#LOOK AT THIS MAN BEHOLD MY SON

[derpu-doodles]

him boye . love hie

[ireneispunk]

Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

“Behold, the traitor dragon, Meleys. Slain by King Aegon.”

Cole might’ve bellowed anything before the mention of Y/N’s husband and she would not have heard it. Breaching the castle doors, out onto the streets, where the smallfolk stare in wonder. The Queen has scarcely been seen in the days following her husband’s accession, leaving many to wonder if she still lives.

Here she stands, in the flesh, walking about them like a commoner. “Where is Aegon?” She finds Ser Criston, keeping pace beside his horse.

“You mustn’t be about, your grace. It is not safe.”

“Where is my husband?”

Ser Gwayne looks back toward his fallen nephew, now carried by men.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, falling in line with the oversized box one might mistake for a casket. She can’t see much of anything through the slats.

“You must return to the castle, my Queen.” Cole circles back for her. “His Grace will need you at his side.”

“He’s alive?” Y/N breathes.

“When last I checked.”

She nods, remaining beside her husband as he is carted into the castle, up the stairs to his chambers. The maesters await him, peeling away armor and bits of charred flesh with it, to reveal the extent of his injuries.

“Is my son going to die?” Alicent asks.

“He is badly burned.” The maester informs the Queen dowager.

“Men survive burns.” Y/N says, holding a hand to her belly, attempting to quell the churning.

“He has many broken bones.”

“Bones heal.”

The grand maester sighs, “that is our hope, your grace.”

What lies beneath his breastplate is naught but more red, angry skin, or lack there of. Alicent comes round to Y/N, a rare occasion, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Mayhaps it is best you step away.”

“I will stay,” Y/N shakes her head, “if anything happens… I must stay.” Hold his hand as he goes, if it comes to it.

Alicent nods, withdrawing.

Aegon’s breathing is something awful. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

An eternity passes in that room, on bated breath. Eventually the maesters begin clearing out, leaving the King to mutter, incoherently.

“Your grace.” The grand maester turns to Y/N. “It is done.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester. For all you have done, I- I owe you a debt.”

The man takes her hand, “we can only do so much to aid in the king’s healing, I believe it is you he needs. Be his strength.”

Y/N nods, “of course.” She makes herself comfortable upon the mattress beside him as the doors close, giving them a moment alone.

Aegon’s mumblings grow louder, though still impossible to make sense of.

“Shhh,” Y/N hushes him, brushing hair from his face. “There is nothing to fear. You need only…get better for me. I will tend the council shortly, but I shall return.”

He quiets then, as though her gentle reassurance is all he wanted.

“I will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. Rest easy, my love. You are safe now.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, before taking the stairs down to join the small council.

Those sitting around the table are already in deep discussion, gaping at the Queen’s entrance, standing to greet her.

“So kind of you to wait for me, my lords.” Y/N smiles, taking her ball from the center.

“We thought you might be with his grace, the king.” The hand explains. “He will be expecting you when he wakes.”

“I am not sure he will ever wake.” The grand maester cuts in. “His fate lies with the gods now.”

“Give it time.” Y/N sniffs, “it has been mere hours since his return.”

“If Aegon could wake, he would have done so for you.” Alicent decides. “A king cannot rule in his sleep, we must appoint a regent to serve in his absence.”

“I am awake.” Y/N reminds them.

“My Queen,” Tyland Lannister interjects, “if I may be so bold. Your lord husband has been wounded in battle, he will need your tender hand if we hope him to make any sort of recovery.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Lord Tyland.” Y/N replies, in a measured tone. Should she lose her head before the council, there will be no coming back from it. “Still, I am willing and able to rule.”

“In the event of his grace’s untimely death, we must be prepared to proceed with the succession.”

“Understandably, and we do not lack heirs. My husband and I have four children.” Y/N shifts in her chair. “Assuming, as you have, that the men of the realm will never accept a woman on the throne, we then pass the crown to our first born son.” To charm the snakes, you must behave as a snake.

The council looks to each other. “Prince Laenor is but two years of age, our next ruling king, by law; though too young to presently serve.”

“I will advise him, I am his mother.”

Alicent rises from her seat, “might I humbly suggest myself? I have already done so during my late husband’s long illness-”

“Which was fine then?” Y/N arches a brow, “a wife to rule in her husband’s absence.”

Alicent lowers her gaze. “This is different.”

“Because I am your enemy’s daughter and named heir,” Y/N huffs. “Rules for thee, not for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Mind yourself.”

“Or what?” Y/N lifts a shoulder, “you will usurp my husband, as you did my mother?”

“Viserys changed his mind.” Alicent says, with finality. “I am sorry for what’s happened, but with his dying breath, he wished for Aegon to be king. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon.”

“I love my husband,” Y/N seethes, “let that be known.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Whatever the members of this council intend to do now will be spoken plainly, in my presence.” Y/N demands, staring down at her wedding ring.

“I believe it is in our best interest to appoint Prince Aemond as Regent, until our King has been restored.” Ser Criston announces, “as hand, I know the king’s greatest concern is the safety and well being of his wife and children. We must honor that, in these unprecedented times.”

Y/N swallows, “very well.”

“My Queen.” Aemond reaches past her for the council ball, abandoned by her husband.

————————————————————————

Y/N goes through the motions, putting their children to bed. All is well, my darlings. Father needs only rest. When they have each found sleep, she returns to Aegon. Speaking to him the same way she always has, as though he can hear.

“The men of the council are restless in your absence. They circle like vultures now,” Y/N chokes out, touching the unmarred skin of his face. “And I am alone in this….I have never been alone.”

If she knew no better, she could swear his fingers twitch against hers. Mayhaps she is gripping them too tightly. She releases his hand, much to Aegon’s dismay, grumbling his discontent.

“Hush now, I am here and you are here. The rest will sort,” Y/N reminds him.

She watches him then, the heaving rise and fall of his chest, wrapped in bandages. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

In time, Alicent joins her at Aegon’s side. “Has there been any change?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“You are kind to be here, he loves nothing in the world as he loves you. I am sure your presence alone is a comfort to him.”

“That is my hope,” Y/N admits.

“I will leave you to it.” Alicent offers a hint of a smile, making for the door.

“Mummy.”

Y/N hears it, his mother does not. “Alicent,” she calls her back.

Alicent flicks away tears before turning round, “what is it?”

“He’s asking for you.”

“F-for me?”

Y/N nods, giving his hand a squeeze.

Alicent returns to his bedside, passing a hand over the side of his face. “I’m here.”

He draws in a rattling breath, “protect her.” Aegon stumbles over the words. “Please, Mummy.”

Y/N inhales sharply, hushing him.

Alicent locks eyes with her daughter by law. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon. “I will do this, for you, Aegon. You needn’t worry.”

Aegon says nothing else, succumbing to sleep once more.

Alicent excuses herself, with a nod.

Y/N muffles the sound of her cries in the hand which isn’t holding his. She’s only half awake by the time she hears footfall and whispering at the end of her husband’s bed.

“Was it worth the price?” Helaena asks.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, my darling.” Aemond mutters, brushing his lips against her cheek.

Part 2

[eyelambspider]

𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡.𝟐 — 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠

Part One || Part Two

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Leaving the Cyberlife store is an... experience for the broken android. After the workforce and standing idle in the store for so long, you finally bring König home, where he learns what it would mean to be your companion. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : sincerely, thank you all for the lovely comments and interactions on the first chapter ♡ (my android son is so cute ahgkgj-) 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : fluff, hurt/comfort(?), domestic fluff, slow burn?

𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋. They had no programming to want. There were no lines of code that enabled them to dream. They were machines built to serve.

In theory, an android should not feel fear.

The WX-400, or König, glanced down at where your hand met his. The synthetic skin clasping imperceptibly onto yours. So warm and soft... and so much smaller in his own.

It kept him grounded when you guided him onto the sleek floors of the store, his sensors coming alight with all the new input his body was receiving. From being stuck in a paralyzing stasis, to feeling the cool spring sun on his skin; the slight chill of the store in his mouth; seeing the detailed cracks embedded into the pavement of the sidewalk.

His body felt like it was short circuiting. Jolted to life too fast, even if you had only led him to the curb. That soft smile on your face when he looked for assurance, still holding onto him.

What would happen if he let go? It didn't feel right to think that way. He was sure the world would not stop spinning below his feet if he did.

"König?"

Your voice made him snap out of it. Those stormy eyes of his hesitantly trailing up to meet yours.

"This is our ride," you tilted your head, gesturing to the polished self-driving car that sat on the corner of the street.

He didn't respond. Eyes flickering away, still holding onto your hand. It was a cute gesture. Maybe he just forgot to stop holding it? Or maybe the android didn't feel comfortable letting go without permission?

Hm...

You decided then: owning an android was hard.

The entire ride back to the house was a mix of stolen glances. Each entirely new to the other.

You, watching the way his soft eyes followed the people passing by on the street. Androids and humans alike. Watching, but never saying a word.

König was a sight to behold, and the smile that crawled onto your lips was inevitable.

Such a large android. Tall and built with the purpose of lifting ten times that of the average human... moving so gently, and with a hesitance for the world you'd only ever seen in stray animals.

And occasionally, when he felt you shift to watch your own window or the red-green lights of traffic. He'd consider you from the corner of his eye. Unreadable, before you could catch him and his eyes snapped back forwards.

People and buildings passed by in a blur of lights. Shops and a park filled with trees. Androids always obediently trailing after the humans who owned them, unable to do much but smile and tend to the children or shopping bags. Task after task, demand after demand.

When the car stopped at a red light, his eyes landed on a small girl, her pink rain jacket covered in a light sprinkle of rain. Jumping in every puddle she could with a giggle. The young android next to her, a dark-skinned man with long hair, smiled and did the same with her. Each taking a turn splashing gently in a puddle, unaware of the rest of the world around them, only enjoying the remnants of the rain.

Something in that image, the adoring smile on the android's face as he watched the girl play in innocent bliss, it stirred something for a long while, even after the car began to roll away.

He didn't know where the two of you were going. The thought of 'home' having no real meaning to him.

Back at the sites, the company only had two trucks to house their android workers. Rows of three in each truck, filled with small metal compartments for the mechanical men to stand in idly until the next job. Under lock and chain, so nobody stole company property, with no light except the one that blinked from his LED...

Soon, the commercial buildings melted into a quaint suburban neighborhood. Run down houses, but clearly lived in, with warm lights filling their windows.

Many had been put out of work due to the rise of android labor. He had heard one of the site managers complaining about it often.

König's eyes flickered over you for a moment again.

Did you work? Have a home or a family to go back to? People you lived with?

"We're here," you gestured sheepishly, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the car. Your hand finally slipping from his.

'Here' was a two story house with peeling paint and a handful of missing shingles. It looked like the surrounding houses. Puddles and mud around the sunken walkway from the rain, nothing but scrawny hedges growing yet.

König followed suit, ducking his head low to climb out of the car unscathed, towering back to his full height. Maybe the tallest android model built, at an impressive six foot ten inches.

He noticed you staring and his eyes hit the ground.

He was just-an amazing looking android, and his height was only more impressive to you. It was really hard not to smile. An android...

"Come on," you waved for him to follow you.

The closer you both got, the more he could see the wear. The fogged windows, the flickering outside light. Up the wooden porch that creaked dangerously under his weight, to the solid front door. That looked new.

"Well, here it is, home," you shrugged, the front door swinging open for the two of you.

"I just moved in," you explain as the android stepped through the doorframe to join you (having to bow his head again), peered around curiously. "The house is a bit old, but I'm going to fix it up for us," you nodded, looking around at the expanse of cardboard boxes in the living room. So sure of yourself.

Us?

The circular LED on his temple flickered yellow, a sign of stress that disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Here," you held your hand out for him, producing a small silver key for him to take. "House key," you explained with a sort of bounce in your toes.

It was for him, he realized.

He tilted his head, taking it from your hand, cool fingers brushing against yours as he considered you. Again.

You looked really... How should he describe it? Happy? Excited?

And you were. You had a house. A beautiful house that just needed a bit of care put into it, and an android unlike any you'd ever seen to help you make it a home.

"Well, I'd show you around but there's not much," you scratched at your neck with a sigh. It was a big house, just empty so far, and for the amount of stuff you had brought... You'd need a lot more to make it homey like you intended when you purchased the house.

You led him down the hall, shoes tapping against the wooden floorboards, dust lining the floors, but the house actually looked pretty sturdy to him.

"There's the living room, connects to the kitchen," you listed off as you walked by, "Washroom, and the basement door." You finished, pointing off to the left until you made it to the end of the hall. Still peering ahead towards a back door. Also new, he noted.

"Up the stairs is my room and a couple of... well empty rooms," you shrugged.

You had a lot on your plate, granted. Your eyes skimming over the backyard with a sigh. If you wanted flowers this year, they'd have to be planted fast... with the rest of the house to do, how hard could it be?

You spun around and faced König with a soft optimism, leading him back to the living room.

"Well, lets start with some of the bigger boxes," you nodded, the plan seeming to come together in your mind. "The movers did most of the heavy lifting, so I don't have to worry about pushing a mattress upstairs or moving all those dressers..."

It was true, there was a large cream colored couch already in the living room, along with a large white TV stand pushed against the wall.

It looked almost as big as you were, and the android found it a fitting comparison. Imagining you pushing that thing all by yourself just- didn't work in his mind.

König followed your lead, starting with the box on top of the pile that trailed along the hallway. Each one labelled quickly in sharpie.

Photos, Decorations, Dishes, Cleaning Supplies, Towels. All stuff that looked like it was supposed to be downstairs.

König decided though, to stick to the living room, carefully cutting open the taped up boxes with a precision that seemed impressive. Even manual. Carefully laying out photos and old picture frames you had decided were important.

There were a few that caught his eye. His slate colored irises lingering on your face as you smiled or laughed in a few of them. Surrounded by what he deduced were your closest friends or family members... all based on how happy you looked, or how you moved your hands to hold each person.

"You can leave the bigger ones aside König."

He nearly jumped.

"I'll put them up later," you assured him.

He glanced over his shoulder, where you now sat on the floor, fiddling with some small box in your hand.

He looked back to the photo's, a bit more hesitant to touch them now before he set them back into the box and turned towards you. The circular LED on his temple fluttering a yellow.

"I could put them up for you," he offered quietly. Given a drill or nails for them, it wouldn't take that long. In fact, the tools might've even felt familiar in his hand.

The sound of his voice, soft but rich and deep made you smile so wide he thought he had said something out of line.

He shouldn't have questioned you, he realized the mistake. His deeply scarred hands imperceptibly clasping into loose fists at his sides.

"Thank you," you began, "You could do that after we paint the walls tomorrow," you nodded, glancing around at the dim room around the two of you. "I was thinking maybe a light green? Or maybe even a smoky color?" you thought aloud, clearly having been undecided on the matter.

The LED turned blue again. The tension in his body suddenly melting away as you thanked him.

"Do you have a good color in mind?" You asked him then, suddenly wondering if androids had opinions. Or more specifically, if König did.

He shook his head quickly.

"No... favorite ones?"

And he shook his head again, his eyes fluttering downward. Was he... supposed to have one?

You only offered another soft smile, figuring as much. "We'll both come up with something," you assured quietly. Those soft eyes of yours trailing back up to him as you finally undid the box in your lap, pulling out a carefully wrapped vase. The beautiful glossy ceramic glinting in the fading light from the windows. Holding it up for him to take.

"It's going to be easier with you around," you joked softly, but it seemed true. The depth of your words had a faith in him that felt... unfamiliar.

He took the vase gently from your hands, his eyes flickering around as if he meant to say something, before he quietly turned and put it down onto a small table.

He returned to doing as you instructed, placing all of the big things into the room, leaving the walls bare for now.

The rest of the hours went by like that, you occasionally stopping to ask him something that seemed profound to his android brain.

Why would you want to know if he had a favorite animal? Or if he liked music?

What use could he have for preferences like that?

But he always answer politely, if not curtly, until the living room at least had the lights and the TV connected.

You sat down onto the couch with a huff, taking a moment to relax after the long day you'd had.

In truth, buying and owning an android never really seemed to have priority. This house did.

You glanced over at König, who was still working away quietly. Folding empty cardboard boxes up neatly and setting them aside for recycling.

"König."

He stopped when you addressed him, turning his attention back to you before he could grab another box and continue. Waiting for another command.

But, he was working too hard.

You patted the spot on the couch next to you.

And when he didn't move or seem to understand the gesture, your face lit up in amusement. "Come sit, relax for a bit," you trailed off. He was an android, sure, but it didn't mean... well that he was a machine.

The thought made your chest feel heavy suddenly. It was easy, with how human-like they looked, to forget that they weren't human.

The large android did as you said and sat down. The cushions dipping beneath him and making you lean that way with a small laugh.

He was so rigid, even for an android. Sitting up straight, scarred hands on his knees, not even leaning against the back of the couch. Unsure really what to do without someone's input.

'Relax?' Did he really know how to?

König watched you from the corner of his eye again as you flicked on the TV. Your feet pulled up, sinking comfortably into the cushions. Your knees almost brushing his.

It reminded him of the store, only a few hours earlier.

How warm you were next to him, and how that smile lingered on your lips as you watched the TV tiredly.

The moment you turned to catch his gaze, he straightened again, eyes forward, pretending to watch the screen. His LED blinking that sunny yellow.

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. ♡

@riotakire @jonathansmarbles @peter-the-pan @distinguishedprincesstrash @sleepyisoffline

@asteria33 @timetothirst @sleeplessskeleton @lady-boketto @mionacaped

[lust4nero]

Will I Understand This Feeling Someday?

Vergil Sparda x F!Reader

word count - 2.1k

tags - fluff, slow burn, denial of feelings, vergil is bad at feelings, soft vergil, vergil needs a hug, protective vergil, reader is similar to the lady in red

“Are hearts confined in cages of bone because if nothing holds the heart back, the heart could wander too far into vulnerability?,” Vergil thought as he walked alongside the lady. “Will I understand this feeling someday?”

Vergil can escape from Nightmares but can he escape the grasps of tender affection towards the Lady in Red?

[this fic was inspired by this fanart by hejee on Twitter/X]

Nightmares followed Vergil into Fortuna City, literal and metaphorical ones. He had done everything to keep his tracks hidden and made sure his whereabouts were unknown, even creating a fake name so no one could recognize one of the sons of Sparda. Unfortunately for the white-haired demon, he ended up venturing into a city that houses a religious society who worshipped his father. Of course he’d be recognized, alerting foes of his presence in Fortuna. Vergil, who usually thought with his mind and not what his soul felt most familiar to, chose to seek secret refuge in a city that would immediately spot a son of the god they worshipped. Even he was confused, he never felt much for Fortuna, so why did something draw him near in that place? He had no time to think or ponder for the squeals of the Nightmares were closer than he’d like them to be. He pulls the hood over his hair, spiky strands of a cascade of moonlight curtained by the thick and dark cloth of his cloak’s hood. The accessory casted a penumbra over his face, concealing cold eyes of light blue tourmaline. He moved fast and quiet like a shadow, several steps ahead of his adversaries. In the corner of the peoples’ lines of vision, it was as if they witnessed a wisp of black and a small tinge of dark blue zoom past but they were too slow to fully comprehend what they saw, deducing it to a trick of the light.

“Vergil!”

He swore that he wouldn’t stop; he wouldn’t halt, so why did he? No voice commanded Vergil, not even his own father's but he heard and obeyed, even if this voice did not demand anything from him. He looked around frantically, looking for the source of the voice and swearing to send all the world’s curses towards its beholder.

“Vergil!” The voice repeats. He turns around, bracing himself to come into combat with the Nightmares. He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he kept though his guard is still up, ready to unsheath the Yamato. His ears pick up the sound of the clacking of heels approaching his position, causing him to turn to the direction of the source of the noise and unsheathing his sword.

“Vergil, it’s just me.” You softly say, taking a careful step back when the sun causes a flash of light to reflect off of the sharp blade. “I saw you running earlier. Something wrong?”

The red cloak. It’s the lady with the red cloak again.

Vergil grabs your wrist and drags you closer to him, the quick jostling movement causing the white hood that veiled your hair to fall down. He narrows his eyes, trying to get inside your mind and figure out why someone like you would call out for someone like him . Sure, you had helped him before and this is not your first or second time meeting but why did you call out his name like he’s been in your life longer than he has been? Why did his name sound as if it carried a deep meaning when it left your mouth? Surely he was overthinking things, the woman in front of him was too kind for this world; evil has not tainted your pure soul.

“Why do you call me? I do not owe you anything,” Vergil coldly says. “You have divided my attention from my goal.”

He knew he messed up his wording when the woman in front of him widened her eyes, your cheeks dusted with a gentle pink hue as you directed your gaze to the man’s hold on your right wrist. That sounded a lot more soft and mushier than he ought to make it sound.

“I just happened to see you from afar. It’s not hard to miss a dark coat sifting through a crowd,” you quietly respond. “What were you running from? I don’t see anyone behind you.”

“You wouldn’t know,” Vergil coldly remarks as he lets go of your wrist, an odd feeling lingering at the back of his mind. He hears a distant sound, a sound similar to fork scratching against a plate; they’re near, nearer than he’d want them to be. He spots a dark growth belonging to a body of some sort amidst the crowd, though taking a spirit-like form as people could pass by the figure. Vergil is all too familiar with the sight and takes the lady’s hand as he moves swiftly and expertly.

“Takes the lady’s hand?”

He realizes what he’s done; he brought you along with him. Normally, Vergil would have left you behind and halted conversation long ago but he wasted time to escape to engage in a talk with you, though he did not exactly dislike the fact. As he ran, he looked back to look at you if you were alright but why did he look back? He looked back and observed that despite being out of breath and your hair looking a lot messier than it did earlier, you were in perfect condition which came as a relief to him.

If Vergil only saw you as someone he’d exchange a few words with and as someone who nursed his wounds until he could leave before the cracks of the sun’s rays shone through the night sky, why was he relieved that you were fine and in one piece?

He spots a small gap between two mossy brick walls from afar, rechanging his course and squeezing himself and you into the wall. An odd guilt weighs on his heart when he hears a trifling groan from you, feeling bad that he handled such a fragile person carelessly.

“Vergil what’s–”

Vergil cups a hand around your mouth, raising an index finger to press it against his lips to shush yours. Your bodies are pressed against each other, Vergil’s body caging you in with your back to the brick wall; he leans in close to you with his shrouded head, the excess of the fabric of his cover hiding your face as your own veil had fallen down and laid on your shoulders. You two remained motionless in their covert sanctuary, the only evidence of your presence being the faint echo of their heartbeats as the white-haired half-demon waited for his adversaries to pass. Frosty blue connected with yours in a silent intensity, the demon hybrid’s gaze meeting your hesitant and confused ones as a wordless understanding was exchanged, that understanding being Vergil’s unintentional penchant for being a magnet of hell’s worst spawns. He withdraws his hand from your mouth when he could no longer hear the obnoxious scratchy sound that came with the presence of Nightmares yet still tells you to stay silent as he continues to listen for the sounds of death. When he really confirms that they’ve gone, he moves away from your body and apologizes for invading your personal space.

“Apologies,” his voice rumbles. “It was a spur of the moment decision. We would both be dead had I not done what I did.”

Well, that was his version of an apology. You simply gave him a polite smile as you nodded. You did not miss the way Vergil’s eyes seemed to glow as his gaze fell on your hair, strands dark as if they were threads woven straight from the night sky or the way he lost himself in the void of your pupils, unable to free himself from the spell it had cast on him. He could break out of that spell, he had the power to but he made the conscious choice to let himself go just this once. Did this mean that he only had eyes for you? Perhaps he’s gotten lost in your eyes trying to look for his answer.

“You certainly have a way of apologizing,” you say in a hushed voice. “But it’s fine. You did what you had to do.”

Vergil nods, adjusting the hood to reveal more of his face. He looks out for any harm and doesn’t sense or see anything planning to launch an ambush towards you and him so he deems the coast clear. “Would you like to step out of here?”

“Yes please.”

He goes first, keeping the lady in red close to him. Once you’re both out, you begin making their way towards nowhere. Well, wherever their feet take them. Vergil suddenly remembers that he could be tracked down by scent and they’d find him again. He stops walking and simply stands around, looking for anything to throw his scent off with.

“You okay?” you ask as you look around. “Have you sensed them again?”

“They’ll be able to track me down with their sense of smell,” he faintly pointed out. Lucky for him, you think fast; swiftly, you unclasped your own cloak from your shoulders and wrapped it around his shoulders, getting on your tiptoes to be able to properly put your cloak on him.

“You did not make me remove the one I already had on,” Vergil stiffly pointed out. “And you put it on wrong; the inside is out.”

“Had I removed your cloak first, people would recognize you by your clothing. If I place my cloak on top of the one you already have, I would be able to unclasp your cloak and slip it out without them seeing your garments,” you explained with a cunning grin. “And I know what I’m doing. I’m using my own scent to cover yours up since the inner part of the cloak is closest to my body that’s why that’s the one facing outwards.”

Vergil raised an eyebrow as you unclasped his own, the ghost of an amused smile playing on his lips. He watched you earnestly, scanning the details of your slender fingers that worked with his article of clothing. He kept his gaze trained on your hands– he kept his gaze trained anywhere else but your face for he knew that if he dared to do such a thing again, he’d add fuel to the fire that spread a spellbinding warmth throughout his body. You finished up, folding his cloak into a small square that he could carry around. You hand it to him and he takes it, the momentary brushes of their fingers setting something aflame between you and him. Vergil felt funny; it was a foreign feeling– a mixture of shock, happiness, and confusion, along with many other feelings that he did not have names for.

“Tsk tsk tsk, Vergil.” You gently scolded. “I’ve done so much for you. First I treated you then now I’m lending you a cloak of mine. Not to mention, you just left when I treated you and now you dragged me to some place.”

Vergil’s cheeks burned; why was he embarrassed that he owed the lady in red for taking care of him? Normally he’d be able to brush such claims off with a scoff but why did this cause immense shame in him?

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he said in a voice near whispering. “I will do my best not to inconvenience you.”

“I can see the shame burning in the apples of your cheeks,” you tease. “If you truly are sorry, Vergil, then at least get me a bowl of noodles with two boiled eggs.”

Vergil looks up again from having kept his head downcast, eyes narrowing in uncertainty.

“Noodles…?”

“Yes, noodles. It’s the least you could do. Your grip on my wrist was no joke earlier and I had to replenish bandaging cloth all by myself back in the infirmary because you used up so much despite having healed awfully fast.”

“Right. Where do you want your noodles then?”

Vergil was taken aback from the words that escaped his lips, his mouth moving faster than his mind did. The half-demon did not like being bound to anyone or owing anyone anything; he did not like the disadvantage it posed to him but this time, he was quite unsure and baffled as to why owing the lady a bowl of noodles did not bother him. It felt annoying when something as mundane as your laugh or the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled when you beamed widely, the heart he deemed cold fluttering like a hummingbird trying to break free from the cage that is his ribs.

“Are hearts confined in cages of bone because if nothing holds the heart back, the heart could wander too far into vulnerability?,” Vergil thought as he walked alongside the lady. “Will I understand this feeling someday?”

NOTE - I wrote + posted this on ao3 a year ago and since I decided to make this account dedicated to Leon Kennedy smut and DMC, I think it'll be okay to crosspost a fic here :) also, people on Twitter are so miserable because why are people who don't like the anime shitting on people who enjoyed it??? like it's okay if you don't think it's good, we all have our own opinions on this, but don't attack people for disagreeing or not sharing the same opinion as you do like jeez, get a job or something idk -_- Personally, I think the show is great-- it's not perfect but I think it's loads of fun, everyone did a great job on it too <3 anyway, that's it and thank you for reading!!

[cherrycranes]

Hotter Than Usual (Emmett x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place 2) x Fem!Reader Summary: You've been drooling over your dilfy neighbor the whole summer, only watching from afar. But when he mows your lawn on a whim, you decide it's time to get close and personal. Word count: 2,781 Contents: (Minors DNI). No apocalypse AU. Unspecified age gap, oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, heavy flirting, public? kind of?? Author's notes: Behold, the promised neighbor Emmett fic made with @fuckiingloser. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Love you guys!!

It was a blistering hot July day, the sun sizzled on the pavement as you sat on your front porch swing, sucking on a cherry popsicle and wearing the skimpiest little red bikini. 

You were the only roommate living in your college house through the summer, and you filled your first two weeks of being alone tanning, napping on the couch in the air conditioning, or sitting on the porch swing, watching your neighbor across the street… Emmett…

Emmett was always doing something, and usually shirtless. Whether he was working on his old muscle car in his garage while listening to old rock music, weed-whacking, power-washing his driveway, cleaning his gutters, or mowing his lawn, you would see him. 

And he always saw you, giving you a subtle smirk or a little acknowledgment nod, sometimes even a wave when he spotted you on your porch and your eyes met. It all became a subtle game of silent flirtation. 

Today was one of those days. Emmett just so happened to be mowing his lawn shirtless, with a faded Chicago Cubs ball cap over his salt-and-pepper hair and looking as delicious as ever. No romcom or porn could ever compare, you had a real fantasy in the flesh right across the street from you, always there for you to watch.

And you knew he watched you too.

In times like these, when you baked under the sun and wore the tiniest bikini you owned, Emmett feasted his eyes. He tried to be sneaky about it, watching from inside his garage or the big front window of his house, but lately, he had gotten bold and blatant. Now he always watched you standing from his yard, looking over casually, drinking a beer, and flashing you his killer smirk.

You had met briefly once when you moved in a few months ago. You were getting a moving box out of your car, and Emmett came over to help and introduce himself. He was a polite, quiet older guy in his mid-40s, divorced with two high school-age sons who mostly lived with their mother. He was a perfectly normal man, yet incredibly sexy.

It was his scruffy beard with flecks of grey hairs throughout, soft desaturated brown curls usually underneath a worn baseball cap, the most beautiful pale blue eyes you’d ever seen, and a tan, muscular body he showed off any chance he got. Tattoos of mountains and eagles adorned his toned arms and made your pussy flutter whenever you got a glimpse of them.

Snapping back to reality and away from your horny daydreams, you finished the last of your popsicle, hopped off the swing, and headed back into the house to rinse away the sweat of the afternoon and the ever-growing attraction you felt for your older neighbor.

As you stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around your naked body, the familiar hum of a lawnmower right outside your window piqued your interest…

Peeking from behind the curtain, you saw him through the corner of your window. Emmett, finishing the last square of uncut grass in all of his sexy, shirtless, dilfy glory. 

Mowing your lawn. 

Fuck, if that didn’t make you feel something. You watched him wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, brushing it off on his khaki shorts as he finished the last bit of your lawn. Emmett pushed his lawnmower back to his yard across the street, leaving yours impeccable, but as you were about to turn away, he did something, the perfect proof of what you had suspected all along…. He turned around, looked up at your window as if he knew you were there watching him, and winked. 

And that’s when you knew. Emmett was not just a hot but clueless divorced dad across the street. This game of flirtation was a real thing, and every single one of your brief but repeated interactions was no other than deliberate seduction tactics. Schemes to tempt each other into making the first big move.

And this one had been it… And now, he was challenging you to make yours…

Decided, you slipped on a simple white tank top, a lace pink thong, and a slutty little jean skirt that hugged your ass and hips way too tightly, disguising you as the girl next door that could make him rock hard the second he laid eyes on you.

Damp from the shower, your hair soaked into the fabric of your cotton white tank lightly, your lips donned a shimmery coat of lipgloss and, to give you the perfect excuse to go see him looking like that, your hands carried a pretty plate with store-bought cookies that would serve as a makeshift thank you gift.

Motivated by the lonely, sexless summer you had had so far, you gathered your nerves and walked out of your front door. The hot dilf across the street basically begged you to come over and let him fuck your brains out, and you knew it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance…

You stared at his open garage, your pussy fluttering at the knowledge that he was there, just a few seconds away from you. Anticipation pumped inside your veins until you found yourself standing right in front of his house.

Old music posters and tin beer signs covered the walls of his garage. His vintage red Mustang, which you had seen him wash shirtless in his driveway countless times, stood there. Right in the back, there was a tool bench where Emmett happened to sit, drinking a cold Bud Light, shirtless and dripping sweat as the Eagles played softly in the background. 

He noticed your quiet presence and turned around, eyes immediately looking over your frame shamelessly, a smirk hidden behind the can of beer as he took a sip.

“Well, hi there…” His voice was so low and sexy, your thong dampened, and your mouth went dry. Your eyes feasted upon him, finally close and personal for the first time. His tattoos on his arms and the droplets of sweat running down his toned abs and into his fuzzy happy trail put you in a trance.

The sound of him setting his can down snapped you out of it, eyes quickly moving up his body to his pretty blue eyes, and finally making eye contact. 

“I brought you these as a thank you for mowing my lawn…” You chirped, so sweetly passing him the plate of cookies. Your hands touched briefly as he took them from you, a hint of a smirk on his face. The rough pads of his hardworking fingers contrasted perfectly with your soft, manicured hands, and it felt like a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Ah… how kind of you… Just trying to be a friendly neighbor is all…” Emmett replied with that raspy, sexy voice, gratefully taking the plate and setting it down next to his beer. He kept watching you as you walked over to peek under the open hood of his old Mustang.

Innocently and secretly calculative, you bent over the engine of the car, pretending to care about it as your tiny skirt rode up your legs. Emmett’s eyes immediately fell to the edge of the garment, taking in how the undersides of your asscheeks popped out the bottom. His cock twitched to life in his kakhi shorts and he held back a groan. 

There was silence, but no awkwardness between you as he practically drooled over you. The last few months from afar had been deliciously tense, and as tense as you both were, you were on the verge of snapping.

“Been a real hot summer…” You small-talked, cliché but useful. You could feel his eyes burning into your ass from behind while you still pretended to understand whatever went on at the engine. Finally, you turned around, looking at him across the garage. The humid air wasn’t the only thick feeling in the atmosphere around you.

Emmett smirked, adjusting his ball cap and taking a sip of his beer, flexing his arm just right to give you a nice view of his thick, sweaty, tattooed bicep. He nodded with a slight smirk on his handsome, bearded face, expertly tossing his now-empty beer into the trash can.

“Hotter than usual… and I think I know why…”  He agreed, taking prowler steps toward you that made your heart race. His strong arm snaked boldly around your waist and pulled you closer, chest to chest, his growing hard-on poking against you through his shorts. 

“It’s all thanks to you… wearing those pretty little bikinis… sitting on your porch in your underwear staring at me while you suck on your popsicles…” he purred, looking down into your eyes. His fingertips danced over the exposed soft skin of your lower back, sending goosebumps over your entire body.

With a smirk, you wrapped your arms around him, resting them on his shoulders, fingertips playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and sticking out under his hat. With each word, you got more turned on, your body buzzed with anticipation. 

“Why do you think I spend so much time out in my yard? Just to get a glimpse of you… I know you watch me too, baby…” He murmurs to you, your lips so close to touching but not yet. 

“Well… I'm here now… what are you gonna do about it?” You whispered sensually, looking up and giving him your best “fuck me” eyes, your lips ghosting over his, the tension seconds from boiling over.

His large hands fell from the small of your back down to your ass, grabbinng a greedy handful of each cheek and squeezing hard.

“Oh, don’t worry… I’ve got a few ideas…” Emmett’s voice dripped with cheeky confidence, a smirk forming upon his lips before they crashed into yours.

The taste of toothpaste and cheap beer filled your taste buds, and you couldn’t get enough. You kissed deeply and hungrily, tongues tangling together in a messy, lust-driven knot. 

All those afternoons of distant flirtation had paid off, and it felt more than good. You moaned into his mouth, his cock twitched in response, urging him to get more now that he had you. 

Strong arms picked you up like it was nothing, your legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands gripped the back of your thighs as he walked you across the garage, setting you on top of his tool bench.

Emmett stood between your parted legs, hands on your inner thighs now. You broke the kiss for air, panting from the intensity of it all. His eyes wandered all over you. He had you where he wanted you.

“I’ve been dreaming about this little pussy for months… wondering how it tastes… how it feels… how wet it would get for me...” He practically purred into your ear before taking your earlobe between his teeth, tugging on it playfully, his beard tickling your neck.

One big, calloused hand found its way between your parted legs, his thumb found your clit over the lace of your thong and rubbed painfully slow circles on it before sliding it down between your pussy lips. He groaned at the growing wet spot, and you moaned, completely speechless.

“Already so wet for me… good girl… I think you’ve been dreaming of this too…” He whispered into your ear, placing a wet kiss on your neck. He moved the flimsy fabric out of the way and groaned in pleasure when he finally got his first ever look at your pretty pussy.

Emmett stared in admiration, a hungry smirk appearing on his face before his tongue came out to lick his lower lip, wishing it was your cunt. It took an effort for him to peel his eyes away from your wet pussy to look into your eyes.

“I bet you taste as delicious as you look…” He said, big hands pushing up your thighs even farther apart. He went straight to the point, burying his handsome face between your legs and licking a fat stripe up your folds, groaning happily at your taste. 

“Emmett…” You whimpered loudly, his tongue circled and flicked over your clit expertly before moving down, dipping into your soaking entrance and making your hips buck into his mouth. He devoured you greedily, stealing all words from your mouth; it felt so good that you could scream.

Knocking his hat off his head, your fingers tangled in his curls. His tongue and mouth shamelessly worked on you in front of the whole neighborhood, and you couldn’t care less.

He moaned against your sensitive flesh, his lips nibbled on your nub, then moved to spit on your hole. His thick, calloused finger slid in easily and curled inside, hitting that special spot inside you, adding to your growing pleasure as he returned to tend to your clit.

The combined pleasure was too much, too good, your eyes nearly crossed, and you saw stars as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your tight cunt squelched around his finger and filled the garage with filthy sounds, arousal dripped into his palm just to evidence how much you enjoyed this.

Emmett pulled his mouth back for a painful second, just to look up at you. Your eyes snapped open, and you discovered just how wet you had left his lips and beard. Such an erotic view, the familiar burn in your stomach grew. His finger never faltered in its pace, pumping in and out of you.

“Come for me, pretty girl…” He cooed, little kisses peppering over your needy clit and pale blue eyes looking into yours. You nodded frantically, your mouth hung open, and your breath hitched.

With a sexy wink and a sly smile, he dove back in for more of you, shaking his head back and forth, slurping at your wet slit like a starved man. His middle finger curled inside you, massaging your G-spot and adding to the myriad of sensations as his beard tickled your inner thighs.  

Louder and louder, you moaned in utter overstimulation, your orgasm rapidly building thanks to him. 

“Holy f-fuck” You stuttered, your voice shaky. “I-i’m gonna come…” You warned with a whine, your back arched, and the back of your head brushed up against some wrenches and drill bits on the wall, too close to coming to care.

“Cmon baby… lemme have it…” Emmett groaned, his words muffled against your wet cunt. He slid in another thick finger inside you, lapping at your folds like an ice cream cone melting in the hot sun. Your loud moans now echoed through his garage, a mixture of gibberish and his name repeated again and again.

Your gaze connected with his, his eyes pleading you to come on his tongue as it swirled over your swollen clit then between your folds. Impossible not to give in…

Hard and sudden, your orgasm hit you like a train, the pressure finally boiling over inside you after half a summer of impatient waiting.

 “Oh my god… I’m coming…” You whimpered with tears threatening to swell up in your eyes. You gripped his soft hair tightly, afraid of being dragged away by your own tide of pleasure, and, instinctively, grinding your cunt on his bearded face, the tip of his nose bumping your clit.

With thighs shaking and toes tightly curled, your orgasm ripped through you, your gummy walls pulsed around his fingers gradually, slowing to a stop. His work on you didn’t end there; he gladly lapped up all your sweet release and fed from it, doing the same with his fingers when he pulled them out of you. His needy tongue took care of the sticky arousal that had pooled in his hand, savoring every drop of your taste with a groan.

Finally, he stood to look at you, admiring the state he had put you under, your face, your puffy, sensitive pussy and your ragged, disbeliefed breathing. You had never come from head before… Not before him…

Emmett flashed you his sexy smirk once more, squeezing your thighs with both hands. He could still smell you on his beard and the tip of his nose.

“We should've done that a lot sooner…” You admitted, still processing just how real it had been, coaxing a laugh out of him. He leaned in, capturing your lips in one last hot kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

When you broke the kiss, he put his forehead, damp with sweat, against yours. His hands rubbed the soft flesh of your thighs gently, and he gazed into your eyes with a determined, yet tender look.

“Good thing we’ve got all summer…” 

Pinterest board by @fuckiingloser

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 boot

SECRET BONUS/prequel to pocus -- on halloween, you're invited to custard's annual bash. but in your attempt to sneak out in your sexy costume, you're caught by your darling husband... now you'll never make it to the party

cw: nsfw, fluff, comfort, horny katakuri, possessive katakuri lovesick katakuri, bratty-ish reader, katakuri is twenty-six, you are twenty-five, soda is at a sleepover at smoothie's, i had a ball writing this

a/n: link to the costume if you want it x

"And to think I was gonna be a fairy..." you grinned, cheekily, as you marveled at yourself in the mirror, switching poses every minute or so to examine all angles. "Brûlée's gonna freak."

Gingerly, you grabbed onto the low-cut, ruffled neckline of your dress, tugging it up ever so slightly before pulling the black corset along with it.

It was sagging dangerously low, a problem you would most likely have to deal with for the rest of the night.

A small price to pay for easily being the best dressed at the event.

In light of Custard's annual Halloween party—rager, if one wanted to be more politically correct—you had spent the last two months making your costume completely from scratch, sewing and embroidering like your life depended on it in order to create the perfect outfit.

And the perfect outfit you did create, as clearly evidenced by the stunning dress in the mirror—and your blinding smile.

What you had created was an effortlessly sexy Little Red Riding Hood costume, complete with a black corset top, a red and white, short, frilled dress, and a signature, crimson hood, which was only enhanced by a pair of white knee socks and black Mary Jane heels.

Not to mention your flawless makeup, and freshly done hair, which accentuated your large, (e/c) eyes and perfectly framed your face.

You looked drop-dead gorgeous, and, quite literally, ripe for the chasing—the effect you were rightly going for.

Now the only task was to get it past Katakuri.

At the reminder, you huffed, lip jutting in a pout as your hands fell to your sides.

You adored your husband with all your heart, and would never ever speak poorly behind his back...

But my God, was he a horndog.

The man might seem stoic and put together everywhere else, but with you, it was as if he couldn't contain himself.

It was almost scary how much he loved you, how little he cared so long as he got to feel you.

Hell, the amount of times the two of you had snuck off during or showed up late to an event because of his "drive" was staggering.

You were honestly surprised you didn't have a truckload of children by now.

But he didn't seem care.

The only things floating around in his universe were his family, his son, and you.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And now you'd have to deceive him by employing your foolproof plan:

Run.

Sneakily—but hastily— you exited your shared room, making a point to tip-toe over to the top of the stairs where you could peek and see where he was.

And, lo and behold, there he sat on the couch, peacefully dozing with his hands folded over his stomach, having come back from a long day of patrolling the outer edges of Mama's territory.

'Perfect.'

Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself, gripping tightly onto your fake picnic basket as your neared the edge of the steps, before finally making a beeline for the door.

With impressive precision, you were able to keep your heels from clacking against the marble, while also keeping a rather quick pace.

You flew down the twenty-eight stairs with ease, hitting the floor of the foyer with a silent click before hastily shuffling toward the door.

Your eyes brightened, hope seeming just within reach, as this was the farthest you'd ever made it with this plan.

Quietly, you extended your arm, just about to grab the handle when—

"Darling," a rather familiar voice piped up, startling you to a halt.

That was your scolding nickname.

You let out a shocked squeak, freezing in place just centimeters away from the cool metal of the doorknob.

'Dang it!'

The perks of having a husband who can see the future.

From Katakuri's spot on the couch, he watched you, one eye peeked open as he remained comfortable in his position, hands still folded over his stomach and head still resting against the couch-back.

In actuality, he had figured out your poorly executed plan about five minutes before you made it to the stairs, and simply waited to see what you would do—he found your antics quite entertaining, and inherently adorable.

Yet, despite that, you weren't going to go down without a fight.

You were making it to that damn party.

Masking your defeat, you turned to your loving husband with an innocent smile, loosely grasping your basket.

"Yes, my love?" you replied quickly, in a sugary sweet tone.

"Where are you going in such a rush?" he asked, faintly taunting.

You hesitated a moment, unsure of what to say.

"...Out?"

Internally, you facepalmed, embarrassed that you had managed to turn your statement into a question.

'Nice going, (y/n)!'

"Mhmm," he nodded, glancing up at the ceiling. "Out being Custard's party?"

You hesitated again, hoping to come up with a better answer this time.

"...Maybe?"

Internally, you groaned, completely frustrated with your horrible lying skills.

'Do you even want to go?!'

Nodding once again, he let out a quiet hum, seemingly letting you off the hook.

Confused, you paused a moment, waiting for some sort of catch.

But it never came—he simply continued staring at the ceiling.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you took the opportunity, quickly grabbing onto the doorknob and twisting it.

But just as you were about to swing the door open, a large mochi arm wrapped tightly around your waist, instantly yanking you back toward the couch and into his lap.

"Kuri, no!" you whined, fruitlessly attempting to squirm out of his grip as he held you in place with a single, corded arm. "I've been waiting months to go to this party!"

"You're not missing anything," he assured, grabbing your neck and pulling you in for a kiss.

"No, Kuri, my lips!" you quickly swerved. "They took thirty minutes to apply!"

"Do them again," he shrugged off, not caring in the least as his one hand grabbed your face by the cheeks, turning you to face him.

"No kisses," you denied, firmly, placing a hand over his mouth to stop him. "You let me go, and when I get back, I'll give you as many as you want."

Surprised, his eyes slightly widened, taken aback by your sharp tone.

Did you... just tell him what to do?

"But until then, n—"

Suddenly, in one fluid motion, your skirt was flipped up, a rather calloused hand dealing a firm blow to your bare asscheek, silencing you instantly.

Utterly shocked, you let out a sharp gasp, eyes wide as you lurched slightly forward in his lap.

'Did he just... spank me?'

"Katakuri!"

"You think you can tell me when to kiss my wife?" he arched a brow, voice deadly clear.

"I am your wife!" you stated, incredulously.

"Last I checked, my wife didn't have this much mouth on her," he countered, fighting the smirk in his voice.

Disbelieving, you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Then you must've been absent for the last five years of our marriage."

SMACK!

"Hey!"

SMACK!

"Will you cut that—!"

SMACK!

"Katakuri!"

SMACK!

"I can do this all night, sweetheart."

As much as your ass was stinging from the impact of your husband's hand, you couldn't help but get wetter with each smack.

That familiar knot of need had already begun to coil in your stomach, pulling ever so tightly.

You were so flushed, and it wasn't long before your hand began to slowly drift between your legs.

"No."

Katakuri's harsh command stopped you a second before you made contact.

You let out a whimper of protest, but he remained unrelenting, effortlessly lifting you off his lap and plopping you down over-top his shoe.

He didn't let go of your face as he nudged his boot between your legs.

He ground the tip against your most sensitive spot, drawing out a muffled yelp.

Desperate for friction, you didn't think, and simply did as he silently asked, straddling his shoe.

You spread your legs wider, the beautiful pressure and rub of leather against silk and tender, sensitive flesh made you ache all over.

Your moans built in intensity as you picked up speed, grinding shamelessly against his shoe while he held your face in place, forcing you to stare up at him.

"Look at my beautiful girl... a mess all for me... only me..."

The bumps and ridges of the studs scraped against your swollen clit and sent sharp lightning bolts of pleasure through your body.

It hadn't even been a full five minutes since all this started and you were already soaking the floor, like this was the first time you'd ever felt pleasure in your life.

Still, it wasn't enough.

You wanted, needed more friction, and you held on to his thigh to steady yourself as you ground harder.

"Where's all that mouth from earlier? You so much to say before..."

Your mind went fuzzy, your hips jerking, you movements frantic as the need built and built and—

The pressure inside you exploded before you could even grasp the feeling.

You let out a strangled cry of pleasure as you threw your head toward the ceiling, glassy, sparkling eyes meeting your husbands—whose were blown completely wide with lust, having just witnessed the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Shudder after shudder racked your body while you rode out your high mindlessly.

Everything was so warm and slick and nice, you had almost completely forgotten about the costume party.

And when Katakuri's fingers carefully released your face, you slumped against his leg, too exhausted to stand.

Strong hands unwound your arms from his leg as he picked you up, moving to set you down on the kitchen island before starting the task of cleaning you up.

After he finished, he straightened your dress, his eyes gleaming with amusement and lingering desire.

"If you wanna make that party, then now's your chance," he drawled, his voice husky.

You rolled your eyes, the action practically audible as you wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, the though of your lips not even crossing your mind.

You'd ruined your dress, underwear, and makeup—as well as his shoe—and you didn't have the slightest clue as to how you were going to attend that party without people knowing exactly what you'd been up to.

But if you were being honest... you didn't care.

You were too sated and content, too wrapped up in the bliss of being so deeply admired, so deeply desired.

You'd apologize to Custard tomorrow.. but for now?

You were gonna try not to get eaten alive.

[justaz]

ygraine gives birth to a quiet child. the babe does not scream, cry, or wail when it is born. one of the midwives take the bloody babe and holds it against her chest and she rubs its back and urges it to breathe. gaius is hidden beneath her dress and he tends to her wounds that sap her strength with every gush of blood. nimueh sits beside her, holding her hand as she takes in gasping breaths, recovering from the painful and exhausting ordeal of birthing a child. nimueh’s hand is running through her hair as she whispers praises in her ear that she cannot hear.

the room begins to darken as she leans against nimueh. her vision tunnels to a golden scene hovering in the air above her. she sees a young man with golden hair and bright blue eyes. he sits atop a throne with a golden crown nestled on his head. beside him is a figure that is obscured, their features hidden from her view but she can tell they are powerful. the image in the air shifts between the two people, flipping like a coin in the air, the golden king on one side and the cloaked figure on the other. the coin slowly picks up speed until the two figures blur together.

from the distorted image, three women appear and whisper a prophecy to her, a familiar one that has been told for millennia - more a fairy tale now than the words of a seer. as the women speak each line of the prophecy, one after the other, their voices combine into one as they whisper to her “behold the once and future king, arthur pendragon”

“do you see that?” she feels herself mumble as the three women disappear and the coin begins to slow once more. the two men come back into view, now side by side, “oh, its beautiful,” she murmurs, “look at him, nimueh. my son, my son…so beautiful.” arthur shifts his gaze to meet her own and suddenly the golden visage begins to rot. his regal robes fall apart, his crown rusts, the castle around him begins to decay and collapse into rubble.

arthur begins to cry like a child, unfitting for a man of his age. he shrinks to a young boy, perhaps seven, and stands next to his father, uther, as he addresses a crowd. he stands tall and proud though it is clear something has happened. his expression is cold and unfeeling until his gaze shifts down to someone in the square and pure hatred fills his eyes. the vision moves back and allows ygraine to watch as a young woman is tied to a pyre, screaming and crying and begging and pleading for her life.

“this woman has been found guilty for the crime of sorcery,” uther’s voice commands attention though his words make no sense to her. sorcery a crime? what nonsense. uther continues, “for such a crime, the punishment is and will always be death.” he nods down at the executioner who ushers forward and lights the wood of the pyre. knights follow suit and soon the woman is screaming in agony as flames engulf her.

arthur lowers his head and averts his gaze but uther grabs his chin and pulls his face up, “watch,” he orders him, “they killed your mother. they deserve this.” young arthur has tears in his eyes but he does not let them fall. he squares his shoulders and stares down at the woman as she is burnt to a crisp. when the screaming finally stops, young arthur shifts his gaze up to hers.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “please, save me.”

ygraine can hear her cries as the vision dissipates, her wails and denials. nimueh holds her close and whispers how she needs patience, her child will breathe yet. ygraine feels even more of her strength sap away and she understands. the deal uther made with nimueh, it called for a death to create a life. she knows now that it is her life that will be reaped in exchange. she does not have time to weep.

she turns to nimueh, “protect him,” she squeezes her hand, “you have to protect him.” she pleads. nimueh does not understand. how could she? ygraine squeezes her hand harder than she had in childbirth, “promise me, nimueh. you won’t let uther corrupt him. you won’t let him harm my son.” nimueh looks down at gaius who peeks over her dress, sorrow in his gaze and shakes his head. ygraine sobs once more, “promise me, nimueh!”

the high priestess turns back to her, “i promise, my lady, but rest assured king uther will not harm a hair on your child’s head.”

ygraine shakes her head, her body has gone numb, “you don’t understand. he will never be the same. you have to protect him. you have to protect arthur.”

nimueh nods, her expression trouble, “i promise, ygraine. i will protect arthur.”

ygraine smiles through her tears, the pain and sorrow fading as she grew weaker. nimueh’s expression grows panicked but the last thing she hears is her beautiful son’s cries.

nimueh didn’t understand ygraine’s wish until uther learned of his wife’s fate. she had expected sobbing, falling to his knees, or begging the gods. she didn’t expect the rage, though it was understandable, and she definitely didn’t expect the vitriol he spat at her, blaming her for ygraine’s passing. despite the protests that fell from her lips, she knew he was right. it was her magic from a deal she offered him that took her life.

her magic claimed ygraine’s life in her chambers. she held her in her arms as she died and could do nothing to save her. the last thing she saw when she died was nimueh, helpless to do anything to stop what she had put in motion.

uther called for his guards to round up all magic users and have them punished. gaius, a man who was always a bit selfish, surrendered to uther, denounced sorcery and magic and was forgiven for his past “treachery”. when he turned to nimueh, she knew even if she had denounced magic, he would never forgive her for what happened. he ordered his guards to have her taken to the dungeons in cold iron and spat that she would burn in the morning.

it didn’t take much magic to disappear from the throne room and reappear out in the halls. she strode through the castle up to the nursery where little arthur was to reside. something in uther shattered in that room, he cursed magic users and called them monsters, beasts meant to be hunted and killed. she wouldn’t know if he truly meant to go through with it until the first execution but she was not waiting that long.

ygraine’s last wish had been for her to protect arthur, to protect him from his father. when she had said that, she had assumed the queen was delirious from pain and blood loss. now she understood. the triple goddess had blessed her with knowledge before her passing. and with that knowledge, she begged nimueh to protect arthur from uther. nimueh would not wait until it was too late, she would not sit back and let fate have it’s way, she would not let ygraine down again.

nimueh greeted the wetnurse with a smile. the woman smiled kindly up at her and she politely requested arthur and asked her to leave. the woman was hesitant but a subtle spell over her mind guided her out and away from the room. nimueh stared down at little arthur’s face. he had thin strands of white hair that was sure to thicken and darken as he grew. he had ygraine’s nose and lips. when he blinked his eyes open it was like she was staring down at the late queen.

the sound of guards pounding down the hall alerted her of her precarious situation once more and she did not waste another second before fleeing. she held arthur tight to her chest as she fled the castle and wormed her way through the citadel. no one looked twice at her, the average citizen unaware that their queen had had a child and died just that morning.

nimueh traveled as fast as she could back to her island. she warned her sisters that resided on the island of what uther meant to do. they did not take his threats seriously until they scried and saw uther slaughtering hundreds of magic users in the coming weeks. nimueh and her sisters helped raise arthur until an attack was launched on the isle itself. she and arthur remained under the castle while the other high priestesses fought back against the armies storming their home. one of her sisters stumbled down into the room, beaten and bloodied.

“they’ve won,” she slurred, “the isle of the blessed has fallen. you must go, protect the child. do not let him fall into uther’s hands.” she cast her magic to form a gateway for nimueh and arthur, “i do not have much strength to hold this, sister. go now.” nimueh left her home behind. she heard two weeks later that the castle had been burnt and crumbled to rubble.

nimueh and arthur traveled the land, hopping from place to place and never settling for long as camelot knights were soon to follow. arthur grew quicker than she thought possible and she knew she had to settle down somewhere, yet she knew that if she were to settle in a village or town, it would only be a matter of time before camelot found them.

it took time and energy and lots of magic, but she created a cottage in the woods, hidden by wards to divert any visitors. she and arthur both learned to live off the land, to grow what they needed and survive on their own. he always found her magic fascinating and loved to watch her cast spells. since he was born from a deal she made, his very being was fused together with her own magic, marking him as hers.

he called her mama and she called him son. she told him of his other mother, ygraine, of how she gave birth to him but perished before she could meet him. she told him that she knew ygraine was proud of him because she was proud of him. arthur always wished to explore the world outside of their haven but nimueh’s paranoia kept him close.

it wasn’t until one day when arthur was ten that something changed. nimueh had been on her way out to tend to their crops when she heard arthur laughing and playing. she smiled to herself as she continued on her way. until she heard another voice, a higher voice belonging to what sounded like a child.

nimueh dropped her tools and rushed around the lawn to find arthur on the edge of their haven playing with a boy a couple of years younger than him with a mop of black hair and wide blue eyes. the boy was also inside their haven. he had gotten past her wards. he was dangerous. nimueh dashed forward and grabbed arthur, tugging him behind her as she assessed the boy. arthur complained behind her and begged her to let him stay. the boy stood up on shaky legs and didn’t bother dusting off his trousers.

“hi!” he waved a hand, a goofy smile on his face, “my mom’s busy at the market so i came to play in the woods. arthur and i were just about to play will and i’s favorite game, knight and princess. will always makes me be the princess but arthur wanted to be the princess this time so i really, really, really wanna play with him. do you wanna join? you can be…the dragon guarding the princess!! oh, you already are. are we playing now? hold on, let me get a stick so i can-“

“who are you?” nimueh finally cut off his rambling. she wasn’t sure how a child, or anyone for that matter, could talk so fast and endlessly without taking a breath. her fear eased as she recognized that he truly was just a child, but she still remained wary as he had somehow found his way past her wardings.

“oh, sorry! my mom always says i have to be more polite but i always am so i never understand what she means.” he blinked and shook his head before grinning up at her, showing off his missing tooth in the top corner of his mouth, “i’m merlin!”

[shuaasumii]

“Lost and Found”

ʚ pairing: dad!hoshi x mom!reader

ʚ genre: fluff, crack (not really)

ʚ warnings: none!

ʚ summary: your husband hoshi, and your son dohyun, are appalled by the absence of their favorite stuffed tiger, yoshi.

ʚ a/n: ik i was supposed to finish wonwoo’s fic first according to the poll i posted, but i genuinely have no motivation to finish it. anyways, pictures above are from pinterest!

“babeee,” your husband whined from upstairs. you yelled back with a ‘yes hoshi’ curious about what he was whining about.

“we need you,” hoshi answered referring to him and his son. “it’s urgent,” he added slightly in a state of panic.

with a sigh, you closed the book you were reading and made your way to the staircase. walking into your toddler’s room, you found hoshi seated in the middle of the carpet. legs spread wide and your two year old dohyun, sitting on his thigh. your eyes scanned over the two boys making sure neither of them were hurt (they weren’t).

“what happened this time?” you questioned.

hoshi took a deep breath and then said, “yoshi is missing.” your husband was referring to dohyun’s tiger stuffed animal, which for some odd reason they both cherished very much.

“you can’t find yoshi?” you asked sitting down in front of the man.

“we looked everywhere and we can’t find him” hoshi rambled, “this is causing dohyunie a lot of distress.”

you inhaled through your nose, “are you sure you’re not the one in distress babe?”

“um no. i’m just concerned for my son who’s missing his emotional support animal,” he answered in the most unconvincing way possible.

you sigh, “where was yoshi last seen?” you asked almost as if you were a detective. hoshi gestures to dohyun to tell you where yoshi was seen last.

“in my bed mama,” the toddler points a finger in the direction of his bed.

with your eyes, you follow dohyun’s finger to his bed and notice that the plush was indeed no longer on his bed. “and you’re sure yoshi’s not in this room?”

“so sure babe. we’ve looked everywhere i swear!” hoshi insists.

“okay than he’s probably somewhere around the house. c’mon let’s go look for him.” you tell the boys, grabbing ahold of your son’s tiny hand.

it was like a treasure hunt, the three of you marching around the house as the treasure hunters, and yoshi being the treasure itself. thoroughly checking every room in your home, the animal was nowhere to be found. the living room? nothing. the kitchen? empty. the office? nada! it was truly like yoshi disappeared in thin air.

“wait,” you look at your boys, who seemed worn out from all the hunting. “we haven’t checked the laundry room yet. it has to be in there.”

“oh my god,” he says. “your right yoshi must be in there!” hoshi runs to the room which yoshi should be hiding in, completely leaving you and your son behind.

rolling your eyes at him, you lift dohyun into your arms and make your way to the room. catching up to your husband, you see him standing in the doorway looking absolutely stunned. wanting to see for yourself, you peer into the laundry room. low and behold, yoshi was indeed in the room. but the thing is, he was in possession of latte, your dog. the stuffed animal was perched right next to latte in his dog bed.

“kwon latte! you naughty dog! how could you take dohyunie’s yoshi?” your husband scolded the puppy, snatching the stuffy back. he handed yoshi back to the two year old in your arms, who seemed completely unfazed by the situation.

then picking up latte, “latte, if you wanted a stuffed animal like dohyun, you could’ve just asked me.”

[slipperzipper]

Heimdall x f!Reader (Smut!)

| Pairing: Heimdall x Reader

| Contents: Massive warning for those who do not like sexual content because this oneshot contains smut smut smut! Sex pollen, Masturbation, Grinding, afab reader, p in v, creampie, rough sex, and orgasms, let me know if I need to add other things to this as well!

| wrds: 3.2k

| Disclaimer!: Massive warning for those who do not like sexual content because this oneshot contains smut smut smut! minor Grammar and Spelling mistakes so apologies, Kind of weird start. also does anyone else still like heimdall? I know its been a year since I initially posted my first oneshot of this asshole. I'm deciding to repost this on tumblr since I know some people still like this man lol

“I’m pretty sure a legless donkey could move faster than you.” 

Heimdall’s voice called out, the two of you had been walking through the wild jungles of Vanaheim. So far, if it had not been for Heimdall’s insults and petty comments, it was going well. The flora constantly grabbing at your ankles and causing you to stumble slightly each time you continued or turned into a new direction, but that was the least of your worries. 

The reason why you were in Vanaheim in the first place was for the All-father, or Odin for short. 

According to Odin, there was a lost relic in Vanaheim that he desired desperately. Apparently so desperately that he forced Heimdall to bring you with him for extra help. Unfortunately you couldn’t exactly say no since you wanted to look good in front of the All-father, accepting the offer with a feigned smile. You were his guest afterall.

“I’d move faster if it wasn’t for your constant insults!” You laughed, you were a couple dozen feet behind him, he just had to lead the way since you were ‘too incompetent’ to do so. Your eyes seemed to be lost in the environment, its natural beauty and color was just a sight to behold.

You were almost jealous of the Vanir that they get to live in such a beautiful realm, but you were soon kicked out of your thoughts as the sound of the golden god yelping hit your ears. That caused you to walk a bit faster, before turning into a jog, then into a sprint in order to find him. You knew he couldn’t be hurt by a person or animal, but plant life? Can’t exactly read a plant’s mind if there’s no mind to read. Even when Heimdall was a dick, you knew Odin wouldn’t exactly be happy if his most loyal son died to some miniscule threat.

But that isn’t what you saw when you found him. There was a small red-pink plant next to him releasing a dusty spore, his arm covering his eyes before backing up and falling on his backside. You grabbed him from under his shoulders and dragged him out, his grumbles consisted of the plant and how he hadn’t needed the help.

“Heimdall! Are you okay?” You asked, your hands propping on your knees as you looked down on him. He groaned at this strange feeling bubbling in his chest. “Yes- yes I am fine.” Heimdall reassured before pushing himself up to stand, trembling slightly but ultimately walking it off.

Why was he acting like this? He was being complacent and hadn’t insulted you yet for asking if he was okay. This was out of character for him, even his tone was out of character, and you hadn’t failed to notice. “Heimdall, are you actually okay?” Your voice asked again right as you walked in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Yes, Of course I am fine.” Heimdall’s voice shook a little, catching you off guard since his dialect indicates that he’s the biggest and best bitch in the world. “Are you sure ?” You ask yet again, he brushed off the comment before continuing. 

“We must find Gulltoppr before we return to Asgard-” Heimdall’s voice trembled worse as he stumbled towards a tree. His hand gripped into the tree's vines as a way to capture himself from completely falling. A strangled grunt rippled through the air and made you stop in your steps towards the god. 

He sank to his knees while he had a full body reaction to the sensations around him. Heimdall was feeling all sorts of sensitive, even when he had moved his hands to catch himself, they were all tingly. 

When he heard your muddled voice call out to him for the umpteenth time, his heart skipped a beat when his brain processed your sweet words. Heimdall! What’s happening to you- Answer me! Your hands grabbed at his tunic and turned him around to see a sight to truly behold:

The Scion of the Aesir was sitting on his knees, in such a seductive and submissive pose that rattled your brain. His usual cockiness was wiped from his face and was instead replaced with bright red blush and with quite the pleading pout settling on his lip. His hands now finding purchase on gripping your clothes, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was grabbing. 

“H-Hey man, can you stand-” How he hated how your voice sounded. How it sounded like it was coated in the sweetest honey in of all the nine realms, he was easily entranced by it. From your point of view he looked hypnotized, absolutely lost in something.

He groaned when he felt the back of your hand touch his forehead, checking if he was possibly burning up from the plant’s spores. You weren’t technically wrong with that assumption because his entire body was emanating warmth, you could easily feel it when you planted your hands on his shoulders after he let out that little noise. 

“(Y/N).. please I-” He cut himself off with a pant and a down turned head tilt. “I need you.” 

He knew he would have some form of regret after this if he were rejected, whether that in your head that he was a little submissive slut or that he was so weak he got caught off guard by a plant of all things. He didn’t exactly appreciate the circumstances that led up to him on his knees. But he would soon know what you thought of this situation anyway. 

He brought his head back up to stare directly into your eyes, his bright purple ones held lust and need with parted lips. Speaking of his lips, they seemed a little bit more plump than what they normally were. You hated the fact that you knew exactly how his lips looked, from the quick snags you got when he wasn’t looking that you didn’t think much of until now. 

Shit! You just remembered he could probably read your thoughts right now. You got your answer when his lips tugged into a small crinkled-eyed smile before bringing you down by the grip he had on your clothes. His arms sliding around you to bring you into a tight hug when his mouth planted itself next to your ear.

“Please- Can I- Please may I have you?” His voice tickled your senses and caused shivers to go down your spine. It was just so desperate that you felt like you couldn’t say no. He moved himself from the side of your head only to look into your eyes again, just to read what little thoughts you had. Hues of colors were all he could see at the moment before the thought of him actually letting him have you in a jungle of all places, it was absolutely strange to you. But the look on your face told a different story. 

You would be a liar if you hadn’t at least one thought about what he looked like under all those layers, and that was all Heimdall needed to know before his hands found themselves hugging your hips instead. 

Forcing your body to grind down onto his newfound bulge. A moan erupted from his lips at the new found sensation adding onto his sensitivity. “Fu-Fuck..” Heimdall cursed while he continued to rub your clothed sex against him. The grip on your hips were harsh and it was like he was clinging for dear life, they were definitely going to bruise tomorrow.

“H-Heimdall!” You whimpered out when he grinded particularly too hard, the noise sounding like a siren calling sailors to shore. It was such a hypnotizing sound that he never wanted to stop hearing. The tingly sensation from the mutual rubbing was ever present in making his dick even harder.

“Heimdall!” You cried out his name once more. This time it actually captured his attention instead of adding to his sexual experience. He stilled his ministrations before retraining his eyes back onto yours, only to find them averted as he so desperately tried to read your thoughts.

“Are you sure of this? In the middle of a jungle..?” You barely whispered, but with his enhanced sense he could hear it as clear as day. He was reminded of his body’s blessing and curse that came from the plant’s spore when his body had moved against you by accident, a pathetic whimper erupted from the Herald of Ragnarok.

 

Your lips tugged into a small smile, you moved yourself against him just to tease him. Your shyness earlier muffled when Heimdall grinded against you once more, his lip quivering slightly as his gruff hands desperately grabbed and released your hips repeatedly. 

“Gah-! (Y/N)!” Heimdall cried out as his eyelids fluttered, his body jerking and his clothed pelvis flushing against yours. Forcing you to grind against him once more. He had panted heavily now, making you realize that he came in his pants. 

Your eyes widened when that piece of information dawned on you, you made the golden god himself come in his pants! You knew Heimdall wasn’t himself right now. He was high off his mind and you just made him come in his pants. Even when he technically consented, it still felt wrong. 

“Heimdall- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” You started to apologize before a weak hand planted itself on your mouth. “Just- Just stop talking.” The aforementioned god spoke with a harsh tone, you would lie to yourself if you said you didn’t feel a little hurt at his words. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you actually did quite the opposite.” His voice hinted. He brought his pelvis back to flush against your sex, you could feel your own wetness against him. You could feel him and how hard he was once more. He was hard again already?! 

“Yes. Yes I am.” Heimdall scoffed when he read your mind before a groan had caught him to keep him in check, how he was the one who was affected rather than you who was just as ruined as him but from natural causes. “You don’t mind helping me out, do you ?” He coyly asked with a head tilt just to further tease you. 

Heimdall had scooted you off of his lap so that he could stand and release the ache in his pants. Unfastening his belt and letting both his kilt and his pants hit the ground.You could only watch with a glimmer of shock, awe, and lust as his belt piles with the other clothes.  His cock was dripped in his own come, standing at attention with an angry red tip. He was also nicely trimmed and looked groomed, showing how well-kept he was. “After all, you did cause this.” Heimdall putting the blame on you was such an absurd claim, yet you couldn’t help but agree.

Heimdall couldn’t help but sigh when he did show himself, he felt so much better after letting his pants drop. But he also wouldn’t lie to himself when he thought about what you looked like underneath all those layers you wear. Coming back to you (who was still on the ground), he had grabbed the waistband of your pants, along with your undergarments, before pushing them to your ankles. Your lower half is on full display without any distractions.

It left him breathless, to actually see you. He soon shoved your upper half joined your legs on the ground, the harsh ground being familiar to you from the times when you sparred with the man. 

His fingers ran themselves through your folds, catching you off guard, causing you to squeak in surprise. You were wet, undeniably so, and Heimdall liked that. Your legs tried to crumple together but Heimdall prevented that with his polished hands 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, You really thought?” He panted out while he scooted close to you, basically hovering over you. You hadn’t really noticed until now but the atmosphere of Vanaheim really made Heimdall’s appearance glow, he was truly handsome. 

He felt particularly nice in his sexual suffering for some odd reason, his fingers feeling your pussy up in ways that you liked. You cried out when he swiped small circles on your clit, holy Hel, the touches were electrifying. It wasn’t long before Heimdall lined himself up with your hole. Giving you one last look, one of pent up lust and desire and need. His cheeks are a bright red color that paired so well with his fuschia eyes. He slipped himself in.

The warm feeling of your cunt caused him to loudly whine. Even when it was just the tip, it was just the most perfect sensation. It was like a drug implemented in his veins and he couldn’t get enough of it. Lifting your legs so that they would be planted on his shoulders as he drew himself closer, helplessly hung there while he drove his cock into you slowly.

You couldn’t help but whimper and grip the ground, the dirt digging into your nails, below as he inched himself in further and further. He eventually bottomed out, his pelvis meeting yours in a lustful stance. He had just sat there, letting you feel used to his size, it was nice of him to do so in this state when you originally thought he would just fuck into your un-prepared cunt.

But that was soon the reality when he brought his hips back and then slammed into your walls again. A howl crawled out of you when Heimdall repeated his action. Then the harsh repetition began. The pain soon washed away as your body started to get used to it. Your velvety colored walls were gripping him like a vice, and he couldn’t be any more happier. His cock fitting into your body like the perfect puzzle piece, as if you were made to be fucked by him.

Heimdall was thankful for that plant now, rather than being annoyed like he was previously, he was now glad that he could fuck your pussy into oblivion.

You couldn’t help the babbling noises of pleasure that escaped and obscured the natural sounds of Vanaheim’s jungles and you absolutely hoped that no one else was strolling nearby. You’d probably die from embarrassment if someone did, but that didn’t seem to matter at all as Heimdall slammed into you. 

He knew he was going to come. He knew you were too based on your thoughts on how you could barely hang on when he kept hitting that part inside you that made you see stars. His nails digging into your skin in small crescents, if he had dug any further he would have definitely drawn blood.

A few more harsh thrusts and you were done, your pussy contracting around his cock as you came. A loud mewl echoed through Vanaheim. Shortly after, you felt his hot load stain your body, a warm feeling spreading from inside.  

Heimdall’s hips jerked while he trudged through, trying to get the most out of his intense orgasm. Pressing himself as deep as he could from this angle, spilling his cum into you. The god was staring into your eyes the whole time, it was like an explosion that entered your mind. It was an array of bright colors that he had the fortune to see. His thighs trembled dangerously as he caressed yours. 

You couldn’t help but be breathless. You haven’t had an orgasm like that since.. You couldn’t even remember. Your thighs shook with intensity even after he fucked you through your orgasm. Heimdall withdrew from your pussy with a disgusting squelching sound and sighed heavenly.   

But that wasn’t it. He wasn’t done and he quickly recovered and developed a boner in the matter of moments even after the previous two, how the Hel was the plant’s spore still taking effect?! 

“One more, please , just one more.”

Heimdall spoke while a hand reached your face, grasping it uncharacteristically gently, and had your cunt gripping at nothing. You nodded wordlessly before being caught off guard by being flipped to your hands and knees, your ass presenting just for the God of Foresight to behold. 

Behold he did, his hands now moving your pussy to see the absolute mess he had made. He could feel his balls aching in preparation of stuffing your slit once more. Your head tilted at its side, somewhat being able to see what was behind you, only to be pushed down with a harsh shove and his dick slamming into your hole. 

A whorish mewl was drawn out. Loving how full you felt, you pressed your ass against his hips. Bottoming out once more before slamming his dick back in. The wet sounds of sex rung through your fucked mind. Your thighs slapped against Heimdall’s, he couldn’t help but enjoy it even more while your plush thighs rippled with each clap. You could barely think now, only processing the big cock inside your now abused cunt sliding back and forth at a pace you couldn’t fathom. You could only drool, rest your head on your hands, and wait to come for the second time. You did, you shook as it took place.

As your orgasm continued, you realized Heimdall was still going. 

You felt your clit get touched and you instinctively hissed, you were feeling just as oversensitive as Heimdall. The only difference being that he was powering through it, you felt like you were about to scream. 

"Just endure. You can give me one more just like you’re giving me mine.” Heimdall reassured, swiping your clit in a softer, less lustrous and more kinder than before hand, and you couldn’t help but let out a choked whine. 

He knew you came again when you convulsed and sunk slowly again. He looked into your eyes again and saw the previous show from before but it was just a bit dimmer and blunt, and he couldn’t help but enjoy it even more.  Heimdall came once more inside, quickly placing you into a mating press, the ground below you dirtying your arms and knees. The hot feeling adding onto the sexual experience. He stilled while his come squirted for the third time this session and he wouldn’t lie if this wasn’t one of the greatest times he’s fucked before.

After waiting some time, He pulled out. Watching the slimy line of his own jizz disconnect from the tunnel of shared seed mixing together, but seeing some of it drip down onto the ground prompted him to slide his fingers inside, shoving it back in farther just for you to savor it. You gave a weak whine at the action, but it's not like you can do anything about it. 

“I’ll call for Gulltoppr, just- stay here.” Heimdall stated, just beforehand he had helped you back into your pants and sat you against the very tree he fell upon. Strands of your hair sprawled from your hairline, he brushed some of said strands past and back into your hair to make it look more presentable. He himself was in his own clothes as he stood

He soon took off to look for his beloved pet, you couldn’t help but notice the stumble he had every few steps.

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 8.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content. It's a kinky writing challenge, so expect anything at this point, (nothing freaky, don't worry) but it's a surprise calendar so I won't spoil it! (Also, English is not my native language)

Advent calendar includes: headcanons, snippets, one shots, imagines, blurbs etc.

Words: 1,430

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

A/N: Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And if you enjoy it so far, please let me know <3 On another side note; I didn't get to proof read it anymore, will do so tomorrow!

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

8th Dec. - Hex Play

“What now?” Dean asks, his eyes darting up from the small folded paper he had added to the hex bag in your hands. “We just… go to bed or what?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You tightly wrap the red string around the leather pouch, sealing it for good so that neither of you will end up with a crows beak or a coyotes backbone in your face while you sleep. "And if we wanna leave, we just tear the paper apart."

The hex bag gets shoved under the mattress before both of you swing yourselves onto the bed and get comfortable, your hands instinctively searching one another to intertwine your fingers. For a moment, you both stay silent, your eyes glued to the ceiling in anticipation.

Then Dean’s (short) patience snaps and he grunts in annoyance, “This isn't wo-” “Son of a bitch,” he breaths out wide-eyed, taking in the sudden change of surrounding. One moment you were in your bed, next you both stand in the hallway of a hospital.

“No way,” you mutter just as befuddled, your eyes roaming the life like location while you turn around - just to get bumped into by a man in his white coat. “Whoa- watch it mate-”

“Nurse,” he nods at you with a sultry smile before he continues his way down the hall with his damn cowboy boots clamping against the floor. Wait. Cowboy boots? No fucking way this is- You whirl around to meet Dean’s face. And oh God, his green eyes were practically sparkling like the friggin’ vamp guy from Twilight.

“Dr. Sexy.” You say, hoping to snap him out of his swooning state.

“Doctor Sexy, M.D.” He corrects you. He watches him until he takes the corner at the end of the hallway and he finally manages to shift his focus to you for the first time, his lips parting at the sight. “Goddamn, honey.” His eyes widen once more, his tongue darting out briefly to swipe his lips, “This hex play’s workin’ like a charm.”

You look down at yourself, just now realizing that, right, the guy had addressed you as ‘nurse’. And lo and behold - you are wearing a nurse’s attire. Or well, let’s say a bit of a sluttier version of a nurse, but you had to admit, the short white skirt and the matching stockings had some sex-appeal. “So this is what you wrote down? This what you dream of?” You look up at Dean with a teasing smile as you notice him basically gnawing his bottom lip at the sight of you like this.

“Hell yeah,” he admits without hesitation, “You look so hot – I just – damn.” Yep, this was exactly what he had always dreamed of; the classic role play cliché of the sexy nurse. But it was you, it wasn’t any nurse, but actually you. Dean stares down at you, his mind seemingly short-circuited while you can make out a faint moan that he just tried to bite back. Your lips curl into a knowing smile while you begin to get into character. “Soooo…” you drawl in a sultry tone and taking a step closer until your breasts are pressed flush against his chest and his breath hitches at your unexpected move. You continue the teasing, your fingers slowly trailing up his doctors coat until they reach the first button of his shirt, playfully fumbling with it, “I think I need to do a check up on you… Doctor.”

“Y-Yes,” Dean stutters slightly, his breaths coming out in short, excited little huffs. You had barely even touched him and he is already so close to a whimpering mess. “Alrighty,” You chuckle while you grab him by the collar to lead him over to the next open door. “Time to get those pants down for your full body check.”

Dean stops in his tracks, trying – and failing – to hide the intense shudder that runs through his body at the way you play your role absolutely perfectly. “Damn, woman,” he mutters under his breath, his words underlined by a faint whine. “Wait- I know a better spot-” He grabs you around the waist and pulls you along, navigating you both past a dozen nurses and doctors until you two end up in the office of none others but Dr. feakin’ Sexy, M.D’s. Taking back the lead in this roleplay, you swiftly push him up against the wall, your red lips leaving a trail of lipstick kiss marks along his collarbone and all the way up to his cheekbone. Dean shudders under your touch, his voice a low whimper, “My God, hon-”

“Nurse,” you interject while you keep nipping at his pulse point, drawing another needy whimper from his lips. “I must be very thorough with my inspections...Dr. Winchester.” You announce against his skin and your fingers quickly go to work their way down each button.

Some minutes later, Dean is stripped completely naked, his entire body peppered with sweet red lipstick markings proving your thorough work. Your hands run along his inner thighs, the nails gently grazing his skin until one of them comes up to cup his testicles and the other wraps around his rock hard erection. Dean’s breath gets caught in his throat, his head falling back against the wall with a loud, strangled whimpering noise, halfway choked back by his teeth, biting his bottom lip.

You drop to your knees and your mouth quickly goes to work, earning yourself a row of guttural moans from him. With your head moving up and down in a tantalizing pace and your fingernails gently scratching the sensitive skin close by. “P-Please,” he starts to plead with you, his words laced with need and desperation, “Please- n-nurse,” each of his hands grab a fistful of your hair, his fingers tightening whenever you suck hard and his hips buck into your mouth. “W-wait,” he suddenly pulls you back, his voice breathless and his legs slightly trembling from how close he was to falling over the edge. You instantly stop, your eyes searching his while you lick your lips and wipe your chin clean with your thumb. “Is everything alright? You want me to stop?” You ask a little unsure while you stay kneeled in front of him.

“N-no, God no,” He clarifies quickly, still catching his breath, “But I don’t want this to end yet.”

Next thing you know, Dean scoops you up from the ground and with swift steps carries you over to the office desk where he sits you down on the edge of it. He leans over you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss, smearing your lipstick across your face. When he breaks the kiss, his emerald eyes lock onto yours, making sure you enjoy this just as much as he does. “You… like it too? This?” he whispers against your lips, hoping for your reassurance. You smile, your fingers gently threading through his dark blond hair while you whisper back. “Hell yeah I do.” Dean’s lips twitch into that trademark smirk of his and he doesn’t wait any longer to push up the little fabric that your skirt offers before he slips your panties aside to slip his cock inside you with a shared deep groan from both of you. His strong hands keep you close to him as he rocks his hips, pushing in and out of you slow at first. But then the need quickly builds up and he moans and pants into the crook of your neck, “Fff-uck- Y-you’re so good, so beautiful, s-so tight-,” his fingers dig into the flesh at your hips while he starts to thrust into you, making sure to hit all the right spots to hear his sweet little nurse moan as well.

You dig your nails into the skin of his back, clawing at him as you feel him push you closer and closer to the edge, that knot tightening up more by the second. One of his hands suddenly lets go of your hip to snake down past your bunched up skirt and right back up to your swollen clit, his rubbing index finger determined to make you come undone in more than one ways. With a loud whimper your hips buck against him and your legs wrap around his waist to pull him in, needing him deeper, to fill you up all the way. “D-doctor,” you whine, your clouded brain trying its best to stay in character despite your impending climax. “I- I’m close-”

“Me too,” he pants breathlessly, his hips increasing their pace, now set on getting you both over the edge. With another hard thrust, you feel your body tense up and the next moment the crash of the orgasm waves through your body while Dean cums at the same time with your walls clamping around him.

“God…” he pants heavily, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, “That… that was amazin’… You are amazing.”

*** “Y’know what I don’t get… wasn’t this supposed to be like our dreams combined?” Dean looks around the hospital’s hallway, searching for something which didn’t fit into the setting of his favourite TV-Show. His hair dishevelled and his doctors coat put back on sloppily. “Or did I miss somethin’?” His confused eyes trail back to meet yours with a raise of his eyebrow, his arm draped around your back pulling you a little closer. You shrug it off with a wry smile, “Guess it just picked yours over mine.” Dean grunts, not entirely buying your explanation while he rummages through his capes pockets to grab the small pouch. Then he pulls your piece of paper from the hex bag and a faint smirk appears on his lips, “Can I see what you wrote down?”

You snatch the small scrap of paper from his fingers and dodge his attempt to attain it back, “Hey-!” “That’s my secret!” You snigger mysteriously, the crumpled paper disappearing in your back pocket. “Yours was better anyway.”

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007

[groovy-rat-man]

behold! the punch out promotional comics and a few (or more) words I have to say about them!!

this is.. uhh. this is gonna be a long ish post

I dont know why but i do NOT like how joe looks here. I think it's the teeth... The bread belt is pretty funny tho and the fact that him and the ladies make the french flag and also mac is here so thats fun!

Aaaaaaa the babies!! The kaiserlings!!! I always love it when people bring up the fact that vk is a teacher and have him interact with his students and stuff, and they seem to like him as a teacher!

Omg hes so pretty and I love him so so so so much i wanna kiss him all over ohhh and his shy little pose when he talks about his win/loss ratio dont worry babe you'll get there, by the way did I mention I love him? (also this is one of my favorite ones art wise, the colors and expressions and sparkles are so so so fun!!)

It's it's my adult son who could crush my skull with one hand, my beautiful boy! But yea anyways he looks absolutely adorable here especially in the 1st and 5th panels also how did he get in this ring he doesnt know anything about anything. (oh yea and macs here too and that's always a plus)

Wifeeeeeeee noooooo don't sit like that too long.., honey your legs... (also i love his angy face at the end an d i wanna kiss him also)

This might sound dumb but I like this comic more for having Ms. Bear than for having Bear Hugger, we actually got to know her name! I also really like the colors and the FIGHT!! thingy those are really cool

Okay so I'm gonna talk about something real quick, it feels like ALL of the promotional media for punch out wii mentions gt's gem. Did they think the fight would be to hard if you didn't know about his tell? Why did they keep bringing this up?? Also he's really pretty and I like the way they draw his little clone thing and mac is here too and his confused little face is funny. (also does anyone know what he's saying in the first panel i really wanna know)

I really like this one but I always thought that the blatant use of his official art is a little jarring lol. But yeah I love how much of an absolute pimp he is here and also how his ass GETS GOT at the end and ALSO how he talks to the audience and references the game itself, that's WILD! Sadly I'll have to dock a few points for a lack of Carmen :'(

I'm not gonna talk about this one too much because I Do Not like what it does to me. I will say that I am (disrespectfully) looking at his boxy little ass

Ayyyyyyyy my main man Soda Popinski!! I'm also not gonna talk about this one too much because the ending is. Not for me. It's for someone though! Anyways yeas I really like the portrait on the first panel and also this was a thing with Joe's comic but he also has an unnamed coach so that's neat. Also Popinski is kind of an inconsiderate asshole so that's fun lol

I love how the first panel has him being all intimidating and scary but every panel after that is just him being harassed. LET HIM LIVE, FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!!!! However much he beat the shit out of the guy in the last panel was completely deserved, paparazzi are parasites <3

HUMMINA HUMMINA, AWOOOOOGA!!!! But in all seriousness the art (NOT MACHO MAN'S ASS >:/) is just wonderful, the colors and shapes and the text bubbles and hears and stuff AAAAHH it is beautiful!! This might unfortunately be my favorite of the comics actually. (also the spotlight and his shy little pose at the end is cute i will admit)

I friggin love sandman yall, I also love how it shows all the other boxers and stuff. Also what kind of asshole challenges a guy in boxing gloves to rock paper scissors? Sandman was completely justified tbh. Although I will admit I wish they added SOMETHING to his character, but I guess they didn't add much to anyone else either so it's whatever

ALSO I JUST REALIZED THAT DOC ISN'T IN ANY OF THE COMICS AT ALL, LIKE NOT EVEN IN THE BACKGROUND WITH MAC LIKE WHAT THE FUCK????

[integer115]

Iroh turns out to be a surprisingly mediocre war leader when you look at his actions.

First of all, it is the Siege of Ba Sing Se. The siege of a city comparable in size to the largest island in the Fire Nation. A city that includes not only urban development but also villages and fields surrounded by a wall and providing the inner city with food autonomy. City that earthbenders can endlessly rebuild thanks to their abilities while waging an extremely effective sapper war. In general, the solution to such a problem obviously requires serious intellectual work from the general. Is Iroh capable of such work?

There are two testimonies about how this siege was conducted: Iroh: If the city is as magnificent as its wall, Ba Sing Se must be something to behold. I hope you all may see it someday, if we don't burn it to the ground first! "General Iroh and his army led a siege on the great Earth Kingdom capital for 600 days. After losing countless men in the siege, and with no end to the battle in sight, General Iroh ordered his men to retreat, an act deemed cowardly by Iroh’s brother, Fire Lord Ozai."

In total, we get a picture of an extremely mediocre general who simply threw his soldiers into the fire of war until his own son was among the victims of this meat grinder. After losing his son, Iroh immediately surrendered and led the remaining troops away, although he had already achieved success in the form of a breach in the outer wall, which meant he had the opportunity to deprive the inner city of provisions and, as a result, finally begin an effective siege.

And Iroh's departure also says a lot about him as a military man. Every warrior he led who died were someone's children or father. And he led them to this siege. So why did he kill so many people? Only to lose his son and leave, making all the sacrifices in vain! No wonder his abdication of the throne in favor of Ozai was so easy. No Fire Nation soldier could consider Iroh a worthy general after such a performance.

Azula is right in her own way when she scolds Iroh for not staying and taking the city. He thus betrayed all his soldiers, dead and alive, because his personal tragedy is above all else. And shouldn't the loss of a relative or loved one in war, on the contrary, embitter and make one even more eager to defeat the enemy? By the way, for some reason, Azula's criticism is often associated with Ozai's influence, but: Young Azula: Oh yes he is! He found out his son died and he just fell apart! A real general would stay and burn Ba Sing Se to the ground, not lose the battle and come home crying. - Azula is literally quoting Iroh himself here! And what is characteristic is that Azula herself continued to fight right up until the moment when she was bound by chains. And this despite the fact that, like Iroh, she was in a terrible psychological state. So yes, unlike Iroh, Azula demonstrated the character of a true warrior.

And what's most terrifying is the reason for the whole enterprise: Iroh: Who would have thought after all these years, I’d return to the scene of my greatest military disgrace. Iroh: Many times, I imagined myself here, at the threshold of the palace. But I always thought I would be here as a conqueror…instead, we are the Earth Kings personal guests, here to serve him tea. Destiny is a funny thing. Iroh: When I was a boy, I had a vision that I would one day take Ba Sing Se.

All that moved Iroh was his personal selfish dream. His personal belief in the existence of some special destiny that given him from above for the realization of his personal ambitions. It was to be his personal triumph, and it became his personal shame.

And what is characteristic is that his second assault on Ba Sing Se is also not very original. It is literally another direct assault by using superior firepower. The Earth Kingdom Army was disbanded. The city was guarded only by Fire Nation garrison. Having finished with this garrison, he could already calmly burn the flags. Iroh broke through the wall thanks to the power-up from the Comet, and there were no other serious obstacles in his path.

As for Iroh's motives, he again defines them through his personal destiny: Iroh: Only now do I see that my destiny is to take it back from the Fire Nation, so the Earth Kingdom can be free again.

Let's just compare Iroh to Azula.

There are a few important things to note right away. Azula, like Iroh, move to Ba Sing Se not on the orders of her Lord, but on a personal initiative. Also, she did not have a military rank or position, respectively relying only on the authority of her title and her father.

Her first attempt at pinning the walls of Ba Sing Se is already out of the ordinary. Use a huge drill in order to punch a hole in the wall of the city and immediately deliver the soldiers behind the walls. The idea is not bad, although even this size drill was definitely not enough to transport the required number of soldiers: And the single instance of the machine makes this attempt more of an interesting experiment than a real invasion. Tellingly, the loss of the Fire Nation in this trial attack is zero. Azula herself fought to protect Drill and, characteristically, did not react in any way to her friend's desire to stay away from the dirty fight that had begun.

The second run for Azula was successful. And here the radical difference between Azula and Iroh is manifested. Azula knows how to radically change tactics. Why fight against impregnable walls when you can take the city from the inside? Azula recruits the Ba Sing Se secret police. Ba Sing Se is taken and Fire Nation troops enter the city. Losses are again equal to zero. The Fire Nation didn't lose anyone. Ba Sing Se didn't lose anyone.

The tactics here are no longer military, but espionage and diplomatic. This is another key difference between Azula and Iroh. Iroh invariably invades Ba Sing Se only as a general. Azula takes on Ba Sing Se as a spy and diplomat. She finds the right contacts within the enemy elite. She encourages the enemy elite to defect to her side. And through the management of this elite, she establishes a puppet regime in the city.

And finally, Azula's motives, her most important difference from General Iroh:

Azula: For a hundred years the Fire Nation has hammered away at Ba Sing Se from the outside. But now we are on the inside, and we can take it by ourselves. Azula: I've plotted every move of this day, this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is together. Azula: We've done it, Zuko. It's taken a hundred years, but the Fire Nation has conquered Ba Sing Se.

Azula conquers Ba Sing Se not for herself and not for her personal destiny. She does it for her Nation. She does not consider the capture of Ba Sing Se her personal success, for her it is the result of a collective effort for herself and her friends and brother. This glory is not for her alone, but for the entire Fire Nation. Simply put, unlike Iroh, Azula is a patriot.

You can also pay attention to this scene:

Bujing: The Earth Kingdom defenses are concentrated here. A dangerous battalion of their strongest earthbenders and fiercest warriors. So I am recommending the forty-first division. Elder general: But the forty-first is entirely new recruits. How do you expect them to defeat a powerful Earth Kingdom battalion? Bujing: I don't. They'll be used as a distraction while we mount an attack from the rear. What better to use as bait than fresh meat? Young Zuko: You can't sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them? Iroh: Zuko was right, you see, but it was not his place to speak out. And there were dire consequences.

In this scene, it is Zuko and Iroh who show themselves to be frankly incompetent military leaders.

An entire division, that is, about 10,000 people against a battalion, that is, a maximum of 1,000 people. Even if it is the elite against the recruits, it will be an long and difficult battle for the warriors from the Earth Kingdom.

10,000 recruits are not required to win, they are required to tie the enemy down in battle, and with their tenfold numerical superiority, this will not be difficult at all.

An attack from the rear will save most of the lives of these newcomers, since it will allow them to completely surround and defeat the enemy or force them to surrender in short time.

In fact, the tactic of luring by weakness is as old as the world. And what is characteristic is that this tactic really works. And what can Iroh say about tactics? Does he even know any tactics other than throwing corpses of his soldiers at the enemy? After all, it is really interesting that while Azulon and Iroh were running the war, the Fire Nation could not achieve a single impressive victory on the continent. For decades, an endless meat grinder dragged on without visible breakthroughs. But as soon as Ozai and Azula got down to business, the Earth Kingdom was effectively crushed and occupied. So in the end, Omashu had to be liberated personally by Bumi, and Ba Sing Se by the rest of the White Lotus. That is, the complete defeat of the Earth Kingdom forces is an achievement of the Fire Nation after Iroh left military leadership.

However, questions can be asked even about Iroh’s understanding of such a thing as subordination.

Iroh: Sailing into Fire Nation waters … Of all the foolish things you've done in your sixteen years, Prince Zuko, this is the most foolish!

Iroh practically calls Zuko a fool in front of his subordinates. Does he really not understand that by doing so he is completely destroying the guy's authority on the ship? Does Iroh even understand why it is wrong to undermine the authority of any superior in front of his subordinates? Or is the rank of general in Iroh's case nothing more than a consequence of being born the firstborn of Azulon and having excellent skills in firebending. The latter makes him an excellent fighter but has no meaning for leading even a platoon or a company.

Of all Iroh's attempts, only one can be considered a tactic:

Iroh: It's almost twilight, Admiral. As your military consultant, I must advise you to halt your attack. The waterbenders draw their power from the moon, and it is nearly full tonight. You should wait and resume the attack at daybreak. Zhao: Oh, I'm well aware of the moon problem and I am working on a solution. But for now, daybreak it is.

But Iroh isn't saying anything here that Zhao doesn't already know. Given the decades of hunting waterbenders, this is something every Fire Nation officer should know.

Summary. All this together creates a very unsightly picture. Iroh is the spoiled son of the Fire Lord who imagines himself to be the favorite of fate. He is a bad tactician, he is a lousy strategist, he does not even understand the banal functioning of a military organization. At the same time, the success or failure of the Fire Nation as such is of little interest to him. What matters is his personal fortune. Will he be the favorite of fate or will he become its victim.

[i-love-ptv]

I Just Ride ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

(Prologue?)

Pairing: Knight!Rafe Cameron x Princess!Carrera!Reader

Wc: 719

An: Heyyyy guyssss…..So this was supposed to come out for HALLOWEEN but i got lazy n wrote other things.

I debated on posting this, i was thinking of making a series, but that depends on whether or not y’all want it! so lmk loves!

Feedback is always welcome and encouraged! <3

“This would be monumental for the family, Rafe!” Rafe’s father, Ward, exclaimed.

Rafe remains unsure of how long this conversation has been going on, he fears his horse will have passed on by the time his father decides to make his voice scarce.

Ward Cameron was one of the mightiest knights in all of Kildare Kingdom, if not the.

Everyone knew that he only cared about the family legacy; for the wealth that came from notoriety.

His eldest daughter, Sarah, was arranged to be wed to Prince Topper Thorton. —But it was painfully aware that her eyes lingered elsewhere, they always remained on the Thorton family’s jester, John Routledge.

Ward is even in the process of accommodating his youngest, Louisa, despite her constant protesting. All the young girl wanted was to become a knight, just like her big brother Rafe. But of course this behavior was not allowed in Ward’s book. No, Ward’s daughters need to be nothing but royalty, and the only way was through marriage.

Ward and Rafe’s step-mother Rose had an almost dictatorship-like relationship. Ward’s word goes, no matter what. Nobody even in the family dared to disobey his order.

Hence why, although he isn’t interested in the slightest, Rafe knew he wasn’t going to get out of it.

“Think about this, Rafe! You are already a knight, my son! Now you would just work for one family!” Ward shouted, growing more agitated by the second.

“Unfortunately for you, father, I am not interested,” Rafe maintained with a blank tone.

Ward huffs, raking his fingers through his hair frustratedly. “My word is final, that is it.”

“But-“ Rafe attempts to object.

“That is an order, Rafe! You are to serve the Carrera family, and provide them with the utmost respect,” Ward almost snarls.

He continues, “I wish not to hear another word about the matter, Rafe. Start packing, you will be residing there as well, they’ve offered you one of their spare rooms.”

Rafe stomps to his room, similar to how a young child would.

It’s not like he has a problem with the Carrera family, It’s quite the opposite actually. They treat him with such niceties that would make anyone fawn; since he was a Cameron and all.

The youngest, Kiara, albeit continuously holding a grudge towards Rafe, wasn't his main concern.

You, were his main concern.

You somehow always managed to have that twinkle in your eye, even when falling bored.

You always smiled at him brightly, and he knew that it wasn’t fake like the others’.

You held beauty unlike the rest; Rafe swears there could never be a time where you don’t look divinely ravishing.

He’s thought about writing you a letter, confessing his admiration for you and his want to have your hand in marriage.

Unfortunately, the Cameron boy knew that seeking a relationship with you was futile. After all, was just a mere knight, and you deserved to be married to a man of royalty; since wealth was no issue for Rafe.

Rafe doesn’t know if he’d even be able to handle being in the same vicinity as you, let alone guard you and take up your sacred space.

The thought alone makes his stomach fill with the flutters left behind by butterflies, but he also feels giddy, believe it or not.

He’d be able to see you freshly from your slumber.

….That's rather strange, isn’t it?

It’s not like he was an odd stalker of some sort, he just wanted to be bare witness to the beauty you behold, especially when you rouse from your nightly escapades.

The mere thought of being in your presence makes his heart pound against his chest. The tight feeling makes him reach his arm out and grip his nightstand for stability, as he drops onto his bed.

It’s late now, and despite his urge to just succumb to slumber. Rafe packs his bag, which will reside on his horse tomorrow morning.

Once he’s done, he flops onto his bed, resting under the covers on his back, looking at the ceiling in thought.

‘How would this transpire? Only a god would know,’ he thinks to himself. He thinks about praying, although he doesn’t really have the words in his throat.

Rafe finally rests his head on his pillow, and hopes for the best.

[ladykailitha]

The Last Dragon Slayer

This is what my brain gets up when I'm sick and can't sleep.

Enjoy!

~

50 years prior there were a rise in dragon habitations and to combat what the humans saw was an infestation trained dragon slayers.

But the profession is dying out as most of the evil dragons have been slain, and those that try are beat back by their own kind.

In a small kingdom the evil King Richard wants to get rid of the dragon that has taken residence in the mountain nearby.

So he hunts around to find that all the dragon slayers have died or retired long since.

All but one. Sir Steven of Harring's Town. He is a disgraced prince whose mother was eaten by a dragon shortly after his birth and has vowed to find and kill the creature.

The King almost turns him away when he arrives. He is thin, almost too thin to hold up his armor, his horse is on its last legs. His sword is chipped with many battles and held together with leather and tattered silk.

It's clear this man has not known a decent meal in a really long time.

But the dragon must be dealt with.

So the king feeds Sir Steve up for a couple of days so that he at least has the strength to draw his sword and sends off, pointing in the direction of the beast's mountain.

The dragon, Edgewraith, is black dragon with red eyes, claws, and underscales.

He is quite fearsome to behold.

He watches as this piteous creature stumbles off his aging horse and struggles up to the cave entrance.

"How desperate King Richard must be," Edgewraith hisses, smoke and spark spilling from his mouth. “To send me you."

Sir Steven pulls off his helmet and throws it to the ground. "I am the last dragon slayer, monster. All I ask is a shift death and that you mount my head on a spike in front of your cave announcing my demise."

Edgewraith is startled but before he could even form a response, the knight faints.

Two weeks later Sir Steve wakes to find the most beautiful man standing over him with a cup of broth. He has long dark curls and reddish brown eyes. Sir Steven falls in love almost immediately.

Eddie, as the man introduces himself, tells him that no one will come looking for him, as the dragon has spelled a skull to look like his visage and done as he asked.

Sir Steve is dead as far as the world knows.

Steve cries in relief.

The two slowly get to know each other and fall in love.

But before they can make love for the first time, Eddie reveals himself to be the dragon, Edgewraith.

Steve replies that he figured it out a long time ago and didn't mind. He took care of him when no one else would. Of course he fell in love with him.

Eddie knows that they can't couple, because of how hot he runs but one day a stray ember hits Steve in the leg but he doesn't call out in pain.

He picks it up and tosses it neatly into the fire. Once while making dinner for them both, Steve slips with the knife, but he doesn't bleed.

So Eddie starts pressing Steve a bit more about the dragon that supposedly ate his mother. All the villagers had described it as breathtaking. Bright bronze scales on top and warm brown eyes, claws, and underscale.

Eddie knows who this is and sends out the call.

Mirrorsong arrives and when she sees Steve instantly transforms.

"Mother?" Steve cries because the castle had paintings of his mother everywhere and he even kept a miniature he had painted himself with him at all times.

She runs to him and tells him the truth.

She fell in love with his father and married him. But when she gave birth to Steven, her insides burned the midwife's arms, nearly killing her. When the king learned this he banished his wife and raised her son as a dragon slayer.

Steve learns that while he can't change shape like Eddie and Mira, he cannot be hurt and he will live a long life. Maybe not as long as Eddie, but they have centuries instead of decades now.

The old king dies and the new king is kinder.All the kids like to go up to the mountain to play with the two strangers who protect their town.

And everyone lives happily ever after.

[messymoonmad]

Not sure if you've listened to this part of the odyssey yet but after seeing your art this one passage from the odyssey has been torturing me

"Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered her: “Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, be of good cheer, and let not things distress thy heart. That man lives not, nor shall live, nor shall ever be born, who shall lay hands upon thy son Telemachus while I live and behold the light upon the earth. For thus will I speak out to thee, and verily it shall be brought to pass. Quickly shall that man's black blood flow forth about my spear; for of a truth me, too, did Odysseus the sacker of cities often set upon his knees, and put roast meat in my hands, and hold to my lips red wine. Therefore Telemachus is far the dearest of all men to me, and I bid him have no fear of death, at least from the wooers; but from the gods can no man avoid it.”

[448] Thus he spoke to cheer her, but against that son he was himself plotting death."

(Book 16 Murray translation)

imagine odysseus during hold them down, stringing his bow, turning around and seeing a boy,now man, he used to sit on his knees plotting to kill his son and assault his wife. Every other suitor he is just angry at but with eurymachus he is betrayed and upset. (Either that or he's flabbergasted, like "boy you used to drool all over my shirt. What are doing acting all tough)

Also what if as eurymachus dies, he looks into odysseus face and starts to feel guilty.

I love you cause i did base my design and hc off the odyssey (i listen to an audiobook with samuel butler's translation playlist on youtube) and THAT PART YOU JUST WROTE I LOVE

Cause my genuine reaction was "oh thats cute one of them suitors is actually kind and protective of telemac-" and then the narration goes "thus he spoke to cheer her but against that son he plotted death" I WAS SHOCKED at his hypocrisy cause i really fell for it.

Also in book 23 or 24 antinous mentions that he has seen odysseus when he was a little boy and it just makes me wanna draw them (anti and eurym) back when they were young probably comming to ithica as guests (with their parents) and they used to admire him but as they grew up that admiration turned into envy and they became greedy