#I saw something regarding seals

[tetsuwan-atom]

Suddenly...

BLAHAJ???

[drunk-person]

Leather gloves, jealous and dragons

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After the moons pass and Aemond and Lady Y/n's marriage becomes increasingly stronger, there is only one creature capable of keeping the prince away from his wife for more than a few hours, Vhagar. Sometimes Y/n cares, sometimes she doesn't, but if there's one thing she never cares about, it's the thick black gloves that her husband wears when he goes flying.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, gloves being used inappropriately (a lot of things have been used inappropriately on this blog lately, I'm talking about you training yard), fingering, clothed sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, no description for reader.

Word cont: 2.900 k

Author's note: Okay, I was just casually scrolling through Aemond's tag when this idea came up, and yes I was writing the bottom half of the fourth chapter of The Gossip, but I HAD to write this story! @peachysunrize I hope you like it, I added some inventions from my head in the middle of it 💕💕. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

Y/n Arryn was a respectable and well-regarded lady, throughout Westeros there were men fighting for her hand as soon as she was old enough to marry. Proposals came from the North, the Rech and even Dorne, but the one that was of most interest to Lord Arryn was the one that came in a black envelope with red edges sealed with the Targaryen family crest.

The hand of the king had proposed marriage between Y/n and his grandson Prince Aemond Targaryen. The young woman felt her heart come to her mouth as soon as her father told her what he had decided, she would marry Prince Aemond in two moons.

The first time Y/n set foot on Kings Landing she was terrified, the idea of marrying a man she barely knew making her thoughts cloudier than water. And when she met Prince Aemond, this terror increased even more, something she didn't think was possible.

He was as scary and taciturn as they had told her, he barely gave her a look and only said two words of courtesy, other than muttering every now and then while looking down on everyone as if he were from a race superior to mere mortals.

Y/n's fear became even more overwhelming after she met Aegon, Aemond's older brother. Her heart ached as she listened to the gossip around the fortress about how he cheated on his wife, how he was always drunk, and how he spent more time in the brothels than in the fortress. Sadness took over her, and she imagined how terrible life itself would be from now on.

How wrong she was.

Things began to change on the night of the wedding when the prince vehemently denied a bed ceremony. Y/n was so nervous, the fear of the nuptials was already consuming her, combined with the fact that other people would be watching it made her tremble, until Aemond denied the ceremony and ripped that fear out of her.

The remaining fear was quickly extinguished when Aemond gently laid her on the bed and made her cry with pleasure in a way she never thought possible. Her hands tangled in his silver strands of hair as he touched her in places that made her blush with embarrassment as she remembered the other day.

From then on, little by little, she got to know her husband and every day she became more grateful for that. He still had that stoic and arrogant air, but now Y/n could see behind it, she saw the small acts of importance he gave her daily.

How he made a point of having at least one meal a day with her, how he asked how her day had been, how every now and then she would wake up after a passionate night and find an arrangement of beautiful flowers on the table in her room. And each of these things from the smallest to the largest warmed her heart until it was completely melted by her husband, to the point where she couldn't wait to be with him.

Little by little Aemond spent more and more time with her, and when they weren't tangled in the sheets so close together that you didn't know where one began and the other ended, they were sitting in the gardens talking, or reading together in some quiet place, or even just quietly enjoying each other's company. At a certain point, the only one who could receive more attention from Aemond than Y/n was Vhagar since he almost always went on long flights with the dragon.

That afternoon in particular Aemond was taking much longer than usual and Y/n was waiting for him impatiently as she walked around the room. He had promised to arrive before sunset so they would have time to walk around the garden, but now the sun had already set and the maids had even lit the candles.

The loud noise of the door suddenly invaded the room and Y/n promptly got up to wait for her husband, as soon as he entered her field of vision Y/n arched her eyebrows ironically.

-Did you decide to show up, husband? - Moons ago Y/n wouldn't have spoken to him in such a way in her wildest dreams, but now she was so familiar with him that she often didn't have as much politeness when speaking.

-I'm sorry, wife. - He said, removing the belt with the dagger and sword and throwing it on the couch. -Vhagar was a little sensitive this afternoon, she tends to want to fly longer distances when she is like this.

Y/n just made a humming sound with her mouth instead of responding, a habit she had picked up from Aemond without even realizing it. However, Y/n couldn't help biting her lower lip lightly when she saw him still wearing his riding clothes, she had never said anything to him, but seeing him returning from the flight always affected her mood and it was almost automatic so that she got excited.

-Wife… - Aemond murmured, approaching Y/n from behind and holding her firmly by the waist. -Are you by any chance jealous of Vhagar… a dragon?

His voice was incredulous and Y/n burned with embarrassment. Before she could respond Aemond laughed, something that rarely happened, which made her blush even more as she tried tried to free herself from his arms.

-You don't need to be embarrassed, I find it very flattering that you feel such appreciation for me to the point of feeling jealous. - He arched his eyebrow, still smiling. - No matter how unreasonable it may be.

-Husband.. - Y/n complained grumpily looking at her feet.

At that point she was no longer red only from the small misbehavior, but also from the thin, rough texture of her husband's riding gloves against her sensitive, soft skin. That was always a problem, she couldn't help but sigh every time she saw Aemond arrive wearing those damn gloves. And when he ripped them off and threw them haphazardly on the table? She felt a pressure between her legs that made her want to jump on him.

-What is it? Why are you all bristling, wife? - Aemond rubbed his hands against her arms and Y/n shivered even more making him arch his eyebrows again.

-They're your gloves, husband. - She said looking at the floor. – They are rough.

-I can take it off if you want. - He spoke, still gently stroking her arms, but after speaking he noticed that his wife lowered her eyes and didn't respond and then, approaching her lips to her ear, he spoke in a low voice, almost making her sigh. - You don't want me to take it off, do you?

-Do you like rougher things, dear wife? - And with the question he ran his hands down Y/n's body and slowly pulled the fabric of the dress up and accumulated them on her hips, making Y/n gasp as she felt the rough gloves passing over her thighs and squeezing them. slowly. Aemond couldn't help but smile when he noticed his wife's reactions to the roughest touch.

-Come here my dear, I'll show you how much I missed you. - He said, pulling her more and more towards him, sitting in one of the armchairs in the room while he placed her on his lap facing the large mirror and guided his hands to his wife's knees, slowly separating her legs, now being able to see the moisture that had formed in her intimacy.

-I haven't even touched you yet, dear wife, and you're already so wet for me. - His delicious voice sounded in her ear as he slowly moved his hands up her thighs, making her desperate for him to get to where she needed him most. The sight of his gloved fingers running up her legs made her roll her eyes with desire.

Aemond smiled mischievously and Y/n held her breath, not knowing where to look. His smile intensified as he brought his fingers to her cunt and at this point Y/n was barely breathing with desire.

Slowly he guided two fingers to her entrance and rubbed gently, pulling some of the moisture concentrated there and taking it to the pearl, which he began to rub languidly, eliciting sighs and moans from Y/n.

-You look so beautiful when you open your legs for me. - He murmured, brushing his lips gently against the shell of her ear, making her let out a louder moan. - So beautiful making these perfect sounds when I've barely touched you yet.

He then moved his fingers down and with a smooth movement that made Y/n roll her eyes, he penetrated just one gloved finger into her cunt. The sight of his finger disappearing inside her as he admired her with that look of pure adoration made her want to cry with desire.

-Very good beautiful girl. - He sighed as he slowly moved his finger teasing her, knowing very well that she needed more. - You always welcome me so well. How about another one?

He had barely asked and Y/n was already nodding her head practically begging for him.

-Such a needy lady my wife is. - He murmured as he inserted another finger inside her, making her moan his name with praise. - I can't leave our bed for a few hours because it becomes a meaningless mess.

Aemond guided his free hand to the front laces of Y/n's dress and pulled them tightly, loosening her wife's neckline more and more until her breasts were exposed to his pure delight, who guided his gloved hand to her erect nipple. of her gently pinching him as he admired her reflection in the mirror.

Meanwhile he moved his fingers slowly inside her and the feeling of the rough fabric of her husband's gloves against her own soft and wet insides made Y/n see stars and sigh in contentment with the double stimulation. As Aemond fucked her with his fingers he found that spongy spot that took her body out of orbit, and when she moaned uncontrollably he smiled even more mischievously against her neck, leaving kisses and bites there, pinching her nipples even more.

-So good husband. - Y/n sighed, leaning on his shoulder.

-You don't know how much I want to fuck you right now. -He murmured, biting her ear and sucking it while he nuzzled his nose in her hair.

Aemond penetrated her third finger making her whimper, but unlike before where he caressed her gently, he now started to get into a rougher rhythm, still slow but with force. And Y/n in turn just clung to his arms as she threw herself back, leaning against her husband's clothed chest, and moving her hips in search of more friction.

-So desperate my wife, throwing herself against my fingers like a beautiful filthy whore. -He brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face when he said that, so that Y/n could see herself better in the mirror, and the sight of her made her moan even louder.

His gloved fingers moving in and out of her cunt, his palm firmly massaging her mound, the fabric of the gloves slightly moistened and a white ring forming at the base of the fingers contrasting strongly with the dark color they possessed. The contractions of pleasure of her cunt crushing Aemond's skilled fingers as he smiled and bit her neck working even harder to coax pleasure out of her, he loved the feeling of her silky walls squeezing around him.

The way he curled his fingers and then moved them in and out made every nerve ending in Y/n burn. The roughness of the fabric was driving her crazy and she wanted so much more, she wanted to be set on fire.

-Husband. - She moaned, arching her back and pressing herself even more against him while turning her neck slightly to face him, taking one of her hands to his hair and removing the eye patch in the process. - I'm so close… so close. Please.

-I like it as much as you implore my dear. - He guided his other hand to her chin and squeezed it tightly, forcing her to keep her eyes exclusively on the mirror's reflection, the rough fabric of the glove making her gasp, while the sight of Aemond's now uncovered sapphire eye made her moan. - But I want you to keep your hungry little eyes on your pussy.

-See how wet she is for me, how well she takes my fingers, you are dripping my dear wife. - The movements became faster and stronger and Y/n felt some tears run down her cheeks as she moaned uncontrollably at the sight of Aemond's gloved fingers buried so deeply in her soaked cunt.

And when he accelerated the movements of both his fingers inside Y/n and his palm against her sensitive pearl, Y/n cried and screamed as she came against his hand, shuddering with pleasure.

Aemond was lost at that scene. He couldn't take his eyes off his wife's cunt writhing against his fingers as her juices oozed out between his fingers. Her face full of pleasure as she screamed and begged for his name was another thing that could easily kill him in that instant, he would certainly die happy with that scene.

-Look at the mess you make, my dear. - He said after removing his fingers from her trembling cunt. - Clean up for me like the good wife I know you are.

Aemond guided his hand to Y/n's lips and she lazily sucked on his gloved fingers. The taste of the fabric mixed with her own taste further numbing her mind, still clouded by the orgasm.

And Aemond could no longer contain himself when he saw that expression of contentment on her face as she sucked on his gloved fingers. And he quickly took her off his lap and bent her over the carpet, still facing the mirror, making her gasp from the abrupt movement.

Y/n had barely balanced herself and Aemond had already undid the laces of his own pants and guided his cock to her sensitive pussy. They both moaned senselessly as soon as he penetrated her completely. And he quickly brought his hands to the top of her dress, dragging it down and leaving her breasts completely free for him to massage and squeeze as he pleased.

He fucked her so well, and Y/n lost her breath with each firm thrust from Aemond and panted with pleasure as she whimpered for more with tears in her eyes.

She raised her head, looking towards the mirror again, and the sight of his hand massaging her hips and squeezing her nipples as he fucked her while still wearing those damned riding gloves made her eyes roll with pleasure, and she begged for him with Even more willing looking into his eyes and sighing when finding that blue glow that she had learned to love so much.

-I love that look you have when I'm inside you. - He groaned, rolling his eye with pleasure as he fucked her, and Y/n lowered her face once again. Aemond then guided his hand to her chin, forcing her to look at the mirror again, he wouldn't miss a second of that passionate look that his wife directed just at him and that made Aemond's heart race.

-No my dear, you keep those shining eyes on me while I fuck you like you deserve. - And removing his hand from her chin, Aemond went up to her hair and pulled it back, holding her firmly and keeping her gaze fixed on the mirror.

-Aemond, please. - She whimpered, enchanting him with those eyes that made him lose his head, and once again he guided the tips of his gloved fingers to the top of her thighs and caressed her forcefully, making his wife gasp and moan as she collapsed in front of him, who held her. by her hips as he fucked her with abandon looking for his own climax, which didn't take long to come when he came deep inside her.

The two remained motionless, their bodies pressed together and their breaths labored. Y/n brought her own bare hand to her husband's gloved hand and caressed it with gentle circles still completely lost in fleeting pleasure.

-You look even more beautiful when you're cumming all over my cock. - He murmured, still lost in pleasure against her hair, making his wife smile.

Y/n in turn, faced the mirror and sighed with contentment when she saw their reflection. Aemond behind her still panting with his usually stoic face relaxed in pleasure as he held her against him still holding her thighs firmly to keep her in contact with him as she squeezed lightly every now and then.

-Love you. - She said tiredly, still with her head lying on his shoulder, looking at him through the mirror.

Aemond didn't respond with words, he just mumbled like he always did. But Y/n no longer needed words, she had learned to distinguish every look, every touch and every sigh of her husband to know that he was also in love, especially when he pulled her even closer and left a soft kiss on her neck .

Tag list: @slut-for-m3 @fallout-girl219

[delulujuls]

thick thighs save lives (but ruin racing suits) | ln4, op81

hi! i got this idea from one tiktok i saw today. this one goes for my plus size girlies (including myself lmao) so please enjoy as much as papaya boys would enjoy some pair of thick thighs!

summary: lando and oscar never seen their friend with something tight on, so when it comes to try on new racing suits she have a big surprise for them

warnings: slightly disturbed perception of body image

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

Y/N sometimes forgot that she was a girl.

At the beginning of her career she tried to make an effort to look good, showing that a male-dominated sport wouldn't take away her feminine grace. Years ago she used to wake up early, style her hair, do makeup and spend a lot of money on fixing cosmetics but unfortunately everything was lost due to sweat, a balaclava and a tight helmet. So the girl decided that this fight made absolutely no sense - she decided to stuck only to lip balm and mascara.

Despite keeping her makeup to a minimum, even her mascara remained treacherous, smearing under her eyes after each race or training session, making her look like a panda. In terms of clothes, the girl didn't have much opportunity to show off either. Her clothes were largely either team tracksuits, a racing suit, or just a baggy orange T-shirt and jeans.

And just as Oscar and Lando looked great after the race despite sweat and messy hair, her post-race glow didn't really existed. On the contrary, she looked as if she had a hard, sleepless night.

It is known that when media days fell on the calendar, the girl tried to look her best. She had light make-up and nicely styled hair, but her body was still covered by loose layers of clothes. It would seem that apart from her physiotherapist and the team doctor, no one around her had any idea what kind of figure the girl really had.

However, everything changed when the break between seasons came. When places had numerous galas and events and you could throw away uncomfortable helmets and team clothes. However, as we know, everything comes to an end at some point and we have to return to the gray reality. This was the case, when the day came and it was time to try on new racing suits for the upcoming season.

Y/N hugged Lando and Oscar upon seeing them outside the entrance to McLaren's headquarters. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to see each other for several weeks, so there was a lot of joy. In a good mood, surrounded by conversation, they went inside and immediately went to the designated place. After a short presentation of costumes, everyone received theirs and went to change, only to come back after a while and report any reservations regarding comfort and range of movement. Y/N took her suit without thinking and went to change. She was surprised when the suit got stuck on her butt and refused to go up any higher.

"What the hell"

The girl muttered under her breath, gripping her fit tighter and jumping in it several times. When it finally slid over her ass, Y/N slipped her hands into the sleeves and zipped up the zipper, sealing the Velcro around her neck. Something was definitely wrong. The girl looked in the mirror at her reflection. The outfit was great and looked amazing, the only problem was that it was a bit tight. Which shouldn't be the case, because the outfits were based on last season's, so the dimensions shouldn't differ drastically. It was impossible to gain so much weight in three months, right?

The girl turned around, looking at the back of her body. The outfit was definitely tight. Just as it was still relatively tight on her chest, it was very tight on her thighs and butt.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, looking at her reflection. Have she really always had such big thighs? Did she actually gain weight during the past break?

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the bathroom and the voices of Lando and Oscar outside the door.

"Are you ready?"

The girl felt her cheeks burning with shame.

"I think I have a problem"

Hearing this, the friends fell silent and looked at each other.

"Can we come in?"

Y/N agreed quietly, still staring at herself in the mirror. With each passing second, she became more and more confused about her reflection.

Oscar and Lando entered the bathroom, also wearing their suits. When they noticed their friend standing with her back to them, the first thing they noticed was her butt. Lando quickly looked up at the ceiling and Oscar walked over to the girl, trying his hardest to focus on the reflection of her face in the mirror.

"What happened?"

Y/N bit her lip in shame and silently turned towards them. Her friends involuntarily looked at her, pretending they didn't know what she meant. But as soon as they saw the material tight around her ass from the entrance to the bathroom, they knew exactly what the matter was about.

"My suit is too tight" The girl said quietly, looking at herself "It doesn't fit at all"

Lando wrapped his arms around himself and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried his hardest not to speak, because all he could think about were comments about her thighs and whether she could crush him with them. It didn't get much easier for Oscar. He put his hands on his hips and looked at his friend silently. He was afraid that he would be unable to comfort her in any way, because his mind was completely blank.

Piastri cleared his throat after a while, trying to return from the land of fantasy and behave as if the whole situation was really dramatic.

"Is it very tight?"

"Oh, just look!"

The girl spread her arms and spun around. Lando bit his lip and tilted his head back. Oscar held his breath, having no idea what to say. He was totally mesmerized by her curves.

"I- Uhm, I think it's just a mistake and they'll make you a different one without any problem."

"Different one?" Y/N asked, feeling tears in her eyes. “What if it's not a mistake and I've gained weight these past few months?”

"After all, the tests showed that everything was fine with your measurements."

Oscar said calmly.

Y/N turned to the mirror again and looked at her reflection.

"What a total shit"

"Hey, don't say that" Lando was immediately outraged "You look great"

"Great?" The girl snorted, "Come on, I look ridiculous."

"To be honest, I agree with Lando one hundred percent."

Oscar replied, looking once more at the back of the girl's body.

"My thighs are a disaster! What kind of racing driver has such big thighs?"

The girl burst out, turning again towards them.

"Max has nice thighs," Lando pointed out, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure his thighs are the national pride of the Netherlands."

Y/N wasn't in the mood to joke. Devastated, she looked down her body.

Oscar walked up to her and hugged her without saying a word.

"You look beautiful. And you have a really amazing figure"

Lando walked over to his friends and hugged them as well.

The girl felt a little better with the support of her friends. However, for a moment she forgot that men would be men and nothing would ever dissuade them from having dirty thoughts.

"I agree with Oscar, because you really look great," Lando started. Oscar looked at him, knowing full well what was coming and knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop it. "But with all the respect I have for you as a friend and as a woman in general, holy shit, I would pay extra for you to strangle me with your thighs. And man, that mad bunda, too."

Y/N didn't know what to say for a moment. She only felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did she just receive the strangest compliment of her life?

She freed herself a little from her friends' embrace and looked at Lando's face.

"Seriously?"

He seeing that his comment was not received negatively, quickly nodded.

"You have such a body that-" "Lando meant that you shouldn't worry about what you look like because you look really great."

Oscar interjected, knowing full well that Lando's comments should be kept to himself.

The girl smiled weakly and sniffled. Her friends' words lifted her spirits a bit.

"My only concern now is how I will get this contraption off of me."

Lando and Oscar smirked, involuntarily exchanging glances.

"I think we can help you with that."

[sashisuse]

okay so what we’re not going to do is villainize shoko.

jjk 261 spoilers, thoughts, and a brief analysis of shoko. (and touching on some sashisu stuff. more specifically the sash part.)

i see a lot of people bashing her for not having a reaction to the body swapping plan and that satoru was like ‘i’m mostly surprised shoko didn’t object’ SO. here’s what i’ve got to say.

shoko didn’t object because she was fully under the belief that satoru was going to win. that it wasn’t going to happen. it was literally the worst worst worst WORST case scenario. she had SO MUCH faith in satoru.

let’s rewind back to the shibuya arc. what we knew about shoko at that time regarding her use of cigarettes was that she had quit five years (iirc) prior to those events. her smoking habits literally revolve around satoru’s wellbeing.

mind you this was after she and yaga learned satoru had been sealed. she heard the news and immediately began smoking. why? because shoko is a person who masks her emotions and she does it well. she’s not the type of woman to break down in tears. she’s going to hide it and instead light up a cigarette.

we saw this with her interaction with suguru. she acted very nonchalant about his defection and the massacre he committed on the village and his parents. but when we fast forward ten years and go to jjk0, it’s made abundantly clear that she still cares about him. during the meeting where yaga declares they’re going to kill suguru — i’m pretty sure his words were ‘exorcise the curse that is geto suguru’ or something along those lines — shoko leaves. she flat out walks out. and during the night parade of 100 demons, we have a moment where see the most emotion out of shoko that we have for the majority of the series. she’s angry. she’s hurt. she has these thoughts of something along the lines of like ‘you sure made a mess for us’ regarding suguru. and it’s especially prominent because it’s the first time we’ve ever seen her like this and only time. the closest we get to seeing that again is during the sukuna fight.

she literally cares so much but she’s just emotionally constipated and doesn’t know how to show it 😭 it’s an issue both she and satoru have. they deflect. they mask. they move on and yet the carry it with them somewhere deep inside them.

so we go back forward to satoru and sukuna’s fight. where we do see emotion from shoko but what’s most important to note is the panels she’s in. when they focus on her, she’s either smoking a cigarette, lighting a cigarette up, or we see her surrounded by cigarette butts.

we see her genuinely fearful at this point. she had full confidence that satoru was going to win. that’s why she said ‘do what you want’ and didn’t object. because in her mind, it wouldn’t happen.

it’s very important to remember that sashisu, whether you see it in a romantic or platonic way, was a group that cared so fucking deeply for one another. their bonds were deep. their love for their found family was deep. it’s part of the reason why suguru defected in the end. which i can get it into but not at this time. but at the end of the day, sashisu had ass communication skills and failed to properly understand one another.

and that seems to continue on with the satoshoko side of that, which was left after suguru left. and after he died.

also, it’s really important to remember that shoko is not like satoru and suguru. she’s a healer. that’s it. that’s all she does. she doesn’t get to fight or be on the front lines like they do. she’s the one who gets to wait behind and wait until the damage is done to do her job. she’s been doing this since she was (probably) 15, maybe even younger since we don’t know her backstory. she’s going to be emotionally detached. also, keep in mind this page:

specifically her first piece of dialogue. ‘it’s more like we have to do it.’

and that’s the bottom line.

whew. this was rough. shoko ieiri you will always be loved by me.

[jyoongim]

A Deal With God

Alastor x Morningstar!Reader

Themes: fem!reader, Morningstar!reader, Angst, mention of character death, secrets, religious themeAlastor being Alastor, fluff, slight smut, deal-making,  soul possession, Lilith a shitty mother/wife/sister, established relationship, difficult family dynamic, there’s a trope in here I just don’t know what to call it?

Chapter 2

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Chapter 1

“You cannot be serious?!” You shouted rushing after your sister. Lilith was packing her things in a suitcase, ignoring you. You just couldn’t believe her.

Had she lost her mind?

Lilith had told you that she was going to leave. 

Leave Hell. 

“Where will you go? How can you leave your own kingdom?” You asked her as she stood, looking at a family portrait.

It was Lucifer, Her, and Charlie.

You couldn’t understand what would have caused your sister to want to leave home.

She had no where to go

At least if you had a say in it.

You tried to talk some sense into you.

”Sister…this is your home you’re leaving. Your kingdom! You are the Queen of Hell you can’t just up and disappear!”

She sighed, turning to you with a stern look.

”I just need a change of scenery”

You frowned “Blasphemy! What about Lucifer? That man will be torn if you leave and from my knowledge he hasn’t done anything to upset! he loves you Lil” 

She took off her wedding ring, placing it on the dresser

”This has nothing to do with me or Lucifer”

She tried to barge past you, but you pushed her back

”If not him or the kingdom then what about your daughter? What about Charlie Lil?!”

She paused. It was just for a second but you saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

”Charlie will be fine. She’s old enough to understand” she barged past you, but you were hot on her tail.

”Just tell me why you’re leaving! At least give me something so i can console your husband and child!” You screamed at her, grabbing her arm and yanking her to look at you.

She growled at you, eyes flashing red and horns extending out her head. “I don’t have to explain anything to you or anyone for that matter! Now let go!” She yanked her arm, but you held fast.

Your emotions getting the better of you and you too, hissed right back at her. “You do when you’re trying to run off in the night with no regard to your duties! Now answer me!”

She sighed,  looking away “I’m going back” she whispered.

You blinked. Back? Back where-your eyes widened “No”

you tightened your grip on her arm “no no you can’t! Are you mad?! Why would you go back? After everything that happened?”

She huffed wrenching her arm out of your hold “I am aware and I just have to okay”

You’ve never seen your sister look so…cold.

”Lil…” you started but she cut you off “Promise me”

She grabbed your hand “promise you wont tell anyone! No matter who ask or what happen you wont tell!”

A golden glow emitted from your bounded hands.

”L-Let me go!” You said trying to pull away, but she squeezed your hand, making you wince 

“Promise no matter what you see that you’ll tell no one where I am, that goes for Lucifer and Charlie. Do you promise?”

she was shaking.

”Why should i hmmm?” You challenged her.

”It’ll all be yours.” She said. You narrowed your eyes at her.

You know what that meant.

”This Realm. The kingdom. The power. The Crown. Ill give it all to you. Just promise me that you’ll tell no one” 

Your sister was holding back tears.

But so were you.

If you did this…

”Please sister”she pleaded,tears sliding down her cheeks.

You sighed “Fine”

You clenched your jaw as the golden glow brighten and felt the burn of your promise seal into your hand.

Lilith hugged you, it would be the last time for some time that you will see your sister.

You watched as she neared the door, gave the palace one last look, gaze lingering on the family portraits, and she smiled

”Take good care of them for me?”

And just like that she was gone.

”You idiot…I would have done that anyway”

And you wept. 

Cries carried out into the night along with your burden.

But that was seven years ago…..

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Soooo what do you guys think so far? This might be slow to update as I am still working out the plot but do stay tuned!!!

[naffeclipse]

Would be really cute if Y/N was, instead of a Selkie, a mer based off a seal. Though they would probably be on the menu :I Anyhoo, Arctic Ribbon Seals are gorgeous, have you seen them before?

Ohhh, a siren Y/N with the tail of an Acrtic Ribbon Seal would be gorgeous! I haven't seen them before! The colors and ribbons on the fur are lovely! Picturing Eclipse seeing them and immediately going "Mine!" is so augh augh augh

You're going to drown. A polar bear is sitting at the only breathing hole for a good mile or two, and you can't take one gulp of air without the threat of the beast biting your head off. Your lungs are burning.

In the distance, you spy a shadowy figure before the black and white markings solidify and a new panic burns through you, hotter than the suffocation. A large orca siren. You truly are meant to die today.

You stagger in a frazzled fear under the ice, debating on risking the polar bear for just a breath or giving the siren a free meal, but his approach is steady, sinister, yes, but lacking the savagery you'd expect from a siren on the prowl.

He reaches you, all teeth and wide eyes, but he tilts his head in a curious regard. You're not really sure what to do but gesture upwards to the breathing hole and form claws with your hands to signify the threat waiting above. Maybe the two predators will take each other out and you can steal a breath of fresh air. If he gets what you're trying to say, he doesn't seem all that scared, and in fact smirks before swimming into the breathing hole.

You blink, stunned, your lungs on fire with lack of air, and wait for blood or thrashing or something, but the siren's strong black and white tail flickers calmly beside you. Did the polar bear already move along? What is the siren doing?

Darken starts to dot the edges of your vision but before you can flail, a large hand reaches down, snags your wrist, and pulls you up into the narrow breathing hole just inches away from his sinister jaws curved up at the ends. You gasp. You're alive!

You're also entirely cornered by the siren, both of your hot breath mixing into deep smoke as he takes up the already precious space and forces you back against the rim of ice until it bumps against your head. He tightly holds your wrist.

You try to spew a swift thank him and dive back down but he's not letting you go. This close, you can only stare into his glowing eyes before he lifts his hand, water dripping down his dark arm. He tenderly pushes a stray strand of hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear, claws trailing the shell of your ear that elicit a shiver down your body.

He tells you he thought you needed protecting when he first saw you, and he was right. You still do. He'll be the one to do it, and you'll be good, won't you, ribbons?

You can't help but think you don't have a say in the matter with his eyes devouring you from head to tailfin.

[star-centric]

Gardenia (Secret Love) || Barbatos

MEANING: “Even as a friendly gesture, the gardenia is a simple way to let your loved ones know you value them. One of their lesser-known meanings is that of a secret or unknown love. Gardenias are a thoughtful way to express that you care about someone, even if it hasn't yet been expressed verbally.”

A/N: I’ve had this idea in my head for a few days now and I think it’s perfect for Barb!! Reader’s gender neutral!

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

“May I asked what brought you all here?”

Mammon yelped as you and Asmo gasped, Barbatos standing right behind you. His smile didn’t meet his eyes as he glanced down at the scene.

You knew that you shouldn’t have let Mammon and Asmo drag you into their scheme, but when they said that they would be sneaking into the castle, your interest was peaked just a tad bit. The reason behind it made had you going along with them.

According to the brothers, rumors had spread that Barbatos had a secret admirer, and you didn’t believe them until Asmo held up an envelope between his painted nails- one that had his name on it in elegant handwriting and sealed with a kiss from the slight stain left on it.

Barbatos was mysterious- one that would only let you know what he would want you to know. So when you heard that he not only saves the letters but also reads them in his spare time? You felt like you had to see with your own eyes.

It was wrong to snoop around, but a small part of you couldn’t help but wander what Mammon and Asmo would find- if they found something (you felt like they wouldn’t.) You convinced yourself that you were only going to babysit them and made sure that they didn’t cause anymore trouble than planned.

You didn’t run into Barbatos when you arrived- but you did bump into Diavolo, who just so happened to be running late for a meeting. Mammon was getting ready to stumble out an excuse when the soon-to-be demon king happily regarded you all, ushering you out to the garden. It raised some eyebrows for sure, but all Asmo did was grab your hand and rushed you away with his older brother in tow.

That was weird- Diavolo wasn’t once thrown off by your appearances.

And it almost felt too easy when Mammon stumbled upon a new letter, neatly folded up on the outside table in the garden. Barbatos would bring you out here for tea and treats whenever you were asked to the castle, but you were surprised to see it so out in the open like this. He was a private person and the neatly placed cup of tea had you on edge, steam still rolling off it them.

Which meant that they were recently placed here, and that the demon butler wasn’t far.

That this was all too convenient to not be a trap.

Asmo was close to unfolding it, honey-colored eyes giddily ready to invest in this blossoming romance when you all heard a throat clear- which led you to your predicament now.

“Oi B-Barbatos, we can explain!”

“We were just enjoying the fresh air, that’s all!”

“Is that right? I don’t believe that includes what you’re holding, considering it’s not addressed to you.” He plucked the letter from Asmo’s fingers after placing down another cup full of tea. His smile turned menacing as his grip on the note grew tight, “I suggest that you leave at once, lest my patience continues to wear thin.”

You all didn’t need to be told twice, Mammon and Asmo already rushing towards the exit with you close behind-

“MC, may I have a word?”

The tone of his words made your stomach drop, Mammon and Asmo sharing looks of horror. They faltered in their steps but you ushered them away, saying that it shouldn’t take long despite your nervousness.

Barbatos waited until he saw the demons’ backs disappear before he sighed.

“Must you always go along with their antics?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think they would really go through with it. You know how scary you can be.” You took his hands in yours, softly giggling.

“You also forget how reckless those lot can be.”

“I know I know, but can you blame me? They said that you were reading love letters from your ‘secret admirer’. I just had to come see for myself.”

“While already knowing you were the one pinning those letters?” Barbatos led you to the table, pulling out your chair. “You can be very mischievous, MC.”

“I can say the same for you- leaving my letters out in the open so carelessly. It was like you were asking us to find it.”

He took the seat across from you, sipping from the cup, humming. “I was simply preparing to read the words you left for me, that’s all.” While also prepping for a surprise tea date, you mentally finished.

“If you say so, but I’m surprised that you read them at all.”

“Of course I do. You believe that I don’t?” Barbatos genuinely looked shocked, which had you laughing even more. It was cute how expressive your lover could be, considering how rare it was to come by.

“No, I knew you did- I just wanted to see it for myself.” You reached over to peck his cheek, seeing the faint blush scatter across his cheeks.

“I look forward to reading them- it’s become one of the many highlights of my day, along with being able to care for you, of course.”

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John || Tell me you didn’t

Dear John || Masters of the Air fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

Circa: August 1943

Plot: Gale Cleven learns that not only did his best friend send dubious fanmail while blind drunk, he seems to have singled out with his indomitable luck the one starlet of the silver screen capable of matching his depravity

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive and crass content, it’s pretty much two boys acting like a couple of girls at a sleepover deciphering a dirty text from one’s crush

My thanks to my baby Bri for literally being the brains behind the plot and for Christi for assuring me this ain’t trash. We shall if y’all share those sentiments…

The referenced letter link 💌

“Tell me you didn’t.” Gale managed to keep his tone calm but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit his fingertips had gone a little chilly.

“I-“ Egan threw his arms out as if a better truth might form with a little more gesticulation but nothing came, “I did, Buck.” he admitted.

“You wrote it blind drunk.” Gale reminded him with urgency, as if the reminder of its ill calculated circumstances could snatch back his letter from out of Lana Tierney’s posh mailbox.

“I did!” He agreed, “-And I sent it blind drunk. And I never thought she’d read it.”

“I saw you eat it!” Cleven’s voice was growing angry, “I made you-“

“That may have been a botched first draft to Donny’s folks instead.” Egan winced.

Both of them lapsed again into silence, staring warily at the unopened and daintily addressed envelope in Egan’s hand like it might explode at any moment.

“You sonuvabitch.” Gale breathed, two frantic pink splotches appearing on his cherub cheeked face, judgment and disbelief making a whirlpool of his eyes. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute. What all did you even say?”

“I didn’t tell her about ACORN!” John vowed like a child swearing to their sibling regarding secrets kept from mother, “I mean, i called her that but I didn’t explai-“

“-John!”

“-and I said a lotta nice things too, I think, but, I also-“ Egan scrunched his eyes up as if to either better recall or maybe banish entirely all memory of his sentiments, “-I may have mentioned wanting to give her children.”

“JOHN!”

“It can’t have been that bad, she wrote back!” Egan defended with wounded hope, holding up his still sealed prize. “Buck, swear to God, I never thought she’d read it.”

Gale slumped down next to him on the bed as if the ordeal in voyeuristic stupidity had taken something out of him. “Maybe she didn’t.” he suggested grimly. “Maybe it’s from her attorney tellin’ you to never contact her again.”

He was enjoying ruining this moment a little too much, and now Egan was growing angry he had waited to open it until confiding in his friend. Not a little anxious, and not a little smug, Egan flipped the envelope over, ready to tear its flap. That’s when he saw the kiss print. “Ha!” he barked, flipping it back up and shoving it directly in front of Gale’s crossing eyes, “Do lawyers leave lip prints?” he questioned cockily and when Gale pulled far enough away to ascertain for himself, he gave a conceding nod.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.” John goaded but his heart beat a crazy and skittish rhythm as he slipped his finger inside the fold and tore at the slip.

Lovely, scented, gold embossed stationery came into view, it made Egan question how well he had washed his hands the paper was so white and pristine.

“Well?” Gale kept to a respectful distance of half a foot away from his friend on the bed, and being a good sort of man, he was not snooping or side eyeing private correspondence.

“Uh, yeah, right.” Bucky rallied himself and unfolded the missive fully, forcing his eyes to focus on deciphering charming, school girl cursive. “Get over here, Buck.” he griped at last as it was hopeless to make headway between his own nerves and Cleven’s hovering presence.

Gale didn’t move and Bucky didn’t expect him to so he scooted over herself, smashing him on the edge and held the letter out as they both leaned in.

“Dear John, -I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to.”

“Oh shit.” Bucky swore in realization.

“She’s funny.” Gale’s tone was ever so mild.

“Nah she’s, Buck, she’s quoting me back to me I told her -nevermind, let’s see-“

They peered back at the letter together, Cleven more invested that he’d ever admit and Bucky’s heart doing the oddest little flips at the realization that someone gave enough of a damn to write this sorta thing back to him.

“Heartfelt.” Gale murmured her choice of words for Bucky’s letter aloud with something close to relief, only to be then followed by a groan- “you did not write the word ‘knockers’ in a letter to a woman!”

“You're right, you’re right,” Egan ducked his head, repentant, he wouldn’t have been the least surprised if he got a wallop from Cleven for it, “awful of me. I admitted it even then. She admits it. Let’s move on.”

“RACK!” Cleven growled moments later in growing disbelief. “Jesus, John.”

“Oh don’t act better than all of it, you know she’s got the best melons out there-“

“-you’re the one who felt compelled to write a nice young lady and tell her as much.” Buck stabbed an accusatory finger dangerously close to Egan’s nose, “And used vulgarities while at it.”

Egan gave a defensive shrug and began his reading anew. “She said she’s fizzing…over making babies.” he whispered, “With me.” John was awed and this time Cleven had no rebuttal, just ever growing wonderment on his ever reddening face. “And she says here, look! she says you’re a bad boy for breaking us up that night! HA!”

“She’s being polite Bucky,” Gale cautioned, worried at where this surge of confidence might lead, “she didn’t admit to remembering a bit of it. They send girls to school to let fellas like you down easy.”

“Aww, now she says to give ya a kiss.” Egan cooed, saccharine and wicked, “See, she’s so nice and you’re the one who’s awful, doubting her like that. She says to give ya one if you’re the sort to take it well, are ya Buck, huh? Are you? Huh?”

“No, no! Jesus, get off me!” Cleven exerted every bit of his wiry strength to lug off the sudden onslaught of Egan’s heavy embrace as they folded together back onto the bed, John’s mouth making sickening smooching noises against Cleven’s baby smooth cheek, mustache a foreign and terrifying tickle on his jaw. “Get the hell off me, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m riled, just like her, that’s what’s wrong.” Egan replied vehemently, pulling his face away but keeping a perturbed Buck beneath his greater weight. “And maybe one day you’ll know what that feels like, Goldilocks. See, says right here: *I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists* Do you hear that?” He demanded, still holding the letter aloft as Gale looked up at him with the sort of patience people reserve for lunatics liable to murder them at the least hint of movement. “I’ve made her horny.” he spelled it out and Gale’s face somehow flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet. “She wants to know what acorn means.”

“Don’t you ever tell her.” Gale warned.

“Why not?”

“It’s not even a good acronym, it’s misspelled and missing a whole word.”

“She wants it to be ‘salacious’ -says so herself.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Bucky flipped the letter over for Gale to see and judging by the panic in his eyes he caught more lines than that one alone.

“Jesus.” he repeated, it was starting to sound like a genuine beg for divine intervention. “Get off me.”

That itching physical impulse to roughhouse remained but Egan obligingly rolled to the side, aware Buck didn’t have what would cure his own riled self. “She says she enclosed something for the morale, said to keep it safe. But there’s not anything else. You see anything else?”

“I don’t.” Buck sounded worn down but he made an effort to look around amongst the sheets.

“Julia Jean.” Egan pondered, “Says that’s her real name.”

“Yeah, well, maybe now you can stop calling her acorn every damn time she comes on screen.”

“Don’t count on it.” Egan grinned back.

“Maybe it’s still in the envelope.” Gale suggested, tentatively picking up the air mail slip and handing it to Bucky.

Egan sat up and shook the paper between them, wondering if it was really something worth hiding from the censors like some OSS spy shit. A couple of shakes and sure enough, some slippery little card shaped thing fluttered out of a crease and wafted to the ground, settling between Buck’s boots. John’s stoic young friend bent over and retrieved it, but not without his entire spine stiffening like he’d been hit as soon as he’d caught it.

“Jesus.” it was more of a wheeze this time. Gale’s slow hand raised it and passed it over.

There wasn’t anything to say, not when confronted with such perfection. Not even a shielding arm to cheat him of the whole display, nothin’ at all but a carefully cropped photograph of the ripest pair of-

“Goddamn.” John’s tongue finally materialized a sentiment and he heard Gale’s appreciative sharp intake of breath beside him as if he’d forgotten to breathe here lately. “They’re wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Gale’s own throat sounded dry as dust, “W-we should probably stop starin’.”

“Whadda ya think she sent ‘em for?” John laughed, a rough, victorious laugh, never once dragging his admiring eyes away from them or ceasing to thumb over the shiny print. He could almost feel her warm, giving flesh under the pad of his finger, could almost imagine the pebble of a rosy nipple responding to his swipes.

“Yeah, they’re alright-“

“Alright? Alright!?” Egan repeated, incensed for his beloved’s reputation, “THESE ARE THE BEST TITS IN THE NATION!”

Gale actually looked mildly chastened, especially as his eyes strayed guiltily back to the photograph like twin marbles gravitating to the corner of a box when tipped.

“I know you haven’t seen many, Buck,” Egan goaded him further, “but take it from me -they don’t get better than this. And you better enjoy this look, it’s your last, she told me to keep them safe. So see this? These? This pair? S’why we fight, Buck.”

“Don’t be crass, John,” Gale stood up abruptly, less angry at his friend than at himself for his momentary lapse of discipline, “we fight for the people we love.”

“Course we do,” John grinned, “but I also happen to love these, told her so myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did.” Bucky was pretty chuffed, bouncing on the edge of the bed like he had her seated in his lap right now, “Everybody’s got to have a goal, Buck, you wanna marry Marj and I wanna aggressively come on ripe knock-“

“-A.C.O.R.N. yeah, yeah.”

“Acorn.” Bucky grinned in agreement.

“You gonna admit to her you didn’t know knockers was spelled with a k?”

“I did, too! Just couldn’t make it work.”

“Still doesn't work.” Buck informed, but his smile was returning, he’d not been this close with Bucky for this long not to learn to roll with the differences and appreciate that what made his best friend tick was a very different sort of morale than his own. “I’m happy for ya, John.” he conceded, as he turned to leave, “But when you write her back -and you gotta, she’s been too kind -promise me you’ll be a gentleman about it. Apologize, like the man I know you are. Drink got the better of you, just, explain it that way.”

“Uhuh.” John gave him a sober nod, still a little dazed this wasn’t some fever dream. “Kinda already did. In the one I sent.”

“She wasn’t deterred.” Gale mused, “Either you were shit at it or she’s-“

“Zesty.” Egan deduced, sucking his teeth with a manic gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, as an orange peel.” Gale snarked and walked away, past the rows of empty beds and outside into the rain, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky fell back against his mattress, sudden peace and aloneness giving him a chance to soak it in a second time, carefully reading over it all again, savoring each quip, each earnest prayer and naughty subtext. Which naturally led him back to admiring her little picture, groaning in unrestrained appreciation for her assets. She’d hinted about him taking it to his bunk -well wasn’t he fast to obey! Something possessed him to flip it over and there in the corner of the photograph, written in tiny little script, were doodles of music notes along with the ever so familiar lyrics:

“Beat me daddy, eight to the bar.”

John threw back his head and let out a roar of appreciation for finding a mirrored soul. “Oh Julie Jean, honey baby, don’t you worry, I’ll beat out somethin’ for ya, that’s for sure.”

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank y’all for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s life blood, please scream at me, I thrive off it. 💋

Taglist (Lemme know in a comment below if you’d like to be added or subtracted for MOTA fics)

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

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@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

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@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

[theostrophywife]

the prince of hell.

my love is a mindless flight risk, never on time but god he's timeless he's a villain, he's a saint, he's a hero—he's a fucking renegade author's note: i've scoured high and low for demon!azriel fics and couldn't find any, so i thought why not write it myself? there will definitely be multiple parts of this. as always, thank @writingsbychlo for listening and participating in my rants about dark daddy az.

song inspiration: masterpiece by sam short.

The church bells tolled in the packed cathedral as you walked through the crowded pews. Each ring that reverberated against the stone walls mimicked the beat of your heart. 

One. Your father clutched your arm, his ironclad grip preventing you from bolting. The false smile he wore held no warmth. Only greed for what he stood to earn by pawning off his only daughter like a prized mare. 

Two. Your mother looked up from her seat at the front of the altar, and the words she had spoken to you before the ceremony echoed through your mind like a death sentence. You’ll learn to love him, she said. As I learned how to love your father. 

Three. Your betrothed leered at you, hunger dancing behind his cold, dead eyes. I will break you, his wicked smile seemed to say. Then I will mold you into a perfect, obedient wife. 

With each step, you came closer and closer to sealing your fate. The shaky breath you released fluttered through your lace veil like a ripple in the ocean. As the hem of your wedding dress kissed the marble mosaic floor, you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

Please, you pleaded. Please, save me.

Thunder rumbled through the church. Screams erupted from all sides. The ground beneath you shook as the earth cracked open to release mist and fog from the bowels of hell. 

In the midst of chaos, a winged figure emerged from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of the beautiful male. Cloaked in darkness, a pair of familiar glowing golden eyes locked onto yours from across the room. 

The Prince of Hell smiled. “Hello, my heart.”

He had a face like heaven and a voice like sin. A small voice in the back of your head warned you to be afraid, but your heart warred against logic. While everyone else in the room screamed in terror at the sight of the devil, you only saw salvation.

“Azriel,” you breathed. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips. 

You had never seen him before, at least not while you were awake. But you knew that face. You dreamt of him every night. 

Azriel was your favorite fantasy. The beautiful male that took you away from your monotonous life. A figment of your imagination that symbolized all the things that awaited in the world beyond, should you ever be afforded the chance to escape becoming someone’s simpering, obedient little wife. 

He wasn’t supposed to be real, but yet here he was in the flesh. 

“You’re here,” you said, hardly believing the words yourself. “You came.” 

The Prince of Hell pierced you with his gaze. “I will always come for you.”

From behind him, your groom-to-be flicked dust and ash from his doublet before glancing at Azriel with contempt. “Who the hell are you?”

The male was either exceptionally brave or extremely stupid. 

The Prince of Hell regarded Alaric as one would a cockroach—with thinly veiled disgust and the desire to crush the pesky little insect beneath his boot. 

“I am death.” Azriel purred, his voice laced with the promise of violence. “I am shadow and darkness, the monster that haunts your nightmares. I am the Prince of Hell and I have come to collect my bride.”

He held out a scarred hand towards you, barely sparing a glance at Alaric. The male bristled with pride and stepped between you and Azriel. 

Something dark and dangerous flashed in the Prince of Hell’s eyes as he came face to face with Alaric. The side by side contrast emphasized how otherworldly Azriel was. Though he took on a mortal form, there was nothing human about him. 

His ethereal features were slashed with fury, dark hair rippling in waves to frame his flawless face. Flecks of amber burned like embers within his eyes and the contrast against his golden-brown skin further illuminated his strange and cruel beauty. 

“You must be mistaken,” Alaric declared, puffing his chest. “She is my betrothed. We are to be wed this very day.”

Azriel glanced around the room, taking in the stained glass windows and rosewood pews of the crowded cathedral. The people that hadn’t managed to escape trembled in fear under his watchful eyes. The corners of Azriel’s full lips sloped into a frown as he dragged his gaze towards you, examining your white dress and wild expression.

“Your betrothed does not wish to marry you, mortal. ” Azriel declared, his voice barely above a whisper yet full of lethal cold. 

“She is promised to me,” Alaric replied. “I have paid the bride price.”

The humorless laugh that slipped past Azriel’s lips was devoid of emotion. His gaze cut to your father, who cowered behind the marble altar. With one glance, shadows wreathed through his limbs and yanked him towards the Prince of Hell. 

“Tell this male that he is mistaken,” Azriel commanded. 

Your father paled, fear and trepidation evident on his face. “P-p-please, my Prince,” his voice was high and desperate. “I assumed you had forgotten. Years had passed since our bargain, and you hadn’t returned so I—“

“Thought to deceive the Prince of Hell?” Azriel seethed and his shadows whipped violently, tightening their grip on your sniveling father. “Did you not think that this day of reckoning would come?” Shadows brought him to his knees before the dark prince. “A bargain is a bargain, mortal. I want what was promised,” his eyes were feverish as they landed on you. “I want her.”

Your mother blanched in horror as she looked up at her husband. “What have you done?”

“I was only doing what I thought was best!” your father cried. “When famine ravaged the countryside, I grew desperate. I prayed to the old gods, but none of them answered. The Prince—he offered fertile lands and a bountiful harvest in exchange for a bride.” 

“Then what?” you said bitterly. “The reward Azriel offered was not enough for your selfish, greedy heart, was it father? You weren’t satisfied, so you thought to sell me off once again?”

“I did it for our family. We have land! We have gold! We have riches beyond imagination! I have secured a match above your station so you may live comfortably for the rest of your life. I did this for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. The realization that your father had traded you like some bargaining chip, not once but twice made your stomach roil. You’ve always known that he was a greedy bastard, but you didn’t think he’d go this far. 

“No, father,” you said with mirthless laughter. “You did this for yourself.”

Your father struggled against his restraints as he turned towards his wife. “Tell her,” he coaxed, his words full of despair. “Tell her that I only wanted what was best for her.”

“You promised our daughter to the devil!” your mother screamed, her voice echoing against the stone walls. 

You wanted to tell her that Azriel wasn’t a monster. That he’d held you in your dreams, comforted you when you cried, listened to every wish and whim that you whispered into the night, but she wouldn’t have understood. None of them would. 

“It’s okay, mother,” you said, attempting to appease her agony. “Azriel won’t hurt me.”

As his expression softened, you knew that you’d spoken true. Azriel nodded in agreement. “I would never hurt you,” he declared. His attention cut back to your father. “Him, on the other hand, I have no qualms about inflicting pain upon.”

Your father squirmed in place, shooting a pleading look in your direction. The shadows tightened around his neck like a noose. “Please,” he begged with wide eyes. “Please, have mercy.”

He sounded frantic and desperate, exactly how you had been days ago when you pleaded with him not to wed you to Alaric. Your father hadn’t listened to you then. With your roles reversed, it was tempting to let his pleas fall upon deaf ears, but you decided to be the bigger person.

Azriel waited for your cue. You shook your head and watched as his shadows receded. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Thank you, daughter.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” you snapped. “I did it for me. From this day forth, I want nothing to do with you. I wish to be free. I am no longer your daughter.”

Hurt and anger flashed through your father’s eyes, but you didn’t care. This was your chance. You could finally rid yourself of this dreary existence. Feeling lighter than you had in years, you turned your attention back to the Prince of Hell. He smiled as you took a step forward.

“Not so fast,” Alaric hissed. “What about what I am owed? I paid for you. I own you.” You shot him a cutting glare as his fingers curled around your wrist. 

Anger bubbled up within you as you bared your teeth at the horrid male. “I am not a piece of cattle to be traded for gold.” Alaric glared as you shoved him away. 

His hateful beady eyes focused on you as he closed the gap between you. “And yet your father sold you like a fattened calf.” His grip on your arm tightened. “You should be flattered. I purchased you for a considerable amount of gold and I expect a return on my investment.” A blade shimmered in Alaric’s hand as he held it up to your throat. “Either from your father or your beloved demon.”

The Prince of Hell was rage and wrath personified. “You want payment, mortal?” Azriel asked, his eyes cold and hard and full of malice. “Very well, then. I will trade you my heart for yours.”

Alaric barely had time to react before Azriel was upon him. Shadows sheltered you from harm while the Prince of Hell slammed the foolish male to the ground. The floor shuddered from the impact as Azriel’s dark wings flared behind his powerful back. You watched in stunned silence as he plunged his scarred fingers into Alaric’s chest, tearing through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. 

The scream that tore through Alaric’s throat was horrific. Cries of terror echoed through the cathedral once more and those who were able to flee did so with haste. But Azriel was deathly silent as he wrapped a fist around Alaric’s heart. Blood trickled through his wrists and pooled at his feet like crimson tears as he yanked the still beating heart out of the male’s chest. 

The carnage and gore incited a chorus of desperate pleas. Some retched, some clawed at their eyes.

But you simply locked gazes with the Prince of Hell.

As the male beneath him took his last pathetic breath, Azriel tossed his heart on the marble altar. It was sacrilege at its finest. A dark offering. A blasphemous statement to the gods above of the lengths he would go to for you.

“A promise,” he declared, addressing the petrified crowd. Azriel glanced down at the dead male crumpled beneath his feet. “This is what will become of anyone who presumes to come between me and my bride.”

You watched with bated breath as he walked towards you. With bloodstained hands, Azriel caressed your cheek with surprising gentleness. His touch was warm and soft, just as it had always been in your dreams. You closed your eyes, relishing the feel of him. 

“Are you hurt?” Azriel asked softly. His thumb stroked against your cheek, painting a streak of scarlet against your skin. Azriel frowned at the sight of blood and made a move to draw his hand back, but you only laced your fingers through his. 

You looked up to find him studying you. Searching for fear. Waiting for you to scream in terror and run in the opposite direction. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and sobbed. Azriel was stunned for a second, but he recovered quickly and scooped you up into his arms. He seemed to understand that in this moment, all you needed was to be held.

“I’m fine,” you said through your tears. “I’m fine now that you’re here.”

The Prince of Hell placed a tender kiss on your temple as his wings wrapped around you like a blanket. “Come, my heart,” he murmured in a soothing voice. “Let me take you home.”

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria @navyblue-eternity @margssstuff

[ragingbookdragon]

A Saving Grace

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence

**********************************************************************

Ever since she had arrived, there had been no complaints from her, even spending so much time around a group of men. Any time someone had asked something of her, it was a quick “Yes sir, I’ll get it done.” With no issue in her tone, and she did, in fact, get it all done with a degree one could only call perfection.

No one seemed to understand her though. She walked with an air of grace, a sun-bright smile lighting up her face, enthusiasm in her voice when she spoke. She kept everyone on the edge of their seats when she talked to them, attention rapt as if they looked away, they’d miss the world. And she was kind. Oh, so kind, and they knew when she played with the young children in the village, helped the elder women carry their laundry and baskets of food. The smile never left her face, the joy never left her voice, the grace never left her soul.

An Angel, they decided she was. The group’s mascot, a beautiful Angel with deadly precision and skill.

Quite a contrast from her call-sign she’d come in with.

Whore.

Their mouths had dropped, eyes wide, disbelief written across their faces, what type of person, let alone a beautiful woman such as herself, would allow anyone to call her Whore. She hadn’t told them. Just that it was what she chose.

Despite going through the SEAL program, she had no real-world combat experience, only the training she’d received at SEAL boot-camp. Simon was inclined to not bring her along, but she insisted.

I won’t get in the way. I’ll provide backup and follow your lead, Lieutenant.

The compound erupted into chaos whenever the alarm sounded, and Simon had cursed their luck as bullets whizzed by. He shouted orders through the comms, go left, go right, stay center, open fire, suppressing fire.

She’d gone left, into a double open ended steel container that had been converted into a lookout. The shock from the carbine caused an ache in her shoulder but she paid it no mind, taking out enemies where she could see them, one even getting too close into Ghost’s blindside. He dropped five feet from the Lieutenant and the man’s head cocked up towards her, and even at this distance, she could see his eyes widen in what she registered as shock. He’d only ever called her by her rank, Ensign. Never regarded her with the term she gave herself. Call him a gentleman, but he knew better than to say something like that, even if it was her call-sign.

Whore! Left!

She turned too late; the carbine knocked from her grip by the man who had at least two heads on her. Her hands went to her sidearm but his were already winding around her throat, lifting her against the metal of the container, a choking gasp escaping what little room was left before all air cut off. The man’s eyes were wild, nothing there, but she saw herself in their reflection, a cornered and caged animal who’s only chance was fight. Rage welled inside her, not fear, only the red-hot, iron rage bubbled through the adrenaline, and she let her arms go slack, no longer digging her fingers into his hands, she gripped the K-Bar in its sheath, yanked it and sunk it into his neck. Those eyes went wide, the craziness of them disappearing in favor of shock before they hazed, and they both dropped.

Her lungs burned, eyes watering as she sucked in air, careful to avoid too much in the situation she needed to not be lightheaded. A noise came from the side, and she pulled her Eagle from its holster, pointing it towards the boot scuff and her eyes met Ghost’s.

Can you move?

Yes sir.

Scrambling, she grabbed her rifle, and nodded.

Ready.

***

She sat on the bench, scratching at the sheet of paper, filling out the report that some of the squad had left behind, a promise to do it another time. A gentle clinking sounded next to her, and she looked over, watching as Ghost sat beside her, a glass in front of him, a bottle of Kentucky between them.

“Pour us a round, yeah?” he murmured, and she obliged, pouring each of them a decent amount; he watched as she picked her glass up first, taking a big sip but not swallowing for a few moments. His eyes met the darkened bruises on her neck. “Feel alright after today’s injuries?”

She swallowed and set the glass down. “Fine. Sergeant Mac—Uh, Soap, gave me some pain cream for them.” A small smile crossed her lips. “I had some in my pack, but I think he was trying to be kind and extend a branch, so who am I to turn it away.”

“Yeah, Soap’s good like that. Hard head, good heart.”

Her smile only grew wider, but it fell as she glanced up as he folded the balaclava above the bridge of his nose and took a sip of his bourbon. Ghost had a scar that started from the edge of his ear down to his lip, almost like someone had scratched him and torn his upper lip in two. The healing was mangled, something she recognized as self-stitching scars.

“Believe it or not, I got this from a cougar.”

She blinked, shock etching her features that turned into confusion then to thought and she quipped, “That’s why they say not to tease older women.”

For the first time since she’d met the Lieutenant, he snorted, a smile etching his features as he muttered, “Good one.”

“Where did it happen?”

“Took a trip to Brazil one day. My luck I ran into one in the wild.”

“Uh huh. Kinda surprised you survived that one.”

“I’m a hard man to kill.”

They fell into an easy silence, both sipping their liquors and she glanced down at the report she had been writing. “Everyone wants to know why, y’know.” She felt his eyes on her. “Why my call-sign is ‘Whore.’ No one knows me here, though I didn’t really expect a bunch of hardened soldiers to know the most prominent models of the times.”

Ghost watched her take her phone out, tap the screen a few times before she laid it down in front of him, allowing him to look over; what he saw surprised him.

Two Time Grand Winner of Miss Universe and Miss Earth Ditches Crown for a Uniform and Rifle As She Enlists In USN!

He took the device, scrolling down the article.

Winner and Model (Y/N) (L/N) (28) tossed her crown and dress aside for a uniform and rank earlier this year as she seemingly dropped from the existence in the runways and stages in May of last year. Little comment has been given from her family, though her tough and endearing, multi-billionaire father (F/N) (L/N) has stated this was not a plan she thought well through. When asked for a comment, a representative from the United States Navy declined, saying that Miss (Y/N) was a part of a greater force and her whereabouts would not be disclosed for her and team’s safety. So far, no one has managed to find where she is but perhaps one day, she’ll return to the spotlight and reclaim her crowns.

Ghost handed her back the phone, and now everything about her, her speech, her mannerisms, the way she carried herself, all made sense. They’d been interacting with a woman who’d grown up in the spotlight ever since she could walk.

No emotion came from her face as she spoke.

“When I was at SEAL training, one of the instructors kind of…took me under his wing. He eventually told me that his wife was a fan of the pageants and knew who I was when he’d mentioned me. Though she knew I couldn’t be coddled, she did ask for him to watch out for me.” She simply gazed at the table. “The others didn’t appreciate the small kindness his gave me at times, simple words of encouragement or a pat on the back. They nicknamed me the ‘The Captain’s Whore.’ I heard it from them, under their breaths as I walked by. But I paid it no mind. I’ve been called far worse from people I loved.”

She stood from the bench and poured herself a hefty amount of the Kentucky into her glass before walking towards one of the windows. “When we graduated, they asked us for call-signs. What did we want to be recognized as?” He saw a smile come across her face, a proud one. “Three guesses on what emotion they all felt when I chose ‘Whore’ as mine.”

Ghost watched her. “Why did you?”

“So they’d have to say it to my face and not behind me back,” she answered, matter-of-factly. “As damning of a word as that can be, I took it from them. I took the power they had in that word, and I made it mine. They’d have to call me something they thought would hurt me, but I saw it in their eyes every time they said it, that I had come out on top. And I did. I was the best in my class. I suspect that’s why Captain Price commissioned me for the 141.”

She turned, a sardonic almost pitied look in her eyes, and Ghost saw the drunken haze starting to crawl into them. “Ironically, I’ve never even had sex with anyone.” Downing the glass in one swig she set it on the windowsill and turned to stare out at the night, watching the few soldiers still outside moving equipment around. “I wasn’t scared today. This was my first real firefight, but I wasn’t scared. Not even when the enemy had me by the throat. I wasn’t afraid. I was angry. Enraged. There was no fear, only intense hatred, and belligerent rage.”

Her breathing calmed. “I should be horrified at myself. I killed people today. I took the lives of men and women who were husbands and wives, who had children and spouses, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles and cousins, and yet, I don’t feel sadness or regret. I did my job, I took out enemies who were trying to kill myself and my squad-mates. I fought to protect people I cared for. But no matter how righteous my actions were or for what saving grace they were, I should be in tears, and yet…I have none left.”

Ghost saw the reflection of her face in the glass, saw the same dead-eyed yet so filled with pain expression he saw when he looked at himself sometimes.

“He beat all of them out of me years ago,” she simply added, and said no more, silently picking up the glass and setting it back next to his. “I’ll take my leave for this evening, if that’s alright with you, Lieutenant.”

“Simon,” he murmured, and she met his gaze. “Call me Simon.” He stood from the table, gathering both glasses and the bottle in one hand and she had to crane her neck a little to meet his gaze. “And from now on, you’re call-sign is going to change. I’m not calling you something you’re not.”

“You can’t just change my call-sign, sir. That’s not how that works.” He paid it no mind but only stopped when heard, “Oh fine, what are you going to change my call-sign to?”

“Seraph. The highest of them all.”

“Wait, like the angels?” he nodded. “…Why?”

Simon glanced back at her and selfishly blamed the liquor loosening his lips as he murmured, “You. You’re a beautiful and fiercely protective woman with a burning devotion. Can’t think of a better fitting name than Seraph.”

Something flickered in her expression, an ache, a deep, deep ache he knew so well, and she simply dropped her gaze to the floor. “Thank you, Simon.”

“Get some rest, Ensign, we’ve a big day tomorrow.”

[twst-drabbles]

Floyd and Grim 1

Summary: One of Floyd’s favorite words beyond your name was ‘Seal.’ Whenever you hear it, it’s not because he’s seeing the actual animal, it’s because he saw Grim and is chasing him around the yard.

(Floyd being a little shit is always fun.)

“Seal!” A high squeaky voice almost pierced your ear as you fumbled with your newspaper, “Seal seal seal! Oomph… Seal!”

A wet flop, almost like a small body fell into mud before the yelling started up. Uh-oh.

You place your paper down on the table and got up. Seems you were sitting for too long because some of the bones in your spine popped. You ignored the slight pain. There are more important things to focus on. “Alright, what’s Floyd up to now?”

Seal was... an odd choice of a word for that cat. Why seal? Because he's gray and round? Probably. You don't really know any other cat that his specific shade of gray. Or has fire on the ears.

The stray cat that’s comes around, Grim you named him, has been hanging out more often in the garden. Probably because he’s figured out the little pet door you installed in the back. You’re pretty sure he comes inside to sleep in the corner, since there’s some scorch on the kitchen tiles and little bits of gray fur.

You haven’t put anything in his corner yet, not out of apathy but out of knowing the sensibilities of cats. The minute you put in something new in their territory, they either never approach again or they pee all over it. You don’t like either choices, so you just don’t.

You open the door and were not shocked by what you saw.

“Floyd!” You yelled out, knowing it was vain now that Floyd was up and chasing the yowling Grim around the yard. “Oh boy…”

From one side of the yard to the other, Floyd chased after the flame-eared cat with no regard for his distress. His ears flared brightly while sharp teeth and too-strong jaws opened wide and clipped just an inch away from Grim’s tail. No matter how fast Grim ran, Floyd was just an inch away from chomping on him.

In fact, Floyd was keeping up so well that Grim basically has his butt scooting against the floor. A weird little crab run, almost. A furry ball.

Floyd was clearly dinged up with bumps, bruises and cuts. Completely slathered in mud from the neck down but he didn’t care. Not when he’s running on the high of the chase.

How the cat hasn’t started a wild fire in your backyard is beyond you. Well, probably can’t on the account of what happened last time he did that. You can tell that thistle-like collar was not comfortable.

“Alright!” You stepped in just as they were in front of you and captured them both, Floyd by the tail and Grim by the scruff, “Stop.”

Floyd, upside down, swung himself back and forth violently, swiping his little claws right at Grim to try and grab him. “Seal! Seal seal!”

Grim practically retracted further into your hand, hissing. Seems he fears the little eel more than he hated you. Huh.

You walked to the tallest boulder and plopped Grim on top of it. And, of course, the minute you let go, the cat showed you his attitude by sniffing the air and raising his nose high in the air, as if none of you were worth his time.

You ignored him with a turn of your back. “So, Floyd.”

Grim, behind you, started a meow but choked on his saliva.

Floyd went limp now that his entertainment was gone. He stuck out his tongue at you and gave you a raspberry.

“You’re going in quarantine.” All those scraps and cuts along with the mud is a great recipe for infection.

Floyd whined at you, sticking out his grabby hands, demanding for cuddles like that’ll somehow make you forgive him.

“You don’t get cuddles Floyd. You get a bath.”

He sputtered angrily at you as you walked back into the kitchen.

“Hate you.”

“I know.”

Oh, he learned some new words. Interesting. You can’t help but wonder who taught him those.

[fillinforlater]

Monday of Appreciation: Part 100

Hello everyone, Smite here!

100

Let's celebrate this big number and even bigger achievement with a massive a mount of stories that I have compiled over a bunch of weeks now. 10 in total by 9 writers including all kinds of idols (most are meta, sorrry (not sorry)).

However, first off, I want to say thank you to the interest in support this series has gathered. Thank you all very much for liking and reblogging and sometimes even commenting, it means the world to me. Most of the times, I regard this series as a big success.

I need to say it again though that this is the final regular MoA post. For 100 weeks straight I have gathered between 3 and 11 stories from our community, the only reason/motivation being: Appreciation to those that I really like and want to support. Sadly sometimes, MoA has been seen as something like an seal of approval or rather the "not-inclusion" as a seal of disapproval. This has never been the case or my intention.

With that said, MoA is not dead and will never be dead until I'm dead. New parts will randomly pop up and I will gush over another way idol X has been... written. Until then, stay awesome and feel free to go back to the older parts of this series.

These are the final 10 stories on the regular series of Monday of Appreciation:

-1-

@gangplanksorenji: Do you think you are forgiven? ft. Sakura

Reading smut like this and knowing it was written by Orenji of all people still makes my mind boggle. This is unfiltered smut, set up perfectly (especially with the homage to LSFM's latest comeback). All in all great, especially with the non-focus then back-focus on Sakura.

-2-

@coldfanbou: Culmination ft. Somi

This fic is the finale of the ultimate Somi-bimbo-self-sex-slave series. No, I'm serious, you couldn't go further if you wanted to. It also explains why OC is so hesitant to go after her. Also, NTR, but it's so over the top that it kinda flew under my radar. Somi's hotness is melting our minds, isn't it.

-3-

@lustspren: California Love ft. Soyeon, Minnie

The first time I saw these outfits, I kneeeew someone HAD to write a fic about them, either idol x idol or include an OC and oh boy, lustspren delivered. This has quite the excessive set up, all edging leading up to that hotel room scene that does it all justice. To say it with the words of Mister Smith: "That's hot."

-4-

@smuttysabina: Owning Aespa: Chapter 1 ft. aespa

Exquisite! Charming, funny and utterly drenched in lewdness while also shoving absurdity in your face the entire time. This perfectly encapsulates @smuttysabina's writing style. It's blunt yet still a bit teasing and I like how the descriptiveness is subtle enough to keep you on edge. Literally.

-5-

@ggidolsmuts: Xiaoting's Shouting ft. Xiaoting

This fic has a chinese version and though I cannot speak of the quality of that version, this one definitely has it. One of the many, many great stories you can find in Ddeun's masterlist. Damn, now I can't decide if I want an obedient plaything Xiaoting or a demanding loud Xiaoting (haha, Xiaothing or Loudting (I'm so funny (right?)))

-6-

@tothosewhoyearnforit: A Million Dollars ft. Karina

Ah, the great switch life. Though you might not have a million dollars (sadge), the ability to switch around your behavior to accommodate to your partners wants and needs in the moment... man that is everything. Okay, no, someone incredible hot like Karina, now that is everything. Just like the OC in the next story, I'd pay more than a million to get Karina.

-7-

@smuttysabina: Owning Aespa: Chapter 2 ft. Karina

Oh, look! It's the second chapter to the story we already had! This time we get the bouncy girl in the shower as she bravely strikes a deal with us. Will she succeed though? You better find out yourselves (no really, this will be in the test tomorrow).

-8-

@existslikepristin: Sowon's gig ft. Sowon

Sorry, ELP, I had to put a name on this hilarious mess of a fic. Maybe it does not really deserve a name, but I'm all for it to get one. Hell, even my name is terrible (at least it does not spoil the twist). So yeah, if y'all have like 29,4 seconds on your hand, this is the stuff for you. Damn, why do I love your writing so much?

-9-

@okaylikesmomo: Chapter 4: Sauna ft. Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura

I love how unhinged this is if you ignore all the context and previous chapters. It makes me think if my multi-chapter series' feel this crazy if one just starts in the middle. Crazy or not, sex sex sex. Although it is okay (writing) sex, neither the writing nor the sex are just 'okay'. LSFM really is that hot and makes us crave for more steamy sex sex sex. What a mess (-.-).

-10-

@iznsfw: Above the law, (under you) ft. Tzuyu

What else can I say except: IZ GOAT?! I guess so, every angle, idea, set up and kink this incredible qt has written has worked flawlessly. I rule that you are guilty of being way too fucking good at this and sentence you to write more sentences to make your sentence longer so more sentences lead to new masterpieces. Please.

Guys, that's it. With a final bow the curtains fall. Until next time. Ciao!

[hibischush]

Could please do kissing headcanons for Hayden, Ryis, and Celine? 👀

I see you 👀 More kissing headcanons comin' right up! 🌺

Just like last time, there are some suggestive themes, so⚠️minors proceed with caution!⚠️

Hayden

Hayden is the type to not take first kisses so seriously

And what I mean by that is that he doesn't stress over when it happens or what it will be like

He would like for it to happen organically, since he would rather wait for you and he already knows that it will be wonderful

I think it would happen on a stormy evening, with the pair of you sitting out on his porch joking and enjoying each other's company

Lighting strikes nearby and you startle

Hayden lets one of his bellowing laughs out which fizzle out to giggles as you poke his sides with a pout

You both know you are interested in one another, but you are also the type to just let things happen naturally

As the lightning illuminated your face, Hayden realizes with a huge swell of emotion that he needs to do something about how he is feeling

When you try to go for one last jab at his sides, he gently captures your wrist with one hand and pulls you closer to him by the waist with his other

Resting your captive hand over his heart, Hayden looks at you fondly before whispering, "Farmer, you ain't got no idea what you do to this rancher's heart, and I need to show you what you do to me," he releases your hand to tilt your chin up, "may I kiss you?"

You eagerly accept and he smiles before leaning down to passionately seal your lips with his own

After the quick but sweet kiss you ask him to date you

He hollers happily, "Of course I will date you! Oh the world won't even know what hit them with you by my side!"

Hayden is typically a gentle guy in most regards, and this is also true when it comes to his kisses 💗

He honestly lets you take the lead when kissing, since he prefers to do something else entirely (he also just likes when you are enjoying the way you kiss him)

Hayden is super handsy

Hands will fly from your face to your chest, to your waist down to your hips (maybe to your butt too if you let him)

He wants so much of you that the best way to keep him grounded is to explore with his hands

If there's a height difference (with a hunk of a man like Hayden its likely more true than not) he often will just. Pick you up

This often leads him to pinning you against a wall or door, really any flat surface

But it typically leads to him setting you down on a table or chair, or a bed to keep you on his lap 👀

Ryis

Ryis is very straight-forward

The moment he felt something between you two and he had an inkling that you reciprocated he asked you out

This man is so loving

And it didn't take long for him to kiss you in order to express his fondness for you

One day you stopped by at the carpentry shop to see him working inside on some cabinetry

You pause to take in the lovey sight of him

There's something about his face that makes your legs feel weak when he's focused on a task

You wish that he would look at you that intensely 🥲

The sight didn't last long, however

He immediately lights up upon noticing you, and you instantly think that this sight was one to die for

"There's my favorite farmer! To what do I owe the pleasure?" He grins, dusting off his hands

"Oh, nothing really. Just enjoying the view," you tease, sliding up next to him and brushing saw dust out of his hair

He feels his face heating up, but then chuckles adorably at your comment

He takes your hand from his hair and holds it to his cheek

"Thank you for that, you're always looking out for me," Ryis says softly

You melt under the strength of his gaze, and your eyes flicker down to his lips

He notices, and grins before inching his face closer to yours, "You know, I think I deserve a gift from working so hard at being a lovely view" he teases back

You blush but hold your ground, "Yes, I think that's acceptable given the circumstances,"

He laughs and he pulls you in to a tight embrace, kissing you longingly and passionately

Afterwards, you can confidently declare that Ryis is the best kisser on the planet

He's very observant and respondent to your reactions and needs

He very much enjoys kissing you

Whether that be small pecks in public as a greeting or forehead kisses as way to say thank you

Behind closed doors, however...

You do not want to be caught

I said before that Ryis is very loving, and if you thought that he would stay loving you quietly in private you'd be so wrong

Honestly it's like unleashing a dormant beast

He will be leaving marks on your neck and bruises on your lip

It's out of love dw 🩷🩷

Celine

Oh our sweet Celine

She fell for you fast and hard

And while it took you a bit longer to reciprocate, you couldn't deny the the two of you had chemistry

You would catch her hidden glances, her nervous laugh, and how much she would play with her hair around you

Not to mention the teasing from her family, which was not hidden well at the general store

She almost always had redden cheeks around you, which you found very endearing

She wasn't entirely sure if you only liked her as a friend or as something more, so she would misread your flirting as harmless platonic compliments

One day you invite her to the farm for dinner, and when she arrives you give her a huge hug and a bouquet of flowers

She blushes when you hug her but she kept reminding herself that you were doing it to be friendly (and ofc she loves the flowers)

You tell her to sit down at your dinner table as you cook for her, all the while laughing and bantering

As the two of you tucked into dinner she was beginning to think that this was more than just a hangout

She helps you clean up the dishes and you both settle on a couch outside on your porch

You sit close to her, and she bristles even more (she's going to faint if she gets any redder help this girl out)

You reach over and grab her hand and begin to thumb the back of it

After a bit more tension filled silence, you whisper to her, "Celine, you know this was a date, right?"

😯

Finally the bouquet, the fleeting touches, the compliments, the candlelit dinner-- it all makes sense now

She almost gasps before saying, "Y-you're serious? Do you like me that way? Romantically?!"

You let out a gentle laugh before taking her other hand and lifting her up off the couch with you

You pull her close, and you can almost hear a quiet whimper from her

"I'm serious, Celine. I've been interested for quite a while, and I know you have been too. I want to kiss you, is that alrig-?"

She basically tackles you as she wraps her hands around your shoulders and kisses you

"It was more than alright, I wish you had asked sooner!" she beams

Turns out that's all she needed to be more confident around you

Celine loves to kiss and be kissed by you!

She almost always kisses you by wrapping you close to her

I think that she would also nibble on your lips to get a laugh out of you, but she would immediately lose the upper hand when you retaliate by smooching and nibbling on her neck

When that happens she tends to pull you to a private place 🩷

I feel like I got a little carried away with this one 🤔 No matter though because I enjoyed every second!

[cielwritings]

Am not sure if your request are open but if they are can I request a ciel x fem reader where she likes to talk about dark shit like death and that but she always smiles while saying it and her eyes are filled with excitement. And she also has a demon butler but he's used to our shit😭 but if you do this request ty!!

! Ciel x ... Scary fem Reader? !

felt this tbh

After calling it off with Elizabeth, fearing he wouldn't be enough for her, you were his new fiancee. Though, he'd only spoken to you once or twice prior.

Ciel had a feeling your butler was a demon, seeing how they and Sebastian glared at each other whenever they caught glimpse of him. No demon can let Ciel's soul just idly walk past. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the strap of your dress slip just a little, revealing the start of a seal.

He didn't bring it up.

You two were sat together one day, discussing hobbies whilst playing chess. Ciel's were simple. Puzzle games, the occasional sketch, enjoying sweets..

He didn't expect yours. You said it so happily he nearly missed it.

"Oh, I quite enjoy looking over autopsy reports." "Ahh, is that so... wait."

Ciel would look at you, dumbfounded while you giggled. His reaction was on the mild side compared to what you used to get from others.

"There's something quite interesting regarding the human body." you said, putting Ciel in checkmate after he fumbled his latest move from shock. "I can recite you the layers of skin if you'd like."

"..No, that's.. quite alright, my lady."

Your butler would overhear. More like eavesdrop, though. They'd enter the room, holding a tray of sweets and tea. You excused yourself to the bathroom in the meantime.

"Pardon my question, but.." Ciel began. "Are you.. aware of your mistress' interests?" "Are you judging her?" "..No."

He was weirded out, but he wasn't judging you. Can those two be separate? He wonders..

"I'm very aware of her interests and I help her indulge in them."

Your butler said that and left as you returned. Ciel sat there, utter confusion on his face.

..What did they mean by that?

[ladylilithprime]

Day 4: Birthday

SAM WINCHESTER WAS just about to turn twenty-four when he was abducted by a Prince of Hell and thrown into a death tournament which he did not survive because he refused to kill another psychic human kid like him. He was just turned twenty-five the day his brother's deal to bring him back from the dead came due and Dean was dragged to Hell by the hellhounds. His twenty-sixth birthday was the last thing on his mind the day he went to kill Lilith to stop the Apocalypse only to learn too late that her death was the Final Seal to break and ensure that Lucifer walked free. And he was only just twenty-seven when his love for Dean helped him wrench control of his body back from a Fallen Archangel and drop them both into the Cage to be sealed away again, Michael and Adam dragged along for the ride when the eldest Archangel tried to stop him.

Sam's reckoning of his birthday got a lot more fuzzy after that point, what with his soul trapped down in the Cage while his body wandered around for a year and a half without him. Dean had once confessed to a similar disorientation regarding his own age, particularly the question of whether or not to count the four months spent dead verses the forty years his soul spent in Hell. He hadn't felt much like celebrating what should have been his thirtieth birthday in the middle of the Apocalypse, and neither of them had paid much attention to birthdays in the years since then.

So it was a bit of a jolt when Dean came up to Sam and clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Well, Sammy, the big three-oh! What'cha wanna do for it?"

"I don't," Sam said after a moment of floundering as he scrambled to identify what his brother was even talking about. "We didn't celebrate your thirtieth, so why bother with mine?"

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean almost whines, looking supremely uncomfortable. "I wasn't in a good place that time, you know that."

"Well I haven't been in a good place on my birthday for over five years now," Sam pointed out, just barely restraining the urge to snap. He saw the moment Dean, thinking back, actually remembered what had been happening on or around Sam's birthdays for the last several years. "Yeah. There's a lot of anniversaries sharing the date that I don't feel like celebrating."

Dean had backed off after that, for which Sam was grateful. He didn't think he could have actually admitted to Dean's face that one of the reasons he didn't feel like celebrating was because he couldn't see a point in celebrating the birth of Lucifer's Vessel, Azazel's favorite, the demon-blooded abomination he had once tried to convince his young parents not to even conceive.

HE SHOULD HAVE known that wouldn't be the end of it.

"Okay, so the actual day has some bad memories attached that make it awkward for you to celebrate on, I get that," Dean said when he ambushed Sam in the library of the Bunker, startling Sam and causing Castiel to look up curiously. "So what if we pick a date, like, two weeks after that without any of those negative associations and make that your new birthday to celebrate?"

"Dean," Sam groaned in protest, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I really don't care enough to celebrate at all, regardless of the date!"

"Are birthdays something important in your culture to celebrate?" Castiel asked, frowning in confusion when Dean said "yes" at the same time that Sam said "no".

"It's complicated, Cas," Sam sighed, ever the more patient one with explaining human things to their angel friend. "Birthdays and birthday parties mostly tend to be focused on young children or the elderly, marking another year surviving to reach adulthood or into advanced age. Many people also use it as an excuse to solicit gifts from others, or even just an excuse to have cake and ice cream."

"Wow, cynical much?" Dean grumbled, holding up his hands when Sam glared at him. "But see, that's kinda my point. I know we didn't celebrate my thirtieth, but it's not like hunters tend to live very long once they start hunting!"

"Hunters also tend to be less inclined to celebrate their birthdays with more than a shot or six at a bar," Sam pointed out with a roll of his eyes. "Not my idea of a good time."

"Would you prefer cake and ice cream?" Castiel asked with a curious tilt of his head.

"I'd prefer not to even bother," Sam muttered. When Castiel continued to look at him expectantly, he sighed and said, "Look, whether by accident or design on the part of any number of beings, my birthday just... really isn't a good day, and the surrounding days aren't much better. Too many 'end of the world' situations cropping up on or around it, and even when we were kids about the only person who bothered marking it was Dean. I don't know why he's so eager to celebrate this year, especially after practically snapping at me to ignore his own, but I'd just as soon not."

"I see," Castiel said in a measured tone that immediately put Sam on edge. Before he could say anything or even pray for Castiel to stop, the angel said evenly, "You do not believe that your existence is worth celebrating."

Sam got up from the table, ignoring Castiel's penetrating gaze and Dean's stricken one, and left the library.

IT WAS CASTIEL who found him hiding in his room later. The angel who was most used to bypassing thresholds to fly directly into whichever room the person he sought might inhabit showed a marked restraint and consideration for personal privacy and boundaries by knocking lightly on the door and waiting for Sam's mumbled "come in" before nudging it open enough to enter. "Hey, Cas."

"Sam," Castiel returned, coming to a stop just inside the door, as if unsure of how far he should enter the room. "I apologize if I misspoke earlier."

"You didn't," Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I mean, I kinda wish you hadn't said it in front of Dean, but it is what it is and it's not like you were wrong."

"Much like Dean, you do not wish to burden your brother with the pain you carry inside yourself," Castiel murmured. "Sam... are you so resistent to celebrating your birth and continued existence because Dean has refused to celebrate his own?"

"That's... part of it," Sam acknowledged. He didn't really want to get into all the reasons he felt that celebrating his birthday was a worthless and frankly inappropriate endeavor, not with Castiel and not when he knew the number of birthdays he even had left to him once the Trials were complete would be numbered zero. That was definitely a conversation he wasn't ready to have, though, so he refocused. "I mean, celebrating my birthday while ignoring his? That's like some weird double standard of favoritism, and I don't want to encourage that crap."

"I see," Castiel hummed thoughtfully. "Sam? What is the significance to turning thirty years old?"

"Not much," Sam answered with a half-shrug. "It's a decade marker, a big round number that makes it slightly more significant to reach than just counting one year after another. Thirty, forty, fifty... it's more of a minor milestone than anything else, at least until around sixty-five or so."

"Then perhaps Dean would accept a compromise," Castiel suggested. "Dean will be turning forty in five years and eight months. If he will agree to allow you to celebrate that day, perhape you might agree to allow him to celebrate your fortieth birthday when it comes to pass?"

It was so like Castiel to try and find a compromise for them like this, and Sam didn't have the heart to admit to the angel why he knew it wouldn't happen.

"Sure, Cas," he said instead. "If Dean'll let me make a big fuss for him on his fortieth birthday, I'll let him celebrate however he wants for mine."

"May I inform Dean of the suggestion and your agreement?" Castiel asked, and left Sam's room when Sam nodded, presumably to go find Dean. Oh, well. Hopefully Castiel wouldn't be too disappointed when Sam didn't make it to summer.

THE GRANITE STONE bore the name "Dean Campbell" and the inscription "There'll be peace when you are done," along with Dean Winchester's birth year and only the most recent date of death. It had been very tempting to put down every single date that Dean had died in a column marching down the stone, but that would have raised too many eyebrows in the public cemetery. As it was, the plot was small and held a ceramic urn with the salted ashes left behind after the hunter's funeral Dean had been given. The other side of the stone remained blank, a stark testament to the fact that the space beside Dean remained unoccupied by a matching urn and with no sure plan of when it would be filled.

Sam slowly let out the breath in his lungs and crouched down before the headstone, absently clearing away a few weeds that were trying to grow up over the base. He didn't speak; there was nothing left to say that hadn't been said in a barn surrounded by beheaded bodies. No point, either, since he knew there was no one listening... no one he wanted to hear him.

With a hand that only shook a little, Sam set an empty shot glass in front of the engraved words and filled it with cheap whiskey from an old metal flask. A matching shot glass was lifted and filled, and then Sam set aside the flask and clinked his shot glass against the one waiting.

Happy birthday to me, he thought with a sad, wistful little smile. He picked up the other shot glass and poured it out over the grass where he knew the urn was buried as he downed his own shot, closing his eyes against the burn that was more from tears than alcohol.

"Sam," a soft voice called from behind him. Sam stiffened and twisted around, wondering who the hell would approach him in a cemetery and say his name like that--

His breath caught.

The vessel was different. Whether that was because the body of Jimmy Novak had been taken directly from Earth by the Empty or some other reason, it was not that familiar face and frame standing before him. Not even that stupid tan overcoat remained after that. The dark hair was similar, as were the blue eyes, but everything else was different. Softer and thinner and more like that one vessel he remebered being described from a trip back in time. And yet Sam couldn't help but recognize Castiel in the woman standing there, from the strong posture and curiously tilted head to the faint shadow of wings hovering behind her shoulders.

"Dean wishes for me to apologize for him that he cannot be here to celebrate with you," the angel said softly, reaching out a hand and helping Sam to his feet when he took it automatically. "He hopes that I will make an acceptable substitute and birthday gift." A pause, and then, awkwardly, Castiel added, "I was given a bow to put in my hair if you wish."

Sam snorted, helplessly, and then with the dam broken he dissolved into helpless laughter and pulled Castiel into a tight hug. Not the brother who had promised to celebrate with him, but the angel who had made that promise happen. Substitute, no, but gift? He'd take it.

And he swore he would keep this gift for as long as he could.

[bellepeppergirl]

Marika Was the Gloam-Eyed Queen

So, the most popular theory regarding the GEQ was that it was Melina. This does make sense; in the Flame of Frenzy ending, she promises to deliver Destined Death to us and reveals her sealed eye, which is gloam colored. Case solved? I don't think so.

As stated in the title, I believe Marika was the GEQ.

We know Marika comes from the Shaman/Miko Village and that her people were horrifically abducted and crammed into jars into to create "saints." This was likely a part of the Hornsent religion, whatever that may have been, likely relating to the Crucible. I feel like it would be understandable to wish to get revenge on whoever the god of the Hornsent may be, so she creates the Godskin Covenant.

The idea of taking the skin of the gods and melding them together to create clothes is very similar to what happened to the Shamans in the jars; a fitting way to seek retribution I think.

We can also see that the Rune of Death is an inverse of Marika's rune.

Interestingly, the statues of Marika that we can find in the Lands of Shadow, while initially looking identical to those from the Lands Between, albeit headless, are actually forming the shape of the Rune of Death, while those we were originally familiar with form Marika's rune.

On top of that, there is another statue we can find of Marika in the Lands of Shadow. This one is located in Messmer's arena and depicts Marika swaddling a baby.

Now, off the top of my head, there is only one other place that we see imagery like this and that is the Godskin Swaddling Cloth.

It mentions that she cradles the newborn apostles that were swaddled in this godly flesh and that they would eventually be raised to fight the gods. It is interesting then that these are the only two mentions of holding a baby in game, and it just so happens to be the place where Marika's statues happen to resemble the Rune of Death. Additionally, the Swaddling Cloth causes successive attacks to restore HP. Now, this could be a stretch, but Marika is also associated with healing. After all, it's her tears that increase the amount of HP we receive from a flask and we can find a healing incantation in her chambers.

Now, the trailers mention the Shadow Lands as the birthplace of Light and Shadow, and something about "the seduction and the betrayal." When it says this, we see Marika holding up a strand of hair at the Divine Gate and, as Quelaag pointed out in her videos, while she does this, we see light through the gate while a gloam-y sky is seen everywhere else.

What I personally think this means is that Marika was seduced by the Greater Will and the prospect of becoming a god, thus betraying the covenant that she herself formed and becoming what they swore to destroy. Furthermore, she continued the cycle of suffering by enacting the same cruelties performed on her people on those like the Omen, the Demihumans, and the Misbegotten.

I believe she then gave her Great Rune to Malekith, who hid it away while Marika pretended to be a completely different person. She would also hide away any signs of her past identity; the Shadowlands, for various reasons, would be sealed away, thus also hiding her past, and her firstborn daughter, Melina, was locked away in the Forbidden Lands. She was likely imprisoned because she bore the same power that Marika once had; the power of Death. Just like she did with the rest of her children, anything that reminded her of the past would be hidden away and forgotten.

The Godskins, feeling betrayed, have come the the Lands Between in order to enact that which they were quite literally born for. After all, the swaddling cloth essentially says that the GEQ raised them, acting as their mother, and teaching them to kill the gods. To have the person who you saw as a mother betray you by becoming what you were raised to hate would be a devastating blow and, of course, this would not be the only time Marika does this. In the Lands Between, the Godskins are seeking out that which they've lost; the sword that was once Marika's, the Rune that was given to Malekith, and the God-Devouring Serpent so that they may continue their goals.

And I believe that Marika shattered the Elden Ring because she realized what was happening; she understood that the past was coming back, no matter what she did. That her goals to create the "perfect world" by killing everyone she didn't like was a failure. She removed death so everyone could be happy and sing kumbaya around the Erdtree forever, but guess what. Her son STILL DIED despite death not even existing anymore. People are miserable being unable to die.

I think she also realizes that, not only was her plans a failure cuz the people she didn't like kept being born, but she was feeding this cycle of hatred. She fucked people over and now they're revolting against her. Why did she fuck them over? Because she was fucked over. And you know what, the Hornsent were probably also fucked over at some point, maybe by the people of Rauh.

I think her shattering the Elden Ring is akin to suicide; we never see her alive, never hear her speak, nothing. She is in pieces, just like the Elden Ring is. She is also impaled with a red spike, which looks oddly similar to the Rune of Death. If all I have said is true, then I believe the implication is she gave into despair, destroyed everything, and then killed herself.

Nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. And she was part of the problem this whole time, but by the time she realized, it was all too late.

But despite everything, hope persists. Despite the horrors inflicted upon Marika's people, Marika persisted. Despite the horrors Marika inflicted upon others, they persisted and continue to be born. As Melina says, the world is full of horrible things, and yet birth and life persists, and there's beauty in that. One day, the cycle will break.