#Miscreants are not well now

[mermaidsirennikita]

Anyway--

I just began Selina by S.M. LaViolette because I have zero control when it comes to her backlist at the moment, and it kicks off with a lovely recap of Hyacinth, one of my FAVORITE LaViolette books thus far, which includes the line:

"Hy had run off to become an itinerant gambler, and the duke had run after her, presumably to marry her".

Sylvester/Hyacinth MESS >>>>>>>>>>

[bookworm-with-coffee]

The Greatest Heist of All. . .

(How they react to your pet - Slytherin Boys x Reader)

Plot; Niffler inspired crackfics

Pairings; Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Romantic), Ominis Gaunt x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; jealousy, coarse language, floofity fluff

________________________________________

Sebastian Sallow

When Sebastian first laid eyes on that Niffler, he knew trouble would start. In rescuing creatures, you had come to love many of them, but none more than those greedy little—

The brunette fumed at the thought of them. Those cute little beady eyes had won you over that day you'd both gone walking in the woods for a picnic date. That's when you'd stumbled upon a den of Nifflers.

Of course, most ran away. But, one remained. One annoying little—

Unafraid and curious, the little creature had sniffled and shuffled closer to you both.

"Mind your pockets", Sebastian commented, your hand waving to dismiss his words without a care.

"Look at you!!", you'd cooed at the little one, your boyfriend hardly sharing your enthusiasm on the creature.

You admired the blue fur on his back, reaching keenly to pet the cheeky little thing before it practically clambered onto your lap and into your arms. Sebastian's eyes rolled as your arms engulfed the Niffler, stroking your hands along his smooth hairs.

Attention went from your date to your uninvited guest, and after some time, Sebastian grew impatient and perhaps, a bit jealous as well?

"Alright, great. You've pet it. Now, can we go?", he huffed, raising a brow.

You pouted up at your boyfriend, the Niffler eagerly accepting your affections, "I don't want to just leave him here".

"He's a wild animal", the brunette reasoned. "He has a family. He'll be fine". But, the Niffler also seemed to share your resolve, not wishing to leave your kind embrace.

"I think— I want to keep him".

Oh God. Oh no—

"Nifflers are little thieves!", Sebastian insisted. "Who wants a pet that could rob you blind??".

Kneeling by your side, your freckled partner laid a gentle hand on your back before sliding it down to hold your spare hand in his attempt to coax you away.

The Niffler saw Sebastian's possessive behaviour and recognised it as a similar behaviour to those of his own kind. Could it be that you were valuable? Not gold, but a treasure as yourself?? This would be his biggest win yet, if that were so.

Sebastian's brown hues drifted to the Niffler, whose attitude had become a bit more insistent. The creature's eyes met his own and without breaking contact, deliberately snuggled into your chest, even daring to lay a possessive paw by your shoulder as if to say, mine.

Oh, it was on.

In the weeks that followed, things grew worse.

Every time there was even a mention of Sebastian, your Niffler saw fit to jump into your lap or arms to draw your attention.

Sebastian was at breaking point. Each time he spoke with you, there was that miscreant stirring him up. He'd even taken to insisting that the thing was evil, to your amusement.

Once or twice, the brunette even went as far as to mouth, "I'm watching you!", from over your shoulder, making the signal with his hands when you weren't looking.

It was unbelievable. A Niffler participating in some form of torturous psychological warfare. And Sebastian wouldn't let him win. You were his.

Then, your owl came and the existential dread continued.

Sebastian,

Would you be so kind as to babysit my Niffler? You'd be doing me a HUGE favour, as I'm away for most of the day on Saturday and he'll be left with no supervision and company.

Love always,

(Y/n) ♡

Bloody thing can starve, was his first thought, finally inwardly relenting when he thought of the consequences. You'd hate him forever if he did that.

So, it was off to your home he'd have to go.

"You boys behave while I'm gone", you'd teasingly instructed with a pointed finger and Sebastian played it off with a forced smile.

"Don't rush", he shrugged, making sure to pull you into the most passionate kiss he could offer, hoping the Niffler would weep on the inside.

"Sebastian", you giggled against his lips, almost tempted to stay for a more intimate moment were it not for your plans. "I am coming back".

His forehead leant on your own, the Niffler forgotten whilst his hands drew imaginary patterns on your waist. "I'll be waiting with bated breath", the brunette whispered, pressing another kiss to the tip of your nose. "I love you".

"I love you too", you sighed, allowing only one more peck on the lips before your parting.

Until the Niffler scuttled to you, pulling on the fabric of your blouse from where he sat on a table. "Oh, Darling", you fawned, Sebastian resisting the urge to hurl. "I'd nearly forgotten you!!". Lifting the creature, you kissed the top of his head. "Mama will be back soon, okay? Behave for your Dad".

Oh, God. He really was going to be sick.

Giving a final wave of your hand, you were off and away, Sebastian's unimpressed glower falling onto the Niffler beside him. "I am not your Dad".

The Niffler seemed to chatter, something akin to mischievous laughter. And I'm not going to behave.

Some of the most horrible hours of Sebastian's life came to follow.

It was one incident after the other, resulting in a few smashed vases and a bruised ego for Sebastian.

"That's it!", he finally snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the little creature. "I've had it!! Whatever, it is!!".

As if scolding a child, Sebastian continued, "(Y/n) may think you're adorable, but I know the truth, you conniving thief! You might have fooled her, but you don't fool me!! And if you think for one second that—".

"Sebastian?".

His face paled, hearing the voice of his love and the Niffler took his chance. The mischievous creature began to sniffle, as if it were crying, before faking a limp whilst walking to you.

"What happened??", you cried out, spying the shards of a broken vase by the bench, still not cleaned up because of one little Niffler. Your attention instantly diverted to your pet, seemingly in hurt. "What did you do, Sebastian?!".

"What did I do??", he repeated incredulously. "I didn't do anything to him! It was that damn creature running amok!!".

All the while, you were focused on the aforementioned miscreant, feeding into his lies and infuriating Sebastian further.

"He's evil, (Y/n)! That thing needs to go!!".

"That 'thing', is Jeffrey!", you shot back.

"Oh?? So, it has a name now??".

Your eyes bore into the brunette's, searching his darker hues in silent scrutiny for a moment before you spoke again.

"You're jealous".

Those words made him stiffen, silencing any comebacks he'd bottled inside.

"That's ridiculous", Sebastian offered, too weak to be an argument.

"You are!", your mouth fell open, drawing your boyfriend's brows together.

"I am not jealous!".

"By Merlin", you gasped, trying to restrain any laughter threatening to spill out. "You're jealous. Of a Niffler?? ".

"He gets in the way!", Sebastian yelled, harsher than intended. "You're always giving him your attention, I hardly get it anymore! He's also consciously trying to steal you from me, for whatever reason!".

"Steal me?", your brow rose, a few giggles slipping out before your expression softened. Your eyes shifted to Jeffrey, noting that he was uncharacteristically fine for a creature so 'hurt' and you stroked over his fur, placing him aside. "You'll be fine".

The Niffler watched as you approached Sebastian, bringing him into an embrace. Your fingers combed through the soft waves of his hair and down to the nape of his neck, allowing him to melt in your arms.

"Sebastian", you sighed, shaking your head only slightly. "You're right. My attention from you has been divided. And while Jeffrey's behaviour was far from innocent—". You pulled back, running your fingertips over his face, encouraging his eyes to meet yours. "— I will never be stolen away from you. No Human or Niffler can steal me from the one who matters most to me. There's only one Sebastian Sallow. And that's rarer than any treasure".

A smile finally returned to Sebastian's face, the gap closing between you both. Your lips met his, gentle and breezy, calming the fires of anger and jealousy that had once stoked within his heart.

"I'll make us a cup of tea", you whispered, tapping the brunette on his nose, leaving only the brightest of smiles in your wake as you brushed by.

Sebastian turned his attention to the little shit sitting on the nearby counter, his tongue darting out teasingly. "I win".

The Niffler's head seemed to dip, suddenly sad and deflated. A pang of guilt hit Sebastian in that moment and it made him relent to the small creature.

"Fine", he grumbled, unable to fight his growing smile. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but–". He offered his hand. "— friends?". Jeffrey sniffled, almost seeming to nod in agreement when he extended his paw. "Just don't push your luck".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Ominis Gaunt

The day Ominis met your pet Niffler was utterly magical.

You had lead him into your vivarium for the first time, introducing him to the array of magical creatures that were under your care.

Ominis got to feel the smooth and pristine feathers of a Joberknoll, the fluffy hairs of a Puffskein; and the beak of your Hippogriff, Highwing.

And then the cherry on top; your Niffler.

Nifflers were curious, but harmless creatures. They were notorious for stealing jewels, treasure, coins— anything that sparkled, really. With their affectionate nature and reputation for an adorable stature, it was not a mystery as to why you chose to keep the Niffler you rescued from poachers.

The blonde had always wanted to meet one of those cute little theives and in knowing this, you'd excitedly given him the opportunity.

"Where is he??", Ominis had asked, unable to mask the way his voice travelled an octave higher in his anticipation.

"This way!", he was able to hear the grin in your tone, widening his own as he eagerly allowed himself to be tugged along by the pale tips of his nimble fingers.

You'd gently helped the blonde to be seated on the soft grass, almost finding yourself mesmerised with how the sunlight struck his delicate features.

Whistling and clicking your fingers, there was a shuffling in the grass as something approached. It had startled Ominis only slightly, the new grip of your hand over his own settling him.

You guided his hand forward as you had done so before, his palm finally landing on something soft. A short gasp heaved from the blonde, his lashes fluttering at the new sensations beneath his skin.

There was the rapid rising and falling of the little creature's breaths as he sniffed over the new guest of the vivarium.

A smile carved its way onto Ominis' expression, hesitantly stroking over the little creature beneath his grasp. Your hand lead his over the Niffler's head and snuffling snout, a breathy laugh slipping from the blonde when the small breaths tickled his skin.

Long had he dreamed about this..

"Ominis, I'd like you to meet Sebastian", you laughed at the sudden quizzical look that dawned on your counterpart's expression.

"Sebastian?", Ominis echoed with a quirk of his brow. "You named your Niffler after our friend? ".

No, he wasn't jealous. Not at all.

"Only because he gets into so much trouble", you giggled. "He also has these adorable speckles on his fur around his face. Lilac fur with faded spots".

"Like freckles", he nodded in understanding, trying to fight the deflation dampening his initial excitement. "Does Sebastian know that you've named your 'child' after him?".

Ominis was sure that with the amount of time you'd spent with Sebastian on various escapades in the fifth year and the closeness you still shared now in your seventh, that the brunette had undoubtedly been the first to be shown the Room of Requirement and these lovely creatures.

Perhaps Sebastian was the better suitor for you??

"No, actually", your amused answer shocked Ominis. "I've never brought him here. He doesn't even know of this place".

"He doesn't?", the blonde's brows creased in a bout of confusion. "I thought he'd be the first to know of this place".

"What do you mean??".

Ominis' heart had begun to beat frantically within his chest whilst he'd attempted to play his jealousy and nerves off with a smile, as he often did when it came to your friendship with Sebastian.

"I— I just meant that you two are close", he replied with a tug of his shoulders. "I thought you might have been more inclined to show him over me, is all. I was only confused as to why it was the contrary".

In the few seconds of thoughtful silence that followed, you both had taken notice to the warmth of your hand that still lingered on his own, neither of you daring to separate them. Instead, your fingers slowly inched into the gaps between his own, hinting your intentions with your words,

"Do you not know?".

Ominis squeezed the digits threaded with his own like they were a life-raft, assuring you of his consent before your lips had taken his own in careful caresses.

Absolutely magical.

Or so he'd thought at the time, not realizing he'd just unknowingly declared war against a very protective Niffler.

Ominis dismissed it as paranoia at first, just shrugging off the seemingly possessive behaviour the little creature conveyed.

But, it had become apparent over the many weeks that it wasn't just his imagination playing tricks on him..

The Niffler was clearly jealous of your diverted attention. Ominis had figured that out rather quickly.

Just as the Niffler had figured out how to push his buttons. Like Sebastian.

Whenever you both had picnics in the vivarium or brought Ominis along to help in the care of your creatures, Sebastian lived up to his name.

The mischeievous miscreant always managed to get in the way, snatching Ominis' wand from his robes so that he wouldn't be able to find you or the other creatures before misplacing it to make it look as if it had dropped out by mistake.

You thought that's all it was, despite Ominis knowing and insisting otherwise.

Then, it was the Niffler napping on your lap whenever Ominis wanted to. And of course, you were a sucker for that adorable little shit. He could do no evil, apparently.

Holding hands? The Niffler went out of his way to pry the blonde's hand from yours, snuggling under yours to draw your attention; even going as far as to shove Ominis' hand away and preoccupy your palm with his paw.

Sitting together? Sebastian interfered with that too, worming his annoying little self between your bodies so that he could sit in the middle as a barrier to separate you both.

Whenever Ominis wanted time with you, Sebastian was always there. It was like the Niffler had been incarnated with a piece of his best friend's soul, always troublesome and always interfering.

Ominis finally hit breaking point when the little shit decided to make off not only with his wand, but with the handmade necklace he'd bought from Feldcroft in his most recent visit.

The blonde planned to give it to you as a gift, but even he should've known better than to have it in his pockets when visiting the vivarium to carry out a favour for you, his beloved.

Whilst you would be attending to family business today, he would care for your creatures. Something that was turning out to be a complete impossibility.

In Sebastian's mouth? Ominis' wand.

In his paws?? The necklace.

"Come back here, you little rat! Give those back, Sebastian!!", he cried out, only able to follow the scuttling in the grass and the jingling of the jewellery in the Niffler's greedy grasp.

Wheezing and panting, Ominis crawled and sprinted around, the Niffler releasing an occasional squeak whenever he got close. Until—

"Got you!", the blonde shouted, finding a grip on the Niffler that struggled desperately in his grasp.

It soon became clear that he was holding the little miscreant upside down, coins seeming to pour out of his marsupial-like pouch. His paws were still occupied with the necklace he'd stolen, whining in despair at the loss of his precious coins as they rained down to the floor.

"Serves you right!", Ominis seethed, breathless from his pursuit.

In a sense of victory, the blonde's lips curled into a grin, his fingertips running along the Niffler's belly. The creature chattered as if he were laughing, especially ticklish at the gentle prodding. More coins and jewels rained out as Ominis' fingers reached his sniffling snout.

Quickly snatching his wand back from the little creature's jaw, he boasted, "I win", before reaching for Sebastian's paws.

Ominis caught ahold of the necklace, but the Niffler's grip was like iron.

"Sebastian, give it to me", the blonde chided, tugging on the precious piece of jewellery. "Come on, Sebastian".

The Niffler struggled and resisted, never being more keen to possess anything in his life. Even the measly coins Ominis tried to trade couldn't compare to the necklace and he wasn't willing to break it.

"You stubborn mule! Fine!!", he snapped, huffing as he set Sebastian loose.

Dejected, the blonde sat himself down, soon recieving the company of your Puffskein as it nuzzled into his side. Despite his sadness, even he was unable to resist smiling at the affectionate creature.

Ominis reached over to pet the Puffskein, your mischievous Niffler watching from a distance. All of his lost coins were on the ground by the blonde's legs, but it wasn't them that drew Sebastian back.

It was the realisation that Ominis could love him just as much as you could. That his love was not a threat to the friendship you shared with your favourite pet.

Perhaps he'd tried stealing the wrong person??

Ominis seemed just as compassionate, if not moreso.

His attention soon became divided from the Puffskein when the cool and delicate metal of a necklace was dropped into his palm. The blonde almost couldn't believe it.

A Niffler?? Returning something shiny??

And then it clicked. It wasn't of value to him, but a ploy to sabotage your relationship with Ominis. Sebastian had felt threatened.

"Thank you", Ominis whispered, his lips curling out of amusement as the little creature began to shuffle around and pick up the coins that had dropped.

Perhaps Sebastian was more alike to his human counterpart than the blonde first realised? He has a heart of gold too, although it rarely shows.

And upon your return to the vivarium, you were delighted to find things resolved between your pet and boyfriend, knowing tensions and jealousy had been spiked between the two.

There, Ominis laid on the grass asleep, a freckled lilac Niffler upon his chest.

Your plan had worked..

The End. . .

___________________________________________

Hey readers!! ❤❤ I hope you all enjoyed these fics as much as I loved writing them!! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!

So, please - let me know how I went in writing for Sebastian and Ominis for the first time and how to improve, if I can! If you wished to be added to my taglist for this fandom or any others I write for, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!

Thank you all for your support!! ❤❤❤

[another-lost-mc]

Soo like would the demon brothers including the other demon characters kill for mc? 👻

It's not a question of will they kill for you, but rather, who do they have to kill? Because of course they would.

If it's some nobody lesser demon, chances are they can do the deed and get away with it without anyone knowing (or caring) about it after. Higher-ranking demons within the nobility are more of a challenge - the social and personal consequences are much higher, assuming the original offense is a minor infraction and not something that would warrant a formal punishment of the court. If it's something serious, it's better to let Diavolo take care of it (and trust when he says that he will).

Angels are tricky to deal with. Outright killing one would probably anger Diavolo too much, let alone what Michael's reaction would be. Punishments for Celestial Realm denizens who offend or hurt you (and by extension, the demons that care for you) are non-lethal and have to be carried out with some level of care and subtlety. They can't arouse too much suspicion or anger from the other realms. Fortunately, angels aren't likely to do anything too grievous towards you anyway. (The angels that know you best have their own methods of dealing with their angelic brothers or sisters that need a little enlightenment when it comes to your happiness and well-being.)

When it comes to deadly retribution, humans are probably the easiest for your demon companions to dispose of. With their frail bodies and fondness for sin and reckless behaviour, humans die unexpectedly all the time. So long as they're careful not to leave any evidence of their involvement behind, some poor human's unexpected demise is coincidental at best. Your pet demon isn't likely to be held accountable for it either - assuming Solomon hasn't taken care of the miscreant first, that is.

Of course, killing is such a vague concept, and each of your demonic friends has their own preferences when it comes to getting their hands a little bloody for you.

(warnings: mentions of violence/murder/torture, unhinged behaviour, demons being demons, etc.)

RECKLESS AND IMPULSIVE: It might surprise you how quick they respond to aggression or insults towards you and the level of violence they're capable of. Their love for you is so strong, they can't help it. Perhaps it's better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, because they know you're too kind for your own good. Letting some no-good demon get away with hurting you, even the tiniest bit, is unthinkable. It doesn't really matter what you say, because once the switch flips, it's too late to stop them. The demon is already dead at their feet before anyone else nearby even realizes what happened.

— Mammon, Satan, Beelzebub

CAREFUL AND CALCULATED: A bitter insult, some derogatory comments on Devilgram, obnoxious criticisms heard amongst the chatter of RAD's busy hallways - it doesn't take much to anger them when it comes to defending you. You're so precious, their uniquely imperfect little human master, and you deserve better than that. They'll take their time, they'll make their plans, they'll consider their options carefully. When the deed is done, they'll make sure every last trace of blood is gone from their hands and their teeth before they see you again. It would be a shame to tarnish you with the filth of the unworthy.

— Leviathan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Mephistopheles

MERCILESS AND UNTOUCHABLE: There's nothing that matters more than your safety and happiness. They're the ones you can turn to when you feel like you can't turn to anyone else. You can confide in them because they're strong. Their power and influence is unmatched, and no matter what troubles you, they'll see that it's taken care of. They used to scare you before, but now there's comfort in the firm hand clasping your shoulder when they lead you to your door, or the warm cup of tea they press into your hands, or the princely smile that promises you never have to worry so long as they're close. You can rest easy at night knowing whatever threatens your well-being is taken care of, even if you don't realize it. The dungeons beneath the Demon Lord's Castle that house the wicked, and the dark deeds carried out against them in your name, are burdens they gladly bear.

— Lucifer, Diavolo, Barbatos

[just-some-random-blogger]

Seeing Red

What else is there to say about the thorough-paced scoundrel that aches to behold my demise than how blood curdling the sound of Gwayne Hightower is?

bodyguard!Gwayne Hightower x Lannister!Reader | 700< | cw: fem!reader, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fluff, reader kinda violent lmao, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this anon i got <3. Guys i made Part 2

"Are you writing about me again?"

I sigh. Thus, the ambiance is the garden is now wretched.

I look up from my journal, watching the ghastly miscreant, dressed in a horrid shade of green walk over to me. It's a wonder my teeth has not broken with all the times I've clenched my jaw at the sight of him. I lean into my knees and grab my shoe. I send it flying to him in a fit of annoyance.

Curse my aim for endlessly failing me.

Gwayne Hightower cocks his head from side to side after he dodges my assault. He puts on his irritating grin as he reaches for the grapes on the tiered dessert stand beside me. I swat him away but even that, he evades. His smug expression remains as he chews, "the carriage is ready now."

I shut my journal and bind its ties. I stand from my seat, lifting my foot, "fetch my shoe, dog."

He takes a bonbon and licks his fingers, "you are more than well-abled to fetch your own smelly shoe."

I rest my shoeless foot on my chair, "you dare insult and defy your lady?"

"Oh, but I see no lady," he knits his brows and pouts, "only a puerile, little girl," he stuffs his rubbish mouth with my sweet dessert.

"That isn't for your consumption, you swollen ignoramus."

He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. I make a face at the sight of the chewed up food. He shrugs and licks his lips, "you're more than welcome to pry it out of my mouth."

I try to swat him with my journal, but he steps back before I can. He watches me, bemused that I cannot follow, as I am unwilling to step my foot on the ground.

One of the maids pass. I point at her, "Abigail! Get my shoe."

She turns to me and nods, "yes, milady."

I watch as she scurries off to get my shoe from the grass where it landed. She grabs it and sprints over. Gwayne dusts off his hands, turning to her. He silently reaches a hand to Abigail and she bows, handing him my shoe.

When she walks away, the idiot walks over. He and I stare at each other for a moment. I roll my eyes at him when he licks his lips. I try to grab the shoe from him, but he moves, raising it over his head.

I chuckle dryly, "and I'm the puerile, little girl?"

Gwayne gives a lopsided smile and tilts his head back. Oh, how infuriating his dimples were.

My blood boils and I grip my skirt tightly. Before I am able to hit him with my journal, he drops down to one knee and takes my ankle.

My stomach drops and I gasp, nearly toppling back in shock. My hand comes to his shoulder too keep myself up, "Gwayne-"

"Hush, cub," he mutters, eyes not leaving my face. I stiffen as he slowly pushes my skirts up to my knee. His hand rubs my stocking-clad leg, and goosebumps erupt on my arms in response. My lips part as he slips the shoe on my foot, "you and your whining."

I pull my journal to my chest, feeling my heart thunder.

"Perhaps I should give you something to whine about."

My pulse skips when he kisses my shin. I feel my body burn.

He pulls my skirt down then abruptly stands. He places his hands behind his back and examines my face. I watch the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. In turn, I miss the way the corner of his lips quirk, "you look dull when there are no thoughts behind your eyes, dear."

I am immediately snapped out his my trance. The grin that spreads on his face enrages me. Without hesitation, I lift my foot off the chair and stop my heel to his foot.

Gwayne screams and lurches forward. He grabs me as he raises what I assume is his throbbing foot. I smile happily at him, yet a whine leaves me when he squeezes my arm too hard. I wrangle out of his grip and shove him away.

He leans on the chair for balance, and I quickly find my smile, "oh, come now, ser. You find yourself so easily defeated."

His only response is his pained sounds.

"The carriage is ready. We must not delay."

I walk away. Gwayne watches. He shakes his head and rubs his foot, mumbling to himself, "a dirty game for a dirty girl."

[revelboo]

Your ongoing Starscream thing is SO GOOD literally you write his inner conflict so well. Chefs kiss. I desperately crave a happy ending, but for now I’m content to see the sadness drag on.

Also, reader has friends (sort of?) now! Yay! Kinda wanna make low effort art of the cassettes showing Starscream a shitty PowerPoint presentation about how humans are sentient hmm. It’s written in cybertronian comic sans and has all the animation effects between slides

Thanks! Go for it, cause that sounds awesome 😆 And yes, reader now has friends/ terrible influences that are most likely, definitely, going to get them in trouble.

Everything is Alright pt 16

Starscream x Reader-unraveling

• Starscream’s only dimly aware of his fellow Decepticons moving out of his way as he stalks the halls. Of the looks. Those might be because his weapons are charged and humming or the rictus of a smile stretching his lips in a denta baring snarl. Let them be afraid. Whoever has stolen from him certainly will be before it’s over. He’s coming apart at the seams, held together with hatred and fear.

• Apparently word that he’s on the war path is spreading. The deeper he moves into the warren of halls and corridors, the fewer Decepticons he’s seeing. And the more unstable he feels. He’s walking a thin line now, processor snarling with scenarios custom designed just to hurt him. Teetering between fury and crippling anxiety, his wings are the only thing giving away the latter. That stupid tremor he can’t stop or control.

• There ahead. Voices. Soundwave’s cassettes? Lazerbeak swoops out of a hall leading the little group of miscreants, but it’s Frenzy his optics land on. The cassetticon’s hand firmly wrapped around a fragile little wrist to pull you along with him and the others as they run. It’s the smile on your face that freezes the energon coursing through him. You’re not only smiling, you’re laughing. Had your expression ever been that open and warm for him?

• Stopping suddenly in front of you without warning, you smack right into Frenzy’s back with a yelp. You shove away from him angrily and realize all the cassettes are still. Quiet. Skin crawling, you turn to see what’s got them on alert and- oh. Starscream. And he looks furious. Your breath catches as you just stare at him, a rabbit confronted with a hungry coyote. Common sense is screaming to run, because that anger is aimed right at you, but your body isn’t on board with the plan.

• And then Frenzy’s hand lands in the middle of your back. “Sorry, squishy,” he says, shoving you toward the Seeker as he and the other cassettes just bail. Abandoning you to Starscream. You stumble forward and fall down, palms and knees smacking the hard, metal floor. You keep your head down as he stalks forward, feeling the faint vibration of his steps. Then he’s just standing there over you. Intimidating and furious, and you can’t make a sound. Can barely breathe.

• You still won’t look at him and it’s twisting inside him into a seething miasma of confused anger. He wants to lash out, but doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s alone. You’re his. You hate him. He needs you anyway. Venting roughly, he kneels to carefully curl his servos around your unresisting form to lift you. You’re trembling and that fear unravels him faster as he cradles you to his chassis and heads back to his quarters, denta grinding.

• Why isn’t he yelling? Almost afraid to move in his careful but firm grip, you risk a glance up at his face. There’s definitely going to be yelling, his denta are bared in a grimace as he walks. He doesn’t look at you, though and that just makes you feel more jittery with anxiety. Had you finally pushed him too far? That dark, furious silence smothers you as you shiver in his grip.

• He carries you to the berth, his servos flexing around you. Tightening. And that kicks the panic into high gear, because you’re not sure what he’s going to do. Gasping, you go wild twisting and clawing to get free. Anything but be crushed. “Stop,” he growls, that furious edge just making you more frantic. “I said stop.”

• “Please stop.” That breaches the panic, those angry and so tired words. A request not a demand as he presses you to his chassis alongside his canopy and you can suddenly breathe again. Can feel the barely there tremor in his servos. “I thought you were gone.”

• Cheek pressed against his canopy, you crane your neck to try and see his expression, because this is new. Raw and painful and you need to see his face. It almost sounds like he does care. That you’re not just a pet or a possession. Something more even if you have no idea in what way. His palm shifts against you, keeping you pinned and unable to really see his face as he lets his head fall back against the wall the berth is against. You can hear him venting, that rough rhythm slowly evening out. Calming and you can’t hold onto your own anger at him, can feel it slipping through your fingers, because as awful as he sometimes is, he needs you. You don’t really understand it, but you do understand that you’re as trapped by whatever this is as he is.

• His venting hitches as you lay a tiny, soft palm against his canopy. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words are soft. And even if they might be a lie, he needs them. He needs this even if it can only hurt him.

Previous Next

[safination]

Our Little Adventure

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x Wife!Reader TLDR: Car ride to destination unknown

This is for @voxtekinc's week 4 prompt: Is that a dead body in the back seat? Finally back to my Alastor roots. I've missed you my pookie. Adam was great but ALASTOR

Sulfur air enters through the open window, and brings in a nice but smelly breeze. The scent of sulfur barely registers through your sense now. It’s been so long since you’ve arrived in Hell that you’ve been living in red skies longer than the blue one.

Alastor keeps his eyes on the road, humming along the tune of the radio. His filtered voice contrasts the clear sounds coming from the car speaker. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, timing it with the beat of the song.

You lean back on the seat, keeping your eyes on the way he smiles and the way he enjoys the music. It’s one of the rarer times when Alastor seems to be . . . well, relaxed. His smile reaches across his face because there’s something to smile about and not just the forced ones he likes to display.

Hell’s version of the sun beats down across the outskirts of Pentagram City, but the cool breeze makes the weather just right

Alastor places a hand down the seat, opening it palm-up. It’s an invitation, and one that you take eagerly. You intertwine his fingers with yours, and pull it to press a kiss across. A happy hum escapes Alastor, and you know you did good.

“Sweetheart,” you say, tracing the back of his hand, careful not to press too deep just in case his claws pierce your skin.

Alastor glances at you, then turns back to the road. “Yes, my dear?”

“Alastor.”

“That is, indeed, my name.”

“Darling.”

Alastor keeps his eyes on the road, but squeezes your hand. “Shall we go through all our lovely terms of endearment together?” he says. “Or shall you get to your point?”

“My deer,” you say, laughing. “My buck.”

“Hmmmm.” Faint radio static emit from his filter. “Yes?”

You squeeze back. “I have a question.”

“And I will have an answer.” Alastor hits the blinkers, and rounds the corner. “Go ahead and get to your point, my dear.”

“Is that a dead body in the back seat?” You glance towards the backseats, and stare the wrapped limbs across the cushions. “I figured you would have brough it up by now if it was a surprise for me.”

The car jerks a little to the side, and Alastor’s eyes widen. “Oh dear . . .” He groans into the steering wheel, pressing his forehead on it. “It seems I have forgotten something in my excitement.”

“Sweetheart!” You laugh at him, wheezing into the air. “Did you forget about a whole body?”

“It’s pieces of a body, actually.” Alastor’s ears flatter across his head before they flick right back up. “Some miscreants troubled the hotel, and I thought I would drop a quick gift to Rosie before our little adventure.”

“Except you never detoured to Rosie’s.”

Alastor snaps his fingers, and the body disappears into a pool of shadows. “Much better.”

“Darling, if you could do that the whole time then why did you need a car?”

“To drive around, of course!” Alastor taps his fingers across the steering wheel with a wide smile. “Our little adventure.”

“You haven’t told me where we’re going,” you say, and glance back out the window. The city blurs into the background. “Are we headed to Imp City?”

Alastor smiles at you, staring straight into your eyes, and runs over one of the few Sinners in this area. The car bumps from the sudden force of the body splatter, and you’re hurled straight into his open arms. “If you’d like,” he says, nudging you closer with a squeeze. “This will be just like our good and old days of our youth! The open road to an unknown destination.”

You settle into his side. “Our living youth?”

“Exactly!” Alastor takes a sharp turn, but his arm keeps you flushed into him. “We drove as far as the gas could take us. I thought it would be fun to do so again. Keep things familiar but exciting!”

“Me and you,” you say, and the words slip out in a familiar way, “to destination unknown, but together.”

“You remember!”

“Our little adventure.” You smile at him

“Indeed.” Alastor smiles back. “Our little adventure.”

[dedalvs]

Translation request: "I hate the ocean, all my enemies are across it" in Zhyler. Like the meme of the cat saying "I hate my puter, all my enemies are inside it"

You're really going to make me pull out not just one of my old languages, but my language that had 57 "cases", and then make me translate something that specifically uses a meaning I don't have a case for? And also requires a verb I don't have? (Everyone knows Zhyler has the verb astal which means "to love and hate" but no verb for "to hate".) Have I been made the object of a troll?

You better actually want this. This better be a damn tattoo.

First, you I had to, of course, create a word for "to hate", which meant having to relearn my stupid alphabetization system, since I alphabetized by the Zhyler orthography, not the romanization. Rather than go with something I felt in my bones I went with something that I knew I could alphabetize correctly, so zirel is the word for "to hate". I think it works, because I hate it.

So zir is "hate". Might as well add a -jÿr on the end to make it intensive (ÿ is [ɯ]). A first person subject makes that zirjÿrum, which, good gravy, if you know that this language is supposed to be a vowel harmony language and that is the result… What a disaster.

Now we need the ocean. Also, how dare you make me translate this. I LOVE the ocean! It's one of my most favorite things in the entire world! You miscreant! You villain! But that comes later.

There are two words for "ocean". One is ishþe which is just a place of water, but it seems like the word needed is naredðe, which is the great blue-green, the gathering of all waters.

The whole sentence, then, is Naredðer zirjÿrum. Now for the other.

The word for "enemy" is vedga. The word for "all" is las. Both of them will need to be plural, but, mercifully, nominative, so I don't have to remember what the adjectival cases are. Thus "all enemies is " laslar vedgalar. Then "my" is laslar vedgalarum. That's "all my enemies".

In locational phrases no verb is needed, which is nice. There isn't a single third person pronoun. Instead, the source of the noun class suffix is used as a third person pronoun. For Class XI (the class of naredðe), the pronoun is ða.

Now for the case, you are correct: I did not specifically create a case for "across" in this sense (the "beyond" sense). The one I would probably uses is the postessive case, which I think is supposed to mean "behind". In other words, all your enemies are behind the ocean. I believe the form is ðamej. And so, the full translation is:

Naredðer zirjÿrum. Laslar vedgalarum ðamej.

But didn't you mean "all my friends"...? Seems like the ocean is keeping your enemies away so you should be grateful for it. If you wanted to do that it'd be:

Naredðer zirjÿrum. Laslar širkÿlarum ðamej.

Either way, here's what it would look like in the orthography, which was redesigned by my cousin Claire Ng. My original font was garbage. This one is lovely. I had originally planned to redesign Zhyler and use it for the board game I'm creating (Sovála) featuring kingdoms of darling little animals battling each other. It was going to be the language for the cats. In fact, though, redesigning Zhyler is what led me to decide to create new languages. I got to the noun classes and realized the first one was for humans, and then there were several others for different sizes of animals, and this just didn't make sense at all for anthropomorphic cats in a world without humans. Thus, indirectly, it led to the creation of LangTime Studio (streaming in half an hour!).

All right, here you go. All my enemies:

And all my friends:

Now I banish you!

[suugarbabe]

Softer Side (Pt 2)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warning: smut adjacent? Lil fluff

The door to potions slammed open as Mattheo and his gang of friends filed in for class. His eyes met yours briefly before sitting at the table in front of you. “He truly is a right prick isn’t he,” the boy to your left whispered. “Who is?” You asked, not really paying attention to him. “Riddle and his band of miscreants,” the boy stated. You scoffed slightly, “Have you ever even spoken to Mattheo?” Your question puzzled him, “Do I need to?” You rolled your eyes, turning away from him for the rest of the lesson.

When you were finally let out you got up quickly, wanting to separate yourself from the ignorance of the boy next to you in class. You felt someone fall in step next to you. You turned to tell them off when you were met with a dimpled grin. “Hello, Darling,” Mattheo sweetly spoke. You couldn’t control the blush that creeped onto your cheeks, “Hello, Mattheo. To what do I owe this pleasure of your presence?”

“Oh, love, if just my presence is giving you pleasure…” he trailed off, smirk plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulder. “What are you really doing walking with me Mattheo? Won’t being seen with a pathetic Ravenclaw ruin your bad boy reputation?” You teased. Instead of playfully jabbing back Mattheo’s face turned serious, “I don’t think you’re pathetic, Y/n.” He threw an arm over your shoulder, “I also was just going to tell you how sweet it is when you defend me.”

“I wa- I mean, I just don’t think people really know the real you,” you stammered. Mattheo quirked an eyebrow, “Oh? And you think you do?” His tone was playful. You hadn’t even noticed he had guided you toward the Slytherin common you as you walked together. “What are we doing here? We’re going to miss Herbology,” you voice was soft. Truly you didn’t care about any class if Mattheo wanted to spend time with you.

“I figured you could tell me what you think you know about me, we’ll be alone in here,” he turned back to the stone wall, the door melting into view as he spoke the password. “Pura sanguine.” You rolled your eyes as you followed him into the common room, “Pureblood? How original.” He smiled at you over his shoulder, “Would you expect anything less?”

He led you to the black leather couches. You wouldn’t tell anyone else, but you quite liked the aesthetic of the Slytherin common room. You could see yourself spending a lot of time down here. “Sit,” Mattheo patted the spot next to him. You sat almost too obediently, making a small chuckle leave Mattheo’s throat. You blushed, pulling one leg to your chest and resting your chin on your knee.

“Oh don’t get shy on me now, love. We’re all alone. So tell me, what do you think you know about me.” He was facing you on the couch, his elbow leaning on the back as he rested his head against his fist. He had his famous shit eating grin, waiting for you to speak. You took a deep breath before starting, “I see you being a good person.” He raised his eyebrows, an amused look on his face before indicating with his hand for you to continue.

“I see you doing good things when you think no one is paying attention.”

“Oh, so you’re watching me, hmm?” You blushed at his words, “I don’t mean to, but after that first time I saw save that girl a few months ago I had to see if it was just a one off thing.” He grabbed one of your hands, tracing shapes in your palm, “And what did you discover, love?”

“That when no one’s looking, you essentially challenge every Slytherin stereotype. I’ve seen you volunteer your time in the library, clean up after your friends, I swear I even saw you laughing with a house elf last week.”

Mattheo smiled at this, “Winky is one funny lady, you should really get to know her if you get a chance.” You shook your head, smiling, “Well if you’re truly this kind and sweet person, why don’t you show it all of the time?” He sat up a little straighter, putting on a mocking tone, “Because it would ruin my bad boy reputation, right?”

“You are…so confusing sometimes,” you grabbed his hand that was holding yours before. “You allow people to have this idea of you, a terrible idea just because of your name, or your parents actions or who you associate yourself with. Why do you do that?”

He shrugged his shoulders, watching your fingers trace the scars on his knuckles, “Because I don’t care about what other people think, I know who I am. Other people’s opinions don’t bother me.” You nodded, “I wish I could live like that.”

“What, you can’t take people thinking you’re smart and attractive?” Mattheo chuckled. You blushed at his words, “People don’t think that about me.” Mattheo leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours ever so slightly. His breath fanned over your lips as he responded, “Well they should.”

In a moment his lips were crashing against yours. Your hand found it’s way to brown locks, instantly pulling on his curls. He growled into the kiss, grabbing your hips and pulling you to straddle his lap. You rolled your hips down, feeling him grow hard beneath you. He grabbed your hips tighter, bucking his hips up to meet yours. A gasp escaped your lips as Mattheo’s lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking, sure to leave a mark or two. Mattheo pulled back, admiring his work.

“These are gonna look so pretty tomorrow,” he smirked, tracing the marks on your neck. Your cheeks burned red as your buried your face in his chest. His hands rested just above your bum, lightly tracing his fingers up and down your back. You felt his chest rumbled as he chuckled lightly, “You know you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

You sat up, pushing a curl off his forehead, “I’m glad you think so.” You sighed deeply, “I can’t believe the Mattheo Riddle just gave me a trail of hickies. What will people say?” You feigned a shock face, placing a hand on your cheek. He grabbed your wrist, placing a kiss on the inside of it, “Why don’t we go see, yeah?” He picked you up by your waist, helping you stand up, following suit himself. He grabbed your hand, smiling as he led you out of the common room.

[the-raindeer-king]

If anyone so much gets a lil mean with teen!ghost I am throwing hands. So please continue

Someone mean to teen!Ghost.... so maybe I shouldn't drop this little blurb and run... (not part three, but enjoy this little blurb!)

You hadn't seen Simon all day, holed up in the med bay handling a rookie training course gone wrong. It's been a fucking nightmare, and you haven't even had time to think about Simon since you got to your station. All you can do is hope that one of 141 is keeping an eye on him.

That hope doesn't last long.

"WHO'S FUCKING SPOILED BRAT IS THIS?!"

The Lieutenant's voice cuts through the cacophony of the med bay like a clap of thunder. He's not even from your base, but visiting for a training course or something. You're not entirely sure, but what you do know is that over the last three days that he's been here, he's managed to solidify his reputation as an asshole.

You're halfway out of it, well used to working while spaced out, that you don't realize he's coming closer. Not until Simon crashes into your thankfully empty station, nearly knocking your setup over as he's roughly shoved into your station.

There's a cut on his forehead, right about his left eyebrow, and a bruise forming on his cheek.

"I didn't-

"Shut it!"

If you'd have turned around any faster, you might have broken the sound barrier. You whip around in your chair, shooting the Lieutenant a glare that a smarter man would've taken as a warning. The Lieutenant is not such a man.

"I caught this little miscreant snooping around Captain Price's office, and everyone said that he belongs to you," the Lieutenant sneers.

"I wasn't snooping!" Simon argues, his voice and body shaking with frustration. His hands clench into fists, and you can see the way his jaw clenches, the same way Ghost's does when he bites his tongue.

"I told you to shut up!" the Lieutenant roars, slamming his hand down onto your desk.

It's the way Simon flinches, eyes squeezed shut and body tense, ready for a blow that you personally won't allow to happen. He shrinks back from the Lieutenant, eyes darting between his assailant and the door, looking more like a scared animal than anything else.

Enough is enough.

"Lieutenant-"

"This is a goddamn military base, not some fucking playground! Keep an eye on this little bastard, or so help me God! You're lucky he didn't find anything important," the Lieutenant snaps at you, face red in his anger.

"Lieutenant," you begin again, doing your best to keep calm. Getting angry isn't going to help the situation, even if you'd rather knock the Lieutenant teeth out. "I'll be sure to let Captain Price know-"

"Good."

"-that you yelled at his nephew, as well as threatened and assaulted him."

You've never seen a man go so pale so quickly. All the redness of the Lieutenant's cheeks turns a splotchy white, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the panic in his eyes.

"You what?" he squeaks out.

"I said I'll let Price know that you yelled at, assaulted, and shoved his darling nephew here," you reply, nodding towards Simon, who honestly looks like he might pass out any second now. Not that the Lieutenant looks any better.

While the Lieutenant has a reputation of being an asshole, Price has one of his own, and it's for being viciously protective of what he considers his. You've witness firsthand the way he handles the 141, and you've heard rumors of him punching other captains for just joking about taking his boys from him.

"No, that's... that's not necessary. I didn't- I wasn't -"

"Or should I tell him that you were manhandling the poor boy around the base? Making a spectacle out of an assumption you made?" You pause, letting the situation sink in. "You make these kinds of assumptions in the field?"

"I- I'm so sorry. I had no idea..."

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to him."

The Lieutenant turns to Simon, stuttering out a jumbled apologize. Simon glances towards you, clearly a little unsure what to do. But the power is in his court, and you give him a shrug in response. Whatever he chooses is his choice, and you'll respect it.

"Give me a twenty, and we won't tell," Simon says.

You have to fight back a laugh. It's wrong, but you don't discourage his behavior. It's so quintessential Ghost, and it makes you miss the man even more. Once the Lieutenant leaves, you motion Simon to come closer.

Simon shuffles closer, shoving the twenty into his pocket. "You can't have it," he huffs, and this time you don't hold back your laughter.

"Don't want it, sweetheart," you laugh in response, and it eases the ache when you catch him smile. You brush back the blonde hair on his forehead, giving yourself a better look at the cut on his eyebrow.

"That asshole," you grumble under your breath, turning away to get a band aid. As you turn back to him, your heart plummets to your stomach when Simon responds quietly, "It's not that bad. I've been through worse."

You stare at each other for a moment, the silence in the room deafening. Simon knows he shouldn't have said it too, based on the way his eyes widen. And you hate that you can't keep him safe, knowing he'll return back to the correct timeline eventually.

But while he's here, you'll do your best to make him feel loved.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

It’d be interesting to see Vil speak with Mama Rosehearts, considering they both can be perceived as having similar motivations (Maintaining strict rules/regimens for the improvement of yourself/your child).

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"... and that concludes our tour of Pomefiore."

With an elegant hand, Vil indicated the lounge. The regal parlor boasted plush purple cushions, gold trim, and sumptuous crimson curtains. Classic and tasteful, crafted in the spirit of the Beautiful Queen.

"You may relax here and enjoy our amenities if you wish. I will be present if you have any additional questions about the dormitory.”

A soft murmur rippled through the crowd of parents. Several of them shuffled off to claim seats or into smaller groups to mingle. But one woman, dressed head to toe in red, remained.

She stepped up to Vil, accompanied by the smell of roses and antiseptic. A bouquet brought to a hospital, fresh flowers laid out in a patient's room.

“Mr. Schoenheit. I wanted to thank you for that informative, insightful tour. It’s clear that you are well-disciplined and meticulous in carrying out your duties as dorm leader. You’re an example to be followed.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m honored by your praise, Miss…?”

“Rosehearts.“

“Rosehearts…” Vil’s brows shot up. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to a Riddle Rosehearts, would you?”

“That would be my son.”

"Ah, I thought you seemed familiar." He flashed his famous, perfect smile for her. "Excuse me, I had no idea I was speaking with the mother of a fellow dorm leader. Riddle is quite competent for a second year and tirelessly works to ensure that the Heartslabyul students stay in line."

"Yes, he’s always been such a good boy—but with him being away from home for his studies, I worry about bad influences getting to him. Knowing that Riddle has some good role models like yourself around sets my heart at ease."

Vil gave a laugh. "Bad influences? Surely he has the wherewithal to tame them. I’ve seen him work his magic on more than one occasion.”

“Perhaps, but I’m afraid this runs far deeper than a few miscreants running rampant.” Rosehearts sighed deeply. “There’s this boy—” she practically spat the word out as it it was toxic, “—constantly at his side, whispering poison into his ear. His vice dorm leader, in fact. He’s been hovering like a fly to a flower since Riddle’s youth, tempting him into skipping lessons and partaking in sugar.”

Vil had an effort to not let surprise register on his face. He fought the amused smile his lips wanted to form.

Did I hear that correctly? Riddle’s mother finds fault with Trey? The mild-mannered man that knocks on the door with free cakes every other week? That Trey?

Vil cleared his throat, reorienting himself. “It can certainly be a problem to frequently indulge in vices. From what I recall, Trey has a terrible habit of enabling others. He’s the type of man that finds it difficult to tell someone ‘no’. However, there is value in indulging oneself every now and again. Riddle could make do with the occasional reminder, lest he burn out like a star.”

Mrs. Rosehearts gaped at him. With her jaw unhinged so wide and painted red, she resembled a goldfish.

“A mother knows what is best for her child.” There was an edge to Mrs. Roseheart’s words. Prickly, like thorns. “That boy cannot be trusted with my Riddle’s wellbeing.”

“Your Riddle?” Vil repeated the phrase, and it tasted wrong. Too fiery hot, almost possessive. To keep it in his mouth for too long was to let it burn his tongue.

“He’s my son.”

His gaze hardened, but he kept his poise, his practiced smile. “If you do not mind my saying so, madam… A child may belong to the parents, but children are independent entities. Part of a parent’s responsibility is knowing when it is appropriate to stand back and grant the child space to make their own decisions.”

“I’m fortunate to have a father that grants me that. I have him to thank for the man I am today, mother or no mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts had grown increasingly red in the face. From anger, embarrassment—she was like a bomb, close to blowing. Here, in public, with so many onlookers.

"You have no idea what it takes to raise a child," she spat. "How dare you talk down to me...!"

And so Vil diverted, diffusing her.

“… In any case, that is my personal experience. I do not intend to give others parenting advice. I’m inexperienced in that area myself.”

Vil placed one hand on his hip and lifted the other. He, a poisonous flower amid the roses.

“But allow me to offer you this: as someone who works closely with Riddle, I can assure you that he is coming into his own, on his own terms. Myself, Trey… All of us are merely there to support him on that journey. I hope that you can be that support for him as well.”

[willowser]

i've never really put much thought into actual dragon dragon-king bakugou, but — what if —

you meet him for the first time in king todoroki's arena — on what you assume to be the last day of your life. over something menial like stealing a porkbun or something, and now his grace has decided that a trial-by-combat is a fitting punishment for you crimes.

only your opponent is a massive, hulking, fire-red dragon.

and you're not the only one thrown in there; a few other vagrants and miscreants, too, and they — stupidly — rush off to meet their own deaths as they try to strike him down with the blunt swords and dented shields you'd been thrown by the guards before they sealed you to your fate.

the dragon is chained up, of course, like a prized possession for the king. a large collar with inward curving spikes around his neck, which have worn scars into his scales, as well as some metal contraption around his maw to keep it shut. it doesn't hinder him useless, though, and when he tries to fly up and away from the amphitheater, the force of his wings sends you all rolling backward.

despite the fact that he's maiming people with the spines on his tail and bashing them into mush with the weight of his head — you can't help but to feel bad for him, trapped in an arena, put on display for people to taunt and laugh at. the chains look heavy, the muzzle tight; you wonder if his wings could even carry him anymore.

so you decide that the only way for you to live through this, if at all, is if you can manage to get this big boy off the ground.

while the other competitors fight the dragon for their lives, you instead rush for the chains that are nailed into the walls of the arena and smash at them with the rounded end of a shield. every time he jerks his head this way and that, or rears back on his legs, wings flapping wildly, the wall he's nailed to becomes looser and looser, starts to crumble and fall away.

and just as he turns to you — his last foe — it breaks free, and you swear, you swear, those big, red eyes of his narrow, brow furrowing, before he's jerking the chain twice. tugging it noisly, almost to get your attention.

you grab onto it just before he takes to the sky.

the rush of air is so cold and stinging that your eyes water, and you hold onto the lifeline as you're carried up and away from the kingdom, over the entirety of it, far enough that he can land safely without getting charged by the guards.

when you both hit ground, you think you're going to puke, especially as he stands tall and stretches his wings like he hasn't been able to for years — but instead of smashing you, too, to a clump in the grass, he only leans his head down to you, nudges you hard enough that you topple over.

you're still clinging to the shield and you use the edge on the nails of his muzzle, too, twisting them loose so that the iron falls away and he can stretch his jaw. show off his long, very sharp teeth that could easily tear you to bits.

and yet he doesn't. doesn't even try.

it'll be harder to get the collar off his neck, but he watches you with his slit eyes, brow arched menacingly, and nudges you to the long length of his neck. huffs until you're grabbing the spines and hauling yourself up onto him, like some kind of impossibly large horse.

and you continue on like that, for a bit; he finds a field of wild bulls and eats nearly all of them, maiming one for you before setting it aflame; you try to gather little shiny things for him, because you've heard dragons like treasure and you want to keep him, but he doesn't seem too interested; you have no family to return to, having grown up alone on the king's streets, and he becomes all you have.

you begin to feel like some chosen one from the fairytales you've heard spoken by firelight. the dragon bakugou stays with you, and the only reason you can fathom is that, maybe, he feels indebted to you — but you've saved one another, and that's what matters.

the night everything changes is when you're deep in the forest, camped up near the edge of a clear-water spring. the dragon bakugou grows lazy, curled around the perimeter of the water with his long neck and — he's a male dragon, you know, but you've got to wash yourself eventually.

you do feel a bit odd, undressing yourself as he watches, but you assume it's only out of plain and simple curiosity that he does; you assume that's why he does anything, for you, like allowing you to lay near his head when you sleep or huffing in your face until you laugh when you try to wrap your arms around his nose.

you try to pay him — an animal, a creature of fantasy — no mind as you dive below the surface, enjoying the refreshing rush of water over your skin. when you reach the bottom, tangle your hands in the gentle weeds, you feel a pang of sadness, that he might never experience such a feeling.

but when you return to the surface — he's gone.

in place at the water's edge is the collar you've never been able to loosen. rusted and creaking, looking much larger off his neck and alone in the grass, and your stomach lurches with a thousand horrible possibilities of what could have happened until —

"oi."

until you turn around and there is a massive, hulking man, naked as the day he came, with eyes the color of the scales that are dotted along his skin in stray patches. crowned in a mess of ashen hair, scars along his neck and face and arms—one of which is inked in some symbol you may have seen once. on those travellers, from the southern clans.

he, the man bakugou, you realize, has no concept of personal space — or the fact that he's totally naked and so are you — and he wastes no time in crowding into you. even rushing, a little, when you squeal and try to clamber back up the bank for your clothes.

like a stubborn boy, he pushes you into the dirt and even grins, evil and mischievous, with human teeth. you have no idea what to expect of him; men have never been too kind to you, afterall, someone without a home or family and easy to be rid of.

but he, the man bakugou, only nudges his face into yours, huffs against your cheek when you squirm, and you think, you think, you can hear some kind of quiet rumbling purr coming from the deep center of his chest.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König of the Icks (the rage post)

This is the post where I actually got mad at König. I can't stand people like this, but I also love them. If nothing else, life's always interesting when they're around, right?

Art from This Post

König rarely laughs. When he does laugh, it's usually quiet, subtle. If you didn't know he was laughing, you'd probably think he was crying because he just shakes his shoulders and makes soft chuffing noises

It's a bit eerie

However, when König loses control of his laughter, he sounds like a whole damn pigsty

He's snorting, squealing and honking as he tilts his head back with laughter. He laughs so hard he cries

This would be cute if it weren't almost always at the expense of somebody else.

Horangi had the misfortune of hearing it when König tipped all his belongings upside down and then taped and/or glued them to the ceiling. This included Horangi's bed and sheets.

Hutch nearly threw out a computer mouse until he found a piece of tape covering the bottom.

Roze swears she heard König laughing when she found her entire locker filled to the brim with tiny rubber ducks

The rubber ducks became a huge problem with soldiers trading them like contraband and hiding them in weird places around the base

This concluded with snipers using them for firing practise and laughing when they squealed when they were shot, making it to easy to find their hiding spots

Unfortunately for Stilleto, she heard König's laugh when she walked through a line of tape over a door and got it tangled in her hair. She figured out which recruits did it and had them running laps. When they were done, one of them admitted it was Cnl. Leichenberg who set them up and she was furious

See, König loves to set other people up to do his dirty work

He'll gladly set up soldiers to piss other people off so he can watch the fireworks fly

He'll purposefully hold off on doling out a punishment if he thinks it'll be funny to watch shit go south first

He's well known on base as a through and through sadist who relishes in schadenfreude

Hell, he's the one to teach everyone what that word meant

He's the literal dictionary definition of the word

Now, the problem is that König isn't just a kinky sadist (he is, but that's a different post)

König loves to torment anyone he loves. And of course, that includes you

König won't put things on the top shelf, he'll put them on top of the cabinet so you'll have to ask for his help because not even the stool will help you reach that high

He'll doodle over any picture you have of him to 'hide his identity'

He just likes messing with you

He torments his children with wicked pranks and gaslights them terribly

When his toddler offers him a bite of their animal cracker he eats the whole thing and laughs at them

He will absolutely label three objects 1, 2, and 4 so you'll go searching for #3

He will sit on you when he gets mad at you, or when you get mad at him because, well, this is the two of you (and he will do this to you and laugh):

His worst sin was childproofing the house without your knowledge. Ever had a fully childproofed house? If you're not the one installing it, it's an ugly thing to find

He will shift furniture just a little bit to the right or left to screw with you if you finish off his breakfast meals and don't replace them immediately

König takes delight in leaving you cryptid notes (you've learned to ignore the ominous threats because they always turn out to be something completely innocuous)

König is a nightmare of a man to live with. Is it fun? Sure! Is he a menace? Absolutely. He's got a penchant for mischief, and he's used to getting away with it because he's either got the reputation of a battle-hardened colonel that demands respect when he steps into a room, or the soft-spoken gentleman that would never raise his voice against a civilian. This just means he has the perfect fallback for whenever somebody accuses him of being a miscreant. In truth, he's most likely behind it, but the true extent of how many thing's he's behind is terrifying. This man fucks with people as a hobby.

Konig Dump

Konig Headcanons

[thegoldencontracts]

(Not) A Stand-Up Guy

Summary: Your boyfriend is being insulted. Naturally, you defend him. Problem is... That's kind of hard.

Characters: Azul, Jade

Azul Ashengrotto

It was a peaceful day as you passed through the hallways to run a quick errand; delivering papers to Professor Crewel. The halls were almost completely deserted, every little sound echoing through the walls.

And one of those sounds was the sound of people insulting your boyfriend.

"Ugh," said some guy. "The damn crook. Can't believe people like him can be housewarden."

"We should beat him up." Silence. "I-I'm joking," said the other guy hastily. "Obviously, I know that wouldn't work with those goons of his. He's still annoying, though."

"His voice pisses me off."

"His voice?" Said another guy incredulously. "What about the fact that he's a terrible person?"

A terrible person was definitely an overstatement. Though he definitely had his flaws, Azul wasn't Satan incarnate or anything Iike that.

And- now that you thought about it, didn't these guys cheat off you during Alchemy? What were they doing insulting you boyfriend when they knew you could hear them? Didn't they have an ounce of respect?

...Or did they just think you were a pushover?

You were beginning to feel offended on your own behalf, too.

"Hey!" You said, turning to face them, closing the gap between you and the group of miscreants. "Don't talk about my boyfriend like that!"

"We're right," said one of the guys nonchalantly. You paused for a second.

He was a crook, and he did intentionally get on people's nerves. Curses.

"Uh, well-" You raised a finger to try and prove your point, except there was no point to prove. "He has a very lovely voice!"

"That he sweetens up to get on people's nerves," said a guy. He was right.

You paused for a second. They were right, weren't they?

No, no. You weren't going to let this slide.

"Still," you said, steeling yourself. Your voice instantly turned stony.

"Let's face it: Night Raven's a school of schemers. You're all probably up to no good yourself. Azul isn't particularly worse than any of you, nor is he the morally irredeemable prat you seem to think he is. He's insanely hardworking, and probably more talented than you could ever be, considering how often you all try to pull a fast one and look at my answers during tests."

You paused for a long breath, taking in their shock at your words—and the fact you knew about them cheating off of you.

"So," you continued. "If you're going to use me to cheat or whatever, at least don't talk shit about my boyfriend when I can clearly hear you."

That promptly shut them up.

"Sorry, sorry," one of them said. "So... You won't tell Professor Crewel about... Uh...?"

You beamed.

"We're all good!" You said, switching up your tone immediately. You had gotten what you wanted.

The guy sighed.

"T-Thanks," he said, not really caring about Azul so long as he could keept cheating off of you during Alchemy.

"No problem!"

You beamed, off on your merry way. And, afterwards, you bumped into none other than your darling himself, Azul.

"I saw your little skirmish earlier today," he said with a grin. You laughed.

"I'd stick up for you again," you said. He smiled. "Even if it is super hard to do."

The smile fell right off his face.

"You'd do well to cease this line of conversation."

"Nah," you said. "I think I'll keep talking about it some more. I'll talk about you being a crook, and how you talk like Squidward from SpongeBob sometimes, and-"

"Insolent cretin."

"I love you too, Azul."

Jade Leech

Getting to pick Jade's mushrooms was quite the pleasant experience. They were all so pretty, and the garden itself was so well taken care of, not to mention how much glee you felt at the thought of Jade trusting you enough to ask you to pick some of his precious mushrooms for him!

As you finished storing the last of the mushrooms—Lactarius Indigo, a really pretty one; edible too—you practically skipped back to Octavinelle. Oh, how you loved mycology. The world of fungi was really quite fascinating.

So why did everyone think they were creepy? At least, they did in this school. Seriously, mushrooms weren't just not creepy, they were awesome! Mushrooms were one of the key players in the ecosystem, a great source of food, so varied in utility it was insane, gorgeous, not to mention-

"Oh, look," some guy said." It's the creepier Leech's servant, here to collect his fucking poison mushrooms."

"Don't say that! They're supposed to be together!" Said another guy with a snicker. "They're totally equals, you guys."

Your eye twitched. You could hear them. They knew that, right?

No, no. You had to be calm about this. Move on, ignore them.

"I wonder what kinda blackmail he's got on his little servant-"

"Oh, shut up!" You said before you could stop yourself. You'd lost your temper.

One of the guys scoffed.

"Your precious little boyfriend's a creep, and you know it," he said. Another guy nodded along.

"Wasn't that there thing about him finding people's private online accounts or some shit?"

You grit your teeth. That was... True, actually. He did that, and he also messed with others for his own amusement.

Curses.

"It's just the truth," said one of the guys. You noticed the yellow band on his uniform. Savannaclaw.

You smirked.

"Were you or were you not in on it when your dorm orchestrated the mass accidents? What about the stampede on Diasomnia?"

His eyes widened.

"I- uh-"

"That's what I thought," you said. "Might want to shut it, then. You're not exactly a saint yourself."

With that, you walked off, making one last comment about how they'd never been in a healthy relationship before. Still, you couldn't help but sigh.

You hadn't actually won the argument. You just- deflected their point.

Then again, did those guys really have a point? This was Night Raven. What made the things Jade did any worse than the misdeeds of other students?

You were pulled from your lamentations by the sight of Jade Leech.

"Thank you for so bravely taking a stand on my behalf, dearest," he said with a teasing look that contained a vague trace of sincerity. How did he even get that information? Hell if you knew.

"No problem, my dear princess," you said with an entirely straight face. "On that note, your knight has brought the requested items."

You pulled out the bag of mushrooms, presenting them to him with a smirk.

"Please, accept this humble offering," you said. It was all too satisfying to catch the split second of frustration on Jade's face at you playing along. Turnabout was fair play, wasn't it?

But, of course, he had to keep playing along. It was actually pretty funny, to be honest.

"I accept, my darling knight," he said with a smirk. "Of course, I must reward you."

"And how exactly do you intend to go about doing that?"

Your question was promptly answered when he pulled you in for a kiss.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 5: Ruby]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can’t seem to get away from…

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don’t like Titanic you won’t like this fic!!! 😉

Word count: 5.5k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @nightvyre @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama @ecstaticactus @chattylurker, more in comments 🥰

💎 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 💎

Scarlet dusk spills over the pine planks of the deck like rising water. Sweet little Madeleine Astor invites you to attend dinner with her party—perhaps there is gossip that you and Daemon have had some sort of a row—but you have other plans. As the rest of the first-class passengers descend the Grand Staircase to the dining room on D-Deck, you make your way eastward towards the stern. You pass shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, who is ambling along with a group of chuckling, pipe-puffing gentlemen including J. Bruce Ismay and Benjamin Guggenheim. Mr. Andrews is mentioning the iceberg warnings that the captain has received from nearby vessels today; the other men are agreeing that Captain Smith is right to not be concerned. On a night as calm and cloudless as this one, surely an iceberg would be spotted by the lookouts with more than enough time to steer the ship to safety.

Aegon is waiting by the steel railing of the stern, stolen black coat, face glowing in fading daylight the color of sunstone, a crystal mined in Oregon. His scuffed brown leather portfolio and a folded easel are tucked under one arm; in his fist is clutched the handle of a small wooden box, which must contain his painting supplies.

“So,” he says, smiling when he sees you’ve accepted his offer, this final kindness before you are torn away from each other when Titanic docks in New York Harbor. “Where should we set up our studio? It can’t be in my cabin. One of my roommates is currently fornicating with a Russian girl. She seems nice. I hope she isn’t burdened with his bastard child.”

“You don’t think we should join them?”

He laughs. “Maybe I’m not ready to share you.”

“You’re not living up to your reputation, prodigal son. I had heard you were an irredeemable miscreant.” Then you turn to leave, and Aegon follows you.

You stop first at the Café Parisien on B-Deck, which is mostly deserted; it’s very cold outside, approaching freezing temperatures as the sun sinks below the bloodied horizon, and the heaters don’t work especially well in the restaurant. You purchase several different sandwiches and a chocolate croissant. No cash exchanges hands, which is good because you don’t ever have any; the stewards there recognize you and will add the charge to your illustrious husband’s bill, to be paid before passengers disembark on either April 16th or 17th, depending on how quickly Titanic arrives at her destination.

Daemon and Rhaenyra will be in the First-Class Dining Saloon for the next several hours, and thereafter will almost certainly steal away into her rooms to commit their incestuous adultery. Rush is eternally prowling nearby in case Daemon finds himself in need of anything: a drink, a gun, a troublesome wife shoved over a railing. Per her nightly tradition, Dagmar has taken Draco to the Verandah Café, which in addition to being a more casual eatery has become a sort of playroom for first-class children. And so in your staterooms, only Fern is present, finishing up some dusting before she journeys down to C-Deck to enjoy dinner in the Maids and Valets Saloon. From above the fireplace, the taxidermied tiger head watches you with eerily still gemstone eyes, a dispassionate witness to your treason.

“Hello, ma’am,” Fern says when you enter. “Can I make you a cup of tea before I go?” Then she sees Aegon walk in behind you with all his equipment, and she blinks, bewildered. “Good evening, sir. Did we meet on the Boat Deck this morning…?”

“We did,” Aegon replies a bit sheepishly. Fern looks at you, seeking an explanation.

“I need a favor,” you tell her.

“Of course, ma’am. Anything.” But Fern’s large dark eyes shift skittishly between you and Aegon.

You give her the paper bag heavy with treats from Café Parisien. “I’ve brought you dinner. I wasn’t sure what kind of sandwich you’d prefer, so there’s ham and Gruyère, tomato and chèvre, and pâté and cornichon. Eat whichever you like, or all three, it doesn’t matter. Oh, and there’s a chocolate croissant as well, nice and flakey and shining with butter. It’s absolutely massive.”

“That’s very kind, ma’am,” Fern says. She’s touched, but she’s still puzzled.

“Fern, I’m asking you to stay here in the sitting room. It doesn’t matter what you do, but don’t fall asleep, and for God’s sake don’t leave to go outside, not even for a moment.”

“Alright,” she agrees cautiously.

“I don’t think they’ll be back for a few hours, but if somebody does walk through that door—Daemon, Dagmar, anyone—all I need you to do is offer to make them tea, as you would on any other night. And offer loudly.” This will alert you to the intruder and give you more than enough time to get Aegon out onto the private deck, from which he can access the hallways of B-Deck and the Grand Staircase.

Fern understands. She nods, studying Aegon thoughtfully. “Yes ma’am.”

“And I didn’t have any visitors.” Your voice is grave; it is not only your reputation at risk. It’s your life.

Fern feigns shock. “Of course not. I haven’t seen a soul.”

You touch a palm to her shoulder, fleeting and gentle. “Thank you, Fern.”

“It’s no trouble at all, ma’am,” she says, and then goes to the small circular table and begins to unwrap one of the sandwiches from Café Parisien.

As soon as you and Aegon are inside your bedroom, you push Daemon’s writing desk in front of the door, precious extra seconds bought in the unlikely event that your husband returns and Fern can’t slow him down. Aegon immediately begins setting up: placing his easel, clipping a piece of fresh linen-like parchment from his portfolio to it, and removing a palette, brushes, and tiny tin tubes of oil paint from his wooden box. He turns off all of the lamps except one, then glances at the unlit white candles on the dresser and the nightstand. Before he can say anything, you take his aluminum lighter from your handbag and light the wicks.

“Can I do anything else to help?” you ask.

“Yeah.” Aegon nods to your spacious walk-in closet, where the door is hanging ajar. It’s nearly as large as his entire third-class cabin. He shrugs off his black wool coat; beneath it he is wearing only a white button-up shirt and dark green corduroy trousers. “Get dressed. Put on something you feel like you look especially good in.”

You gaze blankly at the closet, then turn back to him. “I don’t think I look good in anything.”

“Well now I’m going to make you watch.” He smirks at you, mischievous, teasing, then drops to his knees to squirt beads of paint onto his stained palette: golden like the lamplight, a rich dark brown like the walnut wood of the bedposts.

“How would you possibly accomplish that?”

“You have a mirror.” He points to it with a paintbrush, the oval-shaped pool of silver standing upright by the bed.

You gape at it, mortified. “No, I couldn’t possibly stare at myself the whole time.”

“Sure you could.” Aegon goes to the mirror and adjusts it until it is filled with your reflection. “Not too bad, right?”

“I suppose,” you murmur, but you have already fled to the closet. As Aegon swirls colors together on his palette, searching for the perfect shades, you sift through your collection of jewel-toned fabrics: lace, cotton, velvet, wool. You think again of the dusk light that turned the decks and waves to rubies, and your eyes catch on a red silk robe: purchased only a month ago, never worn yet, no memories of Daemon or anybody else, a new age like sunset or dawn. You take off your green gown and remove the emeralds from your ears, then don the crimson-colored robe and return to the bedroom to meet Aegon, silk flowing behind you like a riptide, the rustling of your legs beneath the fabric.

Aegon is scrabbling around by the foot of the bed, smoothing out any bumps in the Turkish rug, straightening the white ruffled bed skirt that hangs down to the floor. He peers up at you and freezes, his fretful fingers going still.

You ask tentavively: “Is this okay?”

He chuckles. “Okay is one word for it. Come over here.”

You go to Aegon and he takes your hands, both of them, and draws you down onto the floor where he is. You sit with your legs bent and tucked to the right, as if you’re a mermaid, your tail the color of blood instead of cool rippling depths. Aegon arranges the hem of your robe—he wants your bare feet showing, the silk rumpled in some spots and smooth in others—then retreats and stands back to study you, chewing the corner of his full bottom lip, his hands on his waist.

“Can I take your hair down?”

“Sure,” you say, but when he touches you—even a graze, even a whisper—you have to stop yourself from startling a bit, from reaching out to grab his wrist and keep him close.

“I can paint from memory,” Aegon tells you as he works, perhaps filling the quiet to soothe your nerves. “But it always turns out better if I have the person in front of me.”

“I’ll try to stay still.”

“You can move around if you have to,” he assures you. “I’d rather have you comfortable. I know you’re not a statue.”

“Right.” You smile. “I’m a rock.”

Aegon laughs and places your left hand on the bedpost as if you are clinging to it. “The best rock. Now let’s see you glimmer.” He goes to the mirror and repositions it one final time, angling it downwards slightly so you are in the center of the glass oval. From behind you on the dresser, flickering dots of candlelight glow like stars. You instinctively avert your eyes from your reflection, but Aegon is insistent. Gingerly, he turns your head back towards the mirror before striding over to his easel.

You do not want to watch yourself, so you watch Aegon instead, his doppelganger reversed in the glass. He’s mixing paint on his palette, repeatedly glancing at your robe to make sure he’s made the correct shade of red. He’s absentmindedly tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear. And you cannot stop staring at his hands: the way he holds a paintbrush, the bumps of his knuckles. He is not a man who has ever pillaged or bruised but only created pinpoints of light that gleam through the darkness, music and art and laughter, the gems of human existence. He is far from home, just like you are. His bones are the bars of a prison; you have married into the same one, created new life with it, melded your bloodlines together like forged metal.

Now Aegon is back, his reflection kneeling behind yours, and he begins to reach for your waist before he stops himself. “Is it alright if I…?”

“Of course. However you want me.”

The Aegon that lives in the silver sheen of the mirror settles his hands lightly just below your ribcage. He turns you just barely towards the mirror, only an inch away from where you were before, but he is precise, he is careful. This is the last image he’ll ever capture of you.

The warmth of him against you, his weight, his wonder as he gazes at your reflection with eyes like deep water; your breath catches, and at first he fears he has crossed a line and removes his hands. But your fingers are—slowly, like a suggestion that someone could so easily pretend not to have noticed—pulling up the hem of your silk robe, to just above your ankles, to your calves, to your bent knees. Aegon’s right hand covers yours, and then—as your eyes lock in the mirror—skates up the inside of your thighs as you part them, displacing the vivid red of your robe, revealing yourself in the glass, and so you can see it as he touches you, not like he owns or commands or uses you but like he is here to chisel you free from the perpetual darkness of the mine you’ve been trapped in for millennia.

You gasp in desperate, disbelieving relief, shaking all over, and you move to kiss him; but Aegon catches your face in his other hand and turns you back to the mirror. “No,” he whispers. “Watch.” And then he presses his lips to the apple of your cheek and lingers there for a moment, tasting you, breathing you in like you’re water filling the lungs of a drowning man.

“Aegon…”

“I want you to see how beautiful you are. I want you to see what I’ve been dying to do to you.”

His right hand is still between your legs, his fingers circling, a whirlpool that drags you down like an anchor until you hit the seafloor, an ocean not of pressure and cold but bright, yearning warmth, golden lamplight and flickering candles. You reach back to touch Aegon’s face—the stubble of his short beard, the sand-colored strands of his hair—but still he keeps your gaze fixed on your reflection. Now you are unashamed in a way you haven’t been since before your wedding night five years ago, just about the same time Aegon was leaving home. The proof is indelible, inking itself into your memory like a painter’s signature: you are desired, you are loved.

“Thank you,” you moan, so low it’s almost inaudible. You’re close. You’re very, very close. “Oh my God, Aegon, thank you…”

“Shh.” He kisses the side of your face, his eyes on the mirror, transfixed. “Show me.”

It’s a beam of sunlight refracted and scattered by a ruby; it’s a scalding torrent of blood that crashes through a web of arteries all the way to the heart. And when—still shuddering, still fighting for air—you pull away from Aegon’s grasp, he lets you go without any resistance.

You roll onto the floor and drag him on top of you by his shirt, struggling with trembling fingers to untangle the tie of your robe until Aegon realizes what you’re trying to do and helps you. He opens the blood-red silk and tastes the salt blooming on your belly, your breasts, your throat where your pulse is thudding drunk and maroon in your carotid. It’s better than cider or champagne or beer or nicotine; he is not a poison but a cure. He is unbuttoning his shirt and his trousers, hurried famished need. He is inside of you, and he is kissing you deeply, your palms on his flushed face, your hips moving with his. You steal a glimpse of the silver-moonlight mirror, and there you both are: lost and far from home, shipwrecked on the same island, castaways and wave crests and mirages. In the end, you know you have not disappointed him. His lungs are breathless and his eyes wet, his muscles just as spent and useless as yours. Neither of you are lost anymore. You have found each other here in the gloomy depths.

Almost immediately, Aegon forces himself off of you and crawls towards his easel, at last staggering to his feet. He grabs his palette and a brush and begins working with frenetic strokes, his damp hair falling in his face, his brow knit with concentration. You don’t have to ask what he’s doing. He’s trying to paint you before the memory begins to fade. He works in thin layers, just enough to cover the white of the parchment. His visions are soft and fragile like dreams, things that can be blown away and forgotten. From where you’re still lying on the floor, you gaze up at Aegon as he paints.

Is it possible that I’m in love with him? Is it possible that after this voyage I’ll never see him again?

You have no sense of how much time has passed when he finally looks over at you and says: “I think it’s done.”

You stand and wander across the bedroom, your red robe still open and hanging loosely from you like flayed skin. On the paper you find two faces instead of one, you in a golden haze of ecstasy no one else can see the cause of, Aegon whispering as your fingertips reach back for him.

He has written in black in the bottom right corner of the painting: Petra and Picasso.

~~~~~~~~~~

Aegon doesn’t want to move it yet. The oil paint needs hours to dry, and he’s worried that if he takes it outside while it’s still wet, the wind screaming down from the Arctic might be cold enough to make the paint freeze and chip away, and the momentary lust-red magic he’s captured will be gone. So with the new painting still clipped to it, you hide Aegon’s folded easel, the leather portfolio, and the wooden box of supplies under your bed, concealed by the white ruffled bed skirt. You both take turns cleaning up in the bathroom—someone always listening for the noise of an unwelcome interloper—and Aegon shimmies back into his clothes while you change into a blue dress, velvet for warmth, pale like ice.

“Where can we go?” you ask Aegon as you put on a coat, heavy white wool. I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet.

He must feel the same way. He pushes Daemon’s writing desk back to its original place, unblocking the door. Then Aegon offers his hand and you take it.

You walk together into the sitting room. Fern looks up from where she’s perched on the sofa and sewing closed a rip in the sleeve of one of Dagmar’s charcoal-colored dresses, her eye wide.

“Thank you, Fern,” you say, calm and drowsy. “That will be all for tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“How can I repay you?” You don’t have your own money, your own land; even the jewels in your collection belong to Daemon. You’d give them all up if they could buy your freedom. You’d let them sink into the dark cold North Atlantic Ocean, emeralds and rubies and sapphires. Randomly, you think of Daemon’s gemstone-studded dagger, the hilt glinting with gold.

Fern replies: “Never send me away to live with people who don’t bring me chocolate croissants.”

You dash to the sofa and hug her; Fern is stunned but accepts your embrace, warily patting your back as if the bones beneath might be porcelain or glass. Then you clasp Aegon’s hand again and vanish with him into the hallway.

Most of the men are still at dinner or have moved to the First-Class Smoking Room, the women are still gossiping and sipping their champagne, and so you and Aegon slip through the heated corridors like sharks in warm currents. He leads you towards the stern, to the section of the ship reserved for his chosen people, then down to F-Deck and the Third-Class Dining Saloon. They are just beginning to move the tables out of the way for dancing. You find a quiet corner of the room and take off your coats, then Aegon disappears for a moment and returns with a tray: two plates full of corned beef, cabbage, carrots, and potatoes, two bowls of plum pudding, two cups of tea, a dark bitter pint of Guinness for you. You can feel your face light up when you see Irish food.

“You’re lucky you weren’t down here for breakfast,” Aegon tells you. “We had fried tripe and onions.”

“Oh, awful,” you say, laughing. You take a bite of corned beef and close your eyes, thinking of Saint Patrick’s Day with your family each year, always a cold wet day in March, green hills and grey mist. When you open your eyes, Aegon is smiling.

“A little taste of Ireland.” Now he is wistful. Across the room, the musicians Aegon sometimes plays with have climbed on top of a table and are performing My Wild Irish Rose as couples whirl around the floor. “I’ll miss it. I love the music and the people. Perhaps one in particular.”

“What are you going to do when you get home?”

“I’m going to tell Aemond he has to teach me how to be a duke,” Aegon says casually as he eats. “I can’t really give it up, unfortunately. The title belongs to the Crown, not my family. It can be taken away any time the king decides he wants to. And he’s a strict one, George V. He’s humorless, he’s harsh. If I refuse my inheritance, I can’t just pass it along to Aemond, not unless the king agrees. But the way I am…my failings, my lack of restraint…it makes my bloodline look like bad stock, doesn’t it? Especially with all that eugenics bullshit floating around. I don’t want my mother and siblings to lose everything because of me. My mother has spent her entire life miserable, I figure she should have something to show for it.”

The Hightower branch of the family are phantoms to you. You know them only from newspaper articles and erratic gossip and sneering remarks muttered by your husband. You take a swig of your Guinness, and for the first time in as long as you can remember you don’t feel like you want to have another. You don’t want to take the jagged edges off this moment, hidden below deck with Aegon for what is almost certainly the last time. You don’t want to forget anything about him. “What’s Aemond like?”

“Superior to me in every way,” Aegon says. “Disciplined. Clever. Very tall.”

“I myself favor short, delinquent artists. Those tall clever dragons are nothing but trouble.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “I’m not a real artist.”

“Sure you are. You’re Picasso.”

He’s watching you with murky blue eyes, dazed and marveling. “What are you going to do when you’re back in Ireland?”

It’s a fantasy, a folktale. I’ll never see Ireland again. “I’m going to help take care of my father. He’s…he’s not well, and he hasn’t been for a long time. His memory is failing. I want to make his last years as painless as possible. I want to spent time with my mother again, I want to go on walks and sit in the garden and read books and paint our ugly little pictures. We used to play this game where we’d each paint an animal and then have the other guess what it is. It once took her twelve tries before she realized my grey blob was supposed to be a basking shark. I saw one washed up on the shore when I was little.”

Aegon is smiling. “I could teach you how to paint.”

“Yes,” you say softly, knowing it will never happen.

“You could teach me what it’s like to have nice parents.”

“They’d adore that. They always wanted more children.” You are distracted, gazing into your Guinness, flecks of foam like constellations in a night sky. “I want to make sure Draco grows up to be a good man. I want him to be kind and gentle.” You look to Aegon, the thought suddenly leaping into your mind like a cat onto a windowsill. “Like you.”

Aegon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Like me? No, Petra. You don’t want that. I was a demon.”

“And yet you turned out fine in the end.”

“I turned out weak,” he says, abruptly severe. He drags his fingers through his disheveled hair, staring forlornly at the white wall behind you. “I wanted to help you but I can’t. I followed you from Galway to Cork, to the first-class decks, to your staterooms, and now…now when we dock in New York you’re going to get dragged off to wherever Daemon wants you to be and…and there’s just nothing I can do about it.”

“You’ve helped me,” you insist. “But now you’re too far away.”

Aegon comes over to your side of the table and drapes an arm across the back of your chair, and you lean into him, and together you watch the couples dancing to cheerful Irish music. Below your feet the engines are humming, and outside the waves are crashing against the hull of the ship, and up on B-Deck Daemon is probably crawling like a spider into Rhaenyra’s bed, and Laenor is consorting with his new Parisien companions, and Dagmar is reading some Scandinavian story to Draco before he falls asleep, and husbands are dulling their worries with brandy and cigars, and wives are distracting themselves with gossip about other women’s lives.

You don’t want to leave, not even as the passengers here in the Third-Class Dining Saloon begin to clear out and those left are so drunk they can hardly keep themselves upright, stumbling into tables and chairs and howling uproariously. Aegon doesn’t want to leave either. Now his arms have circled around your waist, and he’s nuzzling at your throat and the curve of your jaw, and you’re trying not to notice the weight of your black opal engagement ring on your left hand so you can forget the life you’ll have to go back to tomorrow.

I want him again, you think hazily. Where can we go? Where on earth can we go?

There is a sudden jolt, a deafening grinding sound, a tremor that shakes through the steel latticework of the ship. The few remaining dancers shout and cling to their partners. Pints of beer are knocked from tables and spill across the floor. Plates clatter and lightweight wooden chairs slide away.

“What the fuck was that?” a drunk man slurs, but then he and his friends begin to laugh about it, pounding on each other’s backs. You turn to Aegon. He’s not laughing. His eyes are large and darting around.

“Aegon, the ship is fine, right?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly, but he’s standing and passing you your white wool coat. “Come on. Let’s go up to a higher deck to see what’s happened.”

You picture the lifeboats that you have strolled past so many times, not nearly enough space for all the passengers, only the lucky half, the richest half. “The ship can’t sink, can it? That’s what everyone’s been telling me since we boarded, and I didn’t believe them because of course any ship can sink, but…Aegon…”

“It’s probably just a problem with one of the boilers or a propeller or something,” he says as he pulls on his black coat, stolen just like the way he’s stolen you tonight. But he doesn’t walk to the hallway and up the nearest staircase; he damn near sprints, dragging you along with him.

Outside the night sky is black and full of stars, bitterly cold, no wind. You emerge near the bow of the ship, and third-class passengers are kicking around chunks of ice as if they are playing Gaelic football. Aegon spins around, searching for the source of the ice.

“Ehi, amico! Did you see it?” an Italian man calls to Aegon. Aegon trots over to join him. You look down at the pine planks under your shoes. Is the ship listing towards the starboard side, or is that your imagination?

“No, what happened?” Aegon is asking the Italian. You can hear voices from the other decks, less alarmed than curious, people rattled awake, stewards helping to retrieve items that have rolled away.

“Iceberg, a huge one! We just went right past it! Pieces broke off and fell everywhere. We don’t have nothing like this in Napoli!”

“An iceberg?” Aegon echoes, stunned. He goes to the railing and leans over to squint out into the blackness. “Did we hit it?”

“We bumped it a little, I think,” the Italian says, unconcerned. Then he returns to the game, kicking a block of ice when it glides over to him.

“Look,” you say to Aegon when he returns to you, pointing skyward. Up in the crow’s nest, you can just barely hear the lookouts shouting back and forth. You cannot decipher their words, but they sound agitated. They sound afraid.

“Hit an iceberg,” Aegon murmurs, trying to make sense of it. “But that’s not serious, right? No one’s running for the lifeboats, no one’s talking about leaks or anything—”

“Aegon, does the ship seem like it’s listing to you?”

He peers down at the deck, shifts his weight from foot to foot. He doesn’t have to answer. When he looks up at you again, his blue eyes are panic-stricken.

“I have to find the shipbuilder Mr. Andrews,” you say. “He’ll have investigated, he’ll know how bad the damage is.”

“I’m going with you.”

I don’t know where my jailers are: Daemon, Dagmar, Rush, Rhaenyra. “You shouldn’t be in my section of the ship.”

“If something really is wrong, they’ll be the first people to know,” Aegon says. That’s cruel, but it’s true. First-class lives are worth more than his.

You fly up the steps to A-Deck, where on the Promenade Deck men in black suits are chuckling about the ruckus as they puff on pipes and cigars, and women in beaded evening gowns are pressing their soft pampered hands to their chests as they recall the shock of the earthquake-like shudder that rattled Titanic. Stewards are flitting around fetching tea and pillows. No one is talking about lifeboats or sinking, which you take to be a good sign; but you can’t find Thomas Andrews.

When you and Aegon have at last circled back to the bow of the ship, you spot a group of men walking swiftly into the glass box of the bridge. They are speaking in low voices, their hands moving in frenetic gestures. Thomas Andrews is there, you are relieved to see. J. Bruce Ismay and Captain Smith are among those with him.

“Mr. Andrews!” you cry, and he stops and turns. He is carrying an armful of rolled-up engineering drawings.

“Lady Targaryen,” he says numbly, then seems to lurch out of a trance and hurries to you, standing closer than would be considered proper. In his state, he has not noticed Aegon, lurking a few paces behind you and listening intently. “Your family, Daemon and the others…you must wake them.”

“I saw the ice on the deck by the bow, did the ship—?”

“We hit it,” Mr. Andrews tells you, hushed so others will not hear and become hysterical. “An iceberg. Scraped along the side, caused the iron plates to buckle below the waterline. I’ve seen the forward cargo holds and they’re…” He blinks, astonished, as if this is a nightmare he might still wake up from.

This can’t be happening. This ship was supposed to be unsinkable. That’s what everybody told me, that I was insane to fear the journey. “But…but what about the watertight bulkheads?” He had spoken so confidently of them at dinner just a few nights ago.

“I didn’t built them high enough, and seawater is spilling over the tops. The first five compartments are already flooded, too many for Titanic to stay afloat.”

“The ship will sink?” you whisper, terrified. Aegon moves closer, a palm on the small of your back.

“Yes,” Mr. Andrews says.

“When?”

“Perhaps an hour or two.”

“An hour?!”

“Carpathia has answered our distress call, but she’s four hours away.”

You stare at him. “And the ocean…it’s freezing.” Anyone left adrift in it will die.

“Get to a lifeboat, Lady Targaryen,” Mr. Andrews says. “Don’t wait. I’m doing everything I can.” He rejoins the other men and goes with them into the bridge. Behind the glass walls, J. Bruce Ismay begins to yell something at Captain Smith.

“Hey, hey, listen,” Aegon is telling you, but you can’t seem to focus on him. His voice sounds like it is coming from very far away, another coast, another lifetime.

“There aren’t enough lifeboats,” you say, flat with shock.

“I know. I remember what you told Fern when I saw you up on the Boat Deck.”

You race for the steps that lead down to B-Deck where your staterooms are. “I have to find Draco—”

“Wait, wait, listen to me.” Aegon’s hand reaches out and grasps yours, not imprisoning you but imploring you, begging you to hear him. “Half the people on this ship are going to die.”

“Yes,” you agree, the horror of it quivering in your voice. In the frigid night air your words turn to fog like the mist that clings to the Cliffs of Moher, like ghosts captured in the corners of photographs.

“And most of the bodies will never be recovered, and there will be no way of knowing for sure what happened to them, and the crime scene will be at the bottom of the ocean.”

Crime scene? Crime scene??? “Aegon, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t you get it? Petra, this is your way out. I’ll help you. We’ll do this together.”

Draco. I have to get Draco into a lifeboat. “Aegon, I don’t understand, do what?”

His eyes are gleaming; the grin that splits across his face reveals teeth like pearls. “We’re going to kill your husband.”

[sleepinghypnos]

ITZY Yuna & Chaeryeong x Male Reader (OC)

Tags: Smut

Genre: Cheating, Threesome (kinda?), Facefuck, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Female Idol x Male Reader.

People view you as one of the outstanding bodyguard in the industry, many labels hired you because of your efficiency and strict rules on protecting the client. 

But you don't stay in a single label for too long. The longest you've been with your client is a month and you'll go with another K-pop group not long after your schedule. 

You got call from your security agency, well from the president herself. She told you to come to the office in the afternoon and so you did.

You knocked on the door and a woman greeted you with a smile. The President's Secretary, she showed the way and you saw the woman who called you. Ms. Park Eun-ji.

"Oh, you're here! Sit down." she said and you bowed as you greet her. "Good afternoon Madam!"

"So, we have a hiring request from JYP. They said they want a bodyguard for ITZY, it looks like the number of sasaeng stalking the girls have doubled in the past. They were worried about the safety of their idols thats why they contacted us." She said, "That is the reason why i decided to send the "Guardian" to help them.”

You chuckled in your mind because your name Kim Suho can be translated into 'Guardian'

"I don't have any problem working with anyone madam." 

"It's a deal then, you'll work with them and please make sure they are safe from those stupid miscreants." 

"You can start tomorrow in the morning, make sure you are not late. You can leave now." Miss Park dismissed you, of course you bowed again before leaving. 

–

You got up because of the alarm, it's your first day being the bodyguard of ITZY. You packed your things including clothes and other necessities. 

On the way to the designated location of the client, you read the information regarding the said group. ITZY became a ‘Monster Rookie’ because they won their first music show, eight days after their debut, since then their fame has been accumulating until the stage in the foreign countries opened for them, as they muster fame they also gain crazy fans that stalked them to their own home. 

Your mission now is to protect them, it is not new to you since you’ve been doing this for years now, it’s been a long ride and you arrived in the private home that JYP allocated them. There’s two guards in the gates, they have two manager here as well. 

“Good morning!” you greeted the guards and they let you enter the premises. The girls are waiting for you in the front door. They have smiles in their faces, it looks like they are happy about having a personal bodyguard with them. 

“Good morning, Oppa!” they greet you simultaneously. 

"Good morning! My name is Kim Suho, i'm going to be with you indefinitely. I'll be in you care!" You greeted them back and they proceed to go inside the house because it’s still early in the morning. Before you went inside you made sure that the surrounding was clear first and nothing seems out-of-place. You have a room for yourself here in the house, as you are their bodyguard you need to be with them all of the time even if their work is already over. Only the managers are allowed to go home. 

The girls have a photoshoot later in the morning, all of them were preparing for it. Since you are already prepared for the day, you are just waiting for the girls to finish their breakfast and wait for them to get ready. 

“Oppa do you have a girlfriend?” Chaeryeong asked, you shook your head as an answer. “I told you he doesn’t have any!” Ryujin said while lightly tapping her co-member Chaeryeong’s shoulder. 

“Does any of you is in a relationship?” i asked to just make conversation with them. 

"Aside from Yuna and Ryujin Unnie all of us are single." Chaeryeong replied. 

"Does your boyfriends aware about your situation?" They nodded as an answer. 

…

The ITZY members are already prepared and ready to go for their photoshoot. The managers put the things they need in the van, you noticed how Yuna kept on looking at you. 

She's been like that after breakfast. Looking at you secretly and she taught you didn't know. The managers are in the other van and you accompany the girls in theirs. 

The Vans that the Korean Celebrities and Idols usually use has partition. The driver seat won't be able to see the passengers. 

It makes the artists and idols more comfortable during the ride. You are seated in the back of the van and coincidentally, Yuna is seated beside you. 

"Are you okay? You've been looking at me since earlier." You paused. "Is there anything thats bothering you?"

She didn't answer but she suddenly put her hands on your crotch. "Sana Unnie said that yours is really big." She whispered in your ear and her hand keeps on feeling your semi erect cock in your pants.

This girl really is naughty. I felt a familiar feeling when she brought my cock out and started stroking it. Yuna knelt infront of you, the space inside the van is spacious enough for her to kneel. "This is not big. It's HUGE!" When she had a closed-up look on your cock.

Yuna didn't hesitate to put your rod inside her mouth, the idol started bobbing her head while making sure that the other members don't notice it. 

Yuna doesn't have many experience because you feel it. "You are not used on big dicks are you?" As you cupped her cheek to tell her to stop. 

The ITZY member nodded. "My boyfriend's isn't even close with yours!" 

And with that you snapped. You hold the poor girls head and impale her throat with your dick making her choke on it. 

Only half of your dick is enough to make this little slut choked. Her eyes started rolling back and she's drooling all over your balls. 

You didn't even bother looking at the other members because all of them has headphones on. 

"gwock.. gwock.. gwock.." gagging sound filled the back of the van, you didn't even give any fuck if they are eavesdropping or not. 

Yuna keep bobbing her head and using her tongue to lick your tip, you feel like you’re already cumming. So you hold her head once again and pushed it against your dick letting your cum explode inside the idols mouth. 

"Where's your phone?" You asked. She pointed at her purse and reached for her phone in it. She gave it to you and open the camera and started recording. 

"You're a cheating little slut aren't you?" Yuna nodded while her mouth is still full of your cum. "Show it to me, and swallow all of it" you commanded and she obeyed. 

The idol showcased the cum in her mouth and swallowed it, she even showed her mouth after swallowing it. 

Yuna licked clean your rod and went back to her seat beside you. She's now watching her own video giggling like a little girl who got what she wanted. 

"I'm going to send this to Twice Unnies!" She said and you are not even fazed about it because you know those girls will like that video. 

You already became their bodyguard once, and you know how filthy their minds is. 

–

The van arrived at the photoshoot location, the schedule for today is for their upcoming comeback. Well, they have multiple song released in the past months but what can they do when the people adores them. 

The ITZY members already inside and making preparation for the photoshoot when you notice someone outside the building, the person is in all black fashion, you conclude that he's taking pictures of the girls inside the place.

You went inside the building and find your way through outside again and to that person’s location. "They are adorable isn't?" You spoke and our guy jolted because of fright. 

You immediately grab the guy in the neck and immobilize him. "Who are you?" But you didn't get a response so you took the liberty to take his hood off and see who he is. 

Well, would you look at that, He's one of our prime suspects of stalking, this miscreant has been stalking the girls in three different occasions, I know because of the files given by Miss Park  

"Don't even bother escaping. I've been catching scumbags like you ever since I became a bodyguard." You told the guy and the horror in his eyes were noticeable, you just smiled at him while waiting for the police to arrive. Minutes later sirens filled the quiet surrounding that you were in, the police took the stalker and thanked me for what i did. 

The girls was disturbed by the sirens and came out of the building. Worry is plastered in their faces. 

"Someone was taking photos of you guys earlier. I just apprehend him and called the police to take care of it. You can go back now!" You assured them. "Thank you, Oppa!" Chaeryeong said while the other members just nodded. "It's the guy who took a picture of you while you're sleeping. You don't need to worry about that happening again" you tap her shoulders twice and lightly push her inside. 

–

The scheduled photoshoot is over and they are going to another location to shoot some of the scenes in their comeback. Only Yuna and Chaeryeong left out of five of them

The whole ride was quiet since both of them are tired. Even you was tired for them, they keep posing here and there to get shit done. 

We entered the house and let them release some of the tiredness they experiencing. "Wash yourselves and get to bed early, i'm going to stay on guard." You told them and they did it. Chaeryeong look at me. "Oppa, i want to talk to you. Please come to my room after 30 minutes." 

Is she still bothered by that stalker?

I just nod and let her go by herself. I sweep through the house to make sure again that nothing is out-of-place. I locked the doors, the ITZY members knows the passcode of the house so it doesn't matter. 

Thirty minutes came and i walk to the direction of Chaeryeong's room. I knocked on the door and the idol opened the door for me. 

She's beautiful… you said inside your head. 

She's still in her bathrobe, and her hair was free falling. Looks like she just finished her bath. 

(Photo not connected to the scene.)

"Oppa! You are right on time." She said, and pulled me in her room and guide me to sit on her bed. "I really want to talk to you about what happened earlier" 

"I-i'm just grateful that the stalker was caught in action and i'm also relieved because that fucker took a picture of me being ugly, i want to punch his face into pulp!!"

You chuckled because you find her whining adorable. 

"I'm just doing my job as a bodyguard and who said that you’re ugly? Are they blind or something?" You responded and you saw how she became flustered on your remark. 

"Doing your job? Does your job also include facefucking Yuna?"

You were stunned, you thought no one noticed but you're so wrong.

"It's not just me, all of the unnies know what the two of you were doing, but we didn't say anything because it looks like Yuna enjoyed what you did to her." she said while laughing, she also showed me the group chat of ITZY and the messages of the other members made my rod grow uncontrollably. 

"Opp - i mean, Daddy i want what Yuna had. I want it too!" 

"Daddy?" You tilted your head because of what she said.

"An idol is not as innocent as you might think you know. I got one boyfriend in the past and we did have sex before i debut but he got jealous of other guys liking me as an idol so i broke up with him." She's caressing my body while she talks about her past. "As our group gain recognition, of course we also got the attention of perverts who makes deepfakes of us and other idols, some of them writing erotic scenes, I found a story that has me as the material. I find it hot and sexy for some reason.”

She took off my suit and polo. 

"I was even portrayed as submissive slut, and maybe they were right. So Daddy, i want you to do everything you want to me."

She kneeled down and began unbuckling my belt, she pulled my pants together with my boxer into my knees. 

"I knew it! It's bigger than the one in the video." Amazed by the massive cock infront of her. 

"If i'm Daddy then what are you?" You cupped her cheeks and make her look at you. 

"Your submissive slut? Cocksleeve? I can be whatever you want me to be daddy!"

"If you are a cocksleeve and what are you waiting for? Suck it!" You commanded her. She put your cock in her mouth and just like Yuna and the other female idols you've been with she also can't get past half of your dick. 

Gagging sound filled her room, and you are ruthless this time around. You rest her head on the side of the bed and begin fucking her mouth like it's a pussy. 

"mmgh… gwock… mmgh… gwock…" her gag reflex is strong but you didn't care about it. You ravage her mouth with your huge cock until her whole face turns red her eyes began tearing up as well.

You let her breathe and you didn't expect her to hold herself that good. She didn't tapped out. 

"My past boyfriend didn't even have the chance to hold a candle against you." She said while still running out of breath. 

"Bend over."

She did what you demanded and did it as fast as she could. You spit on your cock and started teasing her entrance, you are making sure that it will go in smoothly. 

"Please! Daddy, f-fuck me please!!" Pleading for you to fuck her. 

You make her bend more and her face were rested against the bed by placing your hand in her back before slowly thrusting your cock into her. 

"F-fuck, d-daddy you are too b-big!" You can hear her whine but you still slid your member slowly. She moans louder as she felt that you are going deeper and deeper into her cave. 

"So fucking tight!"

You move your hips with a rhythm making her painful experience into pleasure. She started moaning like little slut who needs more. 

Minutes passed and you begin fucking her in a normal pace and you still didn't put all of your length inside her. "Daddy, fuck Chaeryeong like a cocksleeve. I want it all please!" She plead, her head turned to her shoulder to make an eye contact. You can't resist her lustful eyes. 

You assisted her into a missionary and lift both of the legs into your shoulders. Aiming your cock into pussy once again and started pounding the shit out of her. A mating press.

"Aaahh! Shi-shit! DADDY! DON'T STOP P-PLEASEEEE!" 

You keep fucking the idols beneath you, her sexy moans is like a music to your ears. Every press, her moan became louder. 

"I'M CUMMING DADDY! PLEASE. LET ME CUM!!! AAAAH!~ FILL ME UP WITH YOUR THICK AND DELICIOUS CUM!!"

You pressed one harder than the rest and let the idol experience orgasm. Several burst of your spunk was released inside Chaeryeong. You pulled out and her eyes were rolled back, tongue sticking out while she squirts. Your load and hers was mixed and flowing out of her pussy.

"I was wondering why can't i see you downstairs. It turns out you are here Daddy"

You turned your head to see whose voice was that and you see Yuna standing there in the doorway which is widely open. 

"I thought you'll be asleep." And walked towards her. The idols head was in the same height as your nipple, and she's the tallest of the bunch. 

"Well, i'm planning give you a head and drink your cum before i go to bed but i heard screaming and moaning and it lead me here." She looked at her unnie passed out because of pleasure. "Suho Oppa, i want what she had just now."

"You have a boyfriend remember?"

"I don't care, i just want to be fucked hard by you. I can also call you daddy. Please?" 

"Then kneel."

You commanded her, she let her tongue out, and you slapped her face and tongue with you huge dick multiple times. 

She sucked your dick like the little slut that she is and continued to bob her head, lust filled her eyes you can resist such look and you began fucking her small mouth. 

You cupped both of ther cheeks as she gags trying to do further from her limit. This cheating little bitch pushed her limit and got past what she did earlier in the morning.

Her eyes began tearing up, you feel the back of her throat everytime you thrust. This made her more lustful and horny as she undress herself and started toucher herself. 

Yuna held onto your thighs because of how hard you fuck her throat, however her eyes never falter and keeps looking at you as if she's saying she's a good slut and reward her. 

You didn't even warned her about you cumming and just grabbed the back of her head and shove it deeper into her throat and suddenly ropes of thick cum filled her mouth. 

Having your dick down an idols throat isn't news to you as you continue fill the little slut's mouth. 

Withdrawing your cock gives a pleasureable sensation to the young idol. She showed how filled her mouth with your hot cum and swallowed it. Not a single drop wasted. 

"Your cum really is best! Did i do a good job?" She asked while her face was still smeared with saliva and cum from Chaeryeong when you slapped her earlier. 

You put your hand on the top of her head and messed her hair as you nod. 

Her eyes were filled with excitement and accomplishments as she giggles. 

The other idol who passed out was already awake and masterbaited while watching you violate their maknae's mouth. 

"That was so hot." Chaeryeong went to the side of Yuna. "So, are you also a cocksleeve now? Cuz i am." she's tempting the girl by teasing her and the maknae gave in. 

"Yes, yes i am! So what?"

"So, i am still the sunbae even when we became both cocksleeves. We can't do anything about that."

"Shut up Unnie!"

"Yuna, we are not done. Come here!" Pulling her into the older womans bed. You lay down and position her into Full Nelson and the maknae's reaction was half excitement and half nervousness. 

"I saw this on one of the porn Yeji Unnie watched last week, i can't believe i'm going to experience it now" she said while mounting your dick. 

"You ready?"

"Yes, please use my slutty little pussy daddy!" 

Thrusting upward suddenly made the idol moaning unexpectedly loud even Chaeryeong was startled. 

"Don't stop! Don't fucking stop daddy please!!" 

"I'm going to have a videochat with the unnies, i'll let them watch" Chaeryeong said like it's funny that their maknae was getting plowed so hard in their own home. 

Yuna keeps on shouting, shrieking and moaning because of the pleasure bestowed by you. Cursing here and there and the Daddy became Master in an instant. 

Her pussy was being mold to copy the shape of you cock. 

– 

"Ryujinnie~ Jisu-ya!! Chaeryeong is calling us" Yeji announce to her members. She answered the call and was surprise to see their maknae getting plowed by someone. 

Heat began circulating inside their bodies and envy filled their minds. They can't believe how such a huge cock can go in and out from a tight pussy like Yuna's. 

"Can you see this Unnies? It's Yuna's turn now, i passed out earlier after doing it and woke up to them getting intimate" Chaeryeong was focusing the camera to the other two who looks like they are the only people in the world. 

"You call that intimate? Was that a Full Nelson?" Yeji shouted as a response.

"Yes, Suho oppa wanted it and the little slut named Yuna just let him do what he wants, well. I did the same thing. I let daddy use me with no remorse." she giggled. 

"Isn't that position what you always wanted to do when you got a boyfriend?" Ryujin asked the leader of the group and she just nod her head as an answer. 

Lia can't speak because she's laser focused on how their Suho Oppa was fucking the maknae like that. 

All of the people got startled even the two people with no care about the world when Yuna's phone suddenly starts ringing. 

"You bitch! You're boyfriend's calling you!" Chaeryeong's voice was full of panic as she handed the phone to Yuna. 

"Answer it." They all heard what Suho oppa said. "Make sure to not get caught."

Yuna pressed the answer button, "Oppa? What is it?" Yuna asked. 

No one can hear the boy’s voice and suddenly Suho thrusted into Yuna. 

"Nnngh! No, no, nothing i hit my elbow to the wall." Yuna is doing all can she do to avoid getting caught. 

Yuna is still getting plowed while talking to her boyfriend. "Ryujin Unnie, do find what Yuna's doing a little thrilling?" Chaeryeong asked Ryujin who is processing what is happening.

"What do you mean?"

"We know that your boyfriend has been messing with other girl before you accepted him right? So doing the same thing as Yuna will not be considered cheating because your boyfriend did it when he's still courting you."

Yuna's moan starts getting louder and louder, the call already ended. 

"I'm just saying Unnie, Suho Oppa- i mean daddy has a huge cock and you'll forget about that stupid boyfriend of yours. Bye!" 

"Chaeryeongie has a point, that fucker has been fucking around while he's courting you. If you do it it's just revenge." Lia took the initiative to talk first. 

"Can i really do it?" Ryujin asked them, Yeji and Lia just nod at her as an answer. 

–

"He almost caught us daddy! Fuck! Ooh sh-shit! Yes!" Yuna has been super loud after the call ended. You are still fucking the shit out of her. Her eyes were same as the older member before. 

"You little slut, what if your boyfriend caught you and publish an article about you?" Chaeryeong sat beside us. 

"Aaah shit! H-he will n-not because i know how naive that guys is" she answered while moaning. "Daddy i'm cumming! I want to be filled with your cum just like unnie! F-FUCK!!"

You speed up the pace while still in the full nelson and fuck her deeper than before. 

Her moans is so full of lust that it makes you go a little harder. "Da-daddy you’re destroying me! Please, harder! FASTER!!" Hot thick cum started to shoot inside the idols used pussy. She's twitching like she's having a relapse. Pleasure overflows inside of her. 

You are pretty sure Yuna has the same expression as Chaeryeong when you came inside of her. And you were right on the mark when Chaeryeong showed you the video of the climax.

"Daddy look at her! Our maknae really is a bitch! How can somene who has a bf have this expression when doing the did with someone else?" She chuckled while teasing the younger idol who passed out too. "Such a horny bitch!

"As if you are not the same." I answered while looking at her. 

"Well, you are not wrong in that. I love how you fuck me hard. Anyways i'll let her sleep here tonight." She said and i decided to go back to my own room. But before i truly leave, i kissed Chaeryeong on her lips and marked her in the neck with a hickey. 

[nikkento-writes]

Bad Romance

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: Wild West au, no curses au, violence, implied sex work, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut - PIV sex, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, creampie

Summary: You’re the Vixen Viper, an outlaw on the run with an outstanding bounty. You find a temporary safe-haven at the Star Saloon, protecting the women who work there while they protect you from the authorities. One night, a bounty hunter by the name of Toji Fushiguro shows up, threatening to cause some trouble. Somehow, you find the perfect way to subdue him.

Author's Note: This is a repost from my old blog! I originally wrote this as a request for a milestone event I was doing and it's still one of my fave fics that I've written, so I wanted to share it on here. I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 to this, we'll see! I just love the idea of Toji in the Wild West, idk, I think it fits him very well. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Midnight at the Star Saloon is always lively with rambunctious activity. It’s the perfect time for stragglers moseying through town or the miscreant locals to stop by for a break, meaning booze, gambling, or sex. Usually all three in one night. You’ve been a regular here for almost three months now, befriending the women and men who work hard to keep the patrons satisfied. Whether it’s serving alcohol until they fall out of their seats, enabling poker addictions, or riding their cocks in one of the private rooms upstairs at a special rate, they do it all to make an honest living. Though on occasion, customers will cross the line.

And that’s where you come in.

It started two months ago, after you had frequented the saloon enough times to be considered a regular. It was around three in the morning when one of the barmaids approached you, asking you to follow her upstairs. She led you into the private room all the way down the hall, and inside was another worker, sitting at the foot of the bed, cheek swollen and a black eye all on the left side of her face. That’s all you needed to see to set you off. The perp had already left, but you knew who he was as soon as she described him. And, of course, like all assholes do, thinking they got away with it, he came back. When he did, it was you this time who took him upstairs to that same bedroom, dressed in one of the barmaid’s outfits. You, who flirted with him and stripped him naked on the bed, promising to give him exactly what he deserved. And finally, it was you who robbed him and held a sharp blade to his pathetic penis, threatening to slice it right off if he ever showed his ugly fucking face in this town again. You haven’t seen him since.

At that time, your friends at the Star Saloon already knew you were someone who could handle things. Maybe it was the way you dressed at first, often showing up in cowboy attire, ready to book it if the situation called for it. Or maybe it was because they recognized you from the wanted posters plastered in the next town over, your silly nickname the Vixen Viper in big bold print below an unflattering photo of you from the last time you landed in jail, right before you escaped. They never mentioned it; never reported you to the authorities. Instead, they welcomed you in with open arms. There’s a bounty on your head for the crimes you committed against sleazy men like that, but you hold no guilt for your actions. To you, and to all the women in the saloons you’ve frequented, it’s justice. They need someone like you to protect people like them. Because lord knows that no one else in this godforsaken world will.

You’ve lasted three months in this town without the authorities catching on to you yet. You look quite different from your poster when you’re done up in makeup and a frilly dress, dagger concealed in the garter wrapped around your thigh. And with the help of your friends, you’ve managed to hide in plain sight, posing as one of the barmaids while you patrol the late-night crowd for any possible threats. Violence against these women has significantly lessened since you’ve been around. The rumor amongst the patrons is that men who misbehave get their money taken and their dicks chopped off, which is pretty spot-on to the actual truth. So fortunately, for both the workers and the customers, there isn’t any trouble. 

Tonight is a little different.

You lean against the bar doing your usual inspection, checking for people who are causing a ruckus or getting rough with any of the ladies. You’re dressed similarly to them, though you never get requested to entertain in one of the private rooms above, considering you don’t go out of your way to flirt with any of the men. You lack the illustrious charm the others do; you’re only here for when things get ugly. It surprises you when a mysterious stranger on the other side of the room points to you directly, wiggling his finger to beckon you over. He smirks, the prominent scar on his lips curving with it. You grab your drink and walk over to him, curious to see what this is about, sensing that it can’t be anything good.

When you reach his table, you give him your most cordial smile. “Good evening, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

He grins, waving to the seat across from him. “I was hoping you can join me for a little chat.” His tone is even, though there’s a hint of something sinister in there. Maybe it’s your imagination or better yet, your intuition. You’ll soon find out.

You drag the chair out, plopping into it, laying your hands flat on your lap, palm pressed to the knife hidden beneath your skirt. He scans you up and down before asking, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, you answer, giving him a fake one, of course. He nods, accepting it. “Toji Fushiguro. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds his hand out, which you take reluctantly, shaking it. His grip is firm, callouses rough against your own. “I saw you and knew I had to meet you.”

Your raise a brow at him. “Oh? What about me caught your eye?"

“Thought I recognized you from somewhere.” His gaze lingers on yours, expression unwavering.

Your heart stops momentarily, a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. Not here, not now. You swallow thickly, feigning ignorance. “Really? From where?”

He slides you a rolled-up paper, nodding his head for you to open it. “Take a look.”

Trembling now, you obey, unraveling it slowly until you see the words WANTED: ALIVE and your face staring back at you. There’s no need to go any further. You fold it up immediately, heart racing, glancing at your surroundings hoping no one else is listening in on your conversation. As calmly as you can, you lean forward towards him, muttering, “So what, are you going to arrest me? Hog-tie me in front of all these people?”

He inches even closer, noses nearly touching now, his breath tickling you. “Now, I’m a gentleman. I like to know a woman first before I tie her up.”

You scoff. “So what, am I supposed to come quietly then?”

He glances at your mouth, then back to your eyes. “I’m willing to negotiate if you have something to offer.”

You clear your throat, intrigued by his response. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private,” you say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up the stairs with you.

“Lead the way, Vixen.”

You lead him to the very end of the hallway, the furthest room away from the bar downstairs. There’s a fire escape just outside the window, your best chance to evade arrest. First, you’ll have to subdue him.

Inside, you lock the door shut, turning to face him. “Are you a police officer?”

He shakes his head. “Guess again,” he answers, opening his coat to display the gun and knife hanging on his belt.

“Bounty hunter,” you state, glaring at him.

“Yup. And you, my dear, have a very hefty bounty on your pretty little head.” He steps towards you, caging you between his arms, your back flat against the door. Although you remain untouched, his presence is suffocating.

“What do want?” you ask him, breathing in deeply through your nose.

“All the loot you robbed from those scumbags. Enough to exceed the bounty I’d get if I brought you back with me.”

You smirk. “Is that it?”

“And a deal,” he adds. “A partnership.”

You stare at him, confused. “What?”

He laughs, amused by your reaction. “I’ll admit, I’m a fan of your work. Drifting through town-to-town, robbing sleazy assholes. And you haven’t been caught until now. It’s impressive.”

You’re caught off guard by the praise, relaxing just the slightest bit. “So, what do you propose?”

He lets his arms down, placing his hands in his pockets while he explains himself. “There are several bounties for men exactly like the ones you hate. If you promise to help me get them, I won’t take you in tonight. I’ll even give you some of the money. If you’re good.”

“And why can’t you do this yourself?”

“It’s easier to get a guy when his guard’s down. If there’s a pretty little thing like you seducing him, catching him will be easy as pie.”

You stare at him, contemplating his proposition. It’s an easy decision for you to make. It’s either this, or jail. “Fine. You have a deal.”

He offers his hand to you. “Put it there, partner.” His tone is soft, almost sincere. You can’t help thinking that if this were any other scenario, you’d find him attractive. Hell, even in this one, you’re drawn to him. You take his hand, shaking it. He tugs you in closer, voice low and seductive. “I think we should celebrate this new friendship. What do you say?”

You smile at him, what feels like the first genuine one of the night. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you initially thought. When you close the distance, his mouth is on yours quickly, lips smacking, wet and sloppy. He slides out of his jacket, letting it thud loudly on the hardwood with his weapons weighing it down. The shirt he wears is tight on his body, clinging to him, emphasizing his muscular physique. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with a man without the intention to backstab him. In fact, it’s been a while since you were intimate at all. With him guiding you, however, you match his movements naturally, sliding your hands up his torso, pawing at his chest as his hands squeeze your hips, pulling you towards the bed.

He moans, slipping his wide tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss and exerting his dominance. “Can’t wait to see what the Vixen Viper can really do,” he huffs, hoisting the hem of your dress, bunching it in his fist. His fingers trail the inside of your thighs, stopping at the garter, feeling the handle of the knife strapped to you. He clicks his tongue, mouth hovering your ear, hooking his finger to snap the elastic against your skin. “You really are dangerous.”

You let out a whimper, your pussy throbbing with arousal. He grabs the blade by the handle, whipping it out from its holster, tossing it to the other side of the room away from you. You chuckle, lifting your arms up so he can strip you properly. “Are you scared of me?”

He removes your corset swiftly, squeezing your bare breasts in his hands, thumbs flicking at your nipples. “I don’t want to get stabbed in case you change your mind.”

You shove him onto the bed, where he lies flat on his back, watching you straddle his lap, naked. “If I do that, then I wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

He laughs loudly, biting his lip. “Oh? You’re the one who’s gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” you reply, unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. He continues to watch you intently, groaning when you shimmy his pants off to release his cock. It flops against his abdomen, even bigger than you imagined, all veiny and girthy. You salivate at the sight of it, opening your mouth for a taste.

“Fuck,” he curses, head relaxing into mattress, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as you sink down on him, swallowing him up until the tip hits the back of your throat. You bob up and down on his shaft, gripping the base of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. “You suck cock like a fucking whore. Did your friends out there teach you that?”

You grasp his balls in your hand, squeezing them tight, causing him to shudder. Shaking your head, you say, “I learned this from experience.”

He smirks. “Yeah? Come here. Put this pussy on my face. Bet I can teach you something you haven’t learned yet.”

You release him, crawling up his body until your wet cunt is pressed to his lips. His tongue laps at your arousal, swirling around your aching clit. You grip the top of the headboard, grinding on him. “Oh fuck!”

His hands surround your ass, squeezing at your soft cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh. He hums into your skin, the vibrations adding to the sensation. He nods beneath you, encouraging you. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take it like a good slut.”

He takes you into his mouth, slurping at your clit until your gushing all over his face, your orgasm shiny on his lips and chin. His eyes are wild with excitement, peering up at you between your legs. Kissing the plush of your thighs, he says, “Well, go on then, Vixen. Fuck me.”

Soon, you’re sinking down onto his fat cock, pussy already soaking wet with slick and spit. He fills you up to the brim, taking a few seconds to adjust to size comfortable. When you’re ready, you start to bounce on his lap, his cock thrusting in and out of you smoothly. He hits your sweet spot over and over, stimulating you into another messy orgasm after just a few solid strokes. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, drool leaking down your chin, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Look at you. So fucked out for me,” he growls, planting his feet on the bed, taking control. He grabs onto your hips firmly, pounding up into you, watching your entire body convulse with each delicious thrust. “You talk a big game, but you like being manhandled like this. You’re just a slutty little hole waiting to be ruined. Waiting for the right man to use you.” He presses his thumb to your clit, massaging it with deep strokes. “Seems like you finally met the perfect partner.”

“Fuck, Toji!” you cry out, unraveling once again.

He increases his pace, the bed creaking noisily below you. “That’s it, baby. Come with me. Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good.” He pulls you down towards him, wrapping you in his arms, kissing you fiercely as he pumps his load inside you.

You both lay still for a moment, catching your breaths, Toji peppering delicate smooches along your neck. You’re surprised at how gentle he’s being, considering his brutish behavior from earlier. When enough silence passes, you look at him, grinning. “What a way to celebrate, am I right? Partner?”

He laces his fingers with yours. “The beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After you clean yourselves up as best as possible, you snuggle together under the covers, him spooning you from behind. “’Night, Toji Fushiguro.”

He nuzzles his nose to the nape of your neck, whispering, “What’s your real name?”

You smile, grazing your lips on his knuckles, actually giving it to him.

~~~

Toji Fushiguro, the most sought-after bounty hunter in all the west, wakes up the morning feeling fantastic.

He glances to his side, hoping to see his lovely new partner still peacefully asleep beside him. To his surprise, no one is there. He inspects the room, searching for clues on where she ran off to and notices nothing.

And that’s when it hits him. There’s nothing in the room.

All his clothes are gone, his weapons, the wallet full of cash buried in his pockets, even the very blanket they fell asleep under. He’s as naked as the day he was born, confused and beguiled until he finally realizes it. He’s been robbed. And it was the Vixen Viper who robbed him.

The only thing he finds is her wanted poster, folded up on the bedside table, a small note scribbled to the back of it:

Toji - Thanks for the fun night, but I don’t do partners. Maybe the next time you catch me, I’ll reconsider.  

He laughs, unable to contain his smile as he reads her real name signed at the end of it.