#Not with her long luxurious fur | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

r0ugesun · 4 months ago

Note

I have a fluff maybe to slight spicy request for Aemond Targaryen if you are interested!

Aemond finally becomes betrothed to princess!reader of a different house (can be any it don’t matter) but has circulation problems so she’s always cold and therefore fretted over making Aemond believe she is spoiled. But upon being proven wrong from maybe bonding over books or hell training, falls in love and carries her to bed when the cold gets to her and her bed is just full of blankets to cuddle in.

(Aemond deserves all the intimacy and cuddles)

Thank you for sending me this request anon and sorry for the delay! Ur right Aemond deserves all the cuddles (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Synopsis: Princess y/n of House Martell arrives at the wintry Red Keep as Prince Aemond’s betrothed. As y/n’s warmth and intellect begin to break through Aemond’s icy exterior, he finds himself drawn to her. In return, Aemond’s protective embrace provides y/n the warmth she desperately needs.

Aemond x Martell!Reader

Prince Aemond Targaryen’s engagement to Princess y/n of House Martell was a union crafted to solidify political alliances. While their marriage was intended to serve as a strategic move, it was marred by the disparity in their circumstances. Princess y/n, renowned for her exotic beauty and noble grace, suffered from a rare condition that left her perpetually cold. This affliction required constant warmth, a need that Aemond initially perceived as a sign of pampering rather than genuine necessity.

From the moment y/n arrived at the red keep in the middle of a particularly harsh winter, the contrast between them was stark. The grand halls of the castle were adorned with tapestries of fearsome dragons and Targaryen banners, but y/n’s presence was marked by her constant need for warmth. She was swathed in layers of heavy furs, her every movement accompanied by a retinue of attendants. Aemond observed from a distance, noting her delicate appearance and the attentiveness of her servants. His initial impressions were marked by skepticism and a hint of disdain.

Their first meeting was formal, a carefully orchestrated affair. Aemond greeted her with his characteristic stoicism. “Princess y/n” he said, his tone courteous but distant, “I trust your journey was comfortable?”

Y/N offered a polite smile, though her eyes revealed a trace of weariness. “Thank you, Prince Aemond. The journey was long, but I am well. Though I must admit, the cold here is harsher than I expected.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his gaze indifferent. “You are accustomed to much warmer climates in dorne, I’m sure. Adapting to this cold must be challenging.”

Y/n’s voice was steady as she replied, “It is indeed a challenge, but I am here to fulfill my duty. I hope to contribute meaningfully despite the discomfort.”

Aemond's eyes remained cold as he regarded

Y/n. "Your sense of duty is admirable, though I can't help but wonder if you’ll be a hindrance rather than a help."

Y/N’s eyes flashed with sharpness, though her smile remained placid. She titled her head slightly before she spoke.

“I suppose we'll find out soon enough. I’ve faced challenges before. If I can endure the cold, I’m certain I can manage other… inconveniences.”

Aemond’s lips curled slightly in a thin smile, more of a smirk than a genuine expression of amusement. “Mmm. I wonder if your resolve will hold up as well when faced with the less glamorous aspects of life here.”

“Let’s hope” y/n replied smoothly. “It’s one thing to endure the elements, another to contend with a lack of charm.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened slightly, but his tone remained even. “Charm is not a luxury I indulge in, Princess. I prefer matters of substance.”

Y/n had a smirk of her own now, her expression thoughtful. “Substance is important, but so is the ability to navigate social graces. Otherwise, one might come off as... unlikable.”

Aemond’s expression did not shift. “And you, Princess, are known for your social prowess?”

“I am known for many things, my prince” y/n said with a wry smile.

“Including the ability to keep my composure even when faced with frosty reception—both literal and figurative.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered with a hint of respect, though he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “We shall see if your composure extends to the political intricacies of our alliance.”

“I have no doubt it will” y/n replied confidently. “After all, if I can manage to stay warm and navigate through a wintry castle, I believe I can handle the complexities of court politics.”

Aemond regarded her with a piercing look, as if assessing whether her confidence was merely bravado or a genuine asset. “We shall see, indeed.”

Days passed, and the cold of King's Landing seemed even more relentless. Aemond, finding solace in the library's quiet, often retreated there to escape the castle's demands. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ancient tomes, he entered the library to find an unexpected sight: Y/N, comfortably nestled near the hearth, a thick fur draped over her shoulders, engrossed in a book.

Aemond paused, his usual stoic demeanor faltering for a moment. He approached her with measured steps, his curiosity piqued. "Princess" he greeted, his tone more neutral than before.

Y/blooked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes before she smiled with a hint of apprehension. "Prince Aemond. I didn't expect to see you here."

"The library is a place of comfort for me" he admitted, his gaze drifting over the bookshelves. "I come here often to escape the... noise."

Y/n nodded, her fingers tracing the edges of the book she held. "I think it’s quite peaceful myself. I find the histories of your lineage particularly fascinating."

As Aemond sat across from her, he noticed the title of the book in her hands. "The Histories of Dorne and Aegon the conquerer" he remarked. "An interesting choice."

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with interest. "I was just reading about Aegon’s failed conquest of Dorne. It seems he underestimated the resilience of the Dornish people."

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Aegon was a formidable conqueror, but he came unprepared, the Dornish have always been adept at guerrilla warfare, using the knowledge of their land to their advantage."

Y/n leaned forward slightly, her interest genuine. "Do you think he could have succeeded if he had approached the conquest differently?"

Aemond considered her question, appreciating the depth of her curiosity. "Perhaps. He tried to discredit your ancestors with slanders and rumors when his dragons failed, of course that endeavor proved fruitless as well, if it were me I would’ve hired mercenaries familiar with the terrain and the culture”

Y/n smiled wryly “Wars are not won with bloodshed alone my prince If he had been more willing to negotiate and form alliances rather than relying solely on brute force, he might have had a better chance. The Dornish value our independence highly, we would not bow to mere threats."

Aemond’s gaze softened, clearly intrigued by her insight. “It seems you have a keen grasp of the intricacies of the histories and strategy. I imagine you would have made a formidable advisor.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, but she remained composed. “Thank you, my prince. I’ve always believed that knowledge and perspective are key to navigating both conflict and peace.”

Aemond’s smile widened slightly, a rare gesture that hinted at genuine admiration. “I look forward to hearing more of your perspectives.”

Their debates on the histories of the realm continued, the conversation flowing easily between them. They discussed strategies, historical figures, and the nuances of Dornish culture versus the Targaryen way of conquest. Aemond found himself increasingly drawn to her intellect and passion, her perspectives challenging and enlightening.

As the evening wore on, Aemond realized with a start that he was enjoying her company. Y/n’s confident demeanor were a stark contrast to his initial impressions. He found himself admiring the way she held her own in their debate, unafraid to challenge his views.

As the days turned into weeks, the cold of King's Landing seemed to grow less oppressive for y/n and Aemond, though winter’s bite was still unmistakable. One crisp afternoon, the pair decided to take a stroll through the Kingswood, a vast expanse of trees and tranquility that lay on the outskirts of the city.

Wrapped in their furs, they walked side by side, their conversation flowing as seamlessly as the wind through the trees. They continued their discussion of history. Aemond found himself enthralled by y/n’s insights and the way she animatedly discussed the events of the past.

As they wandered further into the wood, engrossed in their discourse, they lost track of time. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the temperature dropped sharply. Y/n’s delicate frame began to show signs of discomfort, her shivering becoming more pronounced.

Aemond’s keen eyes noticed her struggle first. “Princess, you appear distressed” he said, his voice laced with concern. “We should head back.”

Y/n tried to maintain her composure, but her attempts were faltering. “I’m quite cold” she admitted, her voice trembling. She winced as she took another step, her limp becoming more noticeable. “Perhaps... we should indeed return.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed as he observed her growing discomfort. Without a second thought, he scooped her into his arms with surprising ease. Y/n gasped, both startled and flustered by the sudden, intimate contact. Her cheeks flushed, though it was not entirely from the cold.

Aemond, maintaining a careful hold, began to carry her back through the woods. His stride was steady and purposeful, though he could not ignore the feeling of Y/N nestled close against him. The warmth of her body against his own was both a contrast to the frigid air and a comfort he had not anticipated.

As they neared the castle, Y/N’s embarrassment was palpable. She attempted to speak through her shivering. “M-my prince, you needn’t carry me. I can manage!”

Aemond’s gaze softened as he looked down at her. “You are in no condition to walk, Princess. Allow me to ensure you are safely returned to your chambers.”

Despite her initial resistance, Y/N found herself settling into his embrace, her coldness slowly melting away with each step Aemond took. The castle’s warmth greeted them as they entered, and Aemond carried her up the grand staircase, his movements deliberate and careful.

Upon reaching their chambers, Aemond gently set y/n down on the edge of the large, ornate bed. He took a moment to stoke the fire, ensuring the room was warm and inviting. Y/n watched him with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness.

“Thank you” she said quietly as he helped her settle under the heavy, embroidered blankets. “I didn’t expect...”

Aemond interrupted her softly, a rare tenderness in his voice. “There is no need to thank me. It is my duty as your future husband to ensure your well being.”

As the fire crackled and the warmth enveloped her, y/n began to relax. Aemond, though maintaining his usual stoicism, could not ignore the growing affection he felt. He seated himself beside her, his presence a comforting shield against the chill.

Y/n looked at him, her eyes reflecting both relief and a newfound closeness. “You’ve been very kind, Aemond. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Aemond nodded, his own emotions subtly shifting. “I am glad to see you more comfortable. It would be remiss of me to let you suffer.”

The fire's glow cast a warm halo around them, and the room was filled with a tender intimacy that seemed to wrap around them like the softest of blankets. Y/n’s eyes met Aemond's, and for a moment, the world outside their secluded chamber fell away. The air was thick with an unspoken yearning, a deep desire that neither could ignore.

Aemond's gaze softened as he took in the sight of her, his usual composure giving way to a rare display of vulnerability. The warmth from the hearth made her cheeks flush, her lips slightly parted in a way that made Aemond's heart ache with a longing he had not anticipated. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch tender and lingering.

As he leaned in, their breaths mingled, warm and intertwined. The kiss that followed was not hurried but slow and filled with a profound tenderness. It was as if Aemond was trying to savor every moment, every sensation of her closeness. His lips moved gently against hers, exploring with a careful, reverent touch. The kiss was a quiet confession of his growing affection, a promise of warmth and devotion.

Y/n felt a delicious shiver of pleasure as he placed his warm hands under her dress and caressing her thighs, melting into his embrace, her cold body finally finding solace in the heat of his touch. Aemond's arms wrapped around her with a desperate kind of need, pulling her closer as if he could absorb her cold and make it his own. His warmth seemed to seep into her, chasing away the chill that had plagued her since her arrival.

With each press of his lips every soft touch under her clothes, Aemond conveyed a yearning that went beyond mere physical desire. It was a yearning for connection, for understanding, for something deeper than the political arrangement that had brought them together. His touch was both possessive and protective, He was a fire that would keep her brittle heart warm.

When they finally parted, their foreheads resting together, Aemond’s eye was filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

Y/n’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “You bring warmth to more than just my body, Aemond. You’re igniting something in me that I never knew I needed.”

Aemonds eye shone with a mix of relief and affection as he looked down at her. “I never thought I’d find comfort like this.”

Aemond’s smile was soft, almost shy, as he brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek as she spoke.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so unexpected can bring such warmth to our lives.”

Y/n nuzzled her nose with his and wrapped her leg over Aemond’s waist, drawing herself closer to him. The closeness of their bodies created an even more intimate cocoon, reinforcing their shared warmth. The contact of her leg against his body was both grounding and tender, a subtle way of expressing her trust and affection.

Aemond’s hold tightened slightly, his eye closing in contentment as he savored the sensation of her closeness. His hand continued its soothing caress, and he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in a warm, gentle rhythm. “You are my only warmth” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n’s eyes met his with a tender, knowing look. “And you are mine.” she replied softly, her lips brushing against his in a final, lingering kiss. They were each others warmth and comfort.

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mac-tirs · 3 months ago

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the not-insignificant differences between the omen twins

so, i saw this picture posted by @amanaci which inspired me to write this rather lengthy piece on the contrasts between morgott and mohg. i decided that, instead of dumping this whole think-piece on their post, i'd make my own separate post and ramble here.

this difference in their height really tracks for how their fighting styles and personalities are like, i feel. i always found it peculiar how different they are despite being twins; i feel like there's a rather stark resemblance between miquella and malenia in their soft-faced features, pale skin, and long flowing hair, and a close resemblance between the carian siblings with their red hair, but morgott and mohg are rather different from each other, only bearing similarities due to their omen nature. i looked a little bit into that and found that there's pretty good reasons behind why.

firstly, morgott is severely malnourished and unhealthy in comparison to mohg. you can see it in his body and how his skin sags, how his ribs and bones show, and how dry it looks. below is a comparison between his hands and mohg's hands.

morgott's hands are dry, almost rubbed red and raw around the knuckles and fingers. it reminds me a little of psoriasis, or some kind of skin discolouration caused by his poor health. it's likely he isn't eating well, or at the very least, he isn't eating as well as mohg. his twin, on the other hand (ha!), has shiny, veiny skin with a healthy colour and gleam to them. it's like he wants to call to attention how well moisturised he is (which, in this case, compared to morgott, he is).

above is a comparison between the twins' horns. the difference is extremely evident to me; morgott's horns are dry, almost seeming brittle, like sun-dried bone that hasn't seen rain or moisture in years. it reminds me of the horns of a very neglected ram, almost, but despite that, the horn growths seem more controlled, less like the wild growths all over the royal omens of the shunning grounds and more controlled as a sort of jutting crown from mainly one side of his head. meanwhile, mohg's horns are shiny, curling wildly to the point of injury, taking his eye in its path of growth. they grew wildly enough to replace his hair altogether, if he ever had any, and give him an even more imposing silhouette with a literal crown of horns (and a beard to boot). beyond this, his horns look healthy, with clearly defined rings to each growth that shine under the light, much like the rest of him. he's oiled leather to morgott's dry hide.

another somewhat interesting detail of morgott is his tail. i know a lot of people see it as soft, and it certainly looks the part, but what i find interesting are two things: the first being that his fur looks quite matted in some lightings and angles but overall looks soft to the touch, and the second being that his tail's horns look much healthier than his own horns on his head. this is in clear contrast to the rest of his body, which looks dry and unassuming with smatterings of coarse white hair up and down his body, and i believe its a matter of the limits to his own self-care. he utilises his tail as another weapon in his arsenal, so he cares for it that it might serve him well in battle, unlike his head of horns, which only serve as a detriment to him with how they must obscure some of his vision, if not most of it. additionally, he likely could bear to look at his tail and care for it, but for an omen that hates his nature more than the average, he probably doesn't enjoy looking at his own face in the mirror enough to properly care for himself.

which brings me back to the sheer differences between these two. morgott, unhealthy and self-loathing, neglects many visual aspects of himself likely because he sees vanity as a luxury not afforded to someone like him. mohg, healthy and self-obsessed, cares and grooms himself to appear very much so like the lord he claims to be, loving himself to a heretical extreme (in the eyes of the golden order). their statures reflect this too; morgott hunches low to the ground, ready to pounce at any given moment but also due to his own shame and humility, while mohg stands tall and proud, though not as tall as he could possibly be due to his upbringing being one of likely having to hunch low to fit beneath the ceilings of the smaller parts of the shunning grounds.

above is a picture of an omen from stormveil, which bears resemblance to all the omen you see in the game. in terms of clothing, one of the big ways people set the omen twins apart, morgott is completely naked save for the ragged cloak of animal hides he wears, signifying he is not fit to even dress himself in a shirt or trousers as befits a king, much like the omen pictured. he wears even less than that, actually, since he lacks even the slightest adornment save for the rope that clasps his cloak together. on the other hand, mohg is entirely adorned in finery, wearing a beautifully embroidered, fashionable priest's robe with matching vestments, and beneath that (as seen in the first image) some underclothes, a plain black button up and some pants. mohg's entire silhouette changes with the removal of his robe, while morgott's barely makes an impact once you realise he has only taken off the one article of clothing he had.

then, of course, there are their fighting styles. there's this fantastic video on youtube that i recommend watching of the twins fighting every major boss in the game, and you can clearly tell them apart from their fighting styles alone. morgott is fast, his size making him look deceptively slow only for him to dart out and do sick flips and somersaults and pirouettes that rival even the most flexible dancers, and he fights with speed and almost animalistic ferocity, save for when he conjures his weapon incantations. mohg is slow but strong, capable of swinging that large trident around like it weighs nothing while hitting with the force to knock down most enemies in a few hits, and most tarnished in just one, but he fights with a steady gracefulness in his every move, walking slowly and carefully while casting spells that hurt a lot.

even their phase 2 transitions are markedly different, with morgott's being one where he drops to his knees, vomits, and releases his cursed blood(?) all over the battlefield, causing his weapon to become alight with his curse and for him to fight with more in-your-face aggression, and with mohg's being one where he simply ignores your attacks and begins stabbing his spear into the formless mother for power at your expense, gaining a majestic set of wings that put distance between you and him so he can cast more of his spells at safer distances. where morgott is pushed to his limit and forced to confront his nature, mohg has long since embraced it and enjoys the fruits of his bloody labour with the mother of truth's blessing.

speaking of the mother of truth, even their patron orders are at odds with each other. the golden order was built upon the foundation of a very carefully-guarded lie: that marika is the one true god, which she can't be, with the existence of radagon (as per goldmask, perhaps the number 1 fundamentalist we meet in game). the formless mother is known also as the mother of truth, existing in direct opposition of the golden order's lies and craving the honesty of one of the purest expressions of life: blood. these two ideals would war against each other, with one being dedicated to the upholding of a beautiful, corrupt lie and the other being dedicated to the instillation of a dynasty of raw, pure truths. as such, even morgott and mohg's own great runes reflect these contrasts in faith, though, remarkably, these two great runes are ones that fit perfectly over each other, with mohg's slightly elevated (seen below, taken from the fextralife wiki).

so, where does this leave us? i don't know, exactly. i wasn't really writing this with any sort of ultimate conclusion. i just found it really interesting how different they were, and i wanted to talk about all the noticeable, significant differences between them here. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#elden ring #elden ring rambles #elden ring lore #omenboys #morgott the omen king #margit the fell omen #mohg lord of blood #mohg the omen #i hope this whole thing makes sense

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 10 months ago

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trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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frogchiro · 11 months ago

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Here is an idea but a feral Minotaur König to juxtapose Gladiator Ghost.

Minotaur König belongs to @kneelingshadowsalome so if you want more of it please go check her blog out!! She's so talented and pays so much attention to details, I'm in love ;;

But! I imagine Minotaur! König to be something more like a spectacle, something to be presented and paraded around like the most prized bull for the peasants to gawk at. And he hates it. Despises it. He's been captured and enslaved like some animal and shown off as if he's more of a possession than actual living, breathing, sentient being.

He wouldn't be even let into the Coliseum in fear of someone actually besting the 'beast' and what would that mean for those soft, spineless men in fancy clothes who make a fortune out of him as he's paraded naked all over the Coliseum, his tail lashing behind him and his ears twitching from the noise. Shut up shut up shut up shut-

Suddenly the entourage made out of guards is stopped in front of a luxury balcony where apparently the most fancy people sit and-

Imagine Minotaur!König being given to you as a gift for the fairest Lady (Y/N), the esteemed Lady-In-Waiting of Lady Jokaste, sister of the Emperor. This wonderous beast was bought by her and given to you on your 21st birthday, the most rare of gifts and 'the rarity only fitting for a rare beauty like you', sung Lady Jokaste as she gazed at you with fondness while you literally couldn't utter a single word.

Imagine that although technically König is your possession in all means, you still treat him so so gently and carefully, putting healing ointment on his scars and new cuts instead of perfumed oils which irritated his wounds and skin further. You massage his strained muscles gently and shush him whenever he starts making loud, booming noises, probably of pain leaving his body.

And you're so skittish too, adorable. Like a pretty young doe you flinch at the slightest movement the bull makes, the jingle of the thin chain attached to a joke of a collar makes you jump and flush at the deep chuckle of the beast but König is delighted that he can make this pretty nymph jump and twitch, however he'd rather like you twitch on his large cock...

Speaking of which, yeah he hates wearing that pesky loincloth even if its silk, so most of the days he just forgoes it and walks around naked in all his glory. His huge, fat cock often twitching and leaking thick sperm whenever he catches your scent which is everywhere in your chambers or even better if he catches you when you're sitting around and lounging or preparing for a bath and you catch his heavy, lustful gaze :((

He chuckles, rumbles and chuffs at you from his place on the comfy bed of pillows and furs, laid out all bug and spread, his heavy, veiny cock spurting out so much cum it stains the pretty soft pillows and his full balls are so huge and so heavy, they are starting to ache y'know? :((

Why don't you come here pretty little nymph? All he wants to do is thank you for your kindness by tickling you with his long tongue and giving you his calf, wouldn't it be perfect? </3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #RAAAAH thank you for the delightful ask dear!!#this is much less feral than anticipated but I just love minotaur König too much ;;#minotaur!könig #hybrid au #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x you #konig x reader

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llamagoddessofficial · 4 months ago

Note

How about headcannons for fae Nightmare are fav Winter King??

You're in a relationship with two Nightmare's, really.

The first Nightmare is the King. Overwhelmingly powerful, aloof, wickedly intelligent, stern but with a strong sense of justice, (privately) very caring and gentle. This Nightmare is the one you spend the vast majority of your time with. He flirts like a courtly prince... he ballroom dances with you on glittering midwinter nights, he reads you poetry by dwindling firelight. He gifts you the finest gowns and furs, matched only in craftsmanship by his own, he puts crystal necklaces around your neck and silver rings on your fingers. He kisses your knuckles and takes you on long romantic horse rides, he has a winter flower garden made for you, he wraps his cloak around your shoulders when you're tired. This is the Nightmare that has been tempered by hundreds of years of rule. The man he shows the world; the man he wants to be, for you.

... Then there's the other Nightmare. The one underneath. The one that never recovered from the wound to his skull, nor the betrayal he felt after.

That Nightmare is furious. Ragged. Desperately tired, hates everything but you. Wildly possessive - barely holding back from clawing out the eyes of anyone who looks your way. Starving for your love, but absolutely terrified of what that means. Wants to sink his teeth into you and never let go.

Generally, the first Nightmare is excellent at covering up the second, he's had centuries to practise. But you catch glimpses. That's the Nightmare who sees a courtier aggressively flirting with you at a feast, and takes them outside to beat them within an inch of their life and leave them bleeding in the snow. That's the Nightmare that drinks a little too much wine and won't let go of your wrist all evening. The Nightmare who draws you like he's trying to capture you forever in the paper; the one who pulls you closer to him in the middle of the night. The Nightmare that stares jealously at people who make you laugh, only just covering his tracks and laughing along when he realises he's being intimidating.

He's very gentle with you. He'll never raise his voice at you.

He's got a surprisingly playful side. For all his gloomy seriousness, he seems to take quite a bit of joy in teasing you. The other skeletons are jarred by the sight of you teasing him back - that's a luxury no one else in either kingdom can afford.

Killer has his stray cats. Nightmare has his beloved horse, the eighteen-hand beast that bites off hands and kicks in heads. She has an obvious soft spot for you. Only you and Nightmare can mount her.

Nightmare also has some (equally beloved) massive hunting hounds who resemble dire wolves more than dogs. They look terrifying and vicious, coming and going from the castle as they please, often disappearing as a pack into the wilderness for days. When Nightmare isn't around, alongside the usual trio of Killer Dust and Horror looking after you, you'll have some massive fluffy good boys as excellent bodyguards.

Nightmare can be... difficult. He isn't very good at expressing himself; he lies about how he feels to make you feel better, getting the truth out of him is getting blood from a stone. He's a romantic, he wants to look after you, he wants everything to be about you. He's happy when you're happy and his own wants are far too messy and scary to unpack. Gifting you another set of sapphire earrings is much easier than admitting he's massively insecure and just wants you to stay in bed with him all day, cradling his skull and telling him you care.

... All that being said... you will never know loyalty like his. Many people say they would 'wait a thousand years' for their partner.

He actually would.

#llamagines #fae au #bad sanses

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just-some-user-hunny · 4 months ago

Text

Bastard readers dynamic in the family...

(Implied yandere targarians, heavily implied fem!reader)

With Daemon, it's full of one-sided hostility and fire. Ever since he took you from your little home, with your little bed of warm scrapped fur and the comforting presence of your mother, he's been the monster. The monster that snatched you away. His abduction seemed very... Him, to begin with. Spontaneous, mad, rebellious. But something in him drove him to take you. His blood, his dragonfire. Aegon may allow his little silver haired bastards to roam and survive on scraps, but Daemon is too proud of his blood to do so. You are his. His daughter. Your rebellion and fight against him does deal him pain, but it also drives him further. You may deny it as much as you like, but you are his little mirror. His reflection of spitting fire and anger. From a teary eyed toddler stomping their foot, to a mirthful teenager with poison in their eyes- it matters to him. His little dragon.

And since dragons share their emotions with their riders, these controlling and obsessive feelings do not limit to only Daemon. Ceraxes is an extension of your father, another pair of eyes and a tongue of fire that always hovers and opresses you. As a little child, Daemon often took you to ride dragon back upon the blood wyrm- a form of bonding as he liked to put it. Ceraxes would chirp and fixate on you, his mirthful grin wide like a shark as he stares at you. He purrs and growls in your presence, seeing you as a precious extension of his rider. His little human. He's very protective of you, but also very controlling. You step a foot out of line and he's hovering over you like a frightening serpent. There's no fire in his throat, but his frightening teeth glint in warning.

Rhaenyra adores you. You'll be the daughter she never had, and although at first she was furious to see her husband return with a screaming kicking bastard child in his arms, it didn't take her long to fall in love with you.

Although she adores her sweet boys, a small discreet part of her yearned for a precious little daughter of her own. A little girl to dress and adore and spoil, to give her everything. Rhaenary is a warm and loving person towards you, often placating your little sobs and warbled pouts with taking you in her arms and hushing you with soft loving words. Everything is alright, you're ok. If she's not soothing you with motherly words, then she's showering you in gifts of dragon glass figures and dresses. She herself adores her jewels and gowns, so she sees it only fitting that you too get the same luxurious treatment.

Syrax is doting and sweet to you, just like her rider. You're the only other person besides Rhaenary who may touch her. The golden dragon would preen and coo at you whenever you are within her line of sight, bowing her head low for affection. She purrs and coos, huffing hot dragon breath into your face to make you smile- even just a little. She allows you to touch the rough scales on her face, her own smile almost matching the warmth of your stepmother.

Dragon Rides with rhaenary are always more tolerable- the days are always warm and tame, blue skies and her wings riding upon blossoming clouds of gold and lavender. Rhaenary holds you close to her, a buckled harness added to her saddle especially for you.

Viserys is old and soft, and although his presence has always remained as the silvery old willowed man who sits upon the frightening throne made of jagged blades and glinting metal, he has always been passive with you. As your uncle, and the king, hes always handled you with a soft yet dismissive hand. He may not always acknowledge you that often, but when he does, it's always pleasant and filled with ramblings of creative art mediums and whatnot. If you were to ever show interest in his built figures and constructions, he'd be delighted. He may be your first influence into creative outlets- either it be through painting,embroidery, calligraphy, or to his hopes, figure making. Despite your bastard heritage, he's rather accepting of you. His brother is wild and untamed, always off doing something peculiar and explosive- you are the least destructive thing he's created by far. You are also a source of joy for his daughter, Rhaenary, so he cannot be too harsh upon you living in DragonStone.

Balarion is long gone, his monstrously large skull glinting in golden candlelight within the cold stone walls. But viserys often ponder over your fascination with the war dragons remains, and you may get an earful of old stories that sang their songs long ago. Aegon the conqueror... The black dread with midnight flame... Bringing kingdoms to their knees or reduced to piles of ash. Your heritage is a painful one, dear, but it is powerful. You have the blood of Aegon the conqueror in your veins. You have the blood of the dragon. Be proud of it, for you have no choice.

Jacaerys and Lucerys, despite being shocked and confused by your arrival- like any wide eyed little children, grew to love you. They watched with their dark eyes as Prince Daemon returned with a shrieking and sobbing little girl, clutching the skirts of their mother and whispering little words or confusion and curiosity. Who's that? Where's her mummy?

Even when they are made aware of your bastard heritage, they still love you. Jace will often murmur words of encouragement to you when he sees you look upset or down about something, and Luce will happily take you by the hand and lead you off to read and teach you high valarian. You're off-putting at first, still upset with your new living situation. Because they're not your brother's, you don't know them! Your brothers are back at your house, probably still wailing for your return. As a child you were probably filled with stubbornness, often attempting to stray from their sights, hoping to sever any form of connection before it can begin- both from rebellion, but also from fear of betraying your own little siblings. But these boys are stubborn too, and want to do things with you like any brother would. They want you to read to them. To watch them train, to practice languages and swordsmanship, to watch them ride their dragons and impress you with dragonfire and daring swoops. To them, you're their sister. Just please- give them a chance?

I'll probably get more Cannibal stuff out, but I thought the dynamic of bastard reader within the family would be interesting. I don't often see people expanding on the relationships one would have with their forced families dragons either, considering the dragons are very emotionally connected with their riders, I thought it'd be interesting to expand on this idea!

Also I may do more with team green, but I'm still figuring out what kind of relationships the reader would have with them. I'm definitely making bastard reader close friends with Helaena, she's honestly the chillest person in that whole family 😅

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere viserys targaryen #bastard!reader #fem reader #bastard! princess reader

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daylite-writes · 5 months ago

Text

“A healers Blunt Teeth” (Pt 2) ft. Capitano x Healer!Reader

(Pt 1 here)

He did take you back to Snezhnaya with him, leaving you alone in a manor. The discomfort you feel at not having received a single letter since he departed was surely not from you loving him or anything. Surely.

cws: very mild yandere, mild cultural insensitivity (on behalf of staff), and misunderstandings.

1.6k words

~~~

You didn’t expect the… luxury.

You suppose you should have.

He was a harbinger after all. When he stepped foot in Snezhnaya—you under his arm, of course—you didn’t get the best first impression. Cold, snowy forests of pine with the ridges of icy mountains lining the horizon. But the deeper you ventured into his home, the more his influence became apparent.

Entire villages greeted the expedition with deep bows and offerings of food and housing. You slept in beds made for the cold, among rabbit fur and goose down.

He never batted an eye, but that wasn’t unusual. Be it dry dirt or luxurious bedspreads, Capitano was content.

You expected him to continue onwards with you, towards the Tsaritsa’s palace, the expedition's final destination you’d heard mentioned a thousand times in his meetings.

Evidently, you were wrong about that part, being as you were lounging in the bay window Capitano’s manor, alone except for a staff of loyalists.

As your… Partner? ‘Boyfriend’ maybe—no, that was far too juvenile. Not master either, he hated that term, and it no longer adequately described the complex relations between you two.

Being Capitano’s someone-of-significance had him deciding to dump you into a remote manor somewhere in Snezhnaya, leaving with a quick kiss and a promise to return home after his meeting with the Tsaritsa.

He dragged you all the way to Snezhnaya, and didn’t even let you go with him to the palace.

Angrily—and yes, it was anger. Not loneliness or longing or any other emotion the young maids would describe it as, accented by dreamy sighs as they theorized about you and his’ beautiful courtship—you tore the page of sheet music from the book propped in front of you.

Music was too hard and it made your fingers hurt.

You’d spent the better parts of two weeks in the manor, and it was boring. You were out of your depths, the maids knowing more about noble and elite life than you ever imagined anyone could know.

One of the maids said it herself not long after your arrival. “You’re nothing like what I imagined Capitano’s fiancé would be. Of course, none of us really know his preferences. But if not a warrior, I’d thought you may have been a noblewoman, knowledgeable about music or literature, or perhaps cooking. I once served a noblewoman who made very exquisite cuisine.”

“We’re not engaged.” You’d said, a bit breathless as she tightened the corset.

The other maids who’d been fluttering about shushed her a bit too aggressively for you to consider it noble.

You’d ignored them, until one of the shier ones spoke up. “If I may ask, my lady… how did you two meet?”

“I was a healer in Natlan working for a group of bandits. He won me by right of combat, and eventually we began… well.” You waved your hand, summing up the obvious physical and emotional relations with proper censorship but no denial. “I’m not quite sure what to call the two of us.”

The maids were stunned, and you remembered that such things as that weren’t normal in other nations. You opened your mouth, hoping to amend their opinions of you, but one of them spoke first—

“Oh so he saved you! How romantic!”

The session devolved into a series of awws. They giggled and tousled your hair as they fixed it up, rambling aloud about the romantic scenario.

It took everything in you to not take it personally. To remember that these were the daughters of affluent families who could not afford to marry off another daughters, but could land them a cushy spot working under a harbinger in a non-combatant role. Who probably spent their youths reading fairy tales instead of fighting or healing the way you had.

You rolled your eyes, letting the girls have their fun. These young women were your only friends in this new place after all. There was little point to complain.

~~~

It was clear Capitano would be coming home soon.

There was a certain buzz among the staff. Tasks that were once laxly carried out only when there was time for it were now being performed rigorously and thoroughly. Floors once mopped were now being scrubbed by servants on their hands and knees. Libraries lightly dusted once or twice a week were practically being done by the hour.

There was a buzz among your hand maids as well. They became very, very particular about your appearance. Every day your hair was to be done up in what you can only assume are traditional northern styles. The soft comfortable outfits you’d taken preference to gently batted aside and replaced with expensive tailored dresses, with beaded bodices and tulle that reached partway down your legs.

Refusing such things also made your hand maids very nervous. A lot of ‘are you sure’-s and ‘but my lady!’-s.

From this, you quickly figured out that he’d be back any day now.

So, when you spotted a horse drawn carriage trotting up the path to your manor from a window, you knew what expectations they had.

Greet him at the door, preferably warmly, probably with a kiss, and then follow him around like a lost puppy.

You rolled your eyes before going back to failing to play the violin.

“Um, miss?” One of your handmaids said softly. “Your… Lord Harbinger Capitano seems to be arriving.”

“Mm.” The violin screeched at you as you clumsily played it.

“I… alright. Miss.”

It wasn’t that you hated Capitano. Or that you didn’t want to see him. You were a bird in a golden cage, yes, but Capitano never bothered to close the door, and you never bothered flying out. It was just—

He didn’t even write to you.

The violin made quite an annoying sound as you pressed a bit too hard on the bow, its wavering screech the perfect sound to accompany the grind of your teeth.

Sure, he was undoubtedly busy, but that didn’t erase the embarrassment you’d experience every time you had to ask if any mail for you—any letters from him—came through, only to be told not so much as a word had come from his lord. Didn’t erase the feeling of being some discarded housewife while your lover galivants around the country without you—

The violin had picked up a sharp, angry tune as you played the song through all your little mistakes, not stopping even as you played incorrect notes or lost your place, you could hardly hear it through the rant in your head.

“I see you’ve picked up the violin.” Him.

Immediately, your song stopped. You hadn’t realized he’d entered, hadn’t realized you missed his voice.

“L-Lord Harbinger!” You maid squeaked, bowing. Capitano must have made some motion to her, as she left the room quickly after.

He stayed silent for a moment, and you stayed turned towards the window. “… why are you upset with me?”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you upset with me.” He repeated again, and you suddenly noticed how much closer he was to you. You didn’t hear the footsteps as he loomed over your shoulder.

“I…”

“Has the accommodations been insufficient? Was the staff unpleasant? I’ll have them dead in an instant if they were who upset you against me.” His hand, gloved, tilted your head back by the chin so you had to look up at him. Into the dark maw of his uniform.

“No Captain…”

“Then why? Why have you refused me the right to be greeted home by my woman? The right to see you as I’ve longed to? There must be something wrong, considering you haven't so much as responded to a single letter-”

“You wrote me?” You said all too quickly when you heard the words come from the man over you. Distantly, you chastised yourself for the almost desperate way you asked it. Like a woman starved for water.

He stilled, putting together the pieces easily. “Ah, so that’s what it is. Yes, I wrote to you many times, my healer.”

“I didn’t receive any.”

The hand that was lifting your face up shifted to the side, idly messing with a lock of your hair before cradling the crux of where your jaw met your neck. “I am realizing that now.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I did, greatly.”

You paused a moment, the small sparks of spite that once had you melted away partially, leaving you feeling a bit silly. “I…”

“Don’t apologize. This is someone else’s fault, I’ll deal with them later.” He said, moving around you to your front, and kneeling down before you.

The hand cradling your pulse slipped to the back of your neck, lightly pulling you into him. You kissed him through the gaping maw of his mask. It was rough, as though it was the single thing he’d been wanting for weeks. His hand tightened, pulling your hair by the roots to expose your neck. You gasped when you felt his lips on your jaw, traveling down to your throat.

It was a while before he pulled back, satisfied at the aggravated red skin his attention left. Most likely so that the staff could see it and know.

You stared at him, chest rising and falling quickly, but not scared. He seemed happy, or perhaps, at peace, as he stared back.

A polite, quiet knock on the door finally brought his gaze away from you. He spoke, loud and clear, “Yes?”

“Dinner is set for you the Lord and his Lady.”

He rose, standing to his full height before extending a hand to you. “You’ll be joining me I hope?”

“… yes, my lord.” You took it.

~~~~~

The og is pretty far back and i am grappling with the fact i probably should make a masterlist (i dont wannaaa) but i hope ya'll enjoy this <3

#yandere capitano #capitano x reader #capitano x fem!reader #soft yandere #healer!reader #genshin fanfic

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goddessofvalyria · 3 months ago

Text

ALIVE | Martin (In the modern world) x fem!oc

As I saw Ewan Mitchell in the music video for Fontaines DC - In The Modern World, I obviously know that music video made us Tumblr girls write sooooooo much and I'm here for that.

English is not my first language, be kind and enjoy it <3

READ HERE THE SECOND PART OF THE ONE-SHOT "DEATH"

Summary: Cassandra and Martin are both devastated, how can they no longer feel the pain? Getting lost in each other.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, the fem!oc is named Cassandra with long wavy dark black hair and blue-purple eyes, masturbation (f receiving), SMUT, sex, drug use, violence, blood, murder, death, sadness.

This is my Masterlist

Words: 3184

Cassandra shivered as she stepped out into the cold night, her breath forming misty clouds in the air. The winter chill was relentless, but she barely noticed it. Her black fur coat provided some warmth, but it couldn't reach the cold that had settled deep within her. Her long, wavy black hair fluttered in the biting wind, framing her face, where her once-vibrant blue-violet eyes now appeared hollow and distant.

She walked quickly, her knee-high leather boots crunching against the thin layer of snow that covered the sidewalk. The streets were empty, silent except for the occasional hum of a distant car. She checked her phone, glancing at the last message she'd received. It was from someone she barely knew, a boy who was a drug dealer who had agreed to meet her tonight. He was a friend of a friend, someone who could get her what she needed.

When she reached the parking lot, it was nearly deserted, save for a single car parked under the dim light of a flickering streetlamp. Cassandra paused for a moment, feeling a twinge of hesitation, but she quickly pushed it aside. She didn't have the luxury of second thoughts tonight.

Martin sat in his car, nervously tapping the steering wheel as he waited. He didn't know who he was meeting, just that it was a girl in need, willing to pay well. But when he saw her approaching, he felt his heart skip a beat. It was Cassandra, the girl he had admired from afar and had a crush on during their school days. Back then, she was everything he wasn't—beautiful, popular, and effortlessly smart. He had been just another face in the crowd, unnoticed by someone like her.

Cassandra opened the car door and slipped inside, her movements mechanical, as if she was on autopilot. She didn't look at him, her focus entirely on the transaction.

"Do you have it?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Martin hesitated, the recognition hitting him hard. She didn't seem to realize who he was, but how could she? The boy she once knew was long gone, just as the girl she once was seemed to have disappeared.

"Cassandra?" he said softly, searching her face for any sign of the person he remembered. Her eyes flicked toward him, and for a moment, she seemed to wake up from whatever trance she was in.

"Martin?" she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I didn’t know… Look, I just need the stuff, okay? I want to forget for a while."

He handed her the small bag of drugs, his hand trembling slightly. "What happened to you?" he asked, unable to keep the question inside.

"You were… everything."

He loved her in silence. He loved her for many years but he was the metalhead boy of the school.

Her gaze hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "What happened to me? Life happened, Martin. People change. Now, just let me be. I just want to forget and don't asking fucking questions."

Martin swallowed hard, struggling with the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He couldn't be rude to her. He knew he should just give her the drug, but seeing the girl who once shone with popularity and light, reduced like that, with obvious dark circles under her eyes, shaking hands and a spent cigarette between her fingers broke his heart. She had always been so beautiful, so… unique in his eyes and even if she had never deigned to look at him, he had always loved her in silence and from afar.

"Come with me" he said, the words spilling out before he could think them through. "We can talk… if you want, if you need."

She looked at him, her expression unreadable, but after a long moment, she nodded. She didn't know why she agreed, perhaps it was the familiarity of his face or the desperation in his voice, but she stayed in the car and then followed him back to his small, modest house.

Inside, the dim light cast shadows across the room, amplifying the feeling of isolation. Cassandra sat on the edge of his bed, removing her fur coat and laying it beside her. The room was dark, quiet, almost stifling, as Martin stepped out to get her some water.

When he returned, he stopped in his tracks. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, he noticed the bruises on her arms, the way she winced as she adjusted her position on the bed. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut, and he felt a wave of anger and sadness wash over him. She was wearing a short black dress with thin straps and torn tights. How could she not feel cold? It was clear that something was wrong with her.

Cassandra caught him staring at her and tried to cover her bruises with her hands, trying to hide the evidence of her pain. But it was too late. The tears she'd been holding back began to fall, silent and steady, as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold herself together.

"I don’t know how I got here" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don’t know who I am anymore."

Martin sat beside her, unsure of what to say or do. He had never imagined seeing her like this, so broken and lost. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how. All he could do was be there, offering what little comfort he could.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pill. "Here" he said, his voice gentle. "It might help… take the edge off."

Cassandra looked at the pill in his hand, then at him. "You don't have to pay for these" he said lowly. For a moment, she hesitated, but then she took it, placing it on her tongue and swallowing it down without a word. She lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for answers that would never come.

Martin lay beside her, the two of them silent, lost in their own thoughts. The darkness in the room seemed to mirror the darkness within them, a shared pain that neither of them knew how to escape. And so they lay there, side by side, two lost souls in the night, hoping for some kind of relief, however fleeting it might be.

"Who did this to you?" he asked. "Someone who tells me he loves me"

Cassandra drifted into a restless sleep, the pill he had given her slowly taking effect, Martin's phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen.

"I know you have something for me, a friend of a friend tell me that you can help me. - Joe."

It was a message from Joe—Cassandra's boyfriend. He wanted to meet, to buy drugs. Martin stared at the message, his mind racing. This was the man who had done that to her, the one who had destroyed the girl he had once admired. He knew him, in high school Joe had beaten him up numerous times in the school bathrooms.

Without a second thought, Martin replied, agreeing to meet. He gently covered Cassandra with a blanket, his heart aching as he watched her sleep. Then, with a grim resolve, he slipped out of the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him.

The night was even colder now, but Martin barely felt it. His mind was consumed with thoughts of what he was about to do. He drove to the meeting spot, a desolate area on the outskirts of town, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Joe was already there, leaning against his car, looking as smug and careless as ever. Martin's stomach churned with disgust as he approached and Joe sat in the passenger’s side. Joe didn't even bother to greet him, just held out a hand, waiting for the drugs. Martin handed them over without a word, his mind already calculating his next move.

"Did you have only this? Fuck, now I have to hear my girlfriend's scream when she yells at me" he said with grief in his voice. "She is still your girlfriend" Martin replied. "We are together, yeah, but she only likes to be fucked like a whore she is and then... sometimes,... you know, she is mad as hell and she screams at me that for my fault her life became a fucking nightmare."

Joe wasn't a smart guy, he talked nonsense as he popped the pills. "Sometimes I hurt her, but it's just to let her know I love her. Only when she threatens to leave me and report me to the police, you know Cassandra is fucking bitch."

Martin looked at him as he felt the anger rising. How could he let him go free after those words? Cassandra would come back to him and he would hurt her. Now she was sleeping at his place, but after that? After taking more pills she would go back to her boyfriend.

As Joe turned to walk back to his car, Martin's vision went red. He moved before he could think, grabbing the seat belt from his car and looping it around Joe's neck in one swift motion. Joe struggled, his hands clawing at the belt, but Martin was stronger, driven by a rage he had never felt before.

"You are beating her, right bastard?"

The two of them wrestled, Joe managing to land a few blows, but Aemond didn't feel the pain. His face was smeared with blood, but he didn't care. All he could think about was Cassandra, about the life she could have had, about the life she still could have if this monster were gone. With a final, desperate twist, Martin tightened the belt, and Joe's struggles ceased.

He killed him for her.

Panting, Martin let the body slump to the ground, his chest heaving. He looked down at Joe's lifeless form, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him. It was done. He had done what he had to do.

The night was still dark when Martin disposed of the body, leaving no trace of what had happened. His face and clothes were stained with blood, but he didn't care.

He drove back to his apartment, the adrenaline slowly fading, replaced by a numbness that left him feeling empty.

By the time he returned, dawn was just beginning to break, casting a pale light through the windows. Martin quietly entered his room, closing the door behind him. Cassandra was awake, sitting in the center of the bed, her eyes fixed on the wall. She had noticed his records, her fingers tracing the edges of one of them absently.

When she turned to look at him, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of his face, still smeared with blood. "Martin…" she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of concern and confusion. "I still feel the pain.... I...fuck, I still feel the deep darkness in me"

"You have blood all over your face, what happened to you?" she looked at him, God, her eyes were so beautiful. Long black eyelashes, black eyeliner, they were breathtaking.

Martin walked over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I did what I had to do," he said, his voice steady.

For a moment, Cassandra just stared at him, her mind processing his words. Then, without warning, she got up and moved toward him, her eyes locked on his. Her hands gently cradling his face, feeling the still fresh blood on his skin.

"Thank you" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Thank you."

Martin was about to respond when she leaned in, her lips crashing against his in a fierce, desperate kiss. The intensity of it took him by surprise, but he quickly responded, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. "You're safe now" it was a kiss filled with all the emotions they had both been holding back—fear, anger, relief, and something more, something they had both been denying for too long.

Cassandra pushed him back onto the bed, her hands frantically tugging at his clothes, as if trying to erase everything that had happened, everything that had hurt her, with this one act. Martin didn't resist; he wanted this as much as she did, maybe even more. The world outside, the blood on his face, everything else faded away as they gave in to the passion that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Their movements were frantic, desperate, as if they were both trying to cling to something real, something pure in the midst of all the chaos. The bed creaked beneath them as they had sex.

“I need something strong” she whispered. “I need to know that I’m alive”

They leaned closer and their eyes met in another kiss. Their lips touched softly, as if they were trying to convey everything they couldn’t express in words. “I need something stronger than drugs” she murmured against his lips. Martin kissed her again, this time rougher, harder. Everything finally made sense. “I want you” Martin whispered. “I’ve always wanted you, even when you didn’t even look at me, I was there, silent among the outcasts and I watched you shine. But your darkness doesn’t scare me, share it with me.”

She leaned down to kiss his neck with languid, wet, provocative kisses and he grabbed her by the thighs, moving his hands up under her robe. "Cass" Martin groaned, looking up and meeting her eyes. He moved his hands to her dress, pulling it off her head. Cassandra began by removing his shirt, his hands tore off her tights and then moved to the elastic of her thong, hooking it around his fingers. "You are beautiful" he whispered as she raised her hips allowing him to remove her panties. Her long hair fell in front of her and she, who was not wearing a bra, destabilized him. He moved closer and slowly kissed her nipples, making her moan.

Cassandra moved her hands down to the elastic of his boxers, pulling them off along with his pants. In that moment she just wanted to forget all the pain she had felt, she wanted to let it all out, light a fire inside him.

"Make me forget" she murmured. "Make me forget" she was begging him. The girl leaned forward to kiss him, he made her lie down against the pillows of the bed and slowly got on top of her, covering her with his body. Cassandra caressed his back with her hands, making him shiver when her nails caressed his skin. "For me you exist, for me you have always existed" he whispered taking her face in his hands, he caressed her soft lips.

"You are so beautiful fuck, you are so… so… I… I have always seen you, I have always wanted you." he was desperate for her.

"You won't feel any more pain, you won't feel anything, I'll make you feel alive" he whispered, pushing himself inside her: God, she was so hot, wet, tight. He held her close, she moaned, inhaling his scent, she kissed his face still stained with blood. "I don't feel anything" Cassandra whispered. "I only feel you." she arched her back.

They moved together, faster, harder, until everything else faded away and there was nothing left but the unstoppable need to be closer, to feel more. "Tell me I'm yours" she whispered, holding him as if he could abandon her. "You're mine, you're mine, you're mine" he whispered, kissing her, pushing between her hot, wet thighs.

Cassandra, his Cassandra was lost in the most dissolute pleasure. He continued to fuck her until he felt her tremble, a sign that he was about to come.

"You are mine, you are mine, you are mine" he repeated feeling his cock buried deep inside her. "You are mine, always remember that, you are mine" "I am yours" she whispered scratching his back, Martin shivered. He gave her a stronger thrust, looked into her blue-violet eyes, she pressed herself against him and came with a loud moan.

Martin followed shortly after her, came out of her body and fell on top of her taking her in his arms and giving her a kiss on her swollen and shiny lips.

"I feel alive, I feel alive…" she whispered holding him in her arms.

Cassandra's eyes locked onto Martin's, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper reflected in her gaze. Slowly, she leaned in, her breath warm against his skin. Her lips met his with an intensity that took him by surprise, and he responded, pulling her closer, as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate. She tasted the metallic tang of blood on his lips, and instead of pulling away, she leaned in further, her tongue gently tracing the cut. She sucked softly, tasting the blood, her actions filled with a strange blend of tenderness and need.

Martin groaned, the pain of his wounded lips mingling with the pleasure of her touch. She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, as if in that moment, she was trying to absorb all of his pain, to take it into herself.

Their kiss was fierce, raw, and full of unspoken emotions—pain, longing, and a desire for connection that neither had known they needed so badly. The world around them faded away, leaving only the heat between them, the taste of blood and passion mingling as they lost themselves in each other.

“We should stop” Martin whispered. “No” Cassandra replied. “No one has ever killed for me.” She kissed him again and again, clearly aroused by the sight of him covered in blood. “You have me now” she whispered, grabbing his shirt and rolling onto the bed, him on top of her.

She was a fucking freak.

And he matched her perfectly.

The morning light slowly filling the room, casting long shadows on the walls.

When it was over, they lay tangled together in the sheets, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies slick with sweat. Martin held Cassandra close, his heart still racing from everything that had happened that night. She rested her head on his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his skin, as if trying to memorize every inch of him.

They didn't speak; there was nothing left to say. In that moment, they both understood each other perfectly. The world outside might still be cruel and unforgiving, but for now, they had found something that could make it all bearable.

And as the first rays of the morning sun filtered through the window, Martin closed his eyes, holding Cassandra close.

"Come away with me and sal

i promise you’ll be in it

i don’t feel bad

i feel alive in the city

you despise

wait for the day, when you come riding on by

seems so hard just to be

if it matters

you complete me, yeah

in the modern world"

#ewan mitchell #music video #ewan mitchell edit #ewanmitchelledit #female oc #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #smut #house of the dragons #aemond targaryen #aemond kinslayer #modern au #modern aemond #martin (in the modern world) x reader

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shytastemakerthing · 4 months ago

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Hello hello! I just found your blog and I love it <3 I was wondering if I could maybe request the Savannaclaw boys (seperately) with a female raccoon Beastman? Beastwoman??? Anyways- i just think it'll be really cute with Ruggie stealing with a klepto or her making cute chittering noises while cuddle Leona lol thank youuu!

A/N: Hello and thank you for your request! The thought of Ruggie with a raccoon beastwoman honestly makes me laugh, the amount of mischief that these two will get into with one another! I hope that you like this!

Request: Savannaclaw with raccoon beast woman S/O

Tw: None

Honestly, the two of you met one another after you tried swiping something from his pockets while he was taking a nap

You just couldn't help it, it was in your nature as a raccoon to swipe whatever it was that you needed no matter where it was at or if it had belonged to someone

The moment your fingers grazed the edge of the wallet poking out of his pocket, his hand had your wrist in a vice grip and you were met with the most beautiful pair of green eyes you had ever seen

Followed by his smug grin

.....Yeah, you said that out loud

And the rest was history from there

From the get-go, as soon as you two were together, he spoiled you rotten, he has the money to spare

Instead of swiping something, just grab his card and help yourself to what you want

Just grab his something to eat, yeah?

Being his partner also means that you are getting used as a pillow more often than not

Honestly, your tail is so soft that it is hard to resist

Coming to his games was a must and he could always see you in the stands...... and also rummaging through the bags of the other players to see what you could find

It's where you currently found yourself

Instead of the botanical gardens, you were both in his room. It was the weekend, no classes (as if he would go anyways), and you were curled up with each other in bed

You were still fast asleep and Leona was barely awake, only able to give a tired smile as he listened to your little sounds in your sleep, especially when he would start brushing his fingers through the fur of your tail and a long your ears

It didn't matter now that he wasn't going to be a king, he had you, and that was all he needed

Mischief duo

Now, Ruggie had only seen a raccoon beasttype a handful of times, as they were more known to live in wooded areas, so they were few and far between in the Savanna

The first sign he saw of you was that familiar fluffy and ringed fur tail of yours ducking behind a wall

Now his curiosity was piqued

Silent as he could, Ruggie would move to where you were, seeing you huddled down with a box that clearly was not yours, if the name on the side of the lunchbox was anything to go by

You looked at him..... and he looked at you

He knew what it was like to grow up with essentially nothing, having to do whatever it took if it meant survival, food was a luxury that not many could afford

Which is why what you did next shocked him....

You held out one of the treats inside for him, making a shushing motion with your other hand

Well, in that case.....

It looks like you have a new companion after that. Seeing you out several more times, it really did not take that long before the two of you were a pair

A pair of menaces, as many would like to say

One of you would be a distraction, the other would do the swiping, you guys decided before hand as to who would do that part

And then split the riches between the both of you

Anything non-perishable would also be saved to be taken back to the village he grew up in

Every time he sees you swiping something while he is at practice, he has to keep himself from chuckling as he doesn't want to give you away

See if you can find him some donuts, yeah?

When you go with him to visit his home this summer, the both of you will have plenty of food and goodies to bring to the other villagers

Really was not a fan of your tendency to take things that did not belong to you

It was actually Ruggie to bring up several things about your nature

As a raccoon beast type, you were highly prone to taking anything that you need and wanted, not to mention, raccoons weren't exactly the high members of society, as he liked to say, often many living in poverty and doing what they could to live. Granted, so few were seen in the Savanna but even in other areas, it was a rather well known thing

So, seeing that most of what you were taking was food, clothing, hygiene materials, and everything in-between, and seeing that you were rather well fed right now and clothing seemed to be in decent shape (it was obvious that they were mended), there were chances that you were sending these things back home

And you confirmed that when he found you again with a bag full of old clothes from the lost and found

As it turns out, you have several little siblings and your parents that you were trying to take care of while you were here

You were lucky to get into NRC, with it recently being co-ed, and your magical aptitude was rather impressive as well as your academics, it gave you an opportunity that not many from your hometown had

It was then he saw you for who you were, a young woman just trying to take care of her family by any means necessary

It took a couple of months, but the two of you officially were together

While he wouldn't help with your swiping tendencies, helping to keep them down a bit, he would often ask around and see if anyone had anything they didn't need, coming to you quite a bit with piles of clothing and other things that people didn't want

He went home with you during winter break and he saw just how badly all of this was needed

Everything seemed to be in quite the disrepair in the village, some homes boarded up, small fires here and there to keep people warm

Seeing the smiles on everyone's face as soon as they saw you with the countless materials you managed to get was enough to warm his heart and break it at the same time

He helped you pass everything out before heading to your own home where all of your little siblings were watching you from the windows

It was pretty crowded inside, given it was a rather small space and a larger family

Your parents curled up by the fire, siblings piling onto the rug around them, and then the two of you closer to the window

He swore at that very moment that he would do what he could for you and your family, and the others that were here

After all, he is rather good friends with a certain famous celebrity, no doubt he would be willing to help out his friend

Thank you so much for your request! Have a wonderful day/night!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #romantic #twst imagines #Savannaclaw x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #twst leona kingscholar #twst ruggie bucchi #twst Jack howl #shy writes #shy answers

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shakingparadigm · 7 months ago

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Speaking of Guardians, I'm just going to make a list on the information I have on the ones associated with the main cast so far.

Note: the information here is mostly from official material (patreon interviews, merch, the videos themselves etc) but some portions of it are my own assumptions based on this information as well.

Mizi -> Guardian Shine

Guardian Shine is a prominently pink and white alien that wears a peaceful expression and bears resemblance to certain aquatic creatures, most predominantly associated with the jellyfish. Their body largely consists of floaty pink frills.

Guardian Shine is the only alien of the main cast that is explicitly stated to have a close and loving relationship with their human pet, treating Mizi like a "daughter" and ensuring that she is happy and well-provided for.

Guardian Shine created Mizi's performance dress for ROUND 1.

It seemed that whenever Mizi accomplished something good in the Anakt Garden, she would become ecstatic and excited to tell Guardian Shine about her victories.

Sua -> Guardian ???

Not much is known or seen about Sua's Guardian (the information isn't public, at least), but from the glimpses we see in MIZISUA, her Guardian is a rather luxurious and feminine alien with clawed, ring-laden hands and a lower half akin to a flower-patterned dress. It seems as though they are wearing a pale-colored fur coat.

In the disc:mizisua artbook, its stated that Sua was raised by influencers, which seems to be why her Guardian is dressed so lavishly.

Sua's Guardian did not particularly care for her, only raising her as a means to "show off".

While Guardian Shine warmly entertains Mizi before her departure, Sua's Guardian has their back turned and is instead busied with an interview (as seen by the alien holding the microphone next to them).

Because Sua's Guardian didn't care for her and only raised her for public image, they dressed Sua in doll-like clothes without care as to how it would fit her. The book states that despite it's lovely look, Sua's dress was stuffy and ill-fitting.

Till -> Guardian Urak

Guardian Urak (in earlier iterations) is a humanoid alien with a predominantly white color scheme, most recognizable by a covered upper face and floating chair. (I highly suspect the alien from ROUND 6's first verse to be the new Guardian Urak design, but I could be wrong.)

Similar to Sua's, Guardian Urak seems rather neglectful and maybe even physically abusive to Till, as seen by the multiple bruises left on him even before he's thrown at the wall. If the head alien in ROUND 6 is confirmed to be Urak, this is further proven by the first few scenes.

In an interview for a magazine portion of ROUND 2, Guardian Urak is shown to be easily dismissive of Till's misbehavior as long as it garners them a win.

Guardian Urak believes that a human's bizarre behavior is synonymous with their talent. "The more talented humans, the more likely they are to be freaks." Urak apologizes for Freddie's murder on Till's behalf, but doesn't seem to care about it beyond the surface level.

Urak barely seems to invest much into Till, at least not as much as the other Guardians do for their own pets. Till's stage in ROUND 2 is the most plain, unlike the other rounds where the stages are unique and decorated with different designs and lights. Till's outfits are also the most plain among the cast.

Ivan -> Guardian ???

Ivan's Guardian is a large, slightly Cthulhu-like alien dressed in dapper clothing, which many fans find akin to that of a mafia boss. They are dressed in colors of mainly red and black, a color scheme that their followers seem to align with as well.

Ivan's Guardian is well-known in alien society. Due to this, Ivan makes sure to behave carefully and properly while out in public as not to sully their name.

It also seems as though they are incredibly wealthy, seemingly involved in a business of some sort.

Ivan describes the relationship with his Guardian to be more like a business partnership rather than something parental.

Ivan's Guardian seems to have invested a lot into Ivan's success. Adopting him from the slums, cleaning him and remaking his image from a lowly slum child to one of the most famous, talented, and influential humans of the current season. Ivan states in an interview that he will always be grateful to them for taking him in.

Due to the investment, Ivan's performances are always of high quality, his costumes intricately made and his stages flamboyantly themed.

Since their relationship stands on business, it's most likely that Ivan was able to connect and partner with several brands due to his Guardian.

Ivan's relationship with his Guardian seems mutual, Ivan himself states it's "not bad". His Guardian provides him with what he needs to succeed and in return Ivan is obedient and always excels at what he's assigned to do. It seems as though Ivan's Guardian is often pleased with him, patting his head when he passes preliminaries and gathering other aliens to celebrate. One of the aliens even presents a bouquet of flowers, clapping their hands together.

Luka -> Guardian Heperu

Guardian Heperu is an alien with a round, squat head, bulging eyes and a pronounced neck. They seem to don a robe of some sort, paired together with a small hat.

Guardian Heperu seems to be yet another influential figure in alien society, possessing the resources necessary to invest in Luka's intensive training.

They also ensure that Luka's performances are always phenomenal, going so far as to rent out a special site for ROUND 5 (iirc, they performed ROUND 5 on the corpse of a large and powerful alien, hence the spine and bones you can see in the back of certain shots).

Guardian Heperu is an extremely envious figure who wished for a pet to trump all others, to stand above all the competitors unmatched.

Luka's unnatural conception and strict training is a result of Heperu's insecurity, the need to remain at the top constantly. Perhaps this desire ended up seeping into Luka as well.

Luka never fought back against the aliens, most likely because Heperu conditioned him to be the epitome of performative perfection since birth. How Luka interacted with his fellow humans was irrelevant, what mattered was how he interacted with the aliens who's opinions were of far greater worth. This may be why Luka seemed to be an outcast in the Anakt Garden yet a beloved prince in the eyes of the alien audience.

Luka directly refers to Heperu as "Father".

Hyuna -> Guardian ???

So far, Hyuna is the only character without even a sliver of alien connection. It makes sense, of course. She cut herself off from everything so long ago.

However, a sketch of Hyuna's alien was drafted all the way back during the production of Sweet Dream.

I'm not gonna spoil anything, but let me just say that's one hell of an alien.

Hopefully we get to see them soon!

#alnst #alien stage #alien stage guardians #idk how to tag this help

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mothpawbs · 1 year ago

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three queens who blister, blaze, and burn

i needed designs of the sisters for a thing i'm going to draw, here they are! design notes under the cut :)

NOTES: all three have two hair swoops in the front, dark markings around their eyes, and some kind of dark striping on their neck scales. the number of lower lashes they have denotes their birth order: burn has 0, blister has 1, blaze has 2. BURN: head shape and colors based on a lioness. has very heavy horns, a short-shorn crest like a high-and-tight cut, and rough, poorly healed scars. same colors as Oasis, with Char's build. wears a chestplate, as well as heavy, crushing plates on her stinger, and a lion's pelt around her shoulders as a cape. no jewelry. heavily inspired by the AnimatedWings design. BLISTER: narrow and snakelike, similar build to Oasis with Char's colors (opposite of Burn). has slim, sharp horns, an ashen palette, a tall crest, and black markings down her neck. is practically twins with Smolder. wears a black metal snake twisted along one ear, and a cape patterned with stars (inspired by @dragonskulls check out their blister design). also wears a replica Eye of Onyx, but made with black metal instead of gold and smaller. string of black pearls were a gift from Coral. BLAZE: pretty, round, and soft. she has a rosy tint, a long, luxurious crest, and all horns and claws are blunt and harmless. LOTS of jewelry. she likes gold, delicate chains and charms, and aquamarine. also wears a heavy, lined cloak with an enormous fur collar gifted to her by Glacier.

#digital art #mag art #wof #wings of fire #sandwing #royalty #burn #princess burn #blister #princess blister #blaze #princess blaze #headshot #bust #character design

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phoward89 · 10 months ago

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Banner by me, dividers by @saradika

Based on this ask

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Some cussing. Talks of prostitution. Manipulation. Implied forced body modification/mutilation. Mentions of murder/poison.

Now That We Don't Talk

The chill in the air made you shiver as you walked down the sidewalk towards Tigris’ boutique. Like every Wednesday you were meeting her for brunch. You only wished that you opted to take Coriolanus up on his offer to have the chauffeur take you since the winter winds were a bit harsh today. Of course, you declined his offer, telling him that you were meeting his cousin at her boutique this midmorning instead of the cafe where you usually went for your brunches with the kind hearted stylist.

Coryo wasn't happy with your answer but he accepted it nevertheless. He also told you to wear your new fur coat, the one he got you less than a month ago, since Lucretius ‘Lucky’ Flickerman's weather report predicted a cold, wintery day with the possibility of light snowfall.

After agreeing to wear the luxury fur coat (your fiance said it was a rare fur, Russian sable, and that you were the only in the Capitol to have it), Coriolanus rose from the dining room table only to give you a kiss on your temple and prepare to leave for an early morning meeting with some political strategist for his campaign.

Yes, your man was running for president of Panem.

Holding your coat closer together with your glove covered hand, you walked a tad bit faster. You were grateful that the walk to Tigris’ boutique wasn't too far from the penthouse you shared with Coriolanus. Meaning you didn't have to brave the cold too long. You hated the cold, but with how you were raised it's only a given that you'd hate it.

Upon seeing the scrolling print sign for Tigris' boutique swinging in the wind, you felt a sense of relief. In a matter of moments you'd be warm.

“Tigris, I'm here!” You called out to the blonde as soon as you set foot into the shop.

A girl with bubble gum pink hair was at the front counter of the shop. She smiled at you as her boss, Tigris, emerged from the back. You exchanged warm greetings and hugs before she ushered you down a hall and up the stairs that led to her condo.

“I'm sorry that we couldn't go to the cafe, but between requests and designing a new wardrobe for the victory tour, I've been swamped.” Tigris sweetly apologized for your change in plans as you removed your fur coat.

“It's fine, Tigris. I don't mind having brunch here.” You replied with a smile while hanging the coat up on the corner rack by the door.

The stylist's eyes took in the luxury fur hanging by her door and asked, “That's not the coat from my new line that I made for you. Did Coriolanus get it for you?”

“Yes.” You nodded, going over to the plush sofa. “He gave it to me a few weeks ago and insisted that I wear it today.” You innocently said, not understanding the true meaning behind Coriolanus’ actions.

Bless your heart, but you were innocent and you'd never think that your loving and caring boyfriend would do anything to hurt anyone, especially his cousin. But…that wasn't the case and his true reason for making telling you to wear your new Russian sable coat was to slight his cousin. To hurt Tigris since he knew she gave you the light pink peacoat with faux fur collar from her new line as a holiday gift.

Tigris weakly smiled, feeling sick to her stomach that you were so sweet and being led to the slaughter by her cold and calculating cousin, as she went to the kitchen to grab the charcuterie board she had prepared earlier for your brunch along with making the two of you some mimosas.

When she returned, she set the items on the coffee table only for you to frown and tell her, “You didn't put any alcohol in the orange juice, did you? Coryo doesn't like it when I drink outside of galas or when he's not with me.”

Tigris gave you a long look of disbelief, only to sigh, “He doesn't have to know you had a mimosa in my condo. What's brunch without mimosas?”

Shaking your head, you refused the drink. “He told me not to drink it so I won't. Please, just get me a plain orange juice.”

Tigris sighed heavily and was about to give into your request, but changed her mind whenever a large shiny diamond ring on your left ring finger caught her attention.

No.

No, you couldn't be.

Grabbing yout hand, she looked between you and the very large ring. “When did you start wearing this?”

“Coriolanus proposed last night.” You beamed, pulling your hand out of your friend's hold only to flick your hand up and admire the ring on your finger. “Coryo says it's one of a kind. That he designed it special for me.” Pointing to the ring, you explained the ring's design. “The large diamond in the middle's a rare pink diamond and all the white diamonds on the side are marquises. It's supposed to be a pink rose because those are my favorite flowers.”

Tigris felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach at hearing you happily tell her about the shackle her ruthless cousin had slipped on your finger hours ago.

She always thought that Coriolanus would grow bored of using you as his plaything and return you to your family. The star designer assumed that her cousin would push you away once he announced his intent to run as the youngest president of Panem. Tigris assumed that Coriolanus would spurn you because of your district background and latch onto a woman of impeccable Capitol breeding in his unquenchable thirst for power.

But she was wrong.

Coriolanus proposed and you said yes.

Now Tigris knew that she had to warn you about him if you had any chance of escaping him. Any chance at happiness. You weren't just her cousin's girlfriend fiance, but a dear friend of hers and she wanted you to be safe.

You'd never be safe with Coriolanus.

So, with a sad look in her soft blue eyes, the blonde woman told you, “Sweetheart, there's things about Coriolanus you don't know, but need to know.”

“Like what, Tigris?” You innocently asked, assuming that she was going to tell you a childhood story or something.

But what she told you wasn't a childhood story. No, what she told you made your eyes pop out of your head. Tigris, to your utter shock and horror, revealed all of Coriolanus' sins to you.

Sins that he never wanted you to know because he never wanted you to see him as anything but your loving and protective Coryo.

When Coriolanus came home you were in the kitchen finishing dinner. The smell had his mouth watering as he hung up his heavy maroon coat. He smiled to himself just thinking about how you'd never have to lift another finger in the kitchen ever again once he became president.

You'd have an entire kitchen full of the best private chefs for that. You'd be able to fill your evenings reading your ancient books and watching those trashy Capitol tv shows you enjoyed so much. Oh, and pleasing him at every whim.

“Dinner smells good, darling.” Coriolanus told you, stepping into the kitchen.

You nearly jumped, feeling a bit snuck up on, as you heard his baritone fill the air. You prayed that he didn't notice your jumpiness, but he did.

“What's wrong?” He asked, coming up behind you to wrap an arm around your waist in a comforting way.

But what should've felt like a comforting gesture didn't. In fact, his touch made you feel sick. His hands, covered in so much blood from all the murders he committed to rise up the political ranks, felt foreign as they touched you. His touch was that of the angel of death; not a lover, or at least that's how it felt after hearing his cousin’s damning words of warning earlier.

Shaking your head, you weakly assured him, “I'm fine, just tired’s all.”

“I told you, my darling rose, that you should've had the driver take you to Tigris’ for brunch. That it was too cold out for you to walk.” Coriolanus remarked before letting you go. “If you're getting ready to plate our food, I'll pour us some drinks.”

The thought of him pouring you a drink had you choking on air. Tigris' earlier words washed over you.

“He poisons people he deems as disposable or a threat to him, sweetheart. He offers them a drink and watches them die to tie up his loose ends.”

Before you knew what was happening, you were pushing past your fiance (nearly knocking him on his ass) and running out of the kitchen to the bathroom.

Concerned, Coriolanus followed you only to find you hunched over the toilet coughing and spitting up bile. Going over to the vanity, he turned on the sink and grabbed a small washcloth from the drawer they were stored in. He ran the white cloth under the cool water for a few moments before turning off the faucet and wringing out the washcloth.

Bending down next to you, he tucked your hair behind your ear and ran the cool cloth over your face. “Are you okay, darling? You're not coming down with something, are you?”

He couldn't help but hope that he knocked you up. He wanted nothing more than to tie you to him forever with a baby. Having a child with him would be more of a life binding contract then marriage. But he knew that morning sickness usually happened, well, in the morning.

His icy blue eyes looked at you with concern. Believe it or not, the cold man with a too small black heart truly did care about you and your well-being. Truth be told, you and the cat you twisted his arm into adopting were the only things on God's green earth that he gave a fuck about.

Hell, he didn't even give a shit about his own cousin these days, given how cold she was to him once he returned from his summer stint in District 12 as a peacekeeper all those years ago. Only reason he hasn't cut her off yet is because of you and how much you adore the fashionista bitch.

“I'm fine, just a bit tired.” You lied. Truth was you weren't fine. The fact that your fiance was a murderer that might end up poisoning you to get rid of you because of your inferior birth made your stomach churn.

Yes, Tigris had told you that Coriolanus looked down on district people. That he was disgusted by them and viewed them to be lower than gutter rats. She told you that she thought he would've grown tired of you, but now feared what he'd do to you since he wanted to marry you.

She told you that she felt her cousin had no real intentions on marrying you. That she was afraid he'd poison you (kill you) to gain sympathy and higher polling numbers for his campaign.

Now the blonde woman's words ran wild thru your head and you couldn't even look at the platinum blonde man who owned your heart the same way again.

“Perhaps you should go rest in our room.” Coriolanus suggested, thinking maybe some rest would make you feel better.

Coriolanus was wrong. Rest didn't make you feel better. Nothing made you feel better. In fact, in the days after your brunch with Tigris you started to pull away from him.

At first it was subtle, but then it became painfully obvious to him that you were pulling away. Especially when you stopped calling him Coryo. That's when he knew he no longer owned your heart.

Something was wrong and it drove him insane not knowing what it was. He couldn't figure out what had changed so drastically. It's as if you looked at him with undying love one day and then suddenly woke up to look at him with a fearful love the next.

A fearful love…

Damnit!

Did something scare you? Did somebody tell you something to make you shrink into yourself and become a shell? If they did, well, they'd pay for it.

Pay with their life.

He decided that he was confronting you tonight about being so distant. He was getting to the bottom of your problems because over a week of you not being the woman he fell for was enough. Coriolanus couldn't handle you pulling away from him anymore.

Goddamnit, he's gone too long without fucking you.

Enough was enough.

“Darling, we need to talk.” Coriolanus told you as soon as he got home from work.

You stared at him from your spot on the sofa as he hung up his coat. “About what?” You asked, your eyes flickering back to the book you had in your hand. It was an old one from the ancient pre-Panem days. Your fiance got it for you at some high-end auction house.

“Us.” The word was clipped as he let it out of his mouth.

You refused to look at Coriolanus as he crossed the room. Instead, you kept your eyes glued to the pages of Pride & Prejudice.

“Did I do something to make you pull away from me?” You heard him ask while stopping in front of you.

“No.” You half lied. He didn't do anything to you (yet), but it was the sins he committed in the past that had your head spinning. Deciding you didn't want to get into it with him, you simply said, “I'm not pulling away from you, Coriolanus. I've just been tired’s all.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not-” You began only for him to loom over you and shout, “Yes you are!”

The pressure had finally gotten to him. He finally snapped.

Yanking the book out of your hands and tossing it somewhere across the room, he ranted, “You won't call me Coryo anymore, my darling. You've been pulling away from me for over a week now and I need to know why. I miss the way you used the look at me, darling. Hell, I miss the way we used to be.”

Your eyes fell to the floor as you sighed, “I told you, I've just been tired.”

That was the wrong answer.

You should've told him the truth…

Coriolanus grabbed you by your upper arms with a tight, bruising force and pulled you to your feet, all the while yelling, “Stop fucking lying to me, darling! I can't handle your distance and lies anymore!” His chest wildly heaved up and down in anger as he added in, “I want to know what I did to make you stop loving me, my darling rose.”

You never stopped loving him and told him as much, which only prompted him to ask why you've been pulling away from him.

So now the truth you've been keeping from him flowed out of your mouth like a raging river.

“Tigris saw my ring and told me that you didn't mean to go thru with marrying me. That you'd just poison and kill me to boost votes for your campaign and gain sympathy as being the heartbroken lover.”

“What?” Coriolanus blinked his baby blues. He removed his hands from your arms, only to take your hands in his and lead you to sit down on the sofa. A soft look washed over his face as he assured you, “I'd never do that to you, darling."

Shaking your head, you cried, “She says that you've killed before for power and to climb the political ladder, Coriolanus.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you wailed, “And she told me that you're disgusted by district people, Coriolanus. That you view us as lower than gutter rats.”

It was true that he thought district people were scum, but it wasn't true that he viewed you that way. You weren't scum to him. You were better than where you were born. Hell, you lived in the Capitol for so long now that he doesn't even consider you District anymore.

“Tigris says that I don't matter to you; that you don't love me and will marry a girl of proper Capitol breeding once you dump poison in my drink.”

How dare his cousin tell you that he didn't love you?! He did love you. Hell, he was more obsessed with you then he ever was with the lying, treacherous, traitor, snake charmer of a whore singer he nearly destroyed his life over.

No, he loved you with everything he had inside of him. Despite being a dark creature that had no problems killing to get, keep, and maintain power, he truly did love you. You were the best thing that ever happened to him and he knew that he couldn't let his cousin turn you against him.

Coriolanus wanted, no needed, to be your Coryo again and he'd say anything to make it happen.

“I wish you would've told me what Tigris told you as soon as it happened, my darling rose.” Coriolanus sighed while wrapping his arms around you. Pulling you against his chest, his silver tongue weaved its magic with the perfect words to turn you against Tigris. “She's jealous that nobody wants her because, despite her impeccable reputation as a stylist, a lot of men remember that years ago she used to sell her body on the black market. Tigris is also upset that she became a stylist because I told Dr. Gaul that the tributes needed uniforms and interview outfits.” Threading his fingers thru your soft hair, he added in the final words he needed to make Tigris look like the villain in this story. “She's upset that it was me who made her who she is. Made her a star designer. And she's jealous that I have somebody when she doesn't because of some choices she made before I could make her stylist dreams come true.”

“I never knew Tigris sold herself.” You gasped, clearly a bit horrified at the thought of your friend doing sexual favors with men for money.

A large smug smirk spreads over Coriolanus' face as he continues to hold you close to his chest. Oh, he knew that he had you right where he wanted you. He had to lay it on thick so he'd be able to reel you in; have you under his thumb again. But he planned on having you look at him like you used to. He'd say and do anything to accomplish that too.

His voice quivered as he put on an act worthy of an academy award. “My darling rose, we don't talk anymore and it's killing me. The possibility of losing you because of some lies my jealous whore of a cousin told you because she's alone and miserable is heartbreaking.” He sucked in a breath, making you think that he was trying to prevent himself from breaking down, only to confess in a broken timbre, “I miss making love to you, darling.”

The phrase making love made his skin crawl as if spiders were underneath the epidermis, but he knew that to manipulate you back into his arms then he had to say it. After all, making love sounds more poetic than fucking your goddamn brains out does.

You lifted your head off his chest, only to look up into his icy blue eyes. Eyes that looked pitiful, like a kicked puppy’s, as he poured his heart out to you.

“I love you more than I ever thought possible, my darling rose. You consume me and losing you would destroy me. Turn me into a monster.” Coriolanus truthfully admitted. He wasn't lying about that, he was obsessed with you and knew deep down that if he ever lost you then he'd become a monster deadlier than anything that ever came out of Dr. Gaul's lab.

And that was scary considering at the moment he had no morals, just the compass of his late father to guide him.

His large, calloused hand cupped your cheek as he swore, “I will never hurt you, Y/N. And I will never ever kill you or try to.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, only to rest his forehead on yours and confess. “I love you, my darling rose.”

That phrase was one he never thought he'd utter, but he did it to reel you in. To make sure that you never left his side. He needed you just like he needed air to breathe, so if he had to make himself a bit weak by saying the love word to you then so be it.

Hearing him say ‘I love you, my darling rose’ made your fears and doubts about him fly right out the window. He'd never said that to you before, not until now, and you knew he meant it. That he said it because he loved you and didn't want you to leave him.

But you could never leave him. You loved him too much.

“I love you too, Coryo.” You softly smiled, looking at your hand still holding his.

Hearing you call him Coryo again was the signal Coriolanus needed to let him know that he'd won. You were once again his and under his control.

“I'm sorry I was being distant. I was just scared.” You apologized, feeling foolish for pushing your fiance away over hearsay.

Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, your fiance told you, “I know you were, darling. I only wished that you came to me so I could put your fears to rest.”

You believed that he loved you and wouldn't do you any harm, but you were still curious about one thing. “Coryo, have you poisoned people to climb up the political ladder; for power?”

“Of course not, Y/N.” He firmly denied, only to add in the rhetorical question of, “And why would I want to kill my political allies? Makes no sense, darling.”

Yes, why would he want to kill his political allies? You couldn't help, but think that he'd need his political connections alive since they'd be able to help him in elections better breathing than pushing up daisies.

What you didn't know was that Coriolanus craved power and would kill anyone to get it and keep it. Didn't matter who they were. But…you didn't need to know that.

All you needed to know was that he'd NEVER kill you.

“Yea, it doesn't make any sense.” You innocently agreed with your fiance.

Looking between you and the clock on the wall, he suggested, “We still have half an hour before the Justice Building closes for the night. Let's go have the Magistrate marry us.”

“You want to get married tonight?” You asked, wide-eyed, with a mix of excitement and disbelief in your voice.

No.

No, he didn't want to get married tonight. In fact, Coriolanus wanted to marry you in a lavish ceremony dripping in diamonds, gold, roses, and silk bunting in the presidential palace right after winning the election. But…he knew that Tigris made you doubt his intentions of making you Mrs. First Lady Snow so the only way to scrub that from your mind was to marry you right away.

“Yes.” He nodded. Pulling you to your feet, he simply instructed, “Go put on that white dress you wore for the winter gala, Mrs. Snow.”

The following morning Tigris’ heart sank into the pit of her stomach as she read the main headline in the political section of the newspaper.

Presidential Frontrunner Now A Family Man- Senator Coriolanus Snow & Long Time Girlfriend Wed Last Night In Private Ceremony

Tigris mourned for the loss of your freedom, of your life. She has no idea why you didn't heed her warnings, but she wished you did.

Before she could start to read the article, a knock sounded at her door. When she answered it, she found a pair of peacekeepers at her door. They told her that they had strict orders from Senator Snow to escort her to a very important appointment he had made for her.

It was an appointment that would change the rest of her life and if she knew what it was for, maybe she would've tried to run from the peacekeepers her cousin had doing his dark bidding.

You hadn't seen Tigris since you married Coriolanus. He said that it was for the best. Of course, you believed him. He married you when she said he wouldn't. Coriolanus had proved her a liar.

It's been roughly 5 months since you've been Mrs. Snow and you couldn't be happier, especially since you were expecting your first child with Coryo.

A baby boy.

A baby boy the two of you decided to name Cassian Xandros. It was to keep up the Snow tradition of the first born son having the initials C.X.S.

You thought it was so sweet how your husband wanted to uphold his family's traditions.

Too bad he didn't let you uphold any of the traditions you grew up with. Mhm…

“Are we still going to be on this campaign tour during the games?” You asked your husband, who was sitting in an armchair, sipping on coffee and reading the paper, in the luxury train carriage you shared.

“We’ll go back to the Capitol for the games; then we'll continue the campaign tour.” He explained while turning the page of his newspaper.

You were reading your favorite book, Pride & Prejudice, whenever Coriolanus stood up and walked over to where you were resting on the sofa. Folding the paper, so only one page was visible, he handed it to you and solemnly said, “Darling, you need to see this.”

“What is it? A drop in your poll numbers?” You innocently asked, setting your book aside and reaching for the paper.

“No, it's something very unsettling.” He said as you took the paper from his large hand.

You wondered what was so unsettling in the paper, but soon got your answer as you read the headline in the current events column.

Star Stylist Tigris Has Transformed Into Her Namesake, A Tiger

As if that wasn't enough, the picture of her transformed face made you gasp. She no longer looked like herself, but truly did look like a tiger. She had plastic surgery and tattoos to modify her face, neck, and chest. Black lines zig zagged all over her and her once blue eyes were now a bright yellow with thick, sweeping liner. She even had whisker implants and her upper lip split to mimic the mouth of a cat. Even her hair was different. The once light blonde locks now had chunk black highlights in it.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Why would she do that? She was so pretty…

You must've asked your question out loud, because the next thing you know your husband's sitting next to you, sighing, “I don't know why, my darling rose. She was pretty, but now nobody will ever want her.” Taking the paper from you and passing you back your book, he knowingly said, “If only she didn't tell you lies; try to break us up. Then she wouldn’t be alone.”

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corruptedcaps · 6 months ago

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Furacious

Mel had never believed her best friend Gina’s notion that their bully Kayla had a magic fur coat that made her beautiful and evil.

"But she doesn't even wear it everyday, wouldn't she need to?" Mel had said before, trying to bring her friend back down to earth.

"She doesn't need to wear it everyday! Just as long as no one takes it from her, then she remains gorgeous and bitchy." Gina had replied matter of factly when asked.

Gina always had an answer for any question Mel had about the coat, always had a reason why they needed to take the coat from Kayla. It was why Mel found herself in the girls bathroom, crouched in a stall waiting for their bully to show up.

Maybe it was also because when it came to bullying targets, Kayla seemed almost drawn to always picking on Gina. It was almost as if Kayla had it out specifically for Gina. Mel wanted to try and lift her spirits even if it meant agreeing to do this crazy plan.

As they waited inside the bathroom stalls, they finally heard the door creak open. Mel and Gina exchanged a tense glance, their breaths shallow as they pressed themselves against the cold, tiled walls.

The soft click of Kayla's heels echoed through the empty bathroom, each step a reminder of their impending confrontation. Mel clenched her fists, steeling herself for what was to come.

Kayla approached the mirror, oblivious to the girls hiding just a few feet away. She adjusted the fur coat around her shoulders, its luxurious fabric shimmering under the fluorescent lights.

"Now," Gina yelled, causing Mel to slam open her door. Mel ran at Kayla who easily side stepped her without taking her eyes off her reflection.

“Oh please, don’t be so pathetic, you could never ruin my perfection.” Kayla sneered. Mel stumbled back, her cheeks burning with humiliation. Kayla finished applying a layer of lipstick and turned to face Mel.

“I don’t know what you thought you’d achieve with your little stunt loser but it’ll be a distant memory when me and my girls get through with you. They’ll be here any minute.” Kayla smirked stalking up to Mel.

However as Kayla was focused on Mel she didn’t hear the door to another stall open as Gina crept out and silently approached from behind, a determined glint in her eye. With a swift motion Gina knocked Kayla out with a heavy metal trash can.

Mel's eyes widened in shock. “What did you do?” She exclaimed, her voice trembling, thinking Kayla could be dead. But Gina didn’t respond. She’s was already crouched over Kayla, hands deftly sliding the coat off her unconscious body.

“Taking back what’s mine!” Gina replied, a wild, almost manic look on her face.

As the fur coat slipped away, something incredible happened. Kayla’s elegant features began to change. Her once perfect, shiny hair lost its luster, becoming dull and frizzy. Her flawless skin broke out in pimples, and her magnificent tits shrunk into tiny A cups. Within moments, Kayla had transformed into a nerdy, unremarkable girl, her previous beauty and allure entirely gone.

Mel gasped, unable to believe her eyes. “It’s true. The coat really does have power!”

“Of course it’s real, you moron.” Gina said suddenly, her tone cold and superior. “But it’s mine! This poser stole it from me and you’ve helped me get it back!” Gina giggled evilly as she slipped into the coat, the luxurious fur enveloping her.

Mel watched in horror as Gina began to transform. Her features sharpened and her hair grew shinier, blonder, cascading in perfect waves. Her clothes shrunk and became more fashionable under the coat, grafting onto her new slimmer form. Her posture straightened, and a cruel, confident smile spread across her face. She become even more striking and beautiful than Kayla.

As Gina’s transformation completed, Mel’s mind flooded with memories, fragments of the past she had somehow forgotten. Kayla was actually a girl named Kay, and she’s wasn’t their bully. She was Mel’s best friend, it was Gina who was the bully, but everyone knew her as….

“No,” Mel whispered, the realization hitting her like a punch to the gut. “Regina...”

Kay, now transformed back to her true self, stirred on the floor, groaning softly. Mel rushed to her side, helping her sit up. “Kay, are you okay?”

“Mmmm I feel reality shifting back to normal finally! Too long have I been stuck as the bullied loser she made me be. Now that I have my coat back, I’m unstoppable. I have my nasty friends, my hot boyfriend and my rich parents. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Regina laughed, the sound chilling in its malevolence.

“We’ll see about that.” Mel said rising from the ground and running at Regina.

Mel tackled Regina against the wall, her adrenaline surging. They grapple fiercely, but Regina's new athletic body made her too strong and agile. With a swift movement, she slipped out of Mel’s grasp.

“Ugh, you're getting your loser germs all over my gorgeous coat.” Regina sneered. “I was going to bully you less for helping me get my property back, but I’ll just have to make you my prime victim instead.” She laughed, a cruel sound that filled Mel with rage.

Fuelled by anger, Mel pushed Regina with all her might. Regina stumbled backwards, tripping over Kay who was still on the ground. Mel instinctively reached out to grab Regina, her hand catching the lapel of the open coat causing Regina to slip out of the coat. She tumbled onto the ground, landing heavily on top of Kay.

Mel stood there, the coat now in her hands. It felt almost alive, the fur soft and warm against her skin. She suddenly heard a tempting voice whispering in her head, promising power, beauty, and the ability to stand up to anyone. The desire was almost irresistible.

“Give that back, Mel! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Regina said her eyes wide with panic.

But Mel couldn’t hear a thing except for the voice inside her head as the coat throbbed in her hands.

“Put me on Mel, I can make you ever more beautiful than they were, even more powerful, even more-” The voice began.

“Evil? No chance. I won’t do that to my friends!” Mel said in her head steadfast.

“Friends? Look at those two on the ground. They didn’t hesitate to bully you. Do you think they wouldn't hesitate to put me on and do it again? Isn't it Mel's turn be the bully? To be the bitch? To be Melanie!” The voice purred.

Mel looked down at Kay and Regina, both disheveled and vulnerable. A sudden feeling of superiority bubbled up inside her. In both realities she was always the one to endure the bullying, to stand on the sidelines. Now, with the coat’s power in her grasp, she had the chance to finally be the one in control.

“Maybe you’re right…” Mel murmured, her resolve weakening. The idea of having power over those who had tormented her was intoxicating. She could make them pay, make them feel the way she had felt for so long.

Regina’s eyes widen in fear as she saw the telltale shift in Mel’s expression. “Mel, don’t do it,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “You don’t know what it’s like. It will change you.”

But the voice in Mel’s head drowned out Regina’s words. “They deserve what comes next,” it whispered seductively. “You deserve to give it to them. Put me on.”

For a moment, Mel hesitated. But then, the promise of power became too much to resist. As Mel slipped her arms into the coat, she immediately felt a surge of energy coursing through her body. Throwing her head back, she felt wave after wave of pleasure course through her body.

The first change she felt was her hair. It lengthened, cascading down her back in glossy, perfectly straightened locks that shimmered in the light. The dull brown transformed into a dark mane of black hair, each strand glistening as if freshly conditioned.

“Oh fuck yesss! Make me a slutty bad bitch!” She moaned.

Next, her lips began to tingle. They plumped up, becoming fuller and more defined, with a natural rosy hue that made them look like they’d just been touched with the perfect shade of lipstick. A subtle, sweet taste lingered on them, as if she had just applied an expensive lip balm.

“Mmmm these lips will look so hawt wrapped around my boyfriend’s cock.” She giggled as she felt reality shift to gift her with Kayla/Regina’s boyfriend Adam.

Mel’s face started to shift as well. Her skin smoothed out, becoming flawless and radiant. Makeup appeared as if by magic, her eyelashes grew longer and thicker, perfectly curled and coated with mascara.

Her chest tingled and swelled, her modest boobs growing in size to become mouth watering tits. Next to change were her clothes. Her simple jeans became slick and black to match her hair. Her t-shirt morphed into a stylish, form-fitting top that barely contained her new boobs. The fabric was luxurious, feeling cool and smooth against her skin.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I’ve always wanted big juicy tits and I’m going to use these to get whatever I want.” She said in a new bratty tone.

Her nails extended and reshaped, becoming perfectly manicured with a glossy finish. They looked like they’d just been done at a high-end salon, each one flawless and uniform.

Finally, a sense of overwhelming confidence and superiority washed over her. She stood taller, her posture perfect, exuding an air of power and arrogance that she had never felt before. Mel was no longer the timid girl she once was, the coat had transformed her into a vision of beauty and strength, ready to take on anyone who stood in her way. She had become Melanie.

Melanie primped herself in the mirror, her fingers running through her newly transformed hair. She admired the flawless makeup, the perfect lips, and the luxurious outfit. With a smirk, she pulled out her phone and took a selfie, reveling in her new appearance. The rush of narcissism was intoxicating, and she couldn’t get enough of her reflection.

Meanwhile, Kay leaned close to Gina and whispered, “Look, we both know she doesn’t deserve the coat. Let’s overpower her and take it. We can decide later which one of us gets it. Agreed?”

Gina nodded, a determined look in her eyes. The two girls stood up, ready to confront their old punching bag. But Melanie, now imbued with the coat’s heightened senses, heard their plotting. She turned to them, her sneer full of disdain.

“I heard you, idiot,” Melanie snapped. “You two morons can try and take MY beautiful coat from me, but you’re going to fail.”

Her voice dripped with contempt, and she squared her shoulders, ready to defend her newfound power. Kay and Gina exchanged a glance, readying themselves for the confrontation.

That's when the bathroom door swung open. A group of bully girls entered, their presence filling the room with an air of menace. They had once been Kayla’s gang, and before that, Regina’s, but the coat had warped reality so that their new queen bee was, and always had been, Melanie.

“Hey babe, you were taking a while, so we thought we’d check on you. These dorks bothering you?” One girl asked, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Kay and Gina not remembering either of them as her former leader.

Melanie’s triumphant smirk widened. She put her hands on her hips, radiating confidence. “They were trying to, but they forgot that I’m the queen bitch around here, didn’t they, girls?”

The gang of bully girls nodded eagerly, their loyalty to Melanie unquestionable. They formed a protective semi-circle around her, their expressions mirroring her disdain for Kay and Gina.

Kay and Gina exchanged nervous glances, realizing that their chances of overpowering Melanie had just plummeted. Along with beauty, Melanie now also had the social power and backing that came with the coat. The reality-bending magic had made her the undisputed leader of the pack.

“Give them a shower girls.” Melanie said with a click of her fingers and her betas jumped to action quickly grabbing Gina and Kay. As the gang of girls lifted Gina and Kay into the open stalls readying to flush, Melanie meanwhile turned on her $500 heels preparing to leave. Losers like Gina and Kay were beneath her time, especially when she had a new life to live.

However before she left she took one last fleeting look back at the sight of her new friends dunking her old ones in the toilet and smiled darkly to herself, it felt good to be so bad.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #corrupted clothing #power transfer #fur coat #cc2024

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sillylittlestoryblog · 10 months ago

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Keeping me warm

Part 1

Trafalgar Law x Reader

Warning: None I guess. Maybe awkward writing because I wrote this at 3 am while I couldn’t sleep ( it was storming ) and english isn’t my first language. Plus I haven’t written anything in ages so pls don’t judge to much.

Summery: basically just fluffy and angsty thoughts while freezing. Idk lol (I need sleep)

If you however do enjoy this, positive words are great for anyone’s mental health. Have fun.

The howling of the wind was unbearable. The crew members sat close together in the dark cave. It had been two days since the raging ice storm. Of course, no one had planned to stay in this place for so long. But just the thought of going outside into the cold made even the bravest pirates' legs shiver.

After even the stubborn captain of the Straw Hat Pirates had admitted that it no longer made any sense, everyone realized that they would have to sit out this storm.

The cave came in handy. Together with the Heart Pirates, the Straw Hats had anchored on this winter island.

The Sunny had been through a lot and Franky had actually planned to get some material for repairs in the small fishing village. Since only a few days had passed since the last major battle and the Surgeon of death was still busy patching up crew members, his crew was more than happy to take a break. A few days off couldn't hurt anyone.

You remember how Nami had been upset, crying that she would rather have stopped off at a nice summer island or at a luxurious spa. A vacation wasn't often granted to the Straw Hats. You had comforted her and said that a bit of snow could certainly be fun.

And oh how wrong you were.

You regret your words of encouragement as you sat shivering between your friends. An icicle hung from Usopp's nose as he desperately tried to warm himself by the small campfire.

"I'm hungry," Luffy's voice penetrated the silence. He said what everyone was thinking. Sanji was still trying to conjure up something edible from the few remnants that had survived the avalanche. But even the usually so positive cook didn't really know how to help himself.

Bepo and Chopper had suddenly become the most popular crew members. Everyone was secretly hoping to snuggle up in their warm furs and perhaps sleep despite the loud storm.

The only one who seemed to be able to sleep without the warmth of the two was Zoro. Once again, you envied him for having the talent to sleep in any situation.

Your eyes glanced over to the other pirate crew. Captain Law was sitting on a rock, looking into the void. He also seemed to be cold, but tried to hide it. Under no circumstances could he show any weakness. That would only make the situation worse and ruin the group‘s mentality. He scowled at the other captain, who kept shouting for food and jumping up and down. How could he still have that much energy ?

Law just rolled his eyes whenever he thought of the strawhat.

His mind wandered again and he looked in the other direction as unobtrusively as possible. From his seat, he had a good view of everyone. So he could keep a good eye on each member of his crew. At least that's what he told himself.

He also wanted to keep an eye on you.

Trembling, you sat between Nami and Robin. The older one had taken off her dark cloak and wrapped it around the three of you like a blanket. It was a nice gesture, but it didn't seem to do much good. But at least you weren't as stubborn as some others. The cook had refused to lean against one of the other men, preferring to rather run off to the other corner of the cave on his own. He must have been freezing, Law saw him looking enviously at the floor where Zoro had been snoring quietly for hours.

Yesterday, the motivation had been a bit higher. Everyone was sure that the storm wouldn't last that long and that the sky would soon be clear again. But this was the Grandline after all. No one could really predict the weather conditions.

Brook had wrote a little song, strawhat-ya had bounced happily back and forth and the cooks of both crews had roasted fish over the campfire.

You had smiled from time to time.

A warm feeling shot through Laws body.

Your eyes had sparkled in the light of the fire and he had to turn his gaze to you again and again. You were so beautiful.

Before you became part of the friendly crew, it had always bothered Law to spend too much time with the Straw Hats. They were loud, inconsiderate and constantly meddled in other people's problems. Above all, the parties that the rubber man regularly announced were law's worst nightmare. Loud singing, food and booze everywhere and always the strangest of people. He would much rather be in his study or in a quiet library, hoping desperately to escape the chaos.

But this feeling changed abruptly after you became part of the crew. He spotted you straight away. He quickly noticed a new face. And what a face it was. He had wanted to talk to you all evening. But someone was always glued to you, if it wasn't Nami, the captain or Chopper, it was the annoying cook who jumped around you with hearts in his eyes. Asking you for company, mixing you special drinks or turning up with a hot soufflé in one and a bouquet of flowers in the other hand.

Law had been uncomfortable, but he hadn't dared to speak to you. Nico Robin had told him over dinner how much you liked to read and that had only increased his interest.

Yet he hadn't made any effort to talk to you. You probably hadn't even noticed him.

You had noticed Trafalgar Law immediately.

Of course you knew his Wanted poster, as well as the many stories about the captain of the Heart Pirates. Luffy was always talking enthusiastically about Tra Guy and the other Nakama usually had the best stories to tell. Franky once told you how intelligent Law was, when you painted one of the rooms on the Sunny together. Usopp told you how badass his powers were. And Chopper had raved to you about his medical talent.

Since then, you had often asked the other girls about him. With completely neutral intentions, of course.

That's why Nami and Robin weren't at all surprised by the way you looked at him when you first met. Nami had rolled her eyes and laughed: "You look at him like you're Luffy and he's a piece of meat." You had sent her a dirty look, but your body had already betrayed you. Your cheeks were warm and your heart began to beat a little faster. Robin had just giggled and left you two alone.

When you thought back to that evening, your face flushed again. You sincerely hoped that you hadn't made a fool of yourself.

In the cold cave, these thoughts were the only thing that seemed to keep you warm. Again and again your thoughts seemed to wander to him. A glance in his direction couldn't hurt, could it?

Cautiously and not at all obviously, you let your eyes wander.

Your eyes wandered over the body in the dark coat. How you wish you could put it on your own body now.

His dark hair peeks out from under the white cap he always wore. You had to remind yourself of Nami's words two days ago. Maybe she was right. On a warm island, you would certainly have had the chance to see Law without his hat. How much you would have liked to see all of his hair. And you also felt that his eyes were always shrouded in shadow.

Eyes that you wished you knew the color of.

Eyes that always seemed to avoid yours.

Eyes that could never lose focus while in a fight.

Eyes that just swept over your body.

Eyes that met yours all at once.

Your head quickly turned to the side. Was he looking at you?! Just pretend you were doing something else. Had Robin been talking to you? You desperately tried to get your friend's attention. You feel like you've been caught. The familiar feeling of warmth returns even stronger than before. Robin had definitely been the wrong choice for your excuse. She couldn’t have been talking to you, of course, if you hadn't wasted your time ogling Law, you would have noticed how Robin's dark hair had landed on your shoulder. She'd been sleeping quietly next to you for a few minutes.

Damn. Now you were sure. He had caught you. Cautiously, your gaze drifted back.

Law's gaze was also averted but his cheeks were blushed. And his gorgeous eyes had disappeared behind his cap again.

Law's chest was suddenly incredibly warm. Why hadn't he been paying more attention? Of course you'd catch him staring at you. Hopefully you didn't think anything bad of him. Nothing would be worse than that.

You were probably used to being stared at. The cook could hardly take his eyes off you three Strawhat ladies. But had Law just looked at you the same way? As he pulled his coat closer around him, he hoped fervently that his eyes didn't turn into hearts every time he looked in your direction.

With the most serious expression he could fake in this moment, he tried again.

But he hadn't expected your eyes to still be on him. Law was turning as red as a tomato. The warm feeling was everywhere again. And now he really couldn't be sure if his gray eyes hadn't turned into big hearts.

Because you were looking at him. And he looked back.

A small smile flitted across your face.

And Law awkwardly smiled back.

The cold and the storm were long forgotten. While the others were freezing and dreaming of warm summer light or cozy blankets,

two pirates were infinitely warm.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons #nami #monkey d. luffy

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