but easily spotted for those that are in constant contact with the scaled giants. Their breathing patterns as well as their purring shift from long and passive inhales to heavy huffs followed by exhales of higher temperatures to their regular hot breaths. Every dragon's purrs are slightly different in melody but it's often deeper while in heat, emitting from somewhere further down their chest and at a much quicker pace than normal. The most identifiable of the signs are their behavioral changes, although already territorial, dragons tend to be more aggressive and jealous towards others lurking around their den and mates as well as seek out physical touch more often and show higher levels of affection. All signs that usually begin to manifest weeks in advance.

But Kirishima’s changes only began hours prior. Even though it wasn't the first time his heat had started abruptly, another unknown factor that the maesters could only assume as a product from his shifter abilities, it was the first time you've been in battle when it happened. Which justifies your worry while seizing the onyx dragon earlier.

The air around you felt heavy and the tension was almost palpable with the way he was holding you, like prey caught in the jaws of a predator as his claws travel along your skin, occasionally gripping at your flesh while his hold on you tightens. Moments like these remind you of the danger that he kept hidden from you most of the time until he had you in his grasp - so pliant and at his absolute mercy, he could do anything he wanted and you’d let him.

A sharp dark claw travels across your abdomen in slow back and forth motions beneath the water before trailing up the exposed skin of your chest. Circling your tits in a teasing matter that has your nipples hardening at the threat knowing it wouldn’t take much effort for those claws to rip into your skin. Kirishima smiles against your neck when he feels the way your heartbeat increases under his touch, how the rise and fall of your chest quickens the more he greedily explores your body. Savoring the way your smooth skin feels against his calloused one, the sweet scent of you downright intoxicating as he feels his teeth ache at the thought of you on his tongue. Moving his mouth to rest at the juncture of your neck at the temptation to feel your skin give under the force of his fearful maw, tearing into your flesh and watching you bleed for him as his purring deepens at the thought knowing how pretty you’d look covered in crimson to match that of his scales.

His tail curls around your ankle as it slowly travels up your leg until it’s wrapped around your plump thigh, squeezing the fat of it while scales drag against the curve of your rear. The scaled pointed tip ghosting along your inner thigh as it occasionally brushes through the tuft of hairs above your cunt at slow, almost ticklish pace that had you suppressing your moans against the edge of your cup as you bring the warm tea to your lips, enjoying it while you can knowing that it will soon be forgotten with the way Kirishima’s scorching breath was fanning over your skin alerting you of how close he was to your vital spots.

“Fuck, my love”, the searing touch of his tongue licking along your skin makes you gasp as thick drips of drool burn onto your skin, “I need you”.

“Your heat becoming too much, baby?”, you hum against him before drinking the last of your tea as you reach forward to return the cup onto its tray.

“I could just devour you right now”, he purrs close to your ear as he takes a deep inhale of your skin, continuing to let your scent invade his senses. “Will you let me, love?”

“Go ahead”, you tilt your head further giving him access as your voice falls into a breathless whisper at the feel of sharp teeth grazing against your skin. “Tell me how I taste”.

A guttural growl ripples from his chest at your words as his tongue laps at your skin again, more drool dribbles against you before his lips press to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder sucking on that spot as you arch your back with a sigh, the feel of his teeth digging ever so slightly into your skin behind closed lips sends a whirlpool of emotions to your gut. The moans you suppressed earlier ripping from you when his fangs finally break through your flesh as a rush of warmth spreads across your skin where he eagerly drinks from you, letting your blood quench his thirst before he sucks bruising kisses higher up your neck making you squirm against him.

Tightening his grasp as he slowly moves your bodies towards the edge of the natural basin where claws circle your waist to spin you around as he looms over you, caging you between the warm stone that digs against your back and his large body as he presses himself against you. Gently nuzzling his nose into the top of your head before slowly trailing down the center of your forehead to meet your nose as your eyes lock with deep pools of scarlet staring back at you. Your hands reach for his biceps, feeling the scales shift under your touch as you continue to trail upwards towards his nape where your fingers brush through the crimson strands of his hair whilst your other hand reaches for a stray strand on his forehead, securing it behind the dark, curved, and angled horns that protrude on either sides of his head that would demand submission from even the most endowed elks that roamed the enchanted forests, a grin spreading across his lips when you do before he leans down to press his lips to yours.

Hot breaths melding with each other as claws curl around your throat pressing his purlicue beneath your chin causing your head to tilt further, giving him more access as his lips move frantically against yours - messy and wet as spit smothers against your skin while your tongue tangles with his long one until the need for air becomes inescapable. Leaning back to catch your breath as far as his firm hold around your neck allows you but he can't help but chase your lips with his sharp teeth, keeping his intentions gentle against the delicate skin but still so, so hungry for you as he nibbles on your bottom lip until it splits for him. The sting makes you hiss as lustful eyes meet your equally lewd ones when he slowly pulls back, sucking the small dribble of blood into his greedy maw until your lip slips from his own. Not giving you enough time to recover as the warm pads of his digits digging into the sides of your neck twitch as they pull you back in to meet his lips - mouths bruised and swollen as his tongue swipes against you to lick into the small cut.

Parting from your lips to press kisses on your jaw and down your neck as his hands reach down to grip your waist and hoist you up onto the edge. Stopping when he reaches the valley of your breast as he leans back to look at your body now fully on display for him, mesmerized at the sight like the first time he saw you like this and he can’t help the shudder that ripples through his scales and settles at his pelvis where his cock twitches beneath the water.

Fiery pupils dilate when they rake along the curve of your breasts and settle on your nipples, wet and glistening and so inviting as he dips his head down to capture the erect bud in his mouth. The feel of sharp teeth scraping against your skin threatening to pierce through your flesh sends shivers down your spine followed by the smooth contrast of his warm tongue alternating between fast flicks and tight curls against you that causes your hips to slightly grind forward as arousal begins to gather at your core. The faint smell of it hitting his nose only riles him further as he suckles on your tit harder while roughly kneading the other as he pulls and twists the bud between his clawed digits.

Only stopping to sink his teeth into the flesh of your chest again and again with low mumbles of ‘mine’ whispered into each nibble as he continues to trail them down your abdomen. Drowning in the increasing scent of your arousal the closer he gets to the source, his mouth unable to stay away from you other than to quickly move to another unmarked spot on your skin as his breaths become haggard at the mouth watering aroma of your drooling cunt leaking onto the stones below. Calloused hands curve beneath your thighs as he spreads you open for him, ankles resting on his broad and scaled shoulders while his mouth never leaves your skin as it reaches your pubes. Inhaling deeply into the tuft of hair as he feels the way your body twitches against his touch when he slowly pulls the hairs between his lips, his warm breaths feels almost ticklish but the sensation is quickly replaced by the slight sting from his tugging before he releases the hairs from his lips.

Diving forward again to run his nose through them, his head dipping lower and lower until the slick feel of your pussy lips meets with his own, savoring you a little longer as he trails his nose through your swollen slit causing it to part as he does. Eyes fluttering at the feel of your arousal coating his skin before finally surging forward into your heat making you arch in your spot as your arms stretch behind you to support you further from the intensity of his mouth against you. Tongue pressed flat on your pussy as he wriggles it from side to side while thick globs of saliva drip from his thirsty mouth onto you - creamy slick and viscous spit mixing together as both of you become more and more lost in pleasure.

Moans falling from your lips without a care if others residing within the inn could hear you for you’re unable to hold them with the way his tongue laps up towards your clit, circling it with just the tip before his lips wrap around the sensitive bud while his eyes look up to meet yours causing something to ripple in your stomach the closer you get to your release. Watching how they darken when he feels your fingers skim across his pointed ears, ghosting along the wet strands of hair before wrapping around one of his horns knowing it would get a reaction out of him with how sensitive they were, especially during his heat and you can't help the grin that breaks through your features when you see his lip curl with the nastiest growl you've heard resonate from his chest thus far. Strong enough to make the water around him shake causing it to ripple at the same thundering cadence while his hands pinch and knead at your thighs, feeling how the muscles clench and tremble under his touch when you feel the vibrations of his snarls against your pussy.

Causing your features to morph into a whine as you let your head roll back onto your shoulders to release a moan up towards the sky while briefly closing your eyes before your entire body jolts when Kirishima slots his hot mouth onto the length of your puffy slit. Demanding your attention as your eyes meet again, a newfound hunger in his fiery orbs as your clench around his imposing figure when the tips of his forked tongue tease along your entrance before wriggling it’s way inside - velvety walls tightening around the incredibly long and thick muscle as it spreads you open, greedily slurping every last drop of creamy arousal that pours from your messy pussy.

Both of your hands now wrapped firmly around his horns to pull him closer and the snarl that follows causes his sharp teeth to scrape dangerously against your swollen clit, sending you over the edge as static rings in your ears making the world around you spin as your release gushes into his awaiting tongue. Claws dragging up and down along your thighs leaving red, throbbing marks in their wake before they press into your hips, threatening to pierce the skin as he holds you down when your hips continue to jerk and twitch. Overstimulated as he continues to drink every last drop of your sweet nectar, not stopping until he gets his fill as your cries clash with the loud and wet squelch of your pussy ravished by his hungry maw.

Slowing his movements to ease you down from your high as his tongue slithers out of your warmth, running it through the red and swollen folds of your sopping wet pussy before leaning back to watch the pretty mess he created - thin threads of syrupy slick and viscid spit clinging to his skin causing it to glisten under the faint moonlight emerging from the smokey clouds as the distant fires begin to die down. Whimpering at the empty feeling as you fall back onto the stones breathless, your hands slipping from his horns in exhaustion only for scaled ones to catch them as he brings them towards his face, nuzzling into your palm to lay kisses onto your wrists - soft and tender unlike the previous ones as he repeats the actions on the other one before trailing up the length of your arm while slowly rising from the water to slot his body above your own.

Warm droplets of water dripping onto your skin where he continues to lay gentle kisses as his lips press against your stomach to travel up onto your breasts, briefly nibbling on the plush skin before dipping towards your collarbones; feeling how he follows the outline of your protruding bones with the tip of his nose to settle at the small hollow at the center where his searing exhales fan over your skin causing you to lean your head back to allow him more access as he wanders up the length of your throat where he slows down to feel it contract against his lips when you swallow, eliciting his purrs to return as they vibrate into your jaw until he curves along your chin to finally capture your lips in his. Tasting yourself on his tongue when it tangles with yours as it freely explores every inch of your mouth before he pulls away to peer down at your pretty face, noticing your eyes glossy with tears as he smiles down at the sight before leaning in for a kiss once more.

So enthralled with each other that you don't hear the distant call of your names when the wooden door of your room slides open. Only the feel of something hot dripping against your thigh capturing your attention, making your breath hitch into him as he pulls back to press his forehead onto yours for the both of you to peer between your bodies to reveal his large cock.

A mass of dark pubes trailing from his belly button towards the base where thick veins throb with need around a swelling knot as they fork out onto the ribbed crimson ridges that matched those of his scales leading up to a tapered tip that dripped molten globs of creamy white onto your skin where it hanged heavy causing it to curve downwards from the weight and size as it twitched the more his knot continued to grow with the overwhelming and carnal desire to empty load after load of the sticky cum that resided within the hefty balls that rested hulking between his muscular thighs inside your heat.

The same thighs that slide closer to press behind yours as a clawed hand slides along the side to grip the back of your knees and guide one leg around his waist, mirroring the action with your other leg as they lock at the dip of his back where his long tail sways languidly from side to side. Securing your bodies together as he lowers his hips to meet yours, slotting his cock between your thighs to slide his pulsing length through your weeping slit. Gasping in unison when he grinds his hips harder through the slickness as your hands snake around his broad shoulders to bring him closer, his lips already chasing yours as claws tangle in the hairs at your nape where he cups your head to deepen the kiss. His thumb smearing away the stray tears that stain your cheeks at the feel of every ridge and curve of his cock rubbing through your slick pussy, getting caught against your clit with each thrust making you mewl into his mouth as he swallows every sound.

Groans and purrs vibrating softly against you when he feels your hips roll up and fall into rhythm with his. Smiling against him when your actions elicit a broken whine to rip from his chest, amused at how such a feared beast could be reduced to such a needy thing when it came to moments like this, entangled with each other in such ways that it's uncertain where one begins and the other ends.

The growl that festers deep in his chest pulls you from your thoughts as a heated sting spreads across your bottom lip when he draws the sensitive flesh between his teeth to get your attention once more, prying your mouth open for him as he chases your bloodied lips with a carnivorous hunger that elicits another growl to crawl up his throat as clawed digits wrap around your wrists to capture your hands in his and stretch your arms above your head, pinning you beneath him and rutting his hips desperately against you until the bulbous head of his leaky cock finally presses against your entrance. Both of you falling silent as you peer down between your bodies, watching how your pussy splits open and swells around each girthy bump of his cock until it reaches the curve of his knot as it presses against your slit; ceasing his movements to relish the feel of your heat wrapped around him while you bask in the way it stretches your pussy so good you could almost feel him in your throat as you lips part around a silent moan.

Heavy knot throbbing against your entrance, not quite ready to slip inside just yet as he rolls his hips back - your pussy molding perfectly to each ridge as the friction makes you arch your back so beautifully into him. Both of your hands restrained under one of his while the other curls around your center to hold you close as his lips press along your jawline, whispering sweet praises in his mother’s tongue as he falls into a steady pace that has the telltale coil winding tightly inside you sooner than expected as white spots cloud your vision when you sink into sweet ecstasy. Soft kisses and nibbles morphing into feral bites as he grows wretched with need at the taste of your blood mixed with the tight clench of your silken walls gripping his cock so deliciously he feels he could devour you whole.

Slowing his thrusts to a gentle rock as his lips find yours again in a sloppy and panting mess - the sound from your heaving chests echoing through the area loud enough to quiet the heavy patting of feet against the damp stone floor approaching your position until a shadow obstructs the dim light of the candles that surrounded the hot springs, looming over you as it waits for the two of you to notice its presence.

“‘M gone a few minutes and you two can't keep yer’ hands off of each other that long, eh?”, both of you peer up to meet vermilion irises staring down at you with amusement. Grin spreading across his features when your eyes simultaneously trail down to look at his cock fully displayed before you, the thick vein beneath his shaft throbbing all the way up his leaking tip where milky beads of white coat his skin.

Meeting his gaze again, your sultry smile matching his own as you feel lips press to your jaw followed by the slight tickle from Kirishima’s hot breath fanning over your skin as he speaks.

“You're just in time, my prince - our little princess is just about ready to take me whole”, a dark claw brushes through the stray hairs that cling to the damp skin of your forehead as he tucks them behind your ear to press his nose to your own, voice falling into a whisper. “Aren't you, baby?”, nodding into his touch while he beckons Bakugou closer.

“Come ‘er, Katsuki… I want to watch you both as she takes my knot”, to which he complies as Bakugou lays down beside you. Pulling you towards him when Kirishima leans back from his position as you straddle the blonde, his eyes wandering down your skin as his fingers trace along the wounds that adorn your body - bruised and bloodied.

Digits stained with red as he brings them towards his lips for a quick taste, eyes fluttering when he does before he reaches for your skin again to collect more of the blood that dribbles from the bites left by the dragon, bringing them up to your lips this time where it mixes with the drooly blood from your bottom lip as you wrap them around his fingers to languidly suck on them.

Clawed thumbs dig into the fat of your hips as Kirishima positions himself behind you, curling along your spine to press his chest against you. His large physique overpowering the both of you when he stretches his wings, briefly casting a daunting shadow that consumes you before he tucks them back into place. Leaning in close to nuzzle his face into your neck as Bakugou mimics his actions to your other side, their warmth encompasses you entirely like a heavy cloth draped over you on a cruel winter. Bakugou’s lips press tender kisses along your mangled skin while a long, wet and hot tongue laps a stripe all the way to your ear where he nuzzles into you once again.

“Hold still for me, my love”, arching into Bakugou’s chest when the tip of Kirishima’s cock presses against your cunt, dripping heavy glops of precum that seared against your skin - so impossibly hot like it was made from the molten steel used to make the finest of swords. Spreading it through your slit as he strokes it up and down causing syrupy strands of arousal to leak onto Bakugou’s thighs before his cockhead catches your entrance.

Immediately feeling the stretch of every ridge and curve again as your lips part around a loud whine, both men reacting instantly as hands roam every inch of your body in a mixture of soothing touches and hungry kneads from sharp nails that twitch at the urge to tear at your skin to elicit more of those sweet noises to rip from your body. Kirishima doesn't waste time to settle on a fast pace that knocked the wind from your lungs, lost in the way your pussy sucked him further - squeezing him so tightly he couldn't help but to nibble on the skin of your neck again, fangs piercing anywhere they could reach causing his purring to morph into wet gurgles from your blood while Bakugou leaned back to ogle at the sight.

In all your years together, nothing riled him up more than moments like these. The both of you look ethereal above him - recalling all the times he had the same thoughts and he fears they might fall short to the sight before him. The first time he laid eyes on Kirishima when the crimson hybrid shifted into a fierce dragon for him to ride after many had failed to mount the fiery beast; the same beast that never allowed anyone to get too close to him, yet there you were mounted on his back treating a tear to his wing while cooing down sweetly at the scaled giant while all his rider could do was just stare at the two of you in awe in that field of freshly bloomed blue irises all those springs ago. He never thought that just winters later he would find himself by a ditchfire and a chalice filled of your joined blood, a scar on each of your left palms to prove it - wed by fire and blood to be sealed by a long night of mating.

And now, as the hard stone cushioned by a the thin bedding of moss forming on the rocks dug into his back as he stared up at the two of you above him, your skin riddled with bites and blood with Kirishima still latched onto your neck as you cried out into the night to soon take his knot, the sight before him rivals all the others for he thinks he's never seen the two of you so beautiful as this very moment.

His heart skipping a beat when both of your eyes meet his own, reaching for him as your hands curl around his shoulders while claws press against the dip of his skull to bring him closer to your bodies. Your lips pressed against his while Kirishima nuzzles the crook of his neck, smiling against Bakugou when you feel his breath hitch at the dragon’s fangs piercing into his flesh. The taste of both of his mates blood mixing on his tongue turn his thrust violent, extremely so you can't contain the overstimulated squeals that ripped from your chest and before you can register it he thrusts forward in a hard roll of his hips until you feel it - a wet pop as you're stuffed to the brim with his knot. Your eyes rolling while you feel lightheaded at the mixture of his thick, knotted cock grinding deep inside of you along with the heat that radiates from their bodies engulfing you completely.

Claws suddenly digging into your flesh as Kirishima yanks your bodies closer to him, switching from marking Bakugou’s neck to yours back and forth while lips brushed against skin in a mantra growled in the old draconic tongue.

Mine mine mine

“You're mine, yeah? My blood?”, each question is followed by a pull of his lips against your skin and all you can do is desperately nod against him as salty tears stain your cheeks while your cunt spasms around him, squeezing and pulling him deeper as he grinds rapidly into you.

“Both of you were made for me”, he snarls as his lips chase Bakugou’s next, piercing his bottom lip in a much more hurried manner than he did yours causing a groan to vibrate loudly from the blondes chest as the redhead devours him.

“You were born bound to me, right?”, your bodies were dripping in sweat and your brains were fogging with the overstimulation of both pleasure and pain, as the dragon reminded you who you belonged to while switching between your bodies; licked, sucked, and bitten into the skin of the familiar things pinned beneath him. Chasing your sweat with teeth and tongue, drunk on the scent of home - of mate. Many would call the love Kirishima felt for the two of you an obsession, but that pales in comparison to the unwavering hunger and passion he felt for you.

His thrusts turn vicious, borderline animalistic as he rolls his hips forward once, twice, three times until you finally feel it. The rush of cum pouring in hot, always so impossibly hot, heavy globs against your velvety walls as he ruts his hips close to bury himself deep in your pussy to ensure you were plugged up and stuffed full with his seed that continued to pour inside of you in a never ending river that had the both of you falling depleted against the blonde making him groan at the sudden weight pressed against him. All three of you panting as your bodies relax against each other, hearts beating as one while you let the soothing sounds of the water splashing behind you ease you down from your highs.

But the Crimson Dread was nothing if not insatiable, leaning back as clawed digits captured Bakugou’s chin between them to bring him closer, pulling him into a kiss while you trailed kisses along the blonde’s jawline. Your ear pricking when you hear the redhead speak into the kiss and you can’t help the grins that follow at his words.

“Your turn, my prince”, he whispers while maneuvering your bodies into the warm water to soothe your wounds and prepare you for the long night ahead.

[coeurify]

perfect girl | ellie williams.

tlou2 ellie williams x fem!reader. college modern au universe. word count 6.8k. proofread barely. part two here

ellie is the most known dealer on campus, and reader is a stuck up, bitchy, sorority girl. somehow ending up near each other at every party, despite constant fighting. this party is no different, at first

this is smut, 18+ only. included use of pet names, mean!ellie, mean!reader, name calling.. fingering r!receiving.. etc. its a bit filthy. i wrote when high

Honestly, you hated frat parties. The loud music, the humid air and noisy college students that all reaked of jungle juice and sweat. None of it appealed to you— you always left feeling dirty and with a headache. But being in the university’s biggest sorority meant it was sort of a needed appearance.

Even now, when you were stressed beyond belief over the three different exams on monday morning. You had still been dragged out by your sorority sisters with the promise of a great party.

It never was great though. Never.

Usually you found yourself shoo-ing off shirtless frat boys advances, cup in your hand that had a bit too much cheap vodka and too little juice. If you had to deal with these things, you may as well be tipsy enough for it.

Though, the alcohol never made you any less in control of yourself. Control was what you valued most, being able to easily keep yourself in check. Making sure your well taken care of clothes never crinkled, ensuring no piece of hair was out of place. This in turn usually meant you took the role of watching over your sorority sisters. Eyeing any boys who got too touchy when they were drunk, snapping at frat guys when they didn’t take a hint. cleaning their face of tears or sweat, reapplying their mascara or lip gloss when they couldn’t. Holding their drinks with your perfectly manicured hands when they needed to pee.

You didn’t judge them for how they acted, you knew they were just having fun. Sometimes you wish you could let go like that too, join in on their dances.. giggle loudly and flirt with boys with drunken courage. But you never did. You probably wouldn’t tonight, even when your friend Dina had taken the role of sober one of the group so you could try and have fun. You still just stood straight up and watched on.

You were untouchable, everyone knew it. You saw the way boys looked at you— like they were falling over themselves just for a chance you might talk to them. Girls whispered about you, whether it be good or bad.. you didn’t exactly care. You had been called a prissy bitch one too many times to truly give a shit what other twenty somethings had to say about your attitude. You enjoyed being something no one could reach. It made you feel powerful. You rarely gave anyone that wasn’t your friends the time of day at these things, and god did it drive people crazy.

You always positioned yourself somewhere like the drink table at every party, watching on as if it was a live show for you to consume. In some ways it was.. you were always a watcher, never involved. So looking on was usually your only source of fun at these things.

Tonight was no different— eyes steady on the large group of people dancing, more so falling over each other, in the center of the room. It was grossly humid, and the flashing lights hurt your eyes. Everyone was pressed too close together— far too big of a crowd for this tiny off campus fraternity.

You found a more open place between the scratchy and old couch and the pop up plastic table. It held half empty bottles and a punch bowl full of some concoction that made you shake your head at girls when they tried to take a cup.

You stand stiffly against the wall— refusing to sit, let alone lean against the couch next to you. You didn't even want to imagine how disgusting it was.. swearing it was a lighter shade of grey last time you were here. This choice of station however was opening yourself up to a night of pure torture from a particular presence that seemed to haunt every. fucking. frat party.

Ellie Williams. Right on cue she walked over, ignoring you as she plopped down onto the couch with a few of the frat boys. She opens a little bag and turns in to face them. Of course. Obviously the stoners would choose the couch as their designated spot for the night.

Even if she had not acknowledged you, you already were burning with annoyance. The orange lighting currently overhead painted you the same color your insides felt. A growing flame, dull and orange in the pit of your stomach.

Ellie was a usual attendee at these parties. But not with a group of friends or some sorority like a normal person. No, Ellie was the chosen dealer for most fraternities of the university.. meaning she almost always showed up to smoke and give out to stingy college students.

But god, you could not understand what made her the choice for these people. You found her utterly obnoxious. She was loud— had the mouth of a sailor, and was always making god awful jokes. She had no shame— outwardly talking to whoever she wanted however she wanted, flirting with girls no matter the situation. Because Ellie also referred to sit out on the side of the parties, it meant you unfortunately spent a lot of time around her. You heard every stupid joke, smelt every gross joint, watched every girl swoon over her atrocious flirting. It was miserable really.

And god did she love to annoy you. It was too easy. She had discovered that at the start of last spring semester, and since then, almost a year ago, had made it a fun game for her. It became routine — and you swore she did it on purpose. Found somewhere close to you, invaded your space, and made the party even worse. Ellie would never admit that though.

Tonight wasn’t different. You couldn’t avoid your eyes drifting to where she was collecting cash from a few frat guys, loudly laughing and making jokes about some Jurassic Park movie that a frat guy promised to put on the projector later.

“Nah, the second one is way better!” The frat boy, Josh from Sigma something-something (you didnt care to remember the names) argued.

Ellie quickly shook her head, and you noticed she was wearing that messy half up half down hairstyle you once told her looked dumb. “You fucking idiot, the first is way better! It's iconic and so are the dinosaurs in it!” she fights back, lightheartedly shoving Josh’s arm.

God, did she have to be so loud? It was already loud enough with the shitty music playing. You tuned out the rest of the conversation.. or attempted to. Ellie’s laugh made its way up and over the beat of the song playing. You looked over again, watching the way her head fell back. Even from here you could see the freckles on her face. The low colorful flashing lights of the room made them hard to see sometimes, though. Not that you cared.

Eventually, Josh and the three other boys got up and moved away from the couch— emptying the line of sight from you to Ellie. She caught your gaze before you could look away, and smiled that stupid cocky smile she always did.

“Need somethin’ princess?” Ellie questioned as she scooted to the seat closest to the edge you stood closest to. The name made you clench your fist tightly around the cup in your hands. She had adopted this nickname for you after commenting about 1200 times how you dressed and acted at these parties. ‘Stuck up princess’ she had called you after one particular comment. It stuck after that.

“Nope,” you popped the P, sipping at the vodka in your cup and refusing to meet her eyes again.

“You were staring.”

“Was not, you got my attention by being obnoxiously loud,” you bit back.

Ellie held her hands up in surrender, “Whatever you say.”

You scoffed, turning your nose up and looking at the center of the party again. Mentally you counted your friend group and where they all were in the crowd. One finger came to press a strand of hair back into your hairdo, and then press a hand to smooth your shirt. You just wanted to get through the next hour or two and get home to study.

You can hear the flick of a lighter next to you, and bite back a sigh. Ellie had been sitting here all of five minutes and had already resorted to smoking. Unsurprisingly.

When the smell soon invades the small space between you, and that flame of annoyance in your belly grows to a small blaze.

At first you ignore it, sniffing and rubbing your nose like it would make the smell disappear. You glance around the room, eyeing some particularly loud and annoying men who were whooping and hollering. Soon though, the smell became too much. You turned to face the couch.

“Ugh,” you make a noise of disgust, loud enough for Ellie to turn her head to you. You pair the sound with a (very dramatic) scrunched up nose. “You smell horrible.”

Ellie smiles in a lazy sort of way, legs spread comfortably on the couch and head leaned slightly to look at you. She makes it a point to blow the next puff from the joint straight at you— enjoying the way your hands come to swat away the smoke like it was poison. “S’ just weed princess.. can't hurt you.”

Your arms cross, and Ellie watches as they press against the pretty baby blue lace shirt you're wearing.. too clean, too soft for a party like this. “It can make me stink though, like I already pointed out. Some of us care about things like personal hygiene, Williams,” you argue, to which she whistles, adding a quiet, “damn, low blow..”

She sits up straighter, leaning forward to inspect you. Seeing the pretty skirt that falls to your mid thigh— Ellie doesn’t doubt even for a moment that the white fabric caught lingering stares of every horny drunk college boy in the room when you walked in with your group.

But here you were, choosing to insult her instead of entertaining a single one of them.

“What's the reason for stick up your ass tonight?” She asks, making your eyes roll.

“Oh screw you, I’m acting perfectly reasonably.”

Ellie actually laughed at that, loudly enough to make you turn your head in embarrassment. “The way you act with me is never reasonable actually, but tonight is extra bad. You look stiffer and didn’t even attempt to be civil.”

It annoyed you even more that she noticed the stress radiating off of you so easily. She always could— it made her even better at pulling on the threads of you that made you most annoyed. She knew how to get a rise out of you.

“It's absolutely none of your business, Ellie,” you snap. Maybe it was a little harsh for such a simple question, but the auburn haired girl beside you got that out of you easily.

“God, would it kill you to be a little less bitchy for one night?” her green eyes narrowed in at you and she took another puff of the joint. Your eyes followed as she tilted her head up to the ceiling to blow out the smoke.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Fuck you too, princess.”

There's a moment of heavy silence between the two of you, lights flashing now between a deep blue and green. The toe of your shoe tapped into the wood of the floor, the repeated motion serving as a distraction from the annoyance that Ellie caused. Your mind falls back to the exams you have to study for tonight.

The distraction quickly ends when the voice you had come to recognize anywhere popped up again. “Can you chill out? I can hear your shoe tapping from here.”

You huff, biting the inside of your cheek. “Can you shut the hell up? Go back to your joint and leave me alone.”

Ellie just scoffs, mumbling something about you needing the smoke more than her.

You ignore it, but can't deny how your mind wanders to the comment. What would it be like to smoke? Would it take the edge off like everyone said? You had only tried once or twice before.. both at a small get together where you ended up having to sober up quickly to care for your drunken friends.

“Seriously,” Ellie says a bit louder. “Come sit and have a smoke.”

“Excuse me?” you look at her like she had suggested the two of you take your clothes off mid party. Or she had suddenly grown two heads. It would offend her, the clear disgust— if she didn’t know you so well.

“There's a huge group of drunk guys walking over right now-“ she pointed with one of her fingers to where they were passing some game of beer pong. “If you stay there you’ll just get more pissed off and strung up when they bump into you and shit.”

You eye the group, slightly annoyed that Ellie was again right about how you would react. You glance then at the couch, at the weird dark stain and uncomfortable looking material. “I'm not smoking. But if you want me to sit? Take off your sweatshirt.”

Now it was Ellie’s turn to ask, “Excuse me?”

You make a face at her, pointing to the gross couch. “I’m not sitting on that nasty couch. If you want me to sit? take off your sweatshirt and let me use that.”

You know it's a bratty request, and neither you or Ellie look away from each other for a moment, not knowing who was going to make the first move. You almost regret it, and then Ellie reaches to the bottom of her sweatshirt.

It sends some sort of shockwave through you when she pulls the material over her head. You convince yourself it's because you feel like you have won, gotten your way over the girl you hated. Definitely not because her undershirt rode up for a moment, or that her sleeve tattoo was now on display.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” she says in a exasperated tone, but still lays the sweatshirt across the seat on next to her on the couch.

You smile sarcastically, “Mhm, thanks,” you move to the front of the couch, holding your skirt down as you sit on top of her sweater and press forward, sitting straight up so the back of your shirt doesn't hit the couch. You felt Ellie’s eyes on you, on the very large gap between you. “I can't infect you with something you know?” the auburn haired girl says a bit slowly.

“Haven’t I said it a million times? You smell bad.”

Ellie’s lip quirk into a smile and she doesn’t reply, placing the joint between her lips again and lighting it for another drag.

Just like she described, the group of college boys clambered over to the drink table, invading the corner you were just standing in to shout loudly and put the bottles wildly into cups. You cringe, shifting in your seat. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were glad Ellie had asked you to sit now.

The two of you didn’t talk, for a moment you watch Ellie’s freckled cheeks suck in slightly as she takes a drag, and watch her lips part to blow it out. Unable to tear your eyes away until a new voice comes from in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N right?” Ellie glances up for a split second before going back to looking uninterested in the boy trying to start conversation with you.

“Yep,” you answer plainly as you look at him. You recognized him in a blurry sort of way. His name started with an L… Lucas.. Leo.. La-

“Im Liam, from the last party,” he explains before you finish your train of thought. “Right, Liam.”

Liam bounces a bit on his heels, which embarrasses you. You fight the urge to curl your lip at the sight. “I was wondering if you wanted to go chill with a few of my friends and girls from your sorority upstairs? We’re gonna smoke and play games like seven minutes in heaven.”

Beside you it feels like someone has stiffened, but you ignore it. You let your face drop to look even more uninterested. “Seven minutes in heaven? Really? What are we? Fifteen?”

Liam flushes, clearing his throat to talk again. You just shake your head to stop him. “I don't smoke either so no thank you, Liam. Im good.”

The boy slumps a little. “Right. Maybe next time,” and then he turns on his heel and walks off.. looking like a dog with its tail between their legs.

Ellie chuckles, making that fire come back to your belly. You turn quickly— eyeing her. “What's funny, Williams?”

“He totally wanted to fuck you,” Ellie shrugs, watching until Liam disappears up the stairs.

You try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, picking at your painted nails to keep the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Fuck off.”

“Trust me, I know these guys. Every party one of them tries to get in your pants, and you turn them down every single time.”

Ellie looks smug as she says it— and you want to wipe the look off her fucking face. Acting like she knew something, like she could tell you more about what was happening than you could.

“You don’t know shit Ellie,” you argue, unable to bite back the slightly misplaced anger anymore, leaning forward. “Why do you even care? Are you obsessed with me or something? Not everyone wants to fuck everything that walks.”

The words have a bite to them, bitter on your tongue. Your chest’s rise and fall is speeding up as you finish speaking. You watch as Ellie’s eyes get darker in the light, the flashing lights stop into a solid red as some song with the color name begins.

“And why do you care who I fuck? hm? Maybe you do need to get laid by one of those guy’s falling all over you. Might make you a little less of a strung up bitch,” Ellie’s voice is harder now, aiming to displease you more so than before.

It works, the flame in you spilling over to a whole fucking house fire at the comment. Your hand instinctively grips your cup, reaches forward and dumps it all over Ellie’s chest.

Silence follows, and you immediately regret it.. knowing you took it too far. This quiet is uncomfortable enough to make you squirm, pressing further away from the wet patch growing on the cushion. Ellie looks at her shirt, very slowly raising her head to look dead at you.

“Get up.” It's not a question when she says it, harsher tone than she had ever used with you.

For once, you don’t immediately bite back. “Wha-“

“Get up. You just fucking dumped your drink on me, you can help me fix it,” Ellie demands again. She puts out the joint on the table nearby, messy enough to make you cringe.

You can't tell how red her face is because of the lights.. but you are sure she is fuming. The way she is stiff and slow with her movements to stand a clue enough.

That’s why you don't fight to scramble to your feet after her when she starts walking. Your fingers grip at the sweatshirt under you, holding it in your hand as she pushes past people to get to a room nearby. You follow quickly behind— watching curious eyes follow you chasing after the other. The red lights hide the growing blush on your cheeks, the music pounding in tandem with your heart.

When she pushes open a door, you squeeze in quickly after her.

Ellie’s tattooed arm reaches to the side of you where the doorknob is, and her fingers move to lock it. You swallow at the proximity, ducking away quickly.

She doesn’t speak as she peels the now wet shirt from her frame— throwing it on the floor near the bed. Your eyes don't look away as she does so. In fact, you can’t tear them away.

Her body is toned, more so than you would have expected. Not that you thought of her shirtless before or anything. Her fingers ghost gently over her own skin, wiping any extra wetness. Your pupils follow the way the digits move.

What doesn’t surprise you however, is the sports bra that lays beneath the shirt. It's snug against her skin, and you watch as she tugs it back into the right place. You watch her breathe, heavy and unsteady, a clear sign she is not exactly calm at the moment.

“You are such a fucking brat, you know that?” Her blazing eyes meet your own— and you almost shrink. This Ellie.. She was different. You are no longer burning with the anger her face usually ignites in you. No, this fire is all different.

“Oh cat got your tongue now, princess? for once you don't have a stuck up comment to make hm?” She steps closer to you, looking down to where her sweatshirt hangs from your fingertips.

“Put my sweatshirt back on me.”

The words make your mouth go slack, finally mustering up the courage to speak. “Fuck off, Ellie.”

“Im serious,” her hair is more messy now, strands falling in front of her face as she stares at you. “You made me take it off for you, so now you can put it back on me. Fair is fair, princess.”

“You can’t be serious,” you scoff, shaking your head at the suggestion.

“You do it or I go out there, tell the frat hosting that you’re a crazy bitch who spilt her drink on me. You and your sorority sisters would get blacklisted from every party before those pretty eyelashes could even blink.”

It's a threat. A threat to your power, the social standing within your group and the general university. A threat to your ego as a whole, the thought you would be the cause of something like that. It also was a quick reminder that no matter what you said to her at these parties, she was the one with the power. You could insult and poke at her all you wanted.. but Ellie was the one with half of the people out in that room down the hallway wrapped around her finger. Her.. business determined that.

You purse your lips, meeting the green eyes staring at you again. It's another fight for power. Seeing who will crack under the tension first. You find yourself noticing the freckles that dust her face again, and a small red mark on her cheek you had not really paid attention to before. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and you look away in defeat.

Ellie knows she won, stepping even closer to you, enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of her. It does something to you that you wouldn’t like to admit, your knees going ever so slightly weak. She pushes a fallen strand of auburn hair back behind her ear while waiting for your next move.

It comes a second later, shuffling the sweatshirt in your hand to the right position, leaning forward to push the hoodie part over Ellie’s head, fingers shaking when they brush against her bare shoulder. You can't admit to yourself that it isn’t because of some annoyance that you were reacting like this. She helps a bit when you drag the sweatshirt down her chest by pushing her arms through the sleeves.

When it's finished, you both linger for a moment, your nails still near her waistline. It only ends when she steps back, gaze still set on you.

“You gonna say sorry?” she asks, eyebrow raising expectantly.

You shake your head. “Fuck. Off.”

Ellie tsks, watching your every movement. She didn’t ignore how your eyes had been all over her tonight, how you couldn’t look away when her shirt was off. And god, what would be a better way to win whatever this was than taking what she wanted from you.

“Cmon, you know I was right about what I said,” she steps around you and then forward, smiling as you continue to back away everytime she gets closer. when the back of your leg hits the bed, you stop. “You do need to get fucked, might make you a little less miserable to be around.”

Her voice has fallen more quiet, a little something new to the way she spoke.

“But you don’t want one of those dicks outside to do it, do you?” it's accusatory when it's said, enough to make you realize where this conversation was going.

God, you would never admit it out loud. not even to yourself. Everytime you avoided a guy’s advance to instead bicker with Ellie all night. The times you insulted her about something because it made you warm all over, like a certain hairstyle or shirt. You blamed her a lot for annoying you, for those jokes she makes— for how she bothers you. But in honesty, you just hated that you couldn’t look away. Not from her face, her hands, the way she smokes, or spreads her legs open when she sits. It’s absolutely infuriating how much you think of her. But you had always kept it deep enough to not think about it until she brought it up herself.

“No, that's why you always turn them down.. why you always look at me after you do. God, you don't even realize it do you?” A shocked sort of chuckle escaped her lips, like she couldn’t believe this realization either. Her finger moves to a strand of your hair that must have fallen while you chased after her.

“You want me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you princess? That's why you are always such a little priss, isn't it. Get you so hot and bothered you just can't help but be mean?”

When you don't answer, Ellie reaches forward quickly to grab your wrist, gaining your attention. “Answer me.”

“No- I don’t fucking want you Ellie,” you choke it out, like it burned your throat to say. It was worse than a shot of whatever they had outside this door.

“If you don’t want me, then walk away right now. But this is your only chance. No more after this. You can't get one of those asshole frat guys instead. No more entertaining the little arguments you start. No more ignoring when you stare at m-“

You can't even let her finish her words before you crash forward, meeting her lips in an immediately messy kiss. She swears against your lips before dropping your wrist, arms instead moving to your hips, pressing you flush against her body. You want to pull away, regain the control you so desperately cling to— want to run off and out of the party.

But once the kiss deepens, once her tongue swipes against your lips.. you’re a goner.

You whimper when she bites your bottom lip harshly, and she swallows the sound with another burning kiss. You pull her to fall back onto the bed with you, and she immediately manhandles you further onto the bed, taking position over you and not apologizing when your head slams roughly into the headboard.

“Asshole,” you whine, she digs her fingers into your hip to shut you up as her teeth drag down to your neck, wet kisses and small bites pressing there until she finds the spot that makes you shiver, hand slapping against her arm, pretty nails pressing into the skin.

She bites harder, pulling a louder yell from you. She then sucks over the spot, soothing it with another swipe of her tongue. The throbbing feeling will no doubt result in a mark— and Ellie seems to know exactly that.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” she mumbles against your skin as she sucks another spot, controlling your hips with one hand when they try to buck up.

“All those other girls are gonna know when you wake up with these littered all over your neck tomorrow-“ another bite. “Gonna know what happened, what the perfect little sorority girl did with me.”

The comment draws another noise from you, and the heat pools between your legs, embarrassingly turned on by the thought of that humiliation sure to follow walking out of this room later. You can feel your panties going damp when she doesn’t let up the assault on your neck and collarbone.

You can smell the weed on her when her head dips closer to you again, and for once you don’t mind it. You meet her lips, shaky hand still gripping at the inked skin of her arm.

She's so controlled in her movements, enjoying how you are already a squirmy mess, enjoying how she has control. It's nothing like the Ellie she was in public, loud and joking. No, she was completely serious and calculated with every single swipe of her finger, every movement of her lips. One hand roughly goes to your chest, pushing up your shirt above your breasts, not bothering to even do the kindness of taking it off all the way.

“Mm, no bra?” Ellie questions mockingly, pulling back from your wet lips— acting like she hadn’t noticed the lack of one the moment you turned to face her at this damn party.

You shake your head, reduced to little words.

Ellie watches you carefully, at your puffy lips, at the way your perfect hair is now falling in chunks against the pillow. God, what a sight. You, untouchable and pristine.. reduced to being fucked on a stranger’s bed in a frat house. By her.

“Want me to touch you here?” she questions, fingers ghosting over your nipples.. smiling when they pebble at the softest touch. Your back arches, searching for more skin to skin as you nod quickly.

“Nuh Uh- words, princess, need you to say it.”

You glance at her, one side of you fighting against this feeling of submission you can feel yourself falling into. In an act of defiance, your hand comes up and over her larger one, pressing it down against the skin of your breast, breathing out a moan instead of answering her question.

This however was a bad idea, and she immediately pulls completely back, quick to grab your face harshly between her palm. “You fucking brat,” Ellie seeths, your lips pressing open just slightly at how hard she is pressing her hand. The roughness only makes you wetter, and you attempt to squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction.. but Ellie is faster, slotting a knee in between your legs as she looks down at you, free arm holding herself up.

“No, you don’t get anything from me, no relief for that throbbing feeling you have im sure,” she says it so cockily that you think you may melt into the sheets beneath you. “Not till you admit you want me. Admit you want me to touch you.”

Your face burns a bright red, angry and embarrassed at the same time. You tried to avoid this admittance, ready to die on the hill to protect your already bruised ego.

But then Ellie moves her knee slightly, a shock goes straight through your core. Even the smallest movement had you trying to push down against her needily. She squeezes your face harder. “Just say it, I can make you feel so much better if you just admit it.”

The line your dignity was tiptoeing on is fraying, taken over by the bowling ball amount of weight from the desire in your stomach. The second her knee moves again, the string breaks.

“Please,” you beg, watching as Ellie’s eyes light up at the words, “Ellie I want you to touch me.”

Ellie smiles, reveling in how embarrassed you look. “Where baby?”

You suck in a breath, too far gone to keep fighting, “my pussy, please, please Ellie.. need you to.”

You’re squirming all over now, whining and feeling your throat tighten. Your lip gloss is all over your (and Ellie’s for that matter) chin, and your shirt is still just pushed over your chest. It makes Ellie shake her head. “God, you look pathetic. What happened to you hm? Where’s that put together girl you love to brag about being?”

Any words to snap back die in your throat, her mean tone is making your mind too foggy. The way you are totally at the mercy of her body, of the way she talks to you.. It’s addicting. The feeling of letting go of that control and power you hold so tightly onto.. It's almost as good as the sensation of her knee starting to move more regularly against your center.

“You look like a whore,” she laughed meanly. You are sure it’s true, your skirt is falling down, your hair has snapped out of its tie. Her hand lets go of your chin, and you move your mouth slightly at the soreness. The freedom is short- lived however, and two fingers are tapping your cheek soon after.

“Open,” Ellie says, smiling when you do so immediately. “See, it's not hard to be a good girl.”

She sinks the two fingers into your waiting mouth, one quick demand to, “Suck,” is all you need to close your mouth around them.

You aren’t careful about it, drool seeping out the corner of your mouth when she starts thrusting the fingers in and out slightly, watching in amusement as she curls her long fingers slightly, making you gag. “So fucking messy,” she mumbles.

Her pupils are just as blown out as yours when she speaks again, pulling her fingers out after deeming they were wet enough. A line of spit follows, connecting to your lips.

She wipes the excess across your face, furthering that deep embarrassment that builds in you. “‘m gonna fuck you now, princess.”

She says it as she makes you sit up with her on the bed, arm pulling to set you up how she wanted, knees tucked under your thighs on each side of her lap. You let her push and tug you around— fully dumbed out for her at this point. Desperate for some relief.

her fingers play with your skirt for a moment, and you both watch intently as they disappear under it. You push into her, earning a quick look. “Be good,” the girl demands.

You stop your movements, mumbling something Ellie can't understand. The pad of her finger slides over your clothed slit— humming at the wet feeling.

“You’re fucking soaked,” she shook her head, “All from what? Cause I was mean to you? Just from my knee, baby? How pathetic.”

Another whine rips from your throat, head falling to her shoulder. She shrugs it to force your head up again. “Want ya to look at me while I do this,” she explains— green eyes now mostly black as they meet your own. You nod, trying to please her enough for the next move.

“Atta girl..” she praises.

Your panties are pushed to the side as she sinks a singular finger into you— both of you moaning at the feeling. You’re so warm and tight around her that she gets dizzy, a warmth pooling in between her own legs. But tonight, It was about you. It was about proving who had the control here.. who could make you feel so good.

“Fuck,” you blubber, not getting a chance to savor the feeling before shes moving it in and out quickly, and then she is adding another finger.. and a minute after that, another. It's stretching you so well, so perfectly that you swear you could come right there. But you don’t, eyes set on her own— a hard look on her face as she watches your reactions. She leans closer, wanting to hear every little breath, every whimper.

“What would they think, hm?” Ellie huffs, pressing further into you. “All those frat boys who eye you up at every party,” she adds with a particularly hard thrust. “What do you think they would say if they found out it was me you got up that pretty little skirt first?” She whispers against your ear. Each word is emphasized with a press of her fingers, each rougher.. deeper, than the last.

You can feel your cheeks burning, and you blink away the tears welling in your eyes. You can't help the reaction— it's too much. She’s too much. The feeling is stealing all coherent words and thoughts from your mind— making you a teary and whining mess.

It made a fire flick in Ellie’s lower stomach— knowing she was the cause of pristine, pretty, perfect you— looking so messy. So fucked out. All from just her fingers. From her words.

“Too dumb to answer?” she teases, “too drunk on my fingers to even say anything?”

You shake your head like it isn’t true, and she slows her hand. You shake, trying to thrust yourself down onto them.

“Tell me then princess, tell me none of them could fuck you like this. No one could get you this fucking pathetic other than me.”

Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks now, lip quivering as you search for more friction. “Please, please el,” you cry, “No one else no one else, just you-“

All of your words slur together, and your nails dig into Ellie’s shoulder enough to make her hiss. The answer seems good enough, and she resumes her quick and harsh movements, fingers curling to hit that spot that made your mouth fall open, tears dripping past your lips.

“Fuck yea, only me,” she groans, your words pushing her to make you come even more now, thumb rubbing against your clit. It coaxes downright pornographic noises from you. Ones that someone had to have heard. You don’t give a fuck though, not right now.

“M’ gonna come,” you whine, face falling to Ellie’s shoulder again, pressing your nose into the crook of her neck. This time Ellie allows it— too focused on the wet sounds of her fingers moving in and out of you under the now ruined skirt.

“Alright baby, you can come,” Ellie coos— finally showing a bit of kindness to you as you clench around her fingers. “Come for me, princess.”

The cord in your stomach snaps, and you have to bite at Ellie’s neck to stop from screaming. The orgasm hits you like a fucking train, shaking harshly.

Ellie works you through it, mumbling compliments against you. “So pretty, so messy and perfect for me,” she hums. When she is sure you have calmed down enough, she slowly pulls her fingers out, and then lays you back against the bed. You sink into the mattress, cheeks red and wet with tears. She admires you, messy fingers pressing to her own lips to get a taste. The flavor of you, god Ellie thinks she may be addicted. She sucks her fingers clean and for a moment debates ringing another orgasm out of you with her tongue. But the look on your face, how tired you look.. she decides to save it for another time.

For now she stands, searching around until she finds the attached bathroom, disappearing into it.

Your eyes search for her, feeling needy. “El-“ you whimper.

“I'm just getting a rag to clean you up baby,” she explains from the open door— and you relax when she walks back out with a warm small rag.

She joined you back on the bed, coaxing your legs open as she very carefully cleans you off. The friction makes more tears drop from your eyes.

“Aw princess,” she pouts— wiping with her other hand to get the tears off of your cheek and drool off your chin. “So pathetic looking.. so pretty.”

The switch between praise and degradation makes you dizzy again, eyes closing for a second.

When shes done cleaning you up, you grab her wrist when she tries to stand. “ w’nna make you feel good el,” you beg. It takes Ellie a moment to match your whiny voice to that of the girl she knew outside of this bedroom, but when she comes back to reality— she shakes her head.

“Later baby, promise. You’re too tired, wanna get you back to your place.”

The promise to not just abandon after this makes your heart twist in your chest, that cold front that Ellie put on while fucking you straying away now.

You nod, letting Ellie help you sit up.

“Ready to walk through that door?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

A tired laugh bubbles in your throat just at the thought, cheeks hot all over again.

“Yea. Yea, I’ll just say we got into a fist fight.”

“Fucking brat.”

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey cats, I was the one who sent you that anon that's alright with me, I don't mind but is an gen z reader yeeted to the dc verse be okay? I could picture Bruce almost growing white hair because of reader who is an epitome of ✨unhealthy coping mechanism✨

Oh yeah, a reader just yeeted in there... Some universe doing some shit and Bruce adopts him... While also losing his mind. I love it. Lets go. It's a bit short, but... I like it.

Summary: (Y/N) is Gen Z. Bruce is loosing his mind.

Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms, Gen Z ones at that.

Bruce knew that each generation is different. They have different opinions, don't like to be told what to do exactly, although that's more specific to the newer generations. That is something that Bruce knew all to well. Gen Z wanting to have a balance between work and personal business. Bruce could respect that. But one other thing that shocked Bruce about Gen Z is the fact they have so many unhealthy coping mechanisms.

How would Bruce know?

He has adopted a teen who simply got, according to Jason and other younger heroes, yeeted into their universe. Universe where Justice League and it's heroes are real. And where DC comic universe is real. (Y/N) was forced to explain to the entire Justice League what DC is, what does it contain. And that has only applied to comic books. Then he had to explain cartoons, movies, video games... Absolutely everything.

Bruce found it to be interesting, the entire multiverse essentially, all of them are carefully planned out... Bruce found them to also be a great source of information. What to avoid, what to do... It was an incredible well of information and has decided to investigate this even more.

And while doing so, keep (Y/N) close to make sure that he has the information he needs.

And while (Y/N) is a nice kid, he has some unhealthy... Coping mechanisms as he calls them.

First one being jokes. Humor is something that can help a person if they feel down. Or if they simply want to deflect. And (Y/N)'s sense of humor is rather... Dark, to say the very least. Bruce would more often than not get gray hairs if he heard (Y/N) joking about his will to live being gone. He knows that (Y/N) is not suicidal... Right?

Humor is simply used to deflect... Right?

Bruce didn't quite like how (Y/N) was chronically online. Sure, teens spend time on their phone, but this is borderline an addiction. Bruce has tried to solve the problem with putting restrictions, taking the phone away. Put settings that don't allow (Y/N) to be online from certain times. That was to try to make (Y/N) sleep better, since he's clearly online into the late hours of the night.

Bruce simply wants the only child in the house who is not on patrol to have a normal sleeping schedule. Is that a crazy thing to ask for? It should be a normal thing to ask for, right? Being chronically online is far from good. Far, far, from good.

Also, hyper fixation.

(Y/N) was more invested in fiction rather than reality. Which would be fine. If it didn't interfere with his life. In what way, I might hear you asking? He's been neglecting his hygiene, gets angsty and anxious if he is not near his hyper fixation. Bruce never knew that Gen Z is this... Bruce shouldn't say annoying, but this was getting out of hand. Rather fast.

Bruce had to take action.

Otherwise he would get a lot more grey hairs. Way more. Way more.

" (Y/N), go to sleep. " Bruce pleaded, suited up and ready to go on patrol, however, he can't go, knowing that (Y/N) won't go to sleep. And everyone needs their 7 to 9 hours of sleep. Besides Bruce and the boys that are... On their night job. To put it mildly.

" I'm not tired Bruce. "

A common response in the most recent days from (Y/N) to Bruce.

" I swear to God, I'll sedate you with ketamine if you don't go to sleep. I'll knock you out with it to the point you'll be sleeping for days. " Bruce threatened and then came the infamous two words.

Alright, bet.

Bruce was seeing red at the mere thought of those words. They were both taunting and dismissive. Not something to be saying to an already stressed father anyway. And while Bruce has grown to love (Y/N) as his son, he was going to lose his mind with him.

" Alright, here's a deal. You go to sleep and sleep through the night and I'll take you to see your favorite artist. "

(Y/N) tilted his head, frowning.

" Promise? "

" I promise you. I swear it to you. I'll get you VIP tickets. I'll make sure to take you myself and pull strings. But for the love of God and everything else, go to sleep! "

[igotanidea]

Cracking: Damian Wayne x reader

part 5 of "Family rules" series.

He was going mad.

For a girl.

Nothing he ever thought would happen to someone like him.

A guy raised by assassins and Batman, who was used to putting his feelings at bay if even having any.

And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It was impossible for someone as perceptive as Robin himself to miss her paleness and sadness. At least whenever he was near. 

And avoiding him at any cost.

And – as it usually happens – the teachers were completely oblivious to the situation and that was about to be the source of a hell of a problem for both Damian and Y/N.

“Pairs? What do you mean we’ll be working in pairs?!” she exclaimed at one history lesson upon hearing the great idea of their tutor.

“Is that such a horror for you, Y/N?” the teacher smiled through the glasses and in any other situation it would be almost benevolent but not this time.

“Yes!”

“Well I am afraid the class has already divided so you just have to comply.”

“But—”  she spun around and groaned both internally and externally upon realizing that her little outburst only left her one person to work with. “Fucking great…” she muttered noticing Damian swinging casually on his seat, not having a single care in the world.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

“I’m not working with him!”

“Getting scared, Y/L/N?” Damian smirked, knowing well how to use the opportunity. He’s been trying to talk to her for the last two weeks since that little beating in the hallway but she was surprisingly skilled in disappearing in thin air. And since he was also a teenage boy, mocking and teasing seemed the only way to reach his goal.

“Pff!” she scoffed, crossing arms over his chest. The need to prove herself superior to him was fighting with an iron resolve to forget his existence.

“Y/N, sit down now and do not make a scene. I do not understand what’s been happening to you lately.” The teacher instructed, clearly losing patience with one of the best students.

“Fine…” she muttered, plumping on the chair as far from Damian as possible, still grumpy, hardly even listening to the teacher’s instructions on the task.

“Fate definitely has a wicked sense of humor huh, Y/L/N?”

“Can you just shut up?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, no shit genius.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

“Well I am asking so clearly I do.”

“You don’t really strike me as a caring type, Wayne.”

“Maybe not by your definition. Not my fault you are so conceited you mess up care and selfishness.” He mocked.

“What did you say?” Y/N hissed

Damian smirked. This was the exact reaction he was trying to get out of her.

“You call me selfish, you little prick?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “You piece of shit. You look down on everybody because you are fucking Wayne and you dare reflect all your fucking traits onto me!?”

The girl didn’t even notice how her voice got louder and how she was suddenly standing instead of sitting and quietly working on the task. She missed the fact that she was making a scene for the whole class to see, once again dragging all the attention to herself. And once again the reason for her emotional outburst was Damian Wayne. Who she hated with all her heart. Who made her act like a fool and clearly – bring out the worst of the good girl she always considered herself to be.

“Who do you think you fucking are?!” Her self-control was now completely gone “You think you can just do whatever you fucking want and have zero consequences coming from it!?”

Thank god the phones were not allowed in classes cause at this moment she would definitely end up being a meme on social media.

“Y/N!” the teacher finally woke up from the shock that her transformation brought upon everyone. “Enough! Principal’s office. Now. In fact – “ he looked around, his gaze landing on Damian. “Both of you.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong. There is no basis for me to go –” Damian stated with the most cold voice he could produce.

“I don’t care!” the teacher seemed to finally lose his cool “you two are trouble and I’m not having either in my class. Now off you go. Out!” he pointed to the doors and with exchanged hateful glances Y/N and Damian decided to obey. Part of the reason was also the fact that they both knew they were in full capacity to drive the principal crazy just by showing up on the doorstep to his den.

***

“The hell is wrong with you?” he muttered as soon as they were out the door and on the empty hallway.

“Oh, me? You are the one who seems to be constantly looking for my attention.”

“And why do you think that is?” The sudden change in his tone took her by such a surprise she stopped and dared to do something that did not happen in a few weeks. She looked at him. More precisely, into his eyes. And in them, she saw something she did not like. At all.

Emotions.

Pain.

Confusion.

Embarrassment.

Affection!?

“Damian…” she gulped heavily trying to clear her head and calm her rapidly beating heart.

“You are annoying. Unnerving.” He hissed, his eyes fixed on hers “Messed up. I don’t understand you. You are a mystery I cannot crack. And it’s making me angry.”

If he was a normal person he would probably clench his fists right now.

“Then why don’t you just leave me alone?!”

“Stop yelling.” Damian grabbed her hand and dragged her into the nearest empty classroom so that no one would catch them causing disturbances in the hallway. “How come for years we didn’t care about each other and now we can’t seem to be within five feet distance without fighting?”

“Oh please!” she scoffed leaning on the door “Care? Have you been reading a dictionary and learning new words?”

“You are getting on my nerves here Y/L/N.” Damian took a step closer to her trying to look menacing and as much Robin-like as possible.

“Then let me ask you again – why don’t you fucking leave me alone!?”

“Because I can’t!”

There. The armor cracked and even though he barely said anything it felt awful. He exposed himself. Showed his weak points to the enemy.  Lost on his own wish.

For a moment his words seemed to echo from the empty walls of the classroom, the air filled with tension.

“You’re not even trying are you? Damian?” her voice was surprisingly quiet and soft, even to herself.

“No…” he confessed, unable to fight against those e/c eyes fixed on his face “no… no, I am not trying.”

“Damian…”

“Please…” now he was so low as to stoop to begging. And it was humiliating. Downgrading. Scary. “Please don’t run from me, Y/L/N. You are driving me mad.”

All it took was one more look. One more exchange of glances filled with mixed emotions.

And they were back to that gala night.

The classroom was gone, the school forgotten and all that mattered was holding her close, preventing her from running away and that strange, strange, unknown feeling in his chest.

Everything important in this moment came down to the feeling of his arms around her, hearing his heartbeat against her ear and calming the storm of the emotions neither of them understood.

For some reason, simply holding onto each other felt like a peace amongst the storm. Like a lighthouse guiding them to safe haven amongst the families feud and last-names competition.

“What are we gonna do-?” he was the one to cut the silence, the weight of questions pressing onto his shoulders making him speak before he could think about the consequences of his doubts.

“I don’t know-“ said implications took form of her pulling back from him “I don’t know Damian-“

“Don’t go-“ with the reflex of a vigilante Damian gripped her arm causing her to whimper in pain. “Y/l/n? You good? What happened?” The strength he used was definitely not enough to make her react like this.

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing!” she responded quickly trying to wriggle away. Too quickly. Quickly enough to make him suspicious and ignoring her protest to push him to roll her sleeve a little.

“What--?” the words died in his throat as he noticed the purple bruise on her forearm.

“It’s nothing!” she yanked free “you had no right!”

“I’m –” Damian stuttered. He messed up again.

“You’re a prick!”

“I’m sorry! But if we’re about to do- this-“ it was impossible to use the word concerning possible relationship or anything of sort – “you need to tell me. What happened?”

Y/N hesitated, torn between a lot of mixed things. Could she tell him? Could she not tell him? Every move came with the consequences, almost like she was reduced to a figure on the chessboard, constantly moved by someone else. Without any power to control her own life.

But one thing was certain.

Some things and some feelings were worth protecting.

And that’s why she had only one way of surviving.

“I can’t.” she whispered with a sad, apologetic smile. “I can’t, Damian.” Without missing a beat she leaned forward, kissing him as if trying to sweeten the bitter words. Pulling everything she had into the brief contact of lips on lips, like a silent apology of putting him through the mess.

Before Damian realized what was happening he was kissing her back, pulling her close, caressing her back, in his own way trying to show her he was going to protect her. But what did he know? He was only 17 with zero power to shape reality. And when he felt her slip from his grasp and losing her warmth against him that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

But it didn’t mean he was going to give up.

Not now. Not ever. Not until she explicitly told him she didn’t want him.

***

 “How was school today?” her father asked her as soon as she stepped over the door to home. There was no denying Mr Y/L/N became very interested in his daughter's progress at school.

“It was normal.” Y/N couldn’t care less about his fake concern, trying to walk past him and get into her room.

“Ah! Not so fast, young lady. Did you do what I asked of you?”

“No.” The girl frowned, putting hands on her hips in a poor attempt at a power pose.

“No?”

“No!”

“Then I suppose we have to have the talk again, don’t we, little girl?”

She was in deep trouble that seemed to have no end….

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali @emmalove1111 @crookedmakerfury @herondale-lightworm @itzjustj-1000 @ginger24880 @anonymousmuffinbear @adharawitch @jasons-little-princess @sharkybabydoll @cupids-diner @whydoyoucare866 @ladychibirae

[rassicas]

Do we know of any plot holes/retcons?

There are some. like god ROTM is littered with plot holes. but instead of getting into that. how about i talk about some s1 sunken scrolls. Scroll 21 stands out to me as Weird

"What is this? It looks like the proprietor of that shoe shop! Could there have been an ancient creature that consumed prawns as food?! A terrifying thought indeed..."

from this description we're supposed to take this as -the text here isnt inkling language and is just a gibberish stand in for a human language -inklings dont eat tempura or know what it is, and find it scary

in s1 times with how little we actually knew about splatoon's worldbuilding, people did take this at face value. then s2 gave us tempura food truck and other info about how normally seafood is consumed in the splatoon world. so either this was retconned, or it was always intended to be a joke but was too ahead of its time for an audience that knew nothing about the setting.

Here's another scroll i find odd...

"Since time immemorial, a rare type of electric catfish known as the Zapfish has been prized by Inkling society as a source of energy. In fact, the entire city of Inkopolis is powered by a single 100-year-old Great Zapfish!"

That "entire city of inkopolis" part sounds...off. what do you mean a fish powers the entire city? They have solar energy and wind farms and power eggs though? There's another potential explanation...

Inkopolis Plaza in JP is called ハイカラシティ Haikara City. Unfortunately this same word is also used for referring to the entire city of inkopolis, which has led to translation issues. For example, In the first artbook in english, there are several instances where stages are described as being "near Inkopolis" when the location is clearly in Inkopolis, and what's actually being referred to is Inkopolis plaza. Here, it could be read that just Inkopolis Plaza, which is just a section of the giant city of Inkopolis, is powered by the Great Zapfish. Or, they really do mean the whole city, which makes sense since the Great Zapfish chills in other spots around the city.

Either way, there is some unreliable narration happening here. what percentage of Inkopolis's energy usage comes from zapfish power anyways...?

[whiteraven90]

Your take on griffins is so cool 👀 Do you have worldbuilding notes somewhere? Like what their dynamic is with humans, or what their habitats and habits usually are? I’d love to know more about them!

Hey, thanks for asking! I actually had written a little species description for them, but I shelved it until I draw illustrations for it. However I might as well post it now with less relevant pictures. Who knows when would I get around to drawing those illustrations. First of all... there are no gryphons on Tetra. No mortal ones, just spirits.

Spirits were created by the gods to be sentient blueprints for species. Flora & fauna were created out of chosen spirits (e.g. polar bear, barn owl), and the leftovers were repurposed (e.g. great horned gryphon, common pegasus).

In addition to the whole range of shapes/forms spirits were designed to take as part of nature, they also had their would-be behavioral patterns pre-set into them. So now lets see how the Great Horned Gryphons would have lived!

Great horned gryphons (also simply referred to as 'griffins' from now on) are sexually dimorphic, and live in pairs. They are very resource-conscious - individuals not raised properly may hunt their food sources to extinction, after which they either starve to death or get themselves killed while ravaging the animals of other griffins or humans. Each pair oversees a vast territory filled with wild herd animals. They engage in several behaviors that are basically animal husbandry. They will protect their herds from other predators and even natural disasters. They will herd their animals toward quality food. They can recognize juveniles of many species - humans included -, and will not eat them. They sometimes raise the abandoned offspring of other species, not because they plan to eat them, but because they get a kick out of it. They don't hunt, per se. They hit up one of their herds, select a specimen, and carry it home for lunch. They like to construct their nests atop cliffs and similar high points overlooking their territory.

Their relationship with people is complex (and hypothetical, as is everything else), since people may want to claim the same lands for the same purposes. But typically if they saw a lone human child, just waltzing around on their territory, they'd pick it up and put it down near adult humans. Solitary adult people tend to be safe as well for different reasons. The staple of griffins is large animals, and they like to conserve their energy. Normally they won't get up for 1 lone human nugget.

If an adult pair spots an unrelated juvenile griffin on their turf, they leave it alone, but they don't tolerate mature trespassers or other pairs. They are hostile to all other species of gryphon. Given the opportunity, they will kill and eat them. Great horned gryphons are viviparous and give birth to 1 chick at a time which stays with the parents for several years to learn some manners. Mostly moderation, recognizing important animal species, and caring for their animals. Their lifespan is 40-70 years.

And that's more or less it. At present, great horned gryphons are not plural. There's just one spirit, Griffin, representing the whole species, either until the heat death of the universe or until he bites the dust. Spirits are shapeshifters with a range of native forms as opposed to one original form. They have some rules among them on etiquette, such as when is it ok to take the form of another spirit. Griffin mostly uses his adult male form, and lets Phoenix take his adult female one.

Several of his species' characteristics can be felt in his personality - excels at relaxing, hard to anger or scare, won't hurt kids or pets and is good with them, extraverted, resource-conscious, enjoys having vast lands. His relationship with humans is... complicated. Nowadays he kinda pretends to be a pet at the palace of the emperor of the Karkian Empire, and is banned from or unwelcome in several other countries. Sorcerers summon him sometimes, but the jolly fucker usually charges by the hour for his spirit-y services, and may even screw the summoners over if he doesn't like them.

[chocoqtelle]

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝﹕𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 ♡

you may be called to multiple piles, that's perfectly fine ! remember that not every message may resonate. take what resonates and leave the rest. tarot is not completely certain and things may change. do not use tarot as a replacement for professional advice. divider credit to @sister-lucifer

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄

okayyyy 🤭 seems like someone's self focused right now. you're dodging these desperate mfs and focusing on your finances. you oughta give yourself more credit for that at least. choosing attention from yourself over attention from others is rough. and it's clearly paying off because you are GLOWING. if you've been getting more attention that's why. you're looking better than ever right now. you don't need anyone to take care of you... but if you want that then there's plenty of options. you don't even have to put effort in. it's all self concept. as long as you acknowledge how perfect you are and what you deserve, you'll get exactly that. you've been working hard, clearing out old patterns, all that. so why would you be shocked that things are going well/going to go well? you deserve that! you worked your ass off to get to this point and you act like you didn't sometimes. whatever help you may have got wasn't near as much as you put into yourself. reap your rewards with no shame. this is your well deserved prize.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎

"i don't know if i want her or her" energy. you got options for just about everything. you're in that empress mode (regardless of gender dw.) you're pouring into your creative talents and you're doing great. keep expressing yourself, don't worry about what's weird! it's fun! that's what matters. you could have some annoying exes/haters and honestly just take it as an ego boost. they're obsessed with you for a reason. but isn't everyone? you don't have to worry about anyone. grabbing for scraps of stardust when you're the star is the life they chose. you, however, have an unlimited source and you should enjoy it. if you're thinking of going bigger with your creative talents/career. you definitely should. you have the talent whether you wanna admit it or not. "what if I fail?" then you can try again or move on. your life won't be over. what if you win? believe in yourself more. believe you'll make it regardless of what happens. if you're worried about money, let it go. god/the universe/spirit guides/ancestors/whatever applies will take care of it. just trust things will work and opportunities will reach you soon. you could have that perfect duality too is what I'm hearing. geek girl vibes (it's on Netflix still, I think.)

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

the body is BODYINGGGGG. if you don't know that, you must be blind. and don't start talking about some "but hip dips 😖 but tummy but-" nobody in real life cares about that. if it's your body, it's nice and loveable by default. you're like the "airport girl" phenomenon where people see the prettiest person ever at a random place then never see them again and they're just haunted by their beauty. you're probably resting right now but make sure you're not rotting. it's good to still take care of yourself. I don't know if you're insecure or not, but if you are I will personally come through the screen and yell at you (affectionately.) because you are so gorgeous. pinterest level pretty. moodboard pretty. poetry pretty. you could have people writing like "her bosoms jiggled gracefully in the wind like hanging grapes." 😭 being pretty is one thing but being kindhearted on top is just extra. sweet and pretty??? fine you win 😒 save some beauty for the rest of us. you could also be an Aphrodite devotee or benefit from reaching out to her :)

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (8)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For all the chapters visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 400+

- Previous chapter: 7

- Next part: 9

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The next day, the sun was already setting when you returned to the Red Keep, your muscles sore from the long flight on Silverwing. The day spent soaring through the skies had provided you with the solitude you so desperately needed. The wind, the open air, and the distant landscape below had been a temporary balm for the weight pressing on your mind. Yet, as you dismounted Silverwing in the Dragonpit and made your way back to your chambers, the problems that you had left behind now felt even heavier.

The familiar smell of ash and dragon musk clung to you as you opened the door to your quarters. The moment you entered, you saw her—Rhaenyra—waiting for you. She was seated near the hearth, her arms crossed, and though she said nothing at first, her silence spoke louder than any words. The anxiety in the room was palpable, and you immediately sensed her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

You paused by the door, watching her, trying to gauge her mood. She didn’t look at you when you entered, and it was clear that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, and you finally spoke, your voice calm but cautious. “Rhaenyra,” you said, stepping further into the room, “I can see you’re upset.”

She turned her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Upset?” she echoed, her voice sharp with bitterness. “No, dear brother, I’m not upset. I’m furious.”

You let out a quiet sigh, understanding the source of her anger but unsure how to respond. “I didn’t mean for it to come across that way,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “But I needed to clear my head.”

“Clear your head?” Rhaenyra’s voice rose as she stood up, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “How convenient for you. You can fly away whenever the problems here become too much. But I am left behind, stuck with all of it.”

You frowned, moving closer to her, though you kept your distance, allowing her the space to speak. “That’s not what I intended,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to leave you to deal with it alone. But… I don’t know how else to handle this right now. I needed to think.”

Rhaenyra let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest. “And what did you think about, then? Did you come to any great revelation while flying above the clouds?”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “No,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I’m still not sure. But I know I have to do something. We can’t keep going like this.”

Her eyes flashed with frustration, and she took a step closer, her expression filled with both anger and a deep sense of hurt. “When, then? When will you do something? After they’ve married us off to people we don’t even care about? After we’ve been torn apart and used as pawns for alliances?”

You felt the sting of her words, and it only fueled the fire burning inside you. You had thought about this endlessly, turning the problem over and over in your mind, but the answers were elusive. The weight of your responsibilities to the realm was crushing, but the thought of losing her—of losing what the two of you shared—was unbearable.

“I won’t let that happen,” you said, your voice firm with resolve.

Rhaenyra scoffed, her frustration evident. “How can you promise that? Do you even know what you’re fighting against?”

You stepped closer to her, the distance between you closing, and before she could pull away, you reached out, gently cradling her face in your hands. Her skin was warm beneath your touch, and though she stiffened at first, she didn’t pull away.

“I know what I’m fighting for,” you whispered, your eyes locking onto hers. “I’m fighting for you. For us.”

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched slightly, the anger in her eyes softening, though the frustration still lingered. She wanted to believe you—needed to believe you—but the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on her heart.

“You can’t make promises you can’t keep,” she murmured, her voice faltering slightly.

“I can,” you insisted, your thumb brushing her cheek gently. “And I will. I won’t let them marry us off to others. I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Before she could respond, you leaned in, pressing your lips to hers in a deep, lingering kiss. The tension in the room seemed to dissolve as your mouths met, the heat between you reigniting the bond that had been tested by the pressures of the realm. Her arms uncrossed, and she slowly melted into the kiss, her hands finding their way to your shoulders, holding onto you as if grounding herself in the only thing that felt certain—this moment.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, your breath mingling with hers. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, the fire in them was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that she rarely showed.

“You’re all I have,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

“And you’re all I need,” you replied, your voice steady and full of the conviction you felt.

The silence that followed was not heavy like before. It was filled with understanding, with the unspoken promise that, despite the forces trying to pull you apart, you would fight for each other.

The sun streamed through the narrow windows of the small council chamber, casting long rays of light across the polished table where King Viserys sat, surrounded by his closest advisors. The atmosphere was lively, a stark contrast to the usual tension that filled the room during discussions of politics and war. This time, the subject at hand was one of celebration, as the annual festival of The Maiden's Day approached—a cherished tradition that honored the Maiden, one of the Seven, with grand festivities throughout King’s Landing.

Viserys leaned back in his chair, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He always enjoyed the planning of this festival. For a few days, the court could set aside its burdens and enjoy the excitement of tourneys, feasts, and pageantry. The people of the realm, too, celebrated with dancing, music, and markets that filled the streets.

“This year must be grander than the last,” Viserys said, tapping his fingers against the table in thought. “The people need a celebration to lift their spirits. The war in the Stepstones has dragged on, and with the tensions rising in the realm, we must remind them of the peace and prosperity we still have.”

Tyland Lannister, ever the pragmatic voice on the council, leaned forward slightly. “Your Grace, if I may suggest… the people are fond of displays of power and grandeur, particularly when it involves dragons. Perhaps the prince could open the festival with a flight on Silverwing? It would be a grand gesture—one that would certainly captivate the smallfolk.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment as the other council members considered it. Viserys’s expression shifted into one of contemplation, his fingers still tapping lightly against the table. The thought of you, his son and heir, leading the festival’s opening with a dragonflight was certainly an idea he hadn’t considered before. The people of King’s Landing adored you, as much for your strength in battle as for your dragon, Silverwing, whose presence alone inspired awe.

“The prince,” Viserys mused aloud, glancing at Tyland. “Yes, that would certainly appeal to the people.” He turned his attention to Otto Hightower, his Hand. “What say you, Otto?”

Otto, ever cautious, stroked his beard as he considered the proposal. “Your Grace, it is an idea with merit. The smallfolk have always been drawn to the spectacle of dragons, and the prince is well-loved. Such a display could certainly bolster the morale of the people.”

Viserys nodded thoughtfully, turning the idea over in his mind. “And what of the safety concerns? A large crowd, dragons in the air… we must ensure nothing goes amiss.”

Tyland waved a hand dismissively. “Your Grace, the people have seen dragons fly overhead before. As long as the proper precautions are taken, it should be perfectly safe. And besides, the sight of Silverwing soaring over King’s Landing would remind everyone of the power of House Targaryen—an image the realm could use right now.”

The other members of the council murmured in agreement, the idea of a public display of dragonriding growing in appeal. Even Lord Lyonel Strong, known for his measured and careful approach, seemed to nod his approval.

Viserys looked around the room, gauging the mood of his council. It was clear they all saw the potential in Tyland’s suggestion. He leaned forward, folding his hands together on the table. “Very well. If my son is agreeable, I see no reason why we shouldn’t proceed with this plan.”

There was a general murmur of approval around the table, and the meeting continued, with various plans being discussed for the festival—jousting tournaments, feasts, and the unveiling of new sculptures in the royal gardens. But as the conversation flowed, your presence became the centerpiece of the event, your flight on Silverwing the crown jewel of the celebration.

Later that day, you were summoned to your father’s chambers. As you entered, the familiar scent of parchment and ink greeted you, along with the sight of Viserys poring over maps and scrolls detailing the plans for The Maiden’s Day festival. He looked up as you approached, a warm smile breaking across his face.

“Ah, my son,” he said, setting the papers aside. “Come, sit with me.”

You took a seat across from him, sensing the excitement in the air. “What is it, Father?”

Viserys leaned forward, his eyes bright with anticipation. “We’ve been discussing the plans for the upcoming festival. The small council has proposed that you lead the opening ceremony with a flight on Silverwing. A grand display for the people.”

You raised an eyebrow, the suggestion catching you off guard. “A flight?” you asked, considering the implications. “You wish for me to fly over King’s Landing?”

Viserys nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! The people love you, and they love dragons. You flying Silverwing over the city to open the festival would be a spectacle like none other. It would remind everyone of the power and majesty of House Targaryen.”

You could see the appeal of the idea. Dragons had always been a symbol of your family’s dominance, and with Silverwing’s grace and power, it would certainly be an unforgettable moment for the people. But there was also a weight to the responsibility—flying before the crowds, representing the strength of your house, was no simple matter.

“I’ll admit, it’s an intriguing idea,” you said after a moment, leaning back in your chair. “But have the safety measures been considered? Large crowds, a dragon in the air… It’s a dangerous combination.”

Viserys waved his hand dismissively. “The small council assures me it can be managed. You’ve flown Silverwing over the city before. This will be no different, only with more eyes on you.”

You sighed, considering the proposition. “I trust Silverwing, but this is no simple display. If anything were to go wrong…”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Viserys cut in, his tone reassuring. “I know you. I know your skill, and I know Silverwing. The people will adore it. And more importantly, they’ll adore you.”

You hesitated for another moment, feeling the weight of his words. You had always felt the eyes of the realm on you, but this would be different. This was a public display of your strength as the future king, a reminder to everyone that the power of dragons was still very much alive.

Finally, you nodded. “Very well. If it pleases the realm and strengthens our house, I’ll do it.”

Viserys beamed, pride shining in his eyes. “Good. It will be a sight to remember, I’m sure of it.”

As you stood to leave, Viserys reached out and clasped your shoulder. “You are the future of this house,” he said softly. “Let them see it with their own eyes.”

You left the room with your father’s words echoing in your mind, the weight of expectation once again settling on your shoulders. The festival, The Maiden’s Day, loomed ahead, and with it, the eyes of the realm would once more be upon you.

The early afternoon sun bathed the gardens of the Red Keep in a soft, golden light. The scent of fresh blooms filled the air as Rhaenyra and Alicent sat together under a large tree, shaded from the warmth of the day. They were surrounded by a few of Rhaenyra’s handmaidens, who busied themselves with sewing and idle chatter. But despite the peaceful scene, there was an undercurrent of tension between the two friends that even the handmaidens could sense.

Rhaenyra was lounging on a cushioned bench, her body relaxed but her mind anything but. She cast a glance at Alicent, who sat more upright, her expression calm yet distant. It had been some time since their last argument, but the lingering awkwardness still clung to the air between them, despite their best efforts to appear unaffected.

“So,” Rhaenyra began, breaking the silence that had settled over them. Her tone was light, but there was an edge to it. “The preparations for The Maiden’s Day festival seem to be progressing well. I hear they’re planning something grand this year.”

Alicent nodded, her fingers absently smoothing the folds of her gown. “Yes, the whole court is buzzing with anticipation. I imagine it will be quite the spectacle.” She glanced at Rhaenyra, her expression neutral, though her mind churned with conflicting emotions. Spending time with Rhaenyra like this used to feel easy, natural, but now… now it felt like walking on a tightrope.

Rhaenyra forced a smile, watching Alicent carefully, noticing the guarded tone in her voice. It had been like this since the council meeting, since the proposal she and her brother had brought before the king. There was something unspoken between them, a silent competition that Rhaenyra couldn’t quite shake. Even though she knew it was her who held her brother’s affection—who shared his secret moments and desires—she couldn’t ignore the way Alicent hovered around him, even if it was under her father’s orders.

She wasn’t blind. She had seen the looks, the subtle glances between Alicent and her brother. And though she trusted him, the knowledge still stung.

“Yes, a spectacle,” Rhaenyra echoed, her voice carrying just the slightest hint of sarcasm. “I hear there’s even talk of my brother flying Silverwing over the city. It’s all anyone seems to be talking about.”

Alicent smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “The people adore him,” she said softly, her gaze shifting toward the gardens, avoiding Rhaenyra’s piercing look. “It makes sense they would want him to lead the festival. He’s… well-loved.”

“Well-loved indeed,” Rhaenyra replied, her tone sharper than she intended. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Alicent, catching the underlying meaning in her words. “But it’s not just the people who admire him, is it?”

The comment hung in the air, and one of Rhaenyra’s handmaidens shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two women. Alicent’s face remained carefully composed, though her fingers stilled on her gown.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Alicent said, her voice soft but firm. She met Rhaenyra’s gaze, holding it with a quiet intensity. “He’s the prince and the heir to the throne. It’s only natural that people admire him.”

Rhaenyra smirked, leaning forward slightly, her voice lowering so only Alicent could hear. “Oh, I’m sure. But let’s not pretend you’re not among them, Alicent.”

The jab was subtle but pointed, and Alicent’s grip tightened briefly on her skirts before she forced herself to relax. She wouldn’t rise to the bait. Not here, not now. “I have great respect for your brother, as I do for you, Rhaenyra,” she said, her tone measured, carefully choosing her words. “But my admiration for him is no different than that of the rest of the court.”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in Alicent’s demeanor. “Of course,” she said, leaning back again, though the challenge in her gaze remained. “I just find it curious how often you seem to be in his company lately. Surely it must be exhausting to spend so much time ensuring his comfort.”

A tense silence followed, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. The handmaidens exchanged awkward glances, clearly feeling the weight of the conversation but unsure of how to respond. One of them coughed softly, trying to break the silence, but it only added to the uncomfortable mood.

Alicent, keeping her composure, straightened in her seat. “I am his sister’s friend,” she said, her voice cool. “It’s only natural that I would be close to your family.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed again, though she kept her smile in place. “Yes, you are my friend, aren’t you? It’s comforting to know that.” The words, though seemingly kind, held a subtle edge to them, one that Alicent didn’t miss.

Alicent nodded once, accepting the veiled barb for what it was. Her own emotions remained carefully guarded, though inside, she felt the sting of Rhaenyra’s words more deeply than she wanted to admit. The two of them had always been close, but since the prince’s return, things had changed. She knew that Rhaenyra was aware of her father’s ambitions, of Otto’s constant push for her to win the prince’s favor. But it wasn’t just Otto’s desires that drove her. There was something more, something she hadn’t even fully admitted to herself yet.

“You know,” Alicent said after a long pause, her voice softening, “I sometimes miss the days when things were simpler between us.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered, the tension in her posture easing just a little. “Simpler?” she echoed, her voice quieter now. “Yes… I suppose things were simpler then.”

For a moment, the two of them sat in a rare silence, the weight of their words settling over them. It was a brief return to the friendship they once had, a fleeting memory of a time before duty, ambition, and jealousy had driven a wedge between them.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come. Rhaenyra, ever proud, wasn’t one to let her guard down for long. She smiled again, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, we must look forward, not back. The Maiden’s Day will be a grand occasion, I’m sure. And we both have our roles to play, don’t we?”

Alicent smiled faintly, though the sadness in her eyes remained. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “We do.”

The soft clinking of metal filled your chambers as your young squire, Trystan Tyrell, worked diligently to prepare your gear for the upcoming events. His small hands moved with precision, fastening the straps of your armor and ensuring that every piece was polished to perfection. You watched him absently, seated in front of the hearth, your thoughts drifting to the constant pressure that had been mounting over the past weeks.

The Maiden’s Day festival loomed ahead, a grand spectacle that demanded your presence, both in the tournament and in the ceremonial dragonflight over the city. But the weight of it all felt suffocating, not because of the duties themselves, but because of the constant dismissal of your true desires by your father and the council.

You let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through your hair as you stared into the flames. The fire crackled softly, but it did little to ease the frustration gnawing at your mind. The preparations for the tournament were nothing new—polishing armor, sharpening swords—but the festival itself, the spectacle of flying Silverwing low over the city, felt like a show, a display meant to dazzle the smallfolk while ignoring the real issues that pressed against you like iron chains.

Trystan, ever focused on his duties, was silent as he worked, but you could sense his presence beside you as he finished with the armor and began laying out your dragonriding gear. The boy had proven himself capable and diligent, qualities you appreciated, though at the moment, your thoughts were too consumed with other matters to engage him fully.

The ceremonial dragonrider gear glimmered as Trystan laid it out piece by piece. The polished leather and intricate silver embroidery (to honor Silverwing) marked your status as heir to the Iron Throne, the sigil of House Targaryen woven into the fabric with precision. Each piece was designed for both protection and spectacle, ensuring that when you flew over King’s Landing, the sight of you on Silverwing would be unforgettable. But the thought of it only served to deepen the knot of frustration in your chest.

Trystan, sensing the tension in the room, finally spoke, his voice quiet but filled with the curiosity of youth. “Your Grace, is something troubling you? You’ve seemed… distracted lately.”

You glanced over at him, his wide, honest eyes searching your face for an answer. You appreciated the boy’s directness, though you weren’t sure how much to share with him. He was still young, after all, and your burdens were not easily explained.

You let out a long sigh and leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just… this festival. These constant celebrations,” you muttered, the frustration evident in your tone. “Every year it’s the same. Grand displays, feasts, tournaments. And for what? To keep the smallfolk entertained while real issues are brushed aside.”

Trystan blinked, clearly taken aback by your bluntness. “But… the people love the festivals, Your Grace. They admire you. They’ll be excited to see you fly Silverwing over the city. It gives them hope.”

You couldn’t help but smile faintly at the boy’s innocence. He saw the festival for what it appeared to be on the surface—a celebration of joy and unity. But there was so much more beneath it, layers of politics and expectations that weighed heavily on your shoulders.

“Yes, they love the spectacle,” you admitted, your voice softening slightly. “But that’s all it is, Trystan. A spectacle. A distraction from the real problems.”

The squire looked thoughtful for a moment, his hands pausing over the straps of your gear. “You mean… the council?”

You nodded, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees. “The council, my father, all of them. They talk of unity, of strength, but when I speak—when Rhaenyra and I offer solutions that could actually benefit our House—they dismiss us. As if we’re children playing at being rulers.”

Trystan frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “But… you’re the prince. They should listen to you.”

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips at the boy’s words. “You would think so. But being a prince means more than just having a voice. It means living under the constant weight of duty. My father… he believes in tradition, in keeping the realm at peace through alliances and displays like this festival. But he doesn’t see what’s really needed.”

Trystan’s eyes widened slightly, and he stood a little straighter. “What is needed, Your Grace?”

You stared into the flames for a long moment before answering, your voice low and filled with conviction. “Change. We can’t keep pretending everything is fine while the realm simmers with threat from all sides. The war in the Stepstones, Dorne’s constant provocations, the internal strife between the great Houses… these are not problems that can be solved with tournaments and festivals.”

The boy remained silent, clearly absorbing your words. His innocence was endearing, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He had always been a bright lad, and though young, he had a keen sense of observation.

Trystan finally spoke again, his voice hesitant but thoughtful. “Do you… do you think the festival is wrong, then? That it’s not worth doing?”

You shook your head, offering the boy a small, reassuring smile. “No, the festival has its place. The people need hope, and they need to see that their leaders are strong. It’s just… it’s hard to focus on such things when I feel that we’re being kept from what truly matters.”

Trystan seemed to understand, nodding slowly as he continued adjusting the gear. “I’m sure the people will appreciate seeing you fly, Your Grace,” he said softly. “They look up to you.”

You sighed again, running a hand through your hair. “Perhaps. But sometimes I wonder if that’s enough.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence as Trystan finished preparing the gear. The ceremonial leathers, embroidered with dragons and silver thread, sat perfectly arranged on the bench beside your armor. The festival, the tournament, the dragonflight—it was all set in motion, and soon you would have to play your part.

As the flames flickered in the hearth, you rose from your chair and walked over to the window, staring out over the city below. The sight of King’s Landing stretched before you, bustling with life and activity. It was a city that depended on you—on your House—to lead. And though you would fulfill your role in the festival, the weight of responsibility and the need for change still pressed heavily on your mind.

Trystan, ever loyal and attentive, stood quietly behind you, waiting for your next command. You turned to him after a moment, your expression softer but still marked with determination.

“Thank you for your help today, Trystan,” you said, your voice filled with gratitude. “I appreciate your hard work.”

The boy bowed his head respectfully. “It’s my honor, Your Grace.”

As Trystan gathered the gear and prepared to leave, you found yourself staring into the fire once more. The festival would come and go, the spectacle would dazzle the people, but the real battles—the ones that mattered—were still to be fought. And you would not let them be ignored any longer.

The sun had barely risen when the streets of King’s Landing came alive with the energy of The Maiden’s Day festival. The morning air was cool but filled with the sounds of bustling crowds, laughter, and the vibrant notes of musicians who had already set up along the cobbled streets. Stalls selling food, trinkets, and colorful garlands lined every avenue, and children ran freely, their faces painted with joy as they darted between groups of excited adults.

The city had transformed into a sea of celebration, with banners hanging from every building, their colors catching the light as they fluttered in the gentle breeze. The smell of roasting meats and freshly baked bread mingled with the scent of flowers being handed out by smiling vendors. The mood was infectious, and even the most serious-faced guards allowed themselves a moment to enjoy the spectacle.

But it wasn’t just the music and laughter that had the people excited. A ripple of anticipation spread through the streets as word began to pass from one group to the next: the prince would be flying Silverwing today. People began craning their necks, eyes scanning the skies, waiting for the moment when they would catch sight of the dragon’s mighty wings.

Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead, casting a brief darkness over the marketplace. Gasps filled the air, followed quickly by cheers as people looked up to see the enormous, gleaming form of Silverwing soaring above them. The dragon’s wings spread wide, catching the morning sun and reflecting a brilliant silver sheen. And there you were, perched atop her back, your figure a regal silhouette against the clear sky.

The crowd erupted into applause, and shouts of excitement rang out as Silverwing dipped lower than expected, gliding gracefully just above the rooftops. The sight of the dragon, so close to the ground, left the people in awe. Mothers clutched their children close, while men raised their mugs in salute, shouting praises to their prince.

“She’s flying so low!” someone in the crowd exclaimed, their voice filled with wonder.

“The prince is showing us his mastery of the skies!” another shouted, their eyes wide with admiration.

Silverwing’s massive wings beat steadily, creating gusts of wind that ruffled the banners and sent hats flying from the heads of those too close. The dragon’s descent over the crowded streets was so precise, so controlled, that it was clear to all just how skilled you were as a dragonrider. The people of King’s Landing had seen dragons before, but never like this—so close, so tangible. It was a reminder of the power and majesty of House Targaryen.

As you guided Silverwing through the city, you could hear the cheers and gasps from below, feel the energy of the crowd pulsing up toward you. Silverwing’s eyes glinted with intelligence, and you could sense her excitement as well. She was always at her best in the air, her wings cutting through the sky with ease, her every movement precise and graceful.

You circled the city twice more, performing a series of slow, sweeping turns. Each time you passed over the main square, the crowds erupted into fresh waves of cheers. Children pointed excitedly, their eyes wide with amazement as they watched the dragon glide effortlessly through the air. You brought Silverwing lower still, her massive tail skimming dangerously close to the rooftops before she ascended again, soaring high above the streets to the delighted roars of the people below.

From your vantage point, you could see the entire city stretched out beneath you—its winding streets, its towers and keeps, the narrow alleyways filled with life and color. But your destination was now clear: the ceremonial pyre that had been prepared in the heart of the city.

Silverwing banked gently to the left, her wings adjusting as you guided her toward the center of the festival grounds. The pyre stood tall in the middle of the square, stacked high with wood and kindling. It was the traditional signal that marked the official opening of The Maiden’s Day festival. Once the pyre was lit, the celebrations would begin in earnest.

As you approached, you whispered softly to Silverwing, feeling the familiar bond between you and your dragon. She let out a low, rumbling growl of understanding, and her chest began to glow with the faint light of dragonfire building within her. The crowds below watched in breathless anticipation as you brought Silverwing lower, her wings barely a few feet above the ground.

And then, in one fluid motion, Silverwing opened her maw and released a torrent of brilliant, orange-red flames. The pyre below was instantly engulfed in dragonfire, the wood crackling and sparking as the flames roared to life. The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a deafening roar of approval. The sight of the flames, the heat radiating from the pyre, and the presence of the dragon overhead—it was a moment of pure spectacle, one that the people would speak of for years to come.

You urged Silverwing upward once more, her wings beating powerfully as she rose above the flames. The fire blazed brightly, a symbol of the festival’s beginning, and the sound of trumpets echoed through the streets, signaling that the festivities had officially commenced.

As Silverwing soared above the city, you glanced down at the faces of the people below—men, women, and children alike, all looking up at you with awe and admiration. The sight filled you with a strange mixture of pride and frustration. Pride for the strength of your House, for the connection you shared with your dragon. But the frustration remained, lingering beneath the surface, because as grand as this display was, you knew it was just that—a display. A performance for the smallfolk, meant to distract from the real issues that weighed heavily on your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts aside as Silverwing carried you further from the square. For now, the people were happy. For now, the celebrations were enough to keep them content. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this—the pageantry, the spectacle—wasn’t enough to solve the deeper problems facing the realm.

As Silverwing glided effortlessly above the city, you made your way back toward the Dragonpit. The cheers of the crowd slowly faded into the distance, but their energy remained with you, a reminder of the power you held—and the responsibility that came with it.

The festival was in full swing, the city below a riot of color and sound. But your mind was already turning toward the future, toward the battles that lay ahead, both on the field and in the halls of power. Today, the people had seen their prince soar above them, a symbol of strength and unity. But tomorrow? Tomorrow would be a different story entirely.