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dreamwritesimagines · 7 months ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [31] - Secrets

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Keeping secrets from business partners can lead to issues.

Word Count: 3300

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well if that didn’t prove your worth as a potential heir, you didn’t know what would.

For a couple of seconds, no one spoke. You could feel Bucky’s quizzical glances on you but you managed not to look at him or your father who was staring at you in shock.

Ian was the first to break the silence.

“Chicago?” he asked and scoffed. “I know you’re new to this whole thing and Bucky doesn’t share everything with you, but Chicago is impossible.”

You let a smirk curl your lips and turned to the rest of the table.

“A deal with Chicago would ensure—”

“We can’t get Chicago,” Ian cut you off and you arched a brow.

“You can’t,” you told him. “I can.”

“How?” Natasha asked and you shrugged your shoulders, leaning back in your chair.

“Rhett is an old friend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the puzzled expression on Bucky’s face and as much as you wanted to explain it to him, you reminded yourself that it could wait. Steve pulled his brows together while Sam looked between you and Bucky, and Tony sat up straighter.

“You’re telling me you know the king of Chicago?”

“No Tony, I’m telling you the king of Chicago trusts me.”

“Why?”

“Because I made sure of that.”

“And you didn’t bother telling us about this?” Clint asked Bucky and that made you finally look at him. Bucky stared at you in silence, a fire burning in his eyes before he clenched his jaw and turned to Clint.

“Matter of trust I guess,” he said curtly, drumming his fingertips on the table and you could feel your stomach doing an unpleasant flip at the sight of carefully controlled fury on his face, then took a deep breath.

“The underworld in Chicago works a bit differently than here,” you said. “They never had the need to do business with any other cities and no, Rhett wouldn’t do business with any of you. Bucky knowing me or being married to me wouldn’t have changed anything either, Rhett will want to make a deal with someone he actually knows.”

“No,” your father spoke for the first time. “You’re not getting involved in this Y/N.”

“With all due respect father, your heir is obliged to listen to you,” you said and shot him a small smile. “I’m not.”

“But hold on,” Yelena asked. “How do you know him?”

You liked the night life in Chicago almost as much as in New York. While your and Becca’s surnames made sure you could get into any place in New York, it also meant that there was more of a chance of someone in the club letting your father or Becca’s father know you were there. More often than not, you’d run into Steve or Sam or Bucky—

No.

You weren’t going to think about Bucky.

Bucky was a fucking asshole.

“All I’m saying is that you broke up more than a year ago—” Isla shouted over the music as the bartender put your drinks in front of you. “And don’t get me wrong, Ethan is cute and all but he can’t keep giving you puppy dog eyes whenever you’re around.”

“He’s not,” you said, leaning back to the bar as you took a sip of your cocktail, keeping your gaze on your other friends who were still dancing on the dancefloor.

“Yes he is,” Isla said. “Even Bradley is aware of it.”

“Well Bradley was the one who introduced us,” you reminded her with a grin and she rolled her eyes.

“And I apologize for my boyfriend’s lack of foresight,” she said. “No seriously, you need to move on.”

“I did move on!”

“But you still feel guilty.”

“I don’t,” you argued as someone took the spot next to you by the bar and Isla repressed a grin, giving you a look. You turned your glances to the person to see him eyeing you up and down, and he smiled at you as soon as he realized you were looking at him.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Tommy.”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself and he nodded.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I already have a drink,” you stated with a grin, holding up your cocktail glass and he hummed.

“Ah,” he said. “I guess I can wait until you finish that one then?”

“So you’ll just watch me drink?”

“Sounds like a plan—” he started but was cut off when another guy walked through the crowd to nod at you, then mutter something into his ear. Tommy’s eyes widened and he put his beer bottle on the counter.

“Sorry,” he said without so much as a glance at you, then walked away from you.

“The fuck?” Isla muttered while you arched a brow, glaring at the guy.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Kyle. My boss wanted me to tell you that everything you ladies drink tonight is on the house.”

Isla blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“And he asks if you’d like to join him upstairs,” Kyle told you, making your eyes narrow in fury. “Your friends are welcome to join as well, of course.”

Ah.

Well, that explained things.

This whole nonsense of getting someone intimidated with a mere order was way too familiar to you, and you clicked your tongue while Isla shifted her weight.

“Um, Y/N maybe we should go somewhere else…”

“It’s fine,” you assured her. “I got it. Kyle, isn’t it?”

He nodded, stealing a look at the mezzanine where a couple of guys were having a conversation on. You couldn’t exactly make out the faces from the club lights, but if you had to guess, the guy who didn’t look interested in the conversation and was instead leaning on the rails and watching the crowd had to be Kyle’s boss.

“And your boss’s name?”

“Rhett Davis.”

The prince of Chicago.

Lovely.

“Great,” you said. “Well Kyle, why don’t you go and tell your boss that I don’t appreciate him interrupting my conversations and I’m not a fucking dog to go to him when he whistles, hm?”

Kyle gawked at you. “He’s—”

“I know who he is, our fathers are in the same line of business,” you told him, making his eyes widen.

“Y/N?” Isla said and you waved a hand in the air.

“Everything is alright, don’t worry.”

“Whose daughter are you?” Kyle asked and you gave him a smirk.

“I believe you have a message to deliver, Kyle. Run along now.”

Kyle hesitated only for a moment before walking away from you to climb the stairs and you turned to Isla.

“What was that?” she asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Long story,” you said as your friends called out your and Isla’s names, motioning at you to join them on the dancefloor. You let out a laugh, and shook your head.

“I think I’ll finish my drink, but you go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, go,” you said with a smile, pushing her gently and she walked to the dancefloor while you sucked on the straw of your cocktail. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to send a quick text to Becca, letting out a small laugh when you saw her response.

It was only when you lifted your head from your phone that you saw the bartender’s eyes widening before you felt someone step forward to take the spot beside you, making you look over your shoulder before you turned around.

The infamous prince of Chicago was hot, even you had to admit. He had to be only a couple years older than you; his disheveled curly hair giving him an air of nonchalance, and his blue eyes sparkling even under the club lights, reminding you of Bucky’s just a bit. There was a small smirk playing on his lips and when he motioned at the bartender for a drink, you could see the tattoos scattered along his muscular arms before you forced yourself to raise a brow at him, but that just made his smirk bigger.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he said calmly, then offered his hand. “I’m Rhett.”

You tilted your head, then shook his hand before introducing yourself as well and he pulled his brows together.

“The prettiest girl in the club is New York’s underworld princess,” he commented. “Figures.”

“And the cockiest guy in the club is Chicago’s underworld prince,” you said, your voice silky. “Shocker.”

That made him chuckle and he raised his hands, gesturing surrender. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Makes one of us.”

He looked genuinely entertained at your snappy retort as you finished your empty cocktail glass down and he motioned at the bartender for a refill which made him rush to prepare your drink as fast as he could. You raised your brows.

“I can order my own drinks, thank you.”

He hummed.

“Well, I can’t have you return to New York and tell your daddy Chicago was anything but nice to you.”

“And you want to be nice to me?”

“Depends,” he said, his unwavering gaze sending a fire your cheeks. “Do you want me to be nice to you?”

You could feel your heartbeat getting faster but you chastised yourself in your head, then scrunched up your nose.

“I don’t date or sleep with people in the business,” you told him as the bartender put your drink in front of you. “So you can go away now.”

Rhett’s amused smile widened. “Are you ordering me around in my own city, Y/N?”

A smirk curled your lips and you heaved a deep sigh.

“Someone has to,” you said. “Are you telling me you’re not good at following orders, Rhett?”

“I’m good at giving them.”

You pouted your lips, then took a sip of your drink.

“Well,” you said. “Turns out you and I have something in common then.”

“I went to college in Chicago,” you told Yelena. “We kind of ran into each other.”

Your father’s frown deepened. “And you didn’t think to mention that?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” you told him. “I met a lot of people in Chicago, Rhett just happens to be the most important one for business, that’s all.”

Bucky nodded to himself slowly, still keeping quiet as he fixed his gaze on the table, but you could see him clenching his jaw.

“And you’re confident that you can convince him to make a deal with New York?” Steve asked and you nodded.

“As long as we have a good offer.”

“I can show you the latest offer we made him,” Clint told you. “You can go over it so that you know what he refused the last time.”

“Yeah, that would be—” you started but was cut off when someone knocked on the door, then stepped inside. The bodyguard approached Natasha to mutter something to her ear, making her grit her teeth, then she pushed her chair back, Yelena jumping on her feet.

“Nat?” Steve asked and she took a deep breath.

“There’s been an attack on my territory,” she said curtly. “I must cut this short.”

“Of course,” your father said as everyone stood up as well, Clint already walking outside with Natasha and Steve and Sam going after them. Tony nodded at you before he walked away as well and you stole a look at Bucky who was walking to the door without so much as sparing you a glance but before you could say anything, you heard your father’s voice.

“Y/N, a word?”

“Um,” you blinked a couple of times. “Bucky—”

“See you at home,” he said, still not looking at you and he walked out of the room, making your stomach do an unpleasant flip.

“Leave us,” your father told Ian and even though he looked like he wanted to protest, he heaved a sigh and left the room as well. You sat back on your seat, drumming your fingertips on the table.

“Yes?”

“Was it you?”

You tilted your head. “Hm?”

“The first attack on the shipment,” he said, making your stomach drop. “Before the raid. Was it you?”

Fear surrounded you so fast that for a couple of seconds, you couldn’t hear anything because of the blood rushing in your ears, making your hearing muffled. The invisible fist around your throat was getting tighter and tighter but you forced yourself to keep your expression as calm as possible.

“Is that what we’re doing now?” you asked. “Blaming each other?”

“Was it you?”

“No!” you exclaimed, a hysterical laugh escaping from your lips. “Is that what Ian told you? What, he wants to kill me now, is that it?”

“No one is going to touch a hair on your head, I just want to know—”

“I would be killed if anyone suspected I broke the truce!”

“I will cover it if you did break the truce,” your father told you, making you pull back slightly.

“…What?”

“Do you seriously think I’d let anyone harm you?” he asked. “Are you that blind? You’re my daughter, I would start a war against all these families if they tried to do anything to you.”

“Truce is important—”

“Anyone who tries to harm you will meet their death,” he told you, looking you in the eye. “No exceptions.”

You swallowed thickly. “Even Ian?”

“Even Ian,” he said without hesitation, making you gawk at him. “Tell me the truth. Was it you?”

You dug your fingernails into your palms and took a deep breath, then shook your head.

“No,” you rasped out. “But I’m not going to pretend I’m not happy that it happened.”

He held your gaze in his as if trying to see whether you were lying or not, then leaned back on his seat as well.

“And this Rhett deal?”

“We used to hang out when I was in Chicago,” you said. “Simple as that. I know how he operates, me knowing him wouldn’t have worked if you or Bucky or anyone else tried to make a deal with him. He will want someone in the business.”

“And you are in the business now?” he asked you and you clicked your tongue.

“I am.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I don’t like most of the decisions you make when it comes to business,” you retorted. “Especially recent ones, but here we are.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before a rare smile curled his lips and he let out a loud laugh.

“Never the one to shy away from honesty, are you?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Learned from the best.”

He reached out to squeeze your hand, making you smile as well.

“Wine?” he asked and you turned your glances to the door, biting inside your cheek before turning to him again.

“Bucky will be busy I guess,” you said. “Sure, wine works.”

As you expected, when you returned home Bucky wasn’t there. In fact, he didn’t return home until early in the morning, and by that time guilt was already churning your insides. If it were him who pulled what you had in the meeting, convincing you to make him a part of the meeting only to reveal he had a different plan in mind, you would be furious as well so you understood why he hadn’t bothered coming home last night.

Didn’t mean you liked it though.

You tried not to get discouraged when he ignored your “good morning” and went straight upstairs to take a shower while you sat by the kitchen island, pushing your breakfast around, petting Alpine with your other hand. Being nervous wasn’t new to you but this was the first time you were sure that Bucky was actually pissed, and you didn’t know why it bothered you so much, but it did.

So when you heard him walking downstairs, you sat up straighter, doing your best to ignore the tension in the pit of your stomach.

“Buck?”

He only hummed, putting his cufflinks on and you licked your lips as Alpine jumped from the counter.

“Can we talk?”

“Now you want to talk?” he asked, still not looking at you and you bit at your fingernail.

“Yeah,” you said. “Listen, I know it looks like I went behind your back.”

“You did go behind my back,” he corrected you and you pushed yourself off the stool, clenching and unclenching your fists.

“I get that you’re upset,” you stated and he scoffed.

“No shit I’m upset,” he said. “All this time I thought we had a deal, that we were in this together but you…what, you just decided to keep me out?”

“What does it matter?” your voice was way too defensive and he stared at you.

“You can’t be that self-centered,” he said. “Right? No one can be that self-centered.”

“Bucky—”

“Newsflash Y/N, I’m supposed to be informed about your fucking strategy if I am a part of it!”

“You were informed about the strategy you were a part of,” you defended yourself and he gritted his teeth.

“And the rest?”

“I—you—” you stammered. “I have been planning this for a long time Bucky, I’m not going to just…”

“You’re not going to just trust me?”

You rubbed at your eyes, then took a deep breath.

“I need to prove myself to others,” you said, trying to keep your voice stable. “I need to make sure that everyone around that table prefers me to Ian—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Me having a direct connection to Rhett will ensure that,” you continued as if he didn’t cut you off. “And it will be good for business—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It will give a message—”

“Tell me why you didn’t!”

“Because you could take it from me!” you snapped back before you had the chance to stop yourself. “And it was my move, it was my strategy, it was my plan, okay? No one else’s!”

Pain flashed over his handsome features and he stared at you as silence fell upon the room. You closed your eyes for a moment, reminding yourself to be calm despite the tension clenching your muscles together and opened them again, clenching and unclenching your fists to focus.

“I didn’t—” you stammered. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He was quiet for a couple of seconds before he took a deep breath.

“Nothing I do makes a difference to you, does it?” he asked, his voice low. “No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to prove to you that I…”

You tried to fix your breathing. “You what?”

A dry laugh climbed up his throat and he shook his head. “Never mind.”

You could feel your eyes burning but you tried to focus as he ran a hand through his hair, then clenched his jaw as if trying to pull himself together.

“You’ll make a great boss,” he rasped out and your head shot up, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards.

“…Thank you.”

A painful smile pulled at his lips. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

Your brows pinched together in confusion and he shook his head slightly, grabbing his jacket off the hanger.

“You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my entire life,” he told you. “And there’s no one you wouldn’t waste just to get what you want. You’ll be the best among us, I’d say.”

An ache appeared in your chest. “Bucky, can we please—”

“You wanted to be business partners?” he asked as he put his jacket on, his piercing gaze pining you to your spot. “Fine. But don’t fucking come crying to me when I treat you like one.”

With that, he slammed the door behind him, leaving you there frozen.

Chapter 32

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pikahlua · 2 months ago

Note

Ahhh I meant to ask, if you do end up giving thoughts on the leaks, I would LOVE to know your thoughts and this epilogue’s endings for bakugou (obviously!) and ochako as well.. in detail pls hehe

Everyone and their dog apparently wants my thoughts on the chapter, and I have to say I just don't wanna give them in the detail people seem to crave. Look, the chapter is meh. It's just meh. There are some cute things that happen in it and it seems that's at the expense of consistency in the story. They clearly didn't think about the things they were implying hard enough. Oh, Izuku and Ochako just didn't fucking interact for 8 years after high school but NOW Izuku wants to talk more? What about Ochako's school program with children that seems RIGHT UP Izuku's alley? They're both practically pursuing the same thing but apparently never breathe each other's air. Despite not thinking about each other for literal years apparently they're still attracted to each other, which, why? What are they attracted to? They're entirely new people now, they're meeting as adults with quite a few years missing between them? Oh, here's the rankings but also we're gonna give a throwaway line about how they're volatile and useless bUT STILL WE'RE GONNA GIVE YOU THEM. THEY DON'T MEAN ANYTHING ACTUALLY BUT HERE THEY ARE. Okay let's just imply Himiko is going to be Ochako's voyeur for life.

But worst of all is the weird idea that this is somehow the logical conclusion of the story that came before it. A conclusion should cap off the themes of its story and MAYBE introduce a new question to ponder. The story should LOGICALLY lead to the conclusion. But this conclusion basically turns around and says "Things change when you're an adult. You'll be a totally different person and maybe have new dreams. Except also you may not. Life is normal and boring and dreams sometimes die." What? WHAT????? Where's the theme of service to others? Where's the theme of heroes inspiring the next generation? Why are we implying heroes who are too good at their job will force their job to become unnecessary and die out but then try to prove no wait heroes are still necessary because sometimes people get weird urges to steal cars? What? Whatttt??? So heroes just exist now to be the quirk police basically. This is what all those kids were growing up to be? That's a weird implication after a whole story where the entire adult generation showed a VERY DIFFERENT AND MORE ADMIRABLE BRAND OF HEROISM (except for those that didn't, which was far more interesting than whatever this is). So the future of heroes AND villains is banality? Petty useless shit?

This is why 430 was such a good ending chapter. It DID showcase heroism in a mundane setting that actually had meaning and impact and inspiration. It made Izuku's adult life look like a fulfillment of his dream just in a new way.

In 431, Katsuki Bakugo is the only major character that shows a connection to the story that came before. He's the only one that still dreams of heroism and unity and inspiration, and he still thinks about who Izuku is deep down and resolves to save him from his stupidity AND SUCCESSFULLY DOES IT. He's the only one that resembles the heroic ideal that All Might supposedly instilled in everyone's hearts. MAYBE Ochako does too, but it's for a brief flash and then suddenly we're back on the mundane train (pun not intended) in a bad way.

And Shouto. Shouto can stay because he's the only character who PROPERLY introduces the question of "more to a hero than heroism" in the ending as a conclusion that introduces a new question, but it just...doesn't lead anywhere. I could see a potential path for that to have led the chapter somewhere meaningful, but it didn't.

So I maintain Katsuki is standing there watching on as the only character thinking about how the fuck to inspire people to be heroes again.

In summary, if I consider this the actual conclusion to the whole story, it's ass. I don't want it. It's useless and almost condescending. It's like the chapter is shaming me. How dare I enjoy the 430 chapters that came before, how dare I dream and feel inspired, how dare I expect anything of the concept of "hero" introduced by All Might and then the next one introduced by Izuku? But if I consider it an extra DLC bonus omake what-if didn't-think-too-hard-about-this-I'm-just-spitballing-and-having-fun-or-whatever side comic, fine, whatever, the mundane banality it wants to be succeeds, because I'm bored and I'm ignoring it. I'll have fun with it in fanfic maybe if I feel like it, but I ain't tying this shit into the themes of the actual MHA story. It doesn't belong there.

If that all sounds like more than you bargained for with your ask, it's because I received 30 other asks all wanting me to expand on these points, and so I decided to consolidate them all here. It's just too many asks for me to respond to individually. If I don't answer your ask, random anon reading this, it's because I consider your ask answered well enough.

#ask pika #signed ask #thatdamnnerd #my hero academia manga spoilers #mha bonus chapter spoilers #epilogue arc spoilers

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billythesimp · 7 months ago

Note

*BASHES DOWN DOOR* I HEARD RQ WERE OPEN

Okay here me out, Lycaon with a rabbit or cat (you decide) thiren that tried to argue with him at any chance they get. But that's because they don't know how else to act around him because of their HUGE crush on him. Basically you're typical tsundere.

That's about it, BACK INTO MY CORNER. NO PRESSURE TO DO THIS AND TAKE YOUR TIME BESTIE

-AJ🐺

Well, Well, Well~ [insert evil laughter here]

If it isn't my fellow proxy, AJ. Thank you for leaving me a request, I do appreciate the support so I put my whole Badussy into this request.

Smooches, see you soon!

Cat And Dog Fights

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

Before I started detailing this request, I did a funny 10 pull on the standard banner. I now have C1 Von, so I dedicate this post for the good luck of those who want Von Lycaon to come home. Bless Bless, Wolf ass.

Lycaon x Cat-Thiren-gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: Little OOc, mention of Rina's cooking /j

✦ Lycaon likes to think himself a patient man- or werewolf. He can handle Corwin’s self deprecation. He can handle Ellen’s overwhelming bored and teen rebellious phase. Rina’s cooking and antics, I’m pretty sure he puts up with, though barely. However, with this new addition to their team, he acknowledges the huge- HUGE elephant in the room. This cat thirens disobedience and clear dislike towards him, their boss. And while it’s fine when it’s outside the job, they work efficiently and swiftly when on their jobs, though they always seek to peeve him off at times, a cunning glare in their eyes when they look back at him, how they run forwards to finish his own enemies as to show off. It’s their defiance that creates problems as he can’t help but think they are trying to prove that their are better.

✦ And usually he won’t complain, after all he hired them for their potential and knows what he’s getting into, but lately they’ve been chipping away at his patients, their coy antics getting under his fur, having to restrain a low growl when they purposely interrupt him or act out of line in front of guest or their masters. The reason Rina can only giggle behind her palm while staring at the two of them stare each other down, another one of their pity arguments being the center of attention. Creative backhanded compliments shared between the two as Corwin tries to calm the two, Ellen holding the girl back in amusement.

✦ Honestly, Lycaon can’t help but be slightly disappointed, he sees his employees as family, so to see one with a clear disdain for him makes him pout in private, seeming gloomy as his tail thumps and ears pinned back. Rina has to comfort him, all the while encouraging him to cheer up. Offering him a meal which he refuses, stating he wasn’t hungry. Though Rina can only ask that he give it his best try to be the bigger person and treat them kindly, for they don’t know what they could be going through.

✦ That being said, Rina is hiding more then she’s leading on, one second in Lycaon’s office to comfort him and then another in a private sitting quarters with said Cat thiren, brushing their hair and scratching behind their ears while listening to their childish rant- more like them denying their feelings.

▿

While sitting before Rina’s small puppets, they paw and rack the little phantoms on their heads, watching them evade their attacks before being pulled back towards Rina’s lap. Having to sit still was difficult enough, but Rina promised to comb their hair and get it nice and pleasant for their next trip. “Ah, you need to take better care of yours. Lycaon will scold you if your headpiece isn’t perfectly centered- or in one piece in general.” She giggled before properly setting the cutest fabric on their head and giving their ears a little scratch.

“Eh, who cares what he thinks. He can just fix it himself if it bothers him so much.” With a hiss, their tail thumps besides them before they use it as a distraction from their overwhelming thoughts on said werewolf. “Oh, I think you do actually care about his thoughts on you.”

“Ehehe- Yeah you do!”

“Sir Lycaon, did you see that! Hehehe”

“Oh Sir Lycaon, see how great I am!”

“Great! Great!”

“H-HEY SHUT IT!” The cat hisses at the teasing from the little boos, Drusilla and Anastella spinning around before returning to Rina’s figure, avoiding the nasty glare said cat was giving them. “Now, now kitty. No more fighting- you already do enough of that with Von,” Smiling before moving them to sit upright, the figure before her slumping again and leaving her to adjusting them again til they stay, “Though, you know if it’s attention and praise you want, maybe fighting less with the boss would actually get you the results you want.”

“Pffm, as if.” They only pout to themselves, muttering quietly as Rina takes out a needle and starts stichting up their uniform where little tears and rips had formed. Whether from their battles or their tendies to claw at the fabric when they don’t know what to do with their hands. “Even if I wanted it, I don’t even know what I would say…”

“Oh, and what makes you think that kitty? Von would be more than delighted to compliment your achievements, after all he looks highly of you. You’re an amazing servant here, he couldn’t be more proud of your growth. He told me himself.” While she gushed her Boss’s supposed claims, the thiren’s tail swayed quicker then before, the adorable pout on their face turned into that of an embarrassed frown, afraid to speak out of fear of word vomiting. “Oh Kitty, promise you’ll try to be nicer to Lycaon. As much as I adore your little cat-dog fights, I would like it if you both got along much more.”

They yelp as Rina ‘accidently’ poked them with the needle, ears flatten as they only mumble out a silent promise. Blushing as they think of how they could try to be nicer, distracted at how Lycaon would react to their change in demeanor, tail returning to playfully bat Rina’s hand while lost in deep thought.

▿

✦ After this conversation, Lycaon finally notices the little changes in their Cat’s behavior. Offering a hand in his tasks, though they still have their little backhanded comments, they are obedient nonetheless. He could tell that they seem to be warming up to him again, not running away from him as much and willing to calm down and listen instead of enlightening another fight between wolf and cat. Really, He’s glad they have improved since then, also making an effort to respect his fellow thiren and help them however he can.

✦ He sees how much they enjoy the headpats and scratches the girls give them, how they have a subtle purr from the affection and praise they give them. So after a mission complete, satisfied with their work today, he gives them a little head pat and congratulates them on the great. While at first they don’t respond at first, tired from the day's events, they suddenly perk up and jolt away, rambling an indescribable comment and turning tail to run off into their safe house. He can only tilt his head, tail wagging as he couldn’t help but enjoy just how soft their hair is.

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zonelist #headcanons #von lycaon #von lycaon x reader #gn!reader #team thirens rise up ZZZ #AJ I LOVE YOU SMOOCHES #Gives you a shark and a wolf

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sparklesandpudding · 8 months ago

Note

I need a part 2 of Beelzebub x Arché! Reader. What if the gods held a court meeting to see the potential danger of the reader and Odin's goals. When Odin wants to evade the assumptions of the people in the congregation (or even to the point of telling the reader to kill everyone there), the reader instead says that he does not want to destroy the people of gods or humans because he plans to marry Beelzebub.

Or showing how he REALLY loves Beelzebub by fuckin him shamelessly infront of them all.

Tyy pookie!! ^⁠_⁠^

Bro I love this😭 primordial god reader is mad interesting.

Beelzebub × Dom!male!primordial god!reader

....

All eyes were on you, as you as you feasted on food, ignoring everyone's prying eyes. Man, food has really became tastier huh? It's been so long since you've eaten like this. Beelzebub just sat there uncomfortably, glancing at you a few times before returning his eyes down.

Everyone was suspicious of Odin, if anything bad was included in his plans that could potentially lead to the destruction of the gods, everyone knew they had to stop him.

Odin was obviously aware that there were too many of the strongest gods there, capable of ganging up on his ass. But, he knew that none of them combined, could leave a single scratch on you. But look at you over there, moronic and stupidly eating food without a care about giving respect. Hey, to your defense, you were alive before zues, and possible as old as the other primordials.

it should be THEM to pay their respects to you. But it was a little difficult to believe that you were older, looking at how young you acted. like a matured/(not really) matured young adult who probably eats pizza slices for dinner.

"Hey, old man. Are you sure you ain't up to anything suspicious? Things don't seem very 'normal' to me." Shiva spoke, two of his arms on his head while having his other two arms crossed. Odin closed his eyes, starting to get irritated, wanting to avoid anyone's assumptions and suspicions of his plans.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"then what about the guy sitting in this room right now? Doesn't seem to me like he's anyone you'd just walk by." Loki teasingly joked, knowing he'd get on the old man's nerves. "I agree, seeing a primordial god...isn't something you'd just see out of the blue" Thor spoke, everyone gathering their assumptions and ideas for the so called "all-realm-altering god".

Finally, Odin's last nerve popped, before he slowly spoke. "(M/n), if you want to prove to them that you are really so powerful, why don't you just kill everyone here?"

Everyone's eyes popped open, immediately turning their heads to you, who stopped chewing, your eyes slowly darting up to meet their gazes.

"No."

"what do you mean 'no'? You don't plan on killing all the gods and ruling over all realms?"

"Its not that I can't. I'm simply uninterested." With one more chew, you continued "I plan to marry Beelzebub." And with that statement, everyone was speechless. Zues chuckling while Loki grinned, "my my, I didn't know that even an all powerful deity would be interested in such.. matters~"

"ooh! Ooh! I have a question! How strong are primordial gods? Can we fight? Please please please??" A hyper, dog like god spoke. His name was...Anubis? Right, that's his name. He's quite energetic, you only chuckled and shook your head. "No, not right now. Once I settle in, I'll give you a good fight, okay buddy?" He whimpered sadly at your response, sitting down with a huge frown.

Then, you suddenly got serious as you looked back to the others.

"now, speaking of our marriage. If any of you try to interfere with my plans, it will end in bloodshed. Every single one of you will have their heads displayed on a shelf. Do not test me."

That statement was enough to make everyone feel dread. They knew that no matter how strong or respected they were, they can not lay anything on you. You were far more than just powerful. An unmeasured type of power that many seeked to have, but could never get.

Your hands trailed onto Beelzebub's face, giving him a heated kiss, and a beast like grin. His pretty face was a huge turn on.

you felt lust grow when you eyed Beelzebub, before standing up and bending him over. Everyone's mouth dropped when you started brutally fucking him at an intense speed, as he just took it, whining and crying for you. His legs spread wide open, his hole already very agape, which was proof of your cock inside of him a little while ago before the meeting.

"still so wide and pretty for me..."

Everyone present just decided to leave, knowing that they couldn't utter a word in your presence. Beelzebubs moans the only thing that could be heard in the room while you put him in multiple positions.

Odin sighed, deciding that he'd just have to talk to you some other time. For now, everyone should just leave you to the poor god, who was bended over and now covered in kisses and hickies. Your wife, male wife, as you'd like to call it.

When I tell you all of Valhalla shook from the force and speed of your pounding, I mean it.

You couldn't wait for the marriage, you'd fuck him in front of everyone after you'd seal your kiss, and that was a mental note you made sure to remember. You wer gonna show everyone who your territory was. And how they couldn't do a thing about it. Man, he'd look so pretty in a wedding dress.

You couldn't wait.

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the-hopeless-haze · 2 years ago

Text

I Do Bad Things With You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: smut. nsfw mdni

Summary: You don't feel like you're a good agent. Aaron assures you that you are. And then he fucks you. or inn other words, I think I need someone to study my brain because I did cry in my boss' office for very similar reasons to this and I am very much attracted to her but we did not fuck in her office and she has no idea I want her I just have breakdowns at work because 1) it sucks and 2) I am mentally unwell. I just truly don't know if this fic was birthed from the worst compulsory heterosexuality of all time or if I'm truly just an insane bisexual (I think it's the latter) but when I tell you I have not thought about Hotchner in years I MEAN years. I haven't watched Criminal Minds in like five years until today to write this fic. But like. He is FINE. y'all know. you're here. come for my unhinged summary stay for the smut idk

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“I can’t do this anymore,” you mutter under your breath, hating how the tears fall anyway, how you can’t stop them. “I’m not doing a good enough job. I need to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Aaron asks you. “Why do you feel that way?”

“It’s just… it’s just I feel like I can never get a grip. Like I can’t ever get everything done that needs to get done. Like I’m not good enough.”

“You’re good enough. You’re a good agent. You come in and you do your job,” he says gently. “I don’t need anything else from you.”

You were usually so put together, so stoic, even, so sure of yourself. He can’t quite believe you’re in his office like this, past the verge of tears, sitting across from him weeping.

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him.

“For the effort you put in. How you’re a new agent and you still proved yourself to my team. You’re living up to your potential and then some. We appreciate you. I appreciate you.”

“You just have to say that.”

“No. I don’t have to say anything. I’m telling you what I see and what I believe. And I’m not letting you quit.”

“But, sir, I—“

“I won’t accept it,” he says firmly but quietly. “You’re too good of an agent to lose. You know this. You know your grades were stellar and your psychology background is enviable. You know you passed every test with flying colors. The adjustment to being a full-fledged agent in the first year is tough, to say the least. It’s grueling. Getting accustomed and used to death, danger and just the pressure of the job is something that not everyone can handle. But you can. I know you can. If I lost you, I’d lose an asset. You’re an excellent profiler. It’s intuitive for you.”

There it is, though, that behavior analyst part of your brain and you noticed how he said “I” and not “we” and how his eyes softened, how he wasn’t looking at you sternly and stoically but there was more of a tenderness in his dark eyes.

He likes you. He means what he says. You know he does.

But that isn’t enough. You don’t believe what he says. You don’t believe you’re worthy. This job takes up so much of your waking hours but when you’re outside of it you have next to nothing. You’re not close to family here in Virginia. You don’t have a significant other. You’re not home enough to have a dog. And you just feel like you’ve been letting yourself go since you only seem to have time to eat, sleep and work.

You’ve always been an anxious person. You’ve managed to quell the thoughts wracking your brain with years of practice and medications to a point where you can function, to a point where you made it through school and made it into the FBI. Impostor syndrome dies hard, though. You keep trying to swallow down your tears but it’s fucking impossible when you’re like this. You dry them on the sleeves of your blazer, biting your lip nervously.

“Don’t cry. It’s okay,” Aaron says, breaking through your thoughts.

“It’s not okay,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t be breaking down crying.”

“You’re human,” he says gently. “This job is overwhelming.”

“It doesn’t seem to get to you.”

“It does. It still does. I… I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

“I just don’t think I can do this, Hotchner. With all due respect, I need to put my two weeks in,” you say, strengthening your weakened resolve.

“No,” he refuses, shaking his head. “What do I have to do to get you to see what I see?”

You sigh, leaning forward and bracing your head in your hands. “I don’t know.”

You feel him before you see him, refusing to lift your head up as the tears started streaming down your face. He kneels in front of you, taking your hands gently from your cheeks, but your eyes are still squeezing shut. “Look at me,” he orders.

“Hotchner, I—“

“It’s Hotch. You know that. Or… you can call me Aaron. Just call me Aaron. Look at me.”

Finally, you blink your eyes open, tears spilling over, and he squeezes both your hands gingerly.

“Good. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home for the night. You’re going to take your mind off of the job. And you’re going to come back tomorrow morning and everyone in here is going to talk about how much you’re missed when you’re gone. Because we all value you. But you need to take the time for yourself. You’re burnt out. You’re not a bad agent. You’re just mean to yourself and you shouldn’t be.”

It’s not lost on you, the way he’s still touching you when you don’t think you’ve seen him so much as brush against anyone else on the team. Is he…?

You squeeze his hands back, forcing yourself to smile.

“There we go,” he smiles back. “See? Do you feel better?”

“A little. Thank you, Hotch.”

“Please. You can call me Aaron in private,” he reiterates. He would have, could have, should have let you go by now. But he hasn’t.

“In private?”

“I don’t let just anyone use my first name. There’d be questions if you started using it especially since you called me SSA Hotchner for months before I got you to just say Hotchner at least. You’re a rule stickler, hm? I think that’s part of your problem.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to think rules are made to be broken,” you counter. Sure. You were a stickler. You were. Deferential to authority - that deserved it. You spoke out, and you would speak out of turn if anything felt wrong or uncomfortable. Rules made things feel safer. Still. You’d call out the unjust. And you think Aaron is the same way.

“Some of them are,” he muses.

“You yelled at me,” you say suddenly. “My third week.”

He furrows his brow, trying to recall the incident you were talking about and then he nods. “You were reckless. You put yourself and Morgan in danger. You walked straight into an ambush. It was a mistake. A rookie mistake. A mistake you learned from. You never did it again.”

“But I—“

“It’s been almost a year since then,” he says, gently. “I don’t hold it against you. I’ve had to pull everyone who works here aside for something. And I’ve been pulled aside myself. No one’s perfect. I… I raised my voice because I was worried about you. Not because I was angry with you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding. “Okay.”

“I wish you could see what I see,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I see a strong, capable, intelligent young woman who’s an amazing profiler — you can glean someone’s familial background in record time. I see a woman who holds her ground and then some in interrogations.”

“I’m crying in my boss’ office right now,” you titter awkwardly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still all of those things. I see a beautiful woman who’s passionate about her career, who wants to do the best she can…”

He trails off. You wonder if he realizes the weight of what he said.

Always walking the line of professionalism. Making any comments regarding your appearance was crossing it, even if it was as benign and modest as “beautiful”. It was still a step too far.

But you, you’re depressed and anxious, and you’ll take whatever you can get.

He’s still kneeling in front of you.

You know it would be stupid, especially when he’s a broken man himself, even if he denies it to everybody. His wife cheated on him. It was hard, with the job, to have a stable relationship with anyone outside of it. You know this. You’re living it.

He’s still touching you and your skin is on fire now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he makes no effort to move, no effort to stop staring through your eyes to your soul. Is he profiling you? Trying to see if your breath hitched when he let the compliment slip?

“Don’t be,” you say breathily.

“It was inappropriate,” he says, and he does get up then, wincing at the stiffness in his knees from crouching in front of you for so long. You miss the warmth of his hands already. “You’re dismissed, agent. Go home and take care of yourself.”

Your emotions flip like a switch, it’s just how it’s always been, and you use it to your advantage in a room full of profilers. It’s good to be unpredictable, a wild card. You don’t even mean to. You just are. You can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next. He stood up, so he’s towering over you as you sit in the seat across from his desk, but he’s looking down at you, waiting on your next sentence. And what you say is, “Agent? I thought we were on first-name basis, Aaron?”

It’s the first time you’ve said his first name, and it goes right through him. He wasn’t lying. Not many people do have the privilege to use it. None of his subordinates would be brave enough, maybe not even if he gave them explicit permission like he gave to you. It’s intimate, all these walls up in this bureaucracy that even something as simple as a woman using his first name could drive him up the wall like it would an upstanding Christian man in Regency England. Rules. Rules to be broken.

Aaron whispers your first name, and it’s barely audible, but you hear it in his low, soft baritone. Not the first time, but the only time he’s said it without your last name tacked on the end of it. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Aaron?”

You’re teasing, now, and he wonders if it’s just a reflex, trying to gain back some of the power you lost by coming in here crying, or if you genuinely want something from him besides reassurance and a couple of hours off from work. It was maddening at first, trying to figure you out. He still doesn’t know exactly who you are and he’s resigned himself to the fact that maybe he’d never be able to nail you down.

“Don’t,” Aaron says again, looking at you sternly as you stand up.

“What is it that you don’t want me to do, Aaron?” you ask, and you’re still not eye to eye but you’re closer now, and his eyes never left your face throughout the whole conversation anyway.

He says your name again like it’s a curse under his breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Stop it.”

“Use your words, Aaron.”

“Stop teasing me,” he murmurs, looking away from you for the first time, down at the floor. You never expected him to be so… shy.

“I’m teasing you?” you ask, feigning innocence. You didn’t have to be a profiler to see how he was getting tenser as you continue this conversation.

“Yes,” he says, looking back up at you, an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before. “And I suggest you stop.”

“Or else?” you say before your brain can catch up. You’re playing with fire. You know you are.

But you like him. Tall, dark, handsome, nothing like the men you’ve been with before. Other men were intimidated when he walked into the room. And you being you… you always wanted to break him down into a crying, blubbering mess, and be the only one who got to see him like that. Break the stoic wall and get to see him. Human.

And if he was this reactive to you just saying his name?

Lord help both of you.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Go home for the day.”

“Is that to help me, or you?”

He shakes his head, smiling a little. “Perhaps both of us.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the chance to get my resignation if I make things so… hard… for you, Aaron,” you say, and you move a little closer, his breath hitching audibly in his throat.

Again. He says your name like it’s the worst curse in the book, hissing it like it physically hurts him, and you know, maybe you are.

“A little selfish, maybe. I’d miss you too much,” he admits. “And I meant what I said. I’d lose an asset. You’re a stellar agent.”

You don’t really know what to say, now, but he continues.

“Profile me,” he whispers. “In this moment. What am I thinking?”

“So you don’t have to say it out loud?”

“Mm.”

“You want me, Aaron,” you say shakily, losing your resolve almost as quickly as you gained it back. “I don’t think you’d have to be a profiler to figure that out.”

“Is it that obvious?” he asks.

“Right now… yes.”

“You need me. You need me to show you how valued you really are,” Aaron says, searching your eyes for confirmation that you want this, too. As always, though, you’re unreadable. “Say it. Let me show you my appreciation.”

God. What in the world? Your brain is fuzzy with lust, and never in a million years would you have thought this is how today would’ve gone. Mondays back in the office are always the worst, piles of paperwork from the cases prior to sift through and file and the anticipation of when you’d be on the road or up in the air next always gnawed at your stomach. You fully expected to give your notice and come home crying. You didn’t foresee the prospect of being utterly fucked by your boss who very much did not want you to resign.

You know why the rules are in place. Dating coworkers was messy anyway, never mind dating someone in this line of work. Still… you thought it made sense in a way. The only person who was really going to understand your crazy schedule was someone who was working the same hours.

So you nod, giving him full permission to do as he pleases.

His lips meet yours, surprisingly soft and gentle, akin to the way his hands squeezed yours before. “I can’t believe I held myself back from doing this for this long,” he mumbles against your mouth, then he pulls you in an embrace, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck where he can reach. “I need you here. I need you to promise me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay, Aaron.”

“I’ve wanted your body since the second you walked into this building. I need you. You ground me. Make me feel better, human. Like maybe I could exist outside of the field and outside of this office.”

“Did you know I was struggling?”

“You hide it well. I knew you were frustrated, but the last case was tough and we all are a little on edge. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you to lean on, honey,” Aaron says, moving his head back to face you, eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I want you to always come to me if you need anything. Anything.”

You don’t say anything, just hum contently, pressing your mouth back to his for a kiss that starts off chaste and quickly becomes heated, his hands cupping the curve of your ass.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. “Promise me you’ll always come to me.”

“I promise,” you agree.

“Good girl,” he affirms. “You’re such a good girl. Never have to worry about you doing your job. You always get your reports to me on time, you always make brilliant deductions when we’re going over cases, you always make sure the rest of the team doesn’t need anything… such a good girl.”

You kiss him fiercely, the voice in your head screaming he was your boss and both of your careers are on the line if this goes south long silenced. His large hands on your ass pull you closer to him, and you feel his hardening cock against you as he does. “Aaron,” you choke out breathily.

“Feel me? That’s what you do to me, honey.”

You snake a hand between your bodies and palm him through his dress pants, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that to be your next move from the way his cheeks flush and he groans heavily. “This is about you,” he manages to say, taking your hand away from his clothed cock. “All about you. Go sit on my desk, honey.”

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together as he follows you and takes his suit jacket off, revealing his tasteful button-down underneath. “Good girl,” he whispers, spreading your legs with hands, kneading the flesh of your thighs as he does so, letting the fabric of your skirt ride up.

And then he digs his nails under the thin sheer of your tights and rips them. “Aaron!” you hiss in surprise.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he responds almost dismissively, easing the torn fabric down the length of your legs, kissing the swell of your calves as he takes your heels off and places them on the floor underneath the desk.

“I’m more worried about how I’m going to walk out of here,” you say, smiling.

“I sent them all out on different tasks and told them to get lunch first. They’ll be gone for a while.”

“Did you plan this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Not exactly,” he smirks. “But now you can be as loud as you need to be.”

“Aaron,” you say, almost scolding, but whatever you were going to say after that is lost in the recesses of your mind as you feel his mouth on yours again, hot and ready, tongue gliding against yours with ease. He shrugs your blazer off, too, leaving you in just a black tank top and your skirt that was hiked up to your waist.

“I believe regulations are to wear long sleeve button-downs underneath blazers,” he says lowly. You know it’s a lie. If Garcia can dress the way she does there are certainly not strict restrictions on what you can wear, even if you’re a field agent. But you’ll play along.

“I believe regulations are not to have your subordinate spread out on your desk in front of you, sir,” you retort.

Aaron chuckles deeply at that. This is how you usually were, sarcastic and snippy, even with him at times. Funny. “Rules and regulations,” he muses. “I think I’m alright with those two being broken.”

And with that his fingers of his right hand start ghosting your cunt, pressing the thin cotton of your panties, groaning lowly at how wet you are. “You’re soaked, honey,” he says. “Can I feel you? Please.”

“Yes, Aaron, please touch me,” you nod.

He pushes aside your panties, slipping his index finger in slowly, catching your lips with his in the process.

“Want to make you feel so good, so much better,” he murmurs, starting slow and building up pressure before he inserts another finger, stretching you out, making you impossibly wetter, reaching depths of you that you couldn’t reach yourself with your much shorter and thinner fingers. “Lift your hips,” he instructs, and in one swift motion, he slips your panties off, pocketing them in his dress pants. “Good girl.”

“Not fair, Aaron,” you say.

“What’s not fair, honey?”

“You’re still fully dressed,” you point out, reaching for his tie to loosen it. You were absolutely soaked, you could feel it, and you wonder if his desk will stain from your slick. You untuck his shirt from his pants and run your hands over his stomach, scars under the pads of your fingers, God, you want to lick every inch of him.

“Mm. I can help you remedy that,” he agrees, meeting your hands when you were halfway through the buttons on his pristine white shirt, pulling it over his head along with his undershirt. You reach for his belt buckle and he stops you. “Not yet. Let me do something first.”

And before you know it his tongue is on you, swirling incessant circles around your swollen clit, and you can tell he’s not taking his time now. He wants to bring you over the edge and fast, and you wonder how long it will be before the rest of the team do return from their extended lunch breaks. You’ve been eaten out before, sure, but to use a cliched metaphor for the umpteenth time in human history, you finally figured out what women meant when they said their man ate them like it was their last meal on death row. You clamp your legs against his head, and he moans, sending vibrations through your cunt, damn near sending you over the edge as you pant and whimper.

“Am I not making you feel good?” Aaron looks up in worry.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“You’re not screaming. I suppose I should try harder,” he says, furrowing his brow and then he adds his fingers back, fucking deep into you. His tongue focuses on your clit and your thighs are shaking and you gasp, no longer able to hold yourself up seated, leaning back and bracing yourself on your elbows.

“Aaron, I’m so close,” you moan, trying to fight the urge to push him away as the pressure builds. You squeeze your thighs tighter and the sudden force of it drags Aaron’s tongue flat against your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge, whining his name over and over again.

He doesn’t stop.

“Aaron,” you choke out, trying to back away from him due to the overstimulation. “Aaron. Please.”

“You can be louder than that,” he says, not bothering to lift his head, voice muffled by your wet cunt. “I’m not stopping until you reach a decibel level I’m satisfied with. And I will know if you’re faking.”

You’ve never had anyone go down on you for multiple rounds. You were lucky if you came once with previous partners. Part of the reason you never wanted to make a move with Aaron was that you figured he would ruin you for other men.

And God. Were you right.

You only hope you’re ruining him for other women.

You know you’re next orgasm will be embarrassingly close as he never gave you a chance to come down from the first one. You didn’t expect it to come on like it did though, your right hand carded in his jet black hair, just again, him flattening his tongue against your clit as his fingers continued to scissor you open and you can’t help it, gasping for air, shouting, yelling, keening his name. “Aaron,” you plead. “I can’t give you another one. Please.”

“Shh. Good girl. You can and you will. For me,” he commands authoritatively.

And you can. And you do.

The next time, mercifully, Aaron stands up, and leaves you alone to breathe. He kisses you and you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s achingly hard now, a quite visible tent noticeable in his dress pants, cheeks red from exertion, everything from his nose to his chin wet with your slick.

What a vision.

How were you ever going to get this out of your head?

“Can I be inside you? Please?” he asks.

“Yes,” you affirm.

Aaron lets you unbuckle his pants and lets them pool to the floor, helping you out of your tank top and bra, sucking and biting on your nipples and the flesh of your breasts for a few moments before he steps out of his shoes and boxers, completely bare in front of you.

“God, Aaron,” you breathe. “You’ve really been holding out on me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and his cheeks flush redder. “I could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

“How long?”

“I told you,” he says lowly, lining his cock with your entrance. “Since the second you walked in this building.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask, but it’s a loaded question if not a stupid one. There’s a myriad of reasons why you don’t tell someone who works under you that you want to fuck them stupid. That you like them. That you love them?

You frown slightly. You don’t think you could handle it if this was the only time you got to be with him like this.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, lifting your chin with his thumb. “You promised you would tell me.”

“Is this… is this a one-time thing, Aaron?” You ask tentatively.

“I don’t want it to be,” he answers quickly. “It’d be a daily occurrence if I had my way.”

With that, he grabs your hips, and looks at you for consent, then slams all the way in when you nod in affirmation. Neither of you can help the moans and groans escaping your mouths at that, you from feeling completely full and him being fully sheathed in you.

“I… I love you,” he says, pressing his sweat-sheened forehead to yours. “You don’t have to say it back. I know how dangerous and inappropriate and difficult this situation is never mind adding emotions to it. And I… I’m not good at them in the first place. I just… I just need you to know that. I want to be with you. All the time.”

“Again, Aaron, why did you never… fuck,” you trail off as he starts moving his hips, setting a slow and languid pace.

“I don’t know. I was afraid,” he chuckles.

“Of me?”

“You’re intimidating. You’re beautiful, smart, and capable. To tell you I wanted you…”

“You’re calling me intimidating?” you ask. “You? Of all people?”

“I’ve seen you interrogate. Baby-faced assassin, hm? You’ve shaken some grown men in their boots.”

“Including you?”

“Including me,” he chuckles, then softens. “Seeing you cry like that today… I… it broke my heart, honey. I never thought I’d see you break. I’d do anything to make you never feel like that again. You need to stay.”

“I already promised you, Aaron,” you say, biting your lip as he somehow angles his cock deeper in you. “I love you.”

Kissing you fiercely, he squeezes your hips, and you can’t wait to see if there’ll be bruises there tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips. “God, you’re fucking squeezing my cock, honey,” he grunts, and you feel yourself clench more at his words. You’ve never heard him swear. Ever. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”

“I’m surprised you lasted this long, old man,” you tease.

“You’d be surprised how much stamina I do have,” he threatens, rolling his eyes at you. “You’ll see tonight when I have more time with you.”

“How presumptuous.”

He scoffs, doesn’t say anything, but starts running over your clit with his thumb, kissing you deeply, fucking you faster and harder, setting a much more brutal pace.

“You just need me that bad, Aaron?” you ask, hellbent on seeing him break. “You need to fuck me all the time now that you’ve had me?”

“Yes,” he pants. “Need you all the time. Every day. Need to fuck this pretty cunt. Make you know you’re appreciated. Valued. Loved. Never want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again. Not…I’ll worship you. Kiss the ground you walk on. Fuck you until you can’t stand. Whatever it takes.”

“What about you, Aaron? How do you feel right now?”

“So fucking good,” he groans. “So fucking good. Such a good girl. You keep sucking my cock back in every thrust, you feel that, honey? So wet, so warm, fuck, I’d stay inside you forever.”

“Yeah, Aaron? Hmm? I—“ your teasing backfired on you, and before you can think of anything else to say, you come on his cock, your nails dragging down his back stalling his motions to stutters and he’s asking you, begging you, “Please let me cum inside you,” he begs. “Please, honey.”

You nod breathlessly, unable to speak, and you don’t think he’d be able to make it out of you in time completely if you’d said no because you feel his seed fill you as you’re still riding out the aftershocks of your own orgasm and he’s moaning your name in choked sobs and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever fucking seen or heard.

“I love you,” he whispers, dark eyes looking up at you from where his face now rested in the swell of your breasts. “I love you. And we’re going to make this work come hell or high water.”

“I love you,” you say back once you catch your breath. “Are you still sending me home?”

He laughs. “You look and smell like sex.”

“Do you think you look or smell any different? You did this to me,” you say, messing up his sweat-streaked hair more with your fingers. “I think your boss should send you home, too.”

“Hm. Perhaps I could convince him,” he says, giving you a wide smile.

He helps you get dressed, kissing you wherever he can reach in between and it takes much longer than it would have had you dressed yourself. You’re not complaining. But there’s no fixing your hair or your tattered tights. No fixing Aaron’s disheveled hair, either, or the sweat stains around his armpits from when you teased him for so long.

“Follow me home, honey,” he instructs. “Round two.”

Maybe you should have mental breakdowns at work more often.

#Aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner #hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotchner x you #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader smut #hotchner x reader smut #hotch x reader smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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pruneunfair · 6 months ago

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My feelings on villains are destined to die and how it writes a toxic family, what lead them to where they were and if they chose to end the cycle or repeat it.

For one I can see why it's so popular, the plot is unique for its time since it was one of the first villainess centered manhwas and there characters are 3 dimensional. VADTD has its fair share of flaws as all media do but my problem is with the fanbase who seem to get the idea that liking something or someone means you must support it at all times otherwise it means you support the opposing party.

This will be mostly centered around our FL that you've probably seen somewhere before even if you haven't read VADTD, Penelope Eckart

If you think I'm here to dog on Penelope don't worry, I think she's a beautifully made protagonist that is actually morally gray and not a bitch with morally gray excuse. So despite how much the fandom says she's a perfect girlboss, Penelope isn't a good person. She sees everyone as just a video game character in the beginning so she doesn't care if characters like Emily would get hurt or how Eckles felt, that isn't too unreasonable since she did get transmigrated into a video game but there are lines that she crosses, she knows the horrors of abuse very well from her past life which is why she's so attached to the og Penelope, but it's clear she is willing to repeat the cycle for her own needs.

Introducing one of the most controversial characters: Eckles (or Eclis/eclipse)

Eckles as a character was designed to make you feel uncomfortable. He's a slave bought by Penelope at an auction and trust me, she isn't very nice about it. He's always wearing a collar with a spell that causes him to be paralyzed and unable to speak if Penelope touches the Ruby ring given to her by the auctioneers, (Because there's no way that could be abused) and everything about him just seems to miserable, his life depends on Penelopes love and care for him and he's willing to keep the collar just so he can be useful..everything about him seems to be the embodiment of Stockholm syndrome and a lack of identity. The saddest part? He knows why Penelope wants him around and he despises her for it (reasonable) yet he still "loves" her

Word for Word, this is what Penelope said to him when she bought him + a few more she says that are concerning to say the least

"Look at me Eckles. This is the face of your master who paid 100 million gold for you. I didn't pay such an extravagant price for you because I'm rotting in money, not even an insane noble would the equivalent of castle for a slave from a fallen kingdom, what is left for you even if you were able to resist and escape from here? You don't even have a country to run to. I despise those who don't know their place. I saw potential in you and that is why I invested in you, that is all our relationship is. Prove your worth so that I have no regrets about the price I paid for you, otherwise I'll send you back here with no hesitation. Do you understand?"

"A dog should act like a dog Eckles! What use is a son of a bitch who bites his master!?"

"You dare bite your master?"

That is NOT good person behavior, Penelope is desperate to live yes but that was one of her lowest moments. Buying a man, contributes to the buisness of slavery with 100 million gold, straight up threatening him to sell him back to slavery if he doesn't obey, and manipulates him for means of an end. But that's the point. Penelope is a gray character so naturally on top of all the good she can do, she still is capable of repeating the cycle of abuse on another person.

They have a sort of co-dependent relationship later on, Penelope views him as a beast and her way of keeping him on her side is buying him a bunch of gifts and then leaving him for long periods of time, forgetting that all he asked of her was to visit him. Of course Penelope is in no way obligated to do so just because Eckles loves her, and by love, I mean obsession to the point where Eckles starts to commit extreme acts all in the name of his obsession for her. He's no longer a person, he's just Penelopes worshipper who also "betrays" her.

Thats another thing people hate him for, for betraying the woman who bought him and treated him more like an animal than a person. And yeah, bringing Leila back to the mansion was a dick move not to mention betraying his own people but when it came to betraying Penelope.. you can't really owe your slave master loyalty, I saw this more as a consequence of Penelopes actions rather than a "poor pene" moment because im just gonna say it: Penelope had no right to be that upset when the slave she treated as an animal wound up betraying her. There was no right in that situation just two wrongs and yet there's a ton of people who solely blame Eckles for not being grateful that Penelope didn't do anything extremely egregious when she owned him (wtf!?)

Yes Eckles isnt a great person either, as i said he put all of his country to death when he snitched on them so he could stay by Penelopes side but just because Penelope is the protagonist with a tragic backstory, that doesnt mean shes an innocent lamb and while fans will glorify the toxic relationship, the way the narrative portrays it is too uncomfortable to be a romantic path, it's meant an abusive past where Penelope can choose to stay at her worst and that would honestly be depressing if she did get with him, itd be a twisted master-slave relationship where Penelope can do whatever she wants to Eckles and he can't say nor will he want to, and I think she knew to some degree that she wouldnt want to be that monster and what she was doing was inhumane which is probably she stays far away from him since she's beginning to see these people as humans and not code. It's both a mix of desperation for her own life and a desire to not repeat an abusive cycle just with extra steps.

A slave and their master isn't a forbidden romance, it's just Stockholm syndrome covered in glitter.

Now on to the other characters, the love interests/ brothers.

Theres a lot of love for Callisto and I can see why, he's not a cardboard cutout and has a personality that didn't revolve around Penelopes goals. I'll admit I didn't like him at first but he's grown on me

But I have a feeling there's another reason fans adore him outside of his character and goals. He's the only love interest that isn't an abusive one. Unlike Eckles, Callisto is closer in equality to Penelope and he's you know, not her fricking step brother. After all when the other options are lava and toxic chemicals, you would much rather stick your hand in a mysterious substance that could benefit you even if it could also kill you. That's what Callisto was when we met him, he's the one who killed OG Penelope the most in hard mode and when he first speaks to Penelope, he's putting a sword at her throat, even though he's killed Penelope in so many timelines, the timelines where he doesn't are the happiest... which I honestly don't know how to feel about that.

then there's Derrick, and uh yeah, I don't blame the fandom this time, he does suck and he has a sister complex.. Fantastic

Still though for such a hateable character it's done so well. He's not always so in your face about it, Derrick is still a 3d character with a "reason" that explains his stepbrother-stepsister love he has for Penelope, he's afraid of losing her like he lost Ivonne (that just opens so many weird doors though with how they imply it) and even if you take that away he's still a perfect example of abuser. No matter what Penelope did he's consistently blaming her for the negatives of their family, he loves her but he also controls her and makes her feel like shit. It's like another form of Eckles and Penelope which is kind of depressing since it's more portrayal of repeating cycles of abuse. *SPOILERS* He also gets to live normally after that and apparently becomes a loving uncle to Penelope and Callistos daughter which I interpret as the harsh reality that abusers who are family aren't likely to go away especially if they are older and hold more power over you, they can stop it all they want but that wound never got treated.

Reynold is another one I have a weird relationship with, he's not as terrible as Derrick but the shit he put Penelope through is yet another example of generational abuse that he started

Reynold represents the regret an abuser can feel after the harm is already done. The entire family has issues in general and communication is one that's seriously lacking but Reynold indirectly started it and justified it when he found the og Penelope praying that Ivonne would never return and from both sides, you can understand why. Penelope doesn't want to go back on the streets and Reynold is still grieving over his sister and the replacement was just wishing for that little sister to dissappear or die, but no matter the reason, abuse is still abuse. But he was willing to change after hearing her true story, but he continues to reprimand her for the past, not letting go so easily which made him a easy target for Leila to brainwash, as I've said, the damage is already done and while the two can remain civil, I wouldn't be surprised if Penelope never feels comfortable around him again.

EDIT: I thought about it and maybe "never feeling comfortable around him again" might be a little too far, OG Penelope probably wouldn't but I think the current Penelope would be more likely to move on.

And now for the figurative and literal embodiment of the lost/ghost child: Ivonne who represents how we handle grief and lost child syndrome.

Almost nothing is known about Ivonne for a long time, the family has fond memories of her but we never get to see what it was like beyond a single memory of the siblings sneaking out to the festival the night Ivonne went missing. In grief we tend to over fantasize the person we lost, usually as a perfect being who did no wrong. Thats what Leilas control represents, Ivonne is dead, her skin is cold to the touch like a corpse as described by Penelope , the goddess Leila who took over her body represents flaws the deceased may have had or a toxic coping mechanism in general and causes everyone under her control to only think about the best of her.

For Ivonne as a character, she is lost child personified, she's literally lost so it's already right there, a lost/ghost child is the type of child that stands by the toxicity of the family, they blend in and no one really bothers about them, though this is more of a reach then the other two, there arent a whole lot of chapters that mention Ivonne beyond comparing her to Penelope and the chapters where she actually does appear, shes separated from everyone else. Even her own father who spent years searching for her, he still gave up and what pushed Ivonne to become a literal ghost child is when she sees the Duke take Penelope off the streets to be his replacement daughter when his real child was staring right at him. Ivonne ends up in a mirror forever, where all she can do is watch the family from afar.

final main character is Winter, and he was the trickiest to place.

I forgot about Winter half the time since he kind just shows up at random, his introduction is literally happening to be there at the right moment when Penelope is running away from Callisto. So I wasn't very interested in him until the battle against the Leila cult, but even though I wasn't interested in him, I still preferred at the time if he was the love interest instead since he was the least violent of all the guys, he actually wanted Penelope to be happy, and very protective of nor just her but the sorcerer children so it was just green flags all around with the exception of the age gap. (I don't know how to feel about since Winter is 26 and Penelope is physically 18 but mentally she's in her 20s)

My interpretation of him is that he could be the friend/therapist that's outside the family, the one to give a little break from the disaster of a homelife. But a therapist or friend can really only do so much and in rare cases they could start suspecting you as a liar since they are also people who are dealing with their own set of problems. Kind of like how Winter starts to lose Penelopes trust when suspects her to be from the Leila cult.

Conclusion: VADTD is popular for a good reason and it has tons of great commentary on toxic households and that no character is truly innocent, but it doesn't get enough credit in that department since tons of people misinterpreted it as yet another basic reincarnation girl boss story where everything is black and white.

This is part 2 to a series I want to call "my feelings on", I'll read through a manhwa/anything one webtoon and I'll either critique it or come up with my own interpretations of it.

#death is the only ending for a villainess #villains are destined to die #penelope eckhart #derrick eckhart #reynold eckhart #ivonne eckhart #winter verdandi #eckles

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seongwars · 1 month ago

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hiraeth | jeon wonwoo

model!wonwoo x veterinarian!reader genre: fluff, no real angst

I really want to start my wonwoo series but I have too many wips at the moment so this will have to suffice 😭

You and Wonwoo grew up as childhood friends and next-door neighbors in a small countryside town. You both dreamed of moving to the city—you to become a veterinarian and him to pursue a career as a photographer.

But tragedy struck when your sister and brother-in-law were killed in a car accident, leaving behind your baby niece. You decided to stay in your hometown, attending a local university to take care of your niece and grandmother. Meanwhile, Wonwoo moved to the city, where he was unexpectedly street-cast as a model and quickly rose to fame.

Your friendship falls apart when Wonwoo comes home for winter break, and you both get into a heated argument when he tells you that he's ashamed he grew up in a place like this and that you'd never be good enough to make it like he did.

That was the last time you'd ever spoken to him.

A decade later, Wonwoo unexpectedly returns home, shocking everyone. No one knows why, but the paparazzi and fans flood the town trying to figure out his whereabouts. Wonwoo tries to evade the paparazzi and his rabid fans and hides out in Mr. Kwon's barn.

Meanwhile you're helping Mr. Kwon find his missing cow, and it turns out she gave birth to a calf in a field. All is well until a bunch of cars speed by, potentially stressing out the cow and her calf. Stupid city slickers!

You return to the barn and find Wonwoo hiding. Obviously, you rebuff him but then point out he's covered in poop.

Later at dinner, his dad reveals that these rich developers keep coming to town trying to convince people to sell their land and there's lots of resistance from the locals. But they keep getting threatened by these city folk!

Oh and you're being romanced by Choi Seungcheol, your niece's gym teacher.

Wonwoo doesn't like that.

You and Wonwoo somehow always seem to cross paths. Whether its dropping your niece off at school or making a farm call, he always has on a dumb disguise.

The only person in town who seems thrilled about the sudden rise in tourism is the town head, Lee Jihoon. Because money.

Sometime later, your grandmother invites Wonwoo and his dad over for dinner, and lo and behold Choi Seungcheol is also there.

It turns out that Seungcheol is originally from the city but took the teaching job in the countryside because it was too competitive in the city. Sure, Jan.

You get an emergency call from Mr. Kim because his dog Kimja is having a difficult labor. You rush over, doing everything you can to help her. Despite your best efforts, Kimja doesn’t make it, and neither do the rest of the litter, except for one tiny, puppy.

Wonwoo, still awake, sees you coming home and you're a sobbing mess. He musters the courage to reach out to you, and you kind of just rant about how you did everything to try and help her and the rest of the litter but you failed.

"You did your best and that's all that matters."

You bury your face in his shoulder, unable to stop the tears. It’s been years since you’ve felt this defeated. As a veterinarian, you’ve faced so many challenges, but nothing like this. Never something so completely out of your control.

Wonwoo admits that he came home because he also felt like a failure. He was supposed to play the lead role in an up-and-coming movie by the famous director Yoon Jeonghan, but the project was put on hold due to Jeonghan's frustration with Wonwoo's inability to act convincingly as they looked for a new lead.

"He said I couldn't act my way out of a paper bag."

So, Wonwoo came home to reevaluate his life choices and decide if he could start over.

You tell him he absolutely can, that it's not too late. But that he shouldn't give up or let some city boy take his place.

"You're gonna let some city boy prove he's better than you? Go take back what's yours!"

You both reconcile and you go home.

The next day, those darn developers come back, and the townsfolk are out protesting. You, your grandma, your niece, Wonwoo, and his dad are all there, standing with the protestors.

One of the developers recognizes him, even with glasses, and mentions that his daughter is a big fan.

"Wonwoo? Famous? Nahhh," the townsfolk laugh, waving it off like the developer must have mistaken him for someone else.

The developers approach Wonwoo and attempt to sway him to their side. They want him to convince the town to sell their land so they can build their fancy golf course. But Wonwoo refuses outright because this is the place that raised him, and no amount of money or pressure can change that.

Using his star power, Wonwoo pulls every string he can to get the developers to back off. In the process, he uncovers a shocking twist: Turns out, Seungcheol was a spy for the developers and, to top it off, the son of one of them!

Wonwoo tells you the truth, and with a heavy heart, you end things with Seungcheol.

"He was too perfect," you sighed.

Thanks to the power of privilege and friendship, Wonwoo manages to help save the town from the developers.

While everyone is celebrating, Wonwoo tells you he's going to go back to the city and convince Director Yoon to give him another shot.

"Make sure you rub it in his face when you win an award for that role."

Over the next few months, Wonwoo visits home between shoots, and you both rekindle your friendship—and something more. It's in the way his eyes linger on you just a moment too long.

Or after a particularly long day, you find yourselves sitting on the roof of his parent's house, eating ramen. Somewhere between conversations of the past and future, his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining in a quiet, tender gesture.

The night of the Golden Carat Awards rolls around, and everyone gathers in the courtyard of the town center to watch the ceremony.

Wonwoo’s name is announced among the nominees for Best New Actor, and the crowd quiets instantly.

“And the winner for Best New Actor is…” The announcer pauses dramatically, drawing out the moment.

“Jeon Wonwoo!”

When his name is called, you let out a little gasp, unable to help the way a smile breaks across your face as the crowed erupts into chaos. Wonwoo’s dad, who had been sitting quietly at the start of the evening, is now sobbing uncontrollably.

“That’s my son!”

Your heart swells with pride as the camera pans to Wonwoo, standing from his seat to hug the people around him before making his way to the stage.

“I really didn’t think I’d be standing here tonight. Thank you to the Golden Carat committee, my team, the amazing cast and crew I’ve been lucky enough to work with—and, of course, my fans. None of this would’ve been possible without you.”

Wonwoo pauses, glancing down at the trophy for a moment. You wonder if he’s collecting his thoughts or trying not to cry. Then, he looks back up, his expression softer now, almost shy.

“I’d like to thank my family for their unwavering support,” he continues, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And…” He hesitates, his lips curling into a faint smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“My guiding light. Someone who’s been my source of inspiration to keep fighting against those city boys, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The courtyard falls silent as every single person turns to look at you and you can't help but sink lower into your chair.

“Marry him already!” Mr. Kim yells.

When Wonwoo returns, he’s standing on your doorstep with a bouquet of wildflowers your niece helped him pick out, grinning from ear to ear. He promises that he'd be happy waiting for you to come home, taking care of the laundry while you help animals.

So you take him up on his offer.

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo drabble #seventeen #svt #model au #wonwoo x you #is it really a drabble? or my unhinged thoughts #svt fluff #childhood friends to lovers #wonwoo fluff

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receival · 9 months ago

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baldur’s gate 3 starters.

the following is a collection of sentence starters from larian’s baldur’s gate 3. part 2.

look at me - i’m not a monster.

stay back. i don’t want to hurt you, but i will.

no. you’re not one of them at all.

i was ready to run you through. my mistake, friend.

that’s far enough. what’s your business down here?

you revealed our location? that tongue gets any looser, (name), and i’ll cut it out.

reckon i might miss this place.

this place is more dangerous than i thought.

well, don’t you cut a fine figure.

sometimes i’m jealous of that girl. ugh - to feel so invincible again.

in your expert opinion, what’s the best way to kill a devil?

i’m certain there are answers out there. we’ll find them together.

there’s no story. none that you’re entitled to hear, anyway.

you can tolerate a great deal of suffering, so long as it has meaning.

until then, all i can do is endure.

please try to understand that it’s not something i can just talk about freely.

perhaps there’s potential in you.

honestly, your faith is your own concern. i won’t judge, one way or the other.

i think i did well by joining you.

you already know my biggest secrets. what more can you ask?

that wall’s an illusion! hiding what, i wonder …

sun, moon, and stars will still be there, waiting for us.

this place is pretty spectacular, isn’t it?

no book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice.

a perfect ring of mushrooms … nature, or magic?

hmm. i thought that might’ve done something.

another illusion. is anything real down here?

i’m more concerned with this ‘twit’ who set a spectator on you.

a rival - a mere footnote to my legend. you should be more concerned with who i am.

the fools must have turned back. or, better yet, died in the search.

i need no more rivals. try to take this as a compliment, yes?

this presence … this magic is not divine, but fey.

little? i am a god! and i’m gonna rip you - tear you - wear you for a hat -

don’t do anything hasty, now.

i’ll just kill you and claim it for myself.

i’m the lord of murder - i’ll show you why.

if you’re expecting me to drop to my knees before you, forget it.

a wizard’s tower is his sanctum, a private place for research and respite. but as this wizard’s not home … i say we take a peek.

a strange place for a button. especially one that doesn’t work.

what good would it do for me to be troubled? we can’t save them all.

you’ll have to speak slowly. i find it quite difficult to concentrate with my condition gnawing at my insides like a teething displacer kitten.

the whole village is falling to pieces …

hey, maybe we can scare up a few dusty bottles of wine somewhere.

i like your way of thinking. split any takings we find?

what creatures live in water this dark?

i’m a rabid dirty dog. and i bite.

i could’ve killed you before you even noticed me, but i didn’t. stand down.

i can be discreet. no need for bloodshed.

share? you really are in the wrong place.

a bleeding heart, are you? reckon i’ll just roast and eat it.

what in the hells did you do to that corpse?

you do plenty for me, more than you realize. but this cannot be remedied.

are you alright? is there anything i can do to help you?

enough. bickering won’t save your friend.

run away, then.

(name) - i was so worried! did they hurt you?

who cares? we’re together now, thank gods!

i’m grateful, don’t mistake me, but … why help us?

freeze it, cock-stench. we aren’t done just yet.

pay up, and you get to skink away. resist, and i gut you.

drop it. i don’t owe you anything.

your incompetence has been my ruin.

stop! no more innocents will die today, (name).

you care for the weak. most curious.

you so much as touch me, and i’ll tear you from limb to limb.

ah - another treacherous soul walks among us.

i ain’t going down easy.

you been a shit since i laid eyes on you, (name).

strike him down. prove your faith.

your silence speaks to your heresy.

look, you have no idea what you’re dealing with …

it’s the whole damn reason we’re here, and i’m not leaving without it.

the mission comes first.

and i thought i’d heard it all. that’s some cambion-level deception.

i go where there’s shit to stir. and there’s no shortage of options.

i can’t remember much, truth be told.

centuries of torment will do that to you.

you’ve been naughty. and you know what happens when you’re naughty.

just who in the nine hells are you?

well, well. aren’t you a luscious thing?

been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me like that.

you have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. i like it.

you know, i’ve been thinking. and i think there’s something i should tell you. nothing big or terrible, just … a small little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.

i want to join you - to fight by your side.

i’m sorry for barging in like this, but i had to come find you.

i won’t let you down. i promise.

we all have our burdens, one way or the other.

i’m trying to say that you’ve earned my trust in a way very few ever have … i want that to mean something.

freedom - i’d forgotten how it felt. thank you.

if you have a moment, i’d like your opinion on something.

the problem is this: a preponderance of evidence that i am a terrible adventurer.

i can’t risk re-capture. i barely escaped last time.

it was a mistake. and not one we’ll repeat.

i don’t know. he was kind of fun.

we can’t just invite danger in to our hearth like that. we must be more careful.

most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me.

an old hunter’s trick - if you can’t mask your scent, spoil it.

i prefer a weapon to stench, thanks.

you’re a monster hunter? not what i imagined.

whatever you’re hunting, your stench alone will kill it.

a quick wit is rare indeed.

know how to ask, and they’ll share that knowledge. if you’re fool enough to pay their price.

speak plainly. what is she?

i think you’re mistaken - this place looks innocent enough.

truth is like a blade, my friend. we can arm ourselves with it - or just as easily find it pressed against our throat.

i would not put you in danger.

your coyness is getting boring. tell me.

you take insult where none is intended, my friend.

how thoroughly invigorating it is to stand by one’s friend in the face of danger.

you best have one hells of an apology for me.

you must have mistaken me for someone else.

that wriggler swimming in your brain juice is a bit of an inconvenience, isn’t it?

that’s none of your concern.

don’t change the subject.

keep that hole under your nose shut.

let’s not involve ourselves in this place any longer than is necessary.

you want to play the hero so badly? fine. let’s make this interesting.

gods, it’s hot in here.

i’ve had better days. and worse ones.

i am, after all, the villain of the tale.

you truly are a soul that steels my own.

you are as thick as they come.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall i.

all of this … it must feel like a betrayal.

you bastard! you ruined it, you ruined everything!

slow down - what did i do?

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

i don’t need this. good luck getting out of here on your own.

i know i should head home, but … i can’t bring myself to leave.

(are you alright?) / not even a little bit. but i will be.

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

i cannot thank you enough.

you will face (name)’s judgement.

i wish you could have visited at a better time.

you had no right to intervene.

you’re not one of us.

copper for your thoughts?

always a delight to speak to you.

did i play games like this in my youth? was i sweet once?

what are you doing? i’m busy here!

nothing beats the taste of stolen beer.

come on, now. they’re just having a bit of fun.

let’s do what we have to do, then get out of here.

smell’s like burnt flesh.

hold out your arm so i can mark your flesh.

i’m here to spill your guts across the floor.

pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?

i often feel i like raw pain too much. it scares me.

as long as the story ends in death, it’s all the same to me.

forgive me, but - that look in your eyes. something terrible has happened to you.

what i see in your eyes, in your soul, is only natural.

we’ve all suffered in these dark times. it is little wonder you hear scars of pain and anguish.

touch me and you’ll lose your hand.

the pain you suffer will cleanse you - do not fight it.

you look tired. should i take over?

welcome the pain. let it become part of you.

that looks like it’s going to bruise.

not that i’m suggesting we stop for a drink, of course.

i wouldn’t want to place all my faith in blind luck.

sympathies won’t help me to survive.

your life, much like your words, is meaningless. end the latter to save the former.

looks like the booze got the better of them. they’re practically unconscious.

they’re dying for me. all of them.

why don’t you take a closer look? i’ll observe from back here.

please don’t open the creepy book!

toddlers are easier to please than you lot.

you know, i never pictured myself as a hero.

all i want is a little fun. is that so much to ask?

having performance issues, (name)?

never have i met such troglodytes.

i was hoping you wouldn’t notice i was gone.

i suggest we admire it from afar.

it would be too much to hope that’s nothing to do with us, wouldn’t it?

i go my own way - alone.

i’ll feed your innards to the ants before i do that.

#ask memes #ask prompt #rp ask meme #rp prompts #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starter meme #sentence starters #inbox memes #roleplay memes

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petrssecrethideout · 10 months ago

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"Bro, do you wanna hear about something crazy?"

"I mean sure, go ahead,"

"Alright, so I was just relaxing, scrolling TikTok,"

"Already a bad idea."

"I know, I got beef with that fuckin' algorithm let me tell you. I follow a couple of bodybuilders, post a couple of gym vids and suddenly my For you page is filled with the biggest assholes alive. Anyway, I'm scrolling, and I see this guy, he's doing that whole 'alpha top dog' thing even though he's not that big."

"Okay wait pause, how big is not that big?"

"I don't know, I have more muscle in my arms than he has in his whole body, real gym influencer type."

"Alright, for anyone listening to the pod at home, I should probably just say that this guy could be anywhere from 150-300 pounds from Dale's description of him, okay? He's not good at judging what normal guys look like anymore."

"Yeah, okay, you got me. Anyway, this guy keeps going on about his great advice, so I stick around to hear it. You wanna know what he said? 'Stop Cumming, its killing your natural testosterone' What kind of bullshit is that!?"

"I mean that is a big part of the current fitness world, these guys will say anything to get more followers, and a lot of their followers are so desperate for progress that they'll take whatever advice they're given."

"It's a shame, because he's also wrong! I tried that whole 'No Nut Whatever' and its been the only time in these last 5 years that I've plateaued."

"... Really?"

"Yeah! If I'm not cranking a load out every day I can kiss any potential gains goodbye."

"Wait,"

"Like after my workouts, when I got a huge pump going, I just have to crank one out, like what good workout would it be if I didn't"

"Dale c'mon,"

"And its not like I can just hit up a guy on Grindr and go to town every time I need to, there aren't enough guys on Grindr for that."

"Uggggh dude, we are never getting a sponsor with you talking like this."

"What, so all the straight alpha dudebros can talk about semen retnetion and get a ton of followers, but I get censored for talking about jacking off and getting tons of ass?"

"Yeah, we will."

"Well then, listeners, go subscribe to the patreon so that I can talk about my actual tips for growing, and so that you can help Mark get bigger. I'm telling you, I'm gonna make this boy huge with your help. Audio listeners make sure to check the videos so you can see this boy get huge. Now bro, help me out here. You don't want those Tiktok gymfluencers to win do you? How often are you jerkin off?"

"Oh god I can't believe I'm answering this... A couple of times a week maybe?"

"A week? That's fucking crazy. My average is like 4-5 times a day. More if I'm really feeling horny. If I'm being honest I jerked off a few weeks ago on the pod, like I forgot to before I came here. One of the comments mentioned something about my grunting that episode."

"Jesus christ dude, how do you even manage that?"

"Well, you gotta work up to it. I couldn't do that starting out, but once I started growing I was so horny I had to do something about it. I think that's what these guys don't get. You gotta get those balls working, give them a reason to keep making that sweet testosterone. How are you supposed to do that if you aren't jacking it? Honestly dude, I feel like I gotta prove these guys wrong now."

"What, you're gonna be a cum warrior?"

"Hell yeah man, I'm gonna be fighting the war on jerking it, on the side of jerking it!"

#ai muscle #muscle fiction #cumcast

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hiscrookedsaint · 2 months ago

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𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

#: 𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Kaz x fem!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: With the heist beginning, Y/N realizes what dangers could lie ahead for her, along with past secrets arising from the grave. Finding the balance proves to be a striving task.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2368

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Blood, gore, mentions of injury & mentions of death.

𝐀/𝐍: I apologize ahead for any spelling or grammar errors! Thank you for taking the time to read this fic I've been working hard on. :) This chapter is shorter compared to the others yet to come.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

~Y/N~

I had followed Kaz, Jesper, and Inej around the city like a lost puppy. We visited different people and places, hearing a variety of responses. The four of us were in an office facing a woman smoking a cigar in her hand. "Tell us how to safely cross the Fold."

"The Fold? If I knew safe passage through that, I'd be wealthier than the whole Merchant Council." she replies. Inej brings up a counterpoint. "You told me you brought in girls from Os Alta. The other side." "Yeah. The hard way. Lost a few to those damn volcra, too."

Nothing at the first stop.

We head towards an alleyway, located near the popular part of Ketterdam. Jesper meets someone supposedly knowledgeable. "Nah, there's no trick to it except how it makes people disappear from time to time." Jesper asks, "I heard you bragging of a way to make a path."

"I was taking kruge from a tourist. A little lie. The Fold keeps those Ravkan bastards and their Grisha attack dogs in check. Can you imagine how dangerous it would be if it wasn't there?"

There is not anything useful from that guy, either.

The following person we went to was a Fjerdan guy. He was engaging in street fights and competitions. Most likely trying to win some kruge. "Just go around." Kaz didn't like to hear that answer. "It stretches all the way north to the Fjerdan border."

"Ja. So go to Fjerda. March through the permafrost." "How long will that take?" Kaz asks. He replies. "From here? Four months. Maybe five." "We don't have that kind of time."

"Either you take your time or you take your chances."

He went off, and Jesper motioned for us to regroup. We all started walking, and he asked me, "If Kaz had told me correctly, your power is one of a Grisha level with no element needing to be manipulated?"

I nod and half smile. "Kaz is correct, but I know I am so much more than what he says I can do."

"I understand, but why did you lay low until now?" Jesper asks. I let go of my tenseness, and he messes with one of his pistols. "Living the solo life, then changed in an instant. What changed your mind?"

I look at Kaz and Inej. Kaz has something alluring about him. I can't figure it out. I say, "I wanted a change, I guess. Being by myself was getting... upsetting. I had this urge that I needed to get out like an unknown power is trying to crawl its way out of my soul."

Jesper adds, "And you were lonely?" I nod in shame and look at Inej. "Inej helped me realize what my potential could be. How my power can change everything." I move some of my fingers around and ease my anxiety.

Kaz leads us to the Crow Club, and we sit at a table near the back. Where others couldn't hear in on our conversation. We are silent until Jesper breaks it abruptly. "Here's what I don't get." "We're going to be here all night," Inej adds.

"Rude. Why haven't they tried going under it? Just dig a tunnel." Kaz immediately shuts his thoughts down. "Tried that. More than a century ago. Something... heard them digging."

"So it was made hundreds of years ago by that crazy Grisha..." "The Black Heretic." The one who started all of this mess. "Yeah, the one who controls shadow. They've got one in their army now, don't they? General Kirigan?"

Inej says, "Your point?" "If one of his kind made it, can't he unmake it?" I slightly frown and hate how this General sounds. "Have you ever put out fire by adding more fire?" I slightly smirked, and Jesper asked, "Then what's the opposite?"

"A Sun Summoner? Right?"

Everyone looks at me, and I continue, "I mean, everything has to have an opposite to exist within each other—fire and water, light and dark, and so on and so on."

"Doesn't exist." I look at Kaz, and he quickly glances at me before staring back into the abyss.

"Doesn't exist yet," Inej says. "Dreesen comes into town, doesn't waste a minute. Sends out for a crew to steal something but doesn't specify what. Is it heavy, is it large, is it worth more than a million on the black market? Maybe he doesn't know."

Inej voices her thoughts. "We can let this one go, Kaz." "Sounds like a trap, anyway." Jesper takes a drink out of his glass. "A trap would sound easy. This is something else."

One of Kaz's workers approaches him, seemingly with good news: "Boss, Boss. We intercepted a note from Dreesen." "Did you, now?" He continues, "It's for the owner of the Orchid. Says they require the services of a Heartrender. Tonight."

"A Heartrender? Why?"

The worker shakes his head. "Doesn't say. Just they need it before midnight." I see Kaz's gears turning in his head. "You don't bring in a Heartrender unless you need an answer out of someone who isn't willing to talk. That's how we get this job before anyone else. Bring Dreesen a Heartrender."

Kaz stands up, eager for the new job. "Boss, just one problem. Pekka Rollins knows." "Pekka Rollins." I look over at Inej, and she shrugs at the sound of that name. We all get up and follow Kaz to the Orchid.

We reach the outside, and Inej walks beside me. "Don't feel too intimidated by Kaz. Sometimes, he acts like a loose cannon, especially when Pekka is brought up."

I feel my eyes glow, sensing this new sign of my powers. Pekka Rollins did something to Kaz that cannot be forgiven so easily. I can sense his feeling of vengeance whenever Pekka Rollins is brought up, I'd have to save that thought for later.

After 15 minutes of walking through the streets, we reach the Orchid. Kaz goes inside, and motions for the three of us to wait outside.

It only took about 5 minutes before Kaz hastily exited the building, followed by a Heartrender. We all follow behind for the next 20 minutes of silence. Before reaching Dressen's, the Heartrender speaks up.

"I really appreciate new business, but you've only paid for an hour of my time, and I have to be back at the Orchid," she says.

"The Orchid isn't safe tonight. Your life's in danger with this job. Make yourself scare for a few days afterwards." I look at the two and sigh. "Mr. Brekker, are you threatening me? Really? Even if I'm nice, my Boss will call the stadwatch on you."

We reach the gate and stop in our tracks. This Heartrender is getting annoying. Kaz says, "It's not me you're in danger with. It's Pekka Rollins." "My boss would call the stadwatch on him as well." the Heartrender says. "Which is why your boss is already dead."

Kaz marches forward, and I slowly follow behind him. One of his guards sees us and asks, "Who are you lot?" "We're here to see Dreesen."

Kaz and I reach the fenced gate and see the guard greet us. "You're not with Pekka's crew. And you brought a freak with you, look like the eyes of a monster to me." Kaz replies. "And you're not in Pekka's pocket anymore if you don't owe him. She's not a freak or monster, I'd trust you still have respect for women in this part of the city."

He tosses the guard the bag of kruge, and they catch it in time. The guard opens the gate and grants us access. Jesper catches up with us and asks Kaz, "Hey, where did you get that coin?" The gate shuts behind us, and we hear some commotion.

"Hey! One of these has a hole in it!" I widen my eyes and look at Kaz. "Inside. Inside."

The five of us hurry inside, and one of his guards brings us with Dreesen. He opens the door, with Kaz leading front and center. "One look and I can tell. Criminals. I'm not meeting anyone 'til midnight."

I am assuming that is Dreesen. "We heard you needed a Heartrender." Kaz says. Dreesen stands up from his desk and is intrigued. He replies, "Hmm. All right, she stays, the rest of you, out." The Heartrender begins to walk forward, and Kaz holds out his cane in front of her.

"She stays. And we have an exclusive on this job." "Mr. Brekker. No businessman worth his salt hires his first applicant." Dreesen stands in front of his desk and gives us a better look. "No. No, I understand. Of course, I will have to report you to the guild for kidnapping and harboring a prisoner without chain of title."

"You wouldn't." I smirked, knowing that Kaz had something up his sleeve, as he always does. He says, "No businessman worth his salt bargains for what he can take." Dreesen seems intimidated and goes up to Kaz's face. All that we can hear is the deep inhaling and exhaling of breaths.

I look to the side of me and see the Heartrender raise her hand. "I have to be back in an hour." The two look at each other before Dreesen speaks up. "All right, come on." He exits the door behind the five of us, and Kaz immediately follows.

He leads us into his basement, and we see someone tied up in a chair with a hood over their head. Kaz stops walking, and we do as well. "Who's this?" he asks. Dreesen goes to the person and says, "So you don't know everything after all. This... is Alexei Stepanov."

Alexei's face was beaten so severely. Cuts and dried blood were all over his face. Like they tried to get him to talk by using brute force first. Dreesen continues. "Two weeks ago, young Alexei here crossed through the Fold on foot. Alone."

He walks over to the desk and takes off his coat. "How?" I ask. "They're keeping it quiet, but allegedly he was one of a few witnesses to... an event." Dreesen pours some wine for himself, and Alexei mutters, "Water."

Inej doesn't hesitate to pour a glass of water for him and bring it over for Alexei. He drinks the water like his life depended on it. "What kind of event?" Kaz asks.

"I know an expedition was swarmed by volcra. Should've been a total loss, but something happened. Some device detonated. Obliterated the volcra, lit up the dark like a forest fire. I know it wasn't a fire or else no one would have survived. This was some invention no one had seen before. He knows. But he doesn't seem to be able to articulate his account of events. Some form of traumatic lapse."

Dreesen walks back to us, and I look at the ground to keep my thoughts. Kaz motions for the Heartrender to do what she can for Alexei. Inej walks back over and stands next to me. The Heartrender gets down to his level and assures him. "You're safe now. Now you can just speak and I will just listen."

"All right." "Tell me what happened in the Fold. What saved you?" she asks. Alexei looks deep into the eyes of the Heartrender. "You won't believe me, but... it was a Sun Summoner." Dreesen walks over and crouches in front of Alexei.

He asks, "Who was it?" "If I tell you, you'll set me free?" Dreesen nods. "You have my word. I'll set you free. You're in Ketterdam now, Alexei." He needs more convincing. "You can go anywhere in the world from here. Just imagine. Come on."

"Her name is... Alina Starkov."

A ringing in my ears and a pain in my head make me lose focus.

Alina Starkov.

Why have I heard that name before? I close my eyes in pain, and I open them up to something from my past I vaguely remember. The orphange in Keramzin.

I see a younger version of myself running in the field and trying to escape. The environment around me is crystal clear, and something feels off. Like this memory in the field was happening again, that's how clear it was to me.

I turn around to see two kids similar in age to my younger self. One looks like a Shu girl with long dark hair. Another was a boy with curly hair. He didn't look like Shu but deeply cared for his friend. "We can't just let Y/N go, Alina. She tried her best to get it back for you. I think she's going through a rough time."

"Mal, I think she's hiding something. I am not upset about the book and drawing supplies. She's never kept quiet to herself. There is something else going on that we should talk to her about."

Mal... and Alina.

They knew me back in Keramzin, the orphanage, but I don't remember them. I knew the Sun Summoner as a child, and she knew me. I even talked to her. But clearly, she also hid something.

My mind snaps me out of this memory with a gunshot. I open my eyes wide to Alexei dead on the floor—a bullet to the head. I see Dreesen put his gun away and walk over to the body.

"We are now the only people west of the Fold with this information. My ship sails for West Ravka at dawn. If you can prove that you have a way through the Fold and back, I'll put you on that ship with an advance. If you don't, I'm giving this job to Pekka Rollins."

~Kaz~

"Give me a day. I'll have a plan." Dreesen begins to walk away and looks back at me. "You have until sunrise, then your ship will have sailed, Mr. Brekker. The prize is one million kruge. Now bring me Alina Starkov."

Dreesen walks away, and I look over at Y/N. Something happened to her after the supposed Sun Summoner's name was mentioned. She looked like she was in a trance, that could almost pass off as her staring off into nothing. I'll have to inquire about that with Y/N later.

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itsrensfairygardenn · 5 days ago

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okay, but what about coach! reader that quit tennis because there was nothing for her to achieve anymore — she felt like she had exhausted her potential and needed something to feel complete again. patrick comes in her life again after breaking up with her twelve years ago, and maybe he's her only way to feel like she can create something great again.

mdni

someone said that you should know when to quit to not embarrass yourself — maybe it was good for you. sure, you aren’t even that old to retire; you actually still can play better than most of young players these days. people on the internet keep saying that you’ve lost your confidence and that’s your only problem. you don’t think they’re right, just like you’re simultaneously thinking that they’re not exactly wrong.

patrick caught you when you were at your weakest point — well, for you it was the worst, for him it’s not that bad at all — you were somewhere in between, attending fancy parties of your friends and charity events, trying to figure out how to cope with your current situation. so yes, patrick zweig practically fell into your hands; and for anyone but him, it was the most pathetic way of meeting an ex girlfriend.

you two had a hell of relationship back in your college years. well, it was everything that you wanted when you were nineteen — promising tennis player in the very beginning of his career, the whole life ahead of you; he was visiting you at stanford, sleeping with you in your tiny dorm bed — god, having the best fucking sex in your life, after all. he was the greatest when he was between your thighs, always doing something like biting on a little bow on your panties to tease you, joking like a dirty teenager, making you feel like you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. but that’s not how the greatest of love could be found, you knew it from the very beginning.

patrick was a mess — relying on his emotions, on his newfound vanity and, of course, his luck. sure, you had said that he’s a very good player, maybe once or twice, but you learned pretty quickly that you don’t want to feed this monster anymore. the more you praised him, the less he tried — always thinking that he’s natural at it, he barely even thought that tennis could be that hard for him, always pushing his luck as if the tennis world was a huge casino. you two started fighting as soon as his lucky stars stopped working for him; you’d told him so, of course you had.

you were obsessed with planning, with having your entire life under your control, always so careful about your decisions and dreams — patrick didn’t want to be controlled by you anywhere except for your bed. you’d never appreciated his way of treating his potential and his youth, because he thought that he’d be a damn rockstar in tennis and it’d pay off soon enough; but where did his passion go when he started losing his matches? he turned into a child, throwing tantrums because his life was gradually falling apart, and then you’d just tolerate it.

well, when you stopped tolerating it, you stopped being gorgeous for him — he saw you as a villain in his story, as if you turned into his enemy, who was waiting for his downfall; a madwoman who wanted to turn him into her obedient dog who’d do whatever she wanted, who’d follow her every advice, who’d fix his lifestyle for her — that day, the entire campus probably heard all possible synonyms for the word bitch being voiced by him. love story ended as soon as he stormed out of your dorm without looking back. fuck him, you thought, because you’d told him so — he’d fucking lose everything, because tennis is not a silly way of proving himself. if he considered it a game, this was likely to be russian roulette.

so when he approached you after twelve years of no contact with this ridiculous, pathetic confidence and even more disgusting smell of cigarettes from his breath right in front of your face, your first thought was exactly that — you thought that this roulette had already shot his brain out.

“you want me to coach you? really?” you scoffed, leaning against the cold concrete wall, wearing that fancy designer dress — everyone was partying inside, while you were standing here, wasting your time on patrick motherfucking zweig. it’d been ages since you last heard about his minor achievements in the tennis world. how was he even allowed in here? did he come here as anyone’s plus one?

“why’re you so surprised? am i too unworthy to be around someone like…” he didn’t continue, but the way his eyes roamed over your appearance spoke louder than anything — god, you looked so much hotter than you were in 2007, that’s for sure; even one single earring in your ear costed more than his room in that shitty hotel with stained sheets and squeaky bed. “come on, just think about it. you can’t seriously brush me off just because i broke up with you when we were teenagers”

“you have no fucking shame, zweig,” you turned away from the stifling smell of cigarette smoke. he was trying to turn it into some kind of joke — as if he approached his friend with a casual request, and it genuinely surprised him that you didn’t want to help him. he could call you unserious, childish, he could even call you a bitch again, but would it even change anything for you? you were a winner, you’d already taken it all — skills, respect, fame, bunch of money; and he just stayed the same — the same impudent man you’d once been in love with. “you can’t even brush your hair to not look like shit, and you actually want me to trust you enough to let you play under my guidance?”

“you’ll lose nothing if i fail, y/n” he practically interrupted you, invading your personal space again — his face was close to yours again, he was forcing you to breath the same air with him, to look in his eyes, to see how dead serious he was about what he was offering. he was pushing his luck again, trying to find familiar buttons, the ones he always used to make you believe in him again and again — he typed familiar phrases by memory, but the buttons didn’t work the same way anymore. “and i’ve already fucked everything up, i know, but i still have a season”

you wanted him to be fucking desperate, to crawl back to you; and he wasn’t ready to beg yet, but he was already there, staring at your face, at the glare from your shiny dress on your chin, at that hint of arrogance in your features — it was his arrogance, it was his confidence; you took it from him when he left, and now he had no choice but realize that he only had his ego now; literally, he didn’t even have money to pay for another night in the cheapest hotel in the city. but would he really find it in himself to admit it? to admit that you’d told him, that you’d warned him about that?

making patrick zweig great was a hell of a project — it’s not even ‘emerge from the ashes’ kind of comeback; he’d never been a talented athlete to begin with, at least not for you. just a mediocre player who thought his ego could be a boost for his career. you was so fucking tired — and when you looked at him again, you felt like you were nineteen again, and you were sick of his bullshit, just like that day when he left you, because you were too fucking annoying with your reasonability.

you said nothing back, but with the way you were looking at him, and breathing like you were about to explode, it felt like you were giving him the silent treatment — he smiled at you, as if he saw a bristling child; you still looked so pretty and young, even though you were a grown woman. the tv screen and hundreds of your photos on the front pages of sports newspapers and social media were damn true — you looked even hotter in real life.

you snapped out of it only when he tucked something in your hand — when you looked down at your open palm, you saw a crumpled receipt from the supermarket with a crookedly written address on the back. “you know where to find me,” he muttered, because he actually believed that — some part of him always knew that you’d come back to him, even if he’d had to ask you for it.

“i’m open to any suggestions, by the way” he added, explicitly glancing at your cleavage with a crooked smile, as he was blowing a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth — what a nasty dog he was.

you left, not lingering any longer, because you weren’t going to do it — honestly, it was stupid of him to believe the past didn’t matter. to you, it was important where everyone came from — and the two of you came from fighting, from wanting everything you could possibly reach for. how did you end up fighting with each other, even when there was nothing to fight for anymore?

people often say that you’re biting more than you can chew, that you can’t handle gnawing something to the bone — they always say that, no matter how many things you’d already achieved. maybe it’s all about challenging yourself, it’d always been — that’s why you found yourself tossing and turning in your king sized bed, under the weighted blanket with the air conditioning on. you wanted to take a bite again, because you’d rather die with this piece of shit in your throat than miss the opportunity to prove that you’re the greatest, that you’re everything that patrick zweig would never be, that his career will work out only in your hands. even if you don’t actually need it, it doesn’t mean that you can’t have it.

the floors in the hotel creaked, and the reception was deadly quiet — nobody even saw you entering. you were fidgeting with the piece of paper in the pocket of your coat, deliberately walking to his room down a long hallway. it was late, so far past midnight, but when you knocked, he opened almost immediately, wearing only his tight briefs — his hair was even more disheveled than before, and his beard seemed even redder under the dim light of the floor lamp beside him. god, his smile was so annoyingly cheeky and mischievous, that you immediately thought about slapping him across the face.

“i’m not here to fuck you,” you said immediately to brush this smirk off his face, and honestly, it almost disappointed him; you leaned against the threshold, not entering the room, while his hand was terribly close to your shoulder, as if he was ready to pull you inside in case you would change your mind.

“coaching me is more appealing than letting me fuck you?” he joked quietly, because yeah, he indeed was a nasty dog

even if it was your game of dominance, of proving yourself and crashing his ego, he didn’t mind it anymore — after all, once it was his game too; and now he was so ready to play with you again.

thank you for reading this fic <3 english is not my first language, so i’m sorry for possible mistakes.

#challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x fem!reader #challengers au #challengers fic

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ravenoclock · 3 months ago

Text

@labyrinthhofmymind

It’s that time again

the following content contains spoilers on a fic called presque vu by bizzarestars

Chapter 25

- Sirius trying to convince Remus that he’ll be the better parent figure

- SIRIUS’ MENTAL HEALTH

OH MY FUCKING GID. AND HE SAID IF HED STAYED WITH REMUS HE PROBABLY WOULDVE HAD A BETTER CHANCE AT HEALING??!!

CAN I DIE NOW

- Sirius calling him beautiful

Yes, she's biased towards him, but that has fuck all to do with his lycanthropy. In Sirius' eyes, Remus is better than anyone, werewolf or no.

(wolfstar in a nutshell)

TWUAIAJHDHWAJAJSOSOADHKSKAJDJSIAJIFISJANSHFIWKNDOWISHDJSJSIFJEKDJSHAODJJTYOEKJALSJHYNEOAKJSJFJTKSJOAJSBDIEOAOHSJDNFPROAJSHUDNTJ

⚰️ <- me

Sometimes, the bare minimum is all they've got.

…

Don’t even know what to say

I need whatever tf zar was on when they wrote this fic like OH my FUCKING GOD

I CANT DO THIS

IM IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS RN AND THATS THE ONLY TJING STOPPING ME FROM BREAKING DOWN RIGHT FUCKING NOW

Maybe it's the potential of what could have been that's throwing me off.

- ok so who gave Sirius the fucking mic

- WHAT

- this is her talking abt hermione and harry and how Harry would’ve been an older sibling if they’d had the time :(

"You talk like you're old," Remus says, amused.

Sirius shoots him a wry look. "I am old."

"What's that make me, then?"

"You? Oh, Moony, you're in your prime."

…..OLD COUPLE BANTER

I CANT

I LOVE THEM TOO MUCH I FORGET THIS IS A CANON COMPLIANT FIC AND I WISH THEY DIDNT DIE AND I WISH JKR DID THEM JUSTICE AND I WISH THEY GOT TO HEAL TOGETHER AND MAKE OUT LIKE THEY DESERVE TK BUT THEY CANT AND THEY DONT AND IT MAKES ME WANT TO TEAR MY SOUL OUT AND CRY AND CRY AND CRY

"Freddie Mercury was a legend," Sirius states firmly. "Some people just didn't like him because he could be…eccentric. Same thing with Bowie. There's no accounting for your uncle's taste, clearly."

HARRY LISTENING TO BOWIE AND QUEEN. HE IS MY QUEEN. OH MY FUCMING GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH SNAKJSJDHSJA

Sirius being like ‘wait u think we’re a couple’ and Harry being like ‘um, you aren’t?’

…nevermind he said ‘hug like brothers’

I shall not be forgiving Harry in the near future. WHAT THE FUCK MAN. YOU WERE ON A ROLL. AND YOU RUINED IT WITH ‘YOU HUG LIKE BROTHERS’ WTF. NOT COOL.

Remus' expression doesn't crack, but the humor in his eyes is evident, and Sirius considers sticking their tongue in his mouth right then and there, just to prove a point. See if Harry calls that brotherly. Fucking hell.

THEY SHOULDVE. THEY SHOULDVE MADE OUT RIVHG THERE AND THEN.

NOT REMUS FRIENDZONING SIRIUS GAHSBSHHAHAHAHSJSJ

SIRIUS CALLING HIM A GOOD BOY

RHEKAKAKJDKSJSJSJDJDJSJJSHS AND THEM GRINJING WHEN REMUS BLUSHED

Sirius knows for a fact that they've managed to fluster him just by how he's talking; whether it's from the good boy comment, or just their teasing look, they don't know. It doesn't really matter, because it pleases Sirius to no end anyway.

SIRIUS KNOWS HOW POWERFUL SHE IS OMG AKRJJWS

…Sirius comparing Molly and Walburga :/

THE BOGGART

WHAT THE FUCJ

THE BOGGART I CSNT I CANT I CANT I CANT I CANT I CANY I CANT I CANT I CANT I XANT I CANT

‘Padfoot is Harry’s dog’

- why

- did

- I

- sign

- up

- for

- this

ANYWAYS

That’s it for now and I’m taking healthy breaks throughout this fic cuz I don’t plan on killing myself before I finish it so it’ll be slow updates. :)

Thanks for reading

#marauders #the marauders #marauders era #the marauders fandom #marauders fandom #sirius black #presque vu #wolfstar #remus x sirius #remus lupin #fic review #my fic post

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milkywayhou · 11 months ago

Text

You've Got Email (König x OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART III

Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl and now they develop some weird relationship.

Snow now overthinking about how fucked up her situation can be

TWs: Slow burn (not really), Implies stalking behavior. I just wrote this for fun.

Words Count: 1.9k (The email contain 1.3+ words while the rest was Snow's 4Chan post)

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/13/23 at 01:38 am

Subject: A late night conspiracy ramble…

Hey!

Once again it’s a late night and these weary med student brain cells are firing off all kinds of…interesting theories and connections, to say the least.

For example, okay hear me out, but what if Big Pharma is actually run by ancient shape-shifting lizard people from the center of the hollow earth who feed on human adrenal gland fluid harvested during rituals conducted at Bohemian Grove, and they started the pharmaceutical industry just to get us all addicted to medication so we’re docile little cash cows?!

I know, I know, it’s utterly ridiculous…buuuuut it would explain a few things haha! Anyways, somehow my winding thought process led me back to pondering your own doubtless intriguing backstory, oh mysterious Colonel.

You’ve given mysterious snippets here and there, but never a straight history lesson, you sly dog. Care to unravel some of those shadows for this thirsty student? Like how’d you get into this line of work anyway?

Maybe share something to take my mind off lizard people conspiracies before this insomnia kills me. You’ve got me curious now!

Conspiracizing but also bedridden,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/13/23 at 02:01 am

Subject: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

You’ve a vivid imagination, to be sure. As for my own history…it’s nothing so fanciful, I’m afraid.

I grew up isolated, with only books as company. Social skills proved…challenging. The bullying was constant. All I wanted was to disappear into the quiet of nature, far from the incessant noise inside my head.

By 17 I was desperate to escape, and the military offered just that. I dreamed of being a sniper – controlling chaos from afar through calm precision. But my frame and restlessness didn’t suit remaining still for long. They saw potential elsewhere. They assigned as an insertion specialist instead. It was difficult, but taught discipline. In time I learned to turn noise into focus, chaos into strategy.

Now I protect others as I wished to be protected then. It brings…solace, of a kind. Purpose, where once was only turmoil.

Get some rest, Snow. Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/13/23 at 02:14 am

Subject: RE: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

I see.

Thank you for sharing that with me. I can’t imagine how difficult those experiences must have been, but I’m grateful you found your calling in spite of them. It takes real strength of character to turn trauma into purpose like that.

Also, I should say the bullying says far more about their weakness of spirit than anything about you. Their loss, as it brought you to where you’re meant to be – helping people in your own way. I can’t help but smile thinking of a tiny bookworm König dreaming of sniping lizards in the woods! Well, you may not be in the trees anymore but it seems your aim is truer than ever.

Thinking on childhoods, mine wasn’t all sunshine either as an awkward kid. Let’s just say blending in was…challenging, to put it lightly. Between moving a lot after my parents split and living with various relatives, school was an escape into study. Seemed the safest route to gain some footing and make the family proud, at least. Kept me busy avoiding the realities outside books for a while too, I suppose. Somehow I suspect lonely bookworm me and you may have gotten along splendidly if our paths crossed back then!

Anyways, not sure where I’m going with this aside from reflecting our younger selves may have found solace in one another, strange as that sounds now in these roles. At least we’ve come into our own in the end, in our own ways. Small favors and all that.

Just a light note before sleep – rest well, König!

Your friend,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 08:27 pm

Subject: Essay Woes and Cadaver Flashbacks

Ugh,

My apologies for this incoherent word vomit you’re about to endure. I’m approximately 5-7 days into an all-nighter essay crunch and my last two brain cells are DANCING.

This final assignment is killing me dead but at least after it’s over I can finally be done with med school! *insert jubilant celebration emoji* Of course that’s if I don’t starve to death first living off instant ramen. I’m positively wasting away without a decent meal. At this rate they’ll be teaching anatomy lectures using my lifeless body.

Whoever invents a magic food delivery service that beams freshly cooked meals directly to overworked students is getting a freaking Nobel Prize. A girl can dream, right? At this point I’d kill a man for a good pizza. *hideshypotheticalmurderweaponbehindback*

Anyways, in my spiral of delirium my thoughts keep wandering back to that fateful day months ago when I randomly received your classified KorTac email out of nowhere. Still bewildered how you even had my address to begin with…were you watching me, Colonel? *pretends to be frightened but is secretlyflattered*

Getting that file was kinda scary at first, not gonna lie. Reminded me of the first time we received our cadavers – that creepy feeling of being watched even after leaving the lab. Is that what it’s like being you, always paranoid someone has intel on you? :)

Anyways, enough gibbering – just wanted to share my pain and also wonder again how our wacky email friendship began! Stay safe out there in whatever shady places your work takes you. And send help – I mean, good luck with all the classified stuff!

Tired and Hangry,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 08:40 pm

Subject: WHAT DID YOU DO

KÖNIG I SWEAR TO GOD

I LITERALLY JUST GOT A DELIVERY AT MY DOOR. IT WAS PIZZA AND IT WAS ALREADY PAID FOR

DUDE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T HACK INTO MY LOCATION OR SOME SHIT. HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE??

I’M FREAKING OUT A LITTLE NOT GONNA LIE. I KNOW YOU HAVE ACCESS TO SHADY TECH BUT PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T TRACK ME DOWN

I was joking in my last email! Sort of! Please say this was all just a coincidence. I don’t need some extra secret stalker on top of everything else ;____;

Explain yourself soldier man!!! My paranoia can only be quelled with answers.

Sending mildly panicked regards,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/28/23 at 09:12 pm

Subject: RE: WHAT DID YOU DO

Snow,

I assure you, any capabilities related to surveillance are reserved strictly for operations.

As for your delivery, consider it a small kindness from one overworked soul to another. Now eat, regain strength, and get back to that essay. You’ve proven quite resourceful in pulling secrets from shadows. But some mysteries deserve to remain.

Worry not and carry on with your studies.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 09:25 pm

Subject: Spill. Everything. Now.

I appreciate the pizza bailout, don’t get me wrong. But my paranoia has now reached DEFCON 1 levels and it WILL NOT stand down until I get some answers. So spill. Just how much do you actually know about me? Do you have my address on file somewhere? Photos? Socials? Pet peeves? Middle name??

I understand need-to-know for operations, but this is need-to-know for my own peace of mind. Please assuage these frazzled med student nerves and assure me you’re not some mysterious stalker Colonel (unless that’s just part of your charm). I’ll even send new Luna's pics in return! Consider it a debriefing – you give, you get. Otherwise the wheels will keep spinning in my head…

Sincerely (and only mildly obsessively),

Snow

----------

>>Anonymous

05/29/23(Mon)22:37:10 No:132926391

Colonel Stalker Dude is freaking me out

Image: [Confused pepe scratching head.jpg 230kb, 400x400]

>Be me, a totally tired out and broke student

>Remember getting those shady files months ago

>Thought Colonel dude was cool and weird pen pal

>Even started to like him after long talks

>But NOW he knows my address???

>WTF how long has he been watching me

>On one hand it’s creepy AF but kinda flattering a high rank dude cares

>Other hand I don't want a secret stalker or to get disappeared

>Free food is nice but feeling stalked is not cash money

>Used to have bit of crush but now I'm skeeved TBH

>What do? Can't go to cops cuz questions. No close friends/fam

>Too broke to move or change info

>Maybe he’s just lonely but also maybe he climbs in my window ;____;

>What if he takes my organs in the night like some human harvester?!

>Only protection is my cat Luna and she's useless in a fight ;_;

>Try to be positive and asking him how much he know

>Currently waiting for his replied while I was writing this post

>Anons pls help, should I keep talking to possible stalker man?

Don’t want my organs harvested but also don’t wanna waste a free food connection

Very conflicted and slightly paranoid this girl is in DIRE need of advice

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)22:45:19 No:132926405: >>132926391(OP)#

Sounds like a thriller romance novel lol! He probs just cares in his own intense way. Keep talking but be safe, maybe feel him out more? Could be nnothing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:16:08 No:132926439: >>132926405#

IKR it does sound like a book! But what if it’s a prequel to a snuff film?! I’ll try to subtly find out wtf he knows without pissing him off…

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:37:12 No:132926502: >>132926391(OP)#

LOL girl chill no one climbin in ur windows. He prolly just admires ur spirit. Keep lines of comms open, set boundaries if needed but relax!

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:45:01 No:13292623: >>132926502#

You’re right, I do overthink! I’ll calm my farm. Thank u stranger, maybe he’s just a bored soldier man and not a psycho (´。＿。｀)

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:25:31 No:13292684: >>132926391(OP)#

Change ur info anyway, maybe he won’t go to ur new stuff. And get some locks/alarms jfc. Play it safe.

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:42:44 No:13292692: >>13292684#

Can’t change anything, I used my student email! And too broke for moves or upgrades, these loans gotta last :’( but self defense is a must, thanks!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:28:19 No:132922735: >>132926391(OP)#

Send Luna pics. Also tell col u feel weird, set ground rules like no stalking. Maybe he just wants friendship. Be safe!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:46:31 No:132922757: >>132922735#

[sleepy_Luna.jpg 1,3mb 1000x1000] You’re so right, communication is key. I’ll lay it all out clearly and see how it goes. Thx fren <3

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:59:36 No:132922805: >>132926391(OP)#

Maybe he liiiiikes you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) whatever happens keep us posted! We’re invested now lol

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:08:55 No:132922822: >>132922805#

omggg don't say that!! Now I'll be paranoid AND flustered X_X But I definitely will update y'all, this is quite the melodrama unfolding

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:15:36 No:132922811: >>132926391(OP)#

Girlll tell that stalker if he wants a piece he gonna have to pay your tuition first! Then maybe you’ll reconsider the organ harvesting. Gotta respect your worth sis 💅

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:23:12 No:132922834: >>132922811#

Omg you genius!!! If he’s really interested he can sponsor my broke ass med student life lol. Alleviate my debt and he gets unlimited Luna pics, win-win!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:01:46 No:132922839: >>132926391(OP)#

Lmao girl you been reading too many thrillers! Military guys have ways of finding people, changing email won’t do shit. Just ask him wtf is up like a normal person

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:39:44 No:132922926: >>132922839#

Ugh you make a good point, confronting is smarter than hiding. But what if he locks me in a dungeon for being nosy?! I have no one to turn to if I disappear ;-;

------

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/30/24 at 03:45am

Subject: RE: Spill. Everything. Now.

Snow,

Let’s just say I know more than you think. But rest assured, your privacy and safety remain my priority here.

As for debriefs, some questions are best left unanswered, even between…friends. Maintaining mystique has its place too, no?

Focus on your studies. I’ll focus on ensuring no more interruptions are needed.

Now get some rest. You’ve an early lab tomorrow if I’m not mistaken.

Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/30/23 at 03:47am

Subject: DUDE.

HOW.

----

This one was short because I've been busy with other stuff hahah. It sure took some twisted turn hmmM? or maybe poor Snow just over reacted ;)

Also love, comment and reblogged are really appreciate! 💖

#könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x oc #könig #cod oc #cod x oc #konig call of duty #cod fic #cod mw2

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zeciex · 1 year ago

Text

A Vow of Blood - 61

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 61: The Taste of Silence

AO3 - Masterlist

*smut*

The stern tone of his mother’s voice sliced through the quiet of Aemond’s chambers as she briskly entered, flinging open the door before shutting it with a loud bang behind her.

Aemond looked up, his expression turning into a scowl, feeling annoyance flare up within him. He continued to pour himself a cup of bitter wine, taking a gulp of it, before setting it aside, as his mother stood before him, her face etched with disapproval, eyebrows knitted together in unmistakable anger.

“What were you thinking?” She demanded, her voice laced with frustration.

He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Like a feral dog, he was poised to bite first.

Aemond leaned casually against his desk and responded with a nonchalant drawl, “Forgive me, Mother, for merely speaking the truth. It’s not my fault they’re bastards–”

“You said it to their faces!” Alicent interjected sharply. “After the ordeal with Vaemond – what if they bring this to Viserys? What if they demand your tongue? I can’t shield you if you persist in provoking them openly!”

Her words were a mix of fear and exasperation, an attempt at conveying the precariousness of their situation and her concern for the consequences of his brash actions. Aemond, however, was less perturbed by the potential fallout, his stance and tone reflecting this.

“I am not as defenseless as Vaemond; I’ll be ready if they dare to come for me,” Aemond retorted with confidence in his own prowess. He would not cower in fear of what the bastards would do to him for telling what was plain for all to see, and for what Vaemond had lost his head for. Gone was the child who had been ambushed and overpowered. In his place stood a man, fully prepared to dispense the same level of mercy that had once been dealt to him.

“Why do you persist in provoking them?” Alicent demanded, her voice ringing in volume and sharpness, her eyes blazing with anger.

“Because we are far from being a happy family!” Aemond shot back, his response laced with frustration, burning in his chest and spreading through his body. “The entire evening was nothing but a charade, a pathetic farce for Viserys’s sake. He may want us to bury our grievances, but he only deepens them with his unfair judgements! He expects me to sit amiably across from the one who took my eye, to offer forgiveness! I cannot and will not do that!”

Alicent’s frustration was palpable as she shook her head in disbelief, her fingers massaging one of her temples as if to alleviate a pounding headache. “And this is what you choose to do? To deepen the rift between us?”

Aemond responded with a tone of petulance in his voice, “There’s no necessity for me to exacerbate the divide, Mother. I merely shed light on its depth, proving that mere words and good intentions are insufficient to mend such chasm.”

“Aemond–” Alicent began, only to be cut off.

“The thread binding this family will unravel with Viserys’ death, you know it,” Aemond pressed on. “Then, the pretense can finally end! I refuse to prostrate myself before my wretched half-sister or waste my breath on pretense, and why should I? They will never offer an apology, nor will they admit any fault for maiming me.”

“And yet, you’ve gone as far as to declare that you and Daenera are betrothed,” Alicent interjected sharply.

Aemond clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. His declaration had been instinctive almost, driven by a desire to irk her brother’s. He had wanted to see the facade crumble, to lay bare the deep fissures hidden beneath it. He wanted to expose the truth behind the illusion and watch the ensuing chaos unravel their pretense.

Watching Daenera interact with her family had stirred a sense of disquiet in him. It was as if the months they had spent together, the intimacy they had shared, were nothing more than a fleeting dream from which she had abruptly awakened, leaving him stranded in a desolate nightmare. He felt a gnawing knot in his stomach as she offered him mere glances and polite smiles, treating him as a mere acquaintance rather than someone who knew her, someone who had killed for her, someone who had tasted her darkness and her blood, and had allowed her to infiltrate his being.

Her act of detachment had only intensified the bitterness festering within him, a poison that gnawed at his core. He yearned to shatter the veneer of civility, to reflect the decay and corruption inherent in their family. The barbed comments from her brothers, which echoed painfully in his head, combined with Daenera’s apparent indifference, only fueled his desire to reveal the true, rotting nature of their family ties.

It had been almost an instinct.

Alicent pressed on with her argument. “You must realize this wasn’t the bride you were meant to choose! You know this union with Daenera cannot happen, Aemond. Rhaenyra and Daemon will never consent to it, not after the scene you created, not after you called her and her brother’s bastards for all to hear!”

Aemond let out a derisive scoff, dismissing the gravity of the situation with a gesture of contempt.

“This is unacceptable,” Alicent declared sternly, her tone laced with reproach. “I will not tolerate it.”

Aemond’s fingers pressed deeply into the wood of the desk, blunt nails scraping over the veins in the wood, as he braced himself against the heavy tide of his mother’s disapproval.

“This dalliance with Daenera ends now,” Alicent asserted, her voice unwavering and resolute. Her hands were clasped firmly in front of her, her spine erect in a posture that exuded authority. “You are to marry a Baratheon girl – it matters not which one, but choose one of them, Aemond, and put an end to this matter.”

Her directive left no room for argument, underscoring the finality of her decision and the expectation of his compliance.

Aemond clenched his teeth tighter, forcibly swallowing down the vehement refusal that scorched his chest. The Very thought of marrying a Baratheon, or anyone other than Daenera, was intolerable to him. His mind was set on her, and he was acutely aware that if they were to marry in the presence of the Seven, their union would become irrefutable, beyond the reach of opposition or dispute. This realization fueled his resolve, even as he grappled with the constraints imposed by his mother’s demands.

With a swift turn, she exited the room, leaving Aemond to his thoughts.

In response, Aemond roughly gulped down his wine, the bitterness of the drink mirroring his mood. He set the cup down on the table with a forceful clatter and rose to his feet. As the door to the secret passageway opened with a soft click, a cool breeze caressed his skin, welcoming him into the embrace of the shadows.

The quill danced gracefully over the parchment, leaving behind a trail of ink that formed precise, deliberate strokes so meticulous and refined they would surely draw a nod of approval from Maester Geradys. The table was a mosaic of parchment scrapes, a disarray of paper balls and neatly rolled scrolls. Each fragment was an essential link in the chain of communication, carrying the weighty news of her impending departure–a decision that had not come lightly.

After leaving her parent’s chambers, a sense of unease and restlessness gnawed at her, banishing any thoughts of sleep. Instead, Daenera found solace in the meticulous planning of her departure. It was a retreat from everything she had so carefully constructed over months, a departure that didn’t align with what she had envisioned for herself.

Yet, in the current turmoil, perhaps this was a necessary pause, a chance for her to catch her breath, just as her mother had wished. And how could she refuse her mother, especially with the impending arrival of a new sibling? She had been at the birth of all her other siblings save for Jace, she would see this one into the world as well.

Her fingers traced the edge of the parchment, her mind adrift.

“I am not in the mood for company,” Daenera stated icily, lifting her eyes from the parchment to look through her lashes as Aemond slipped into her chambers through the secret passageways. “I think it’s best you leave.”

Aemond merely hummed in response, dismissing her icy glare. He casually leaned against her table, watching as she furiously continued her writing, her previously elegant writing became hurried and crude with her rising irritation until it was almost ineligible.

Daenera persisted with her writing, periodically dipping her quill into the inkwell. Each time she brought it back to the paper, a few stray drops of ink fell, splattering on the parchment and leaving unintended smudges. As her frustration mounted, she couldn't help but release a sharp exhale, breaking the silence. “What were you thinking?”

Aemond’s expression soured, the corners of his mouth turning downward slightly as he shrugged indifferently. “I was merely toasting my nephews. I didn’t know how insecure they were about their heritage.”

“You called us bastards!” Daenera retorted sharply, her patience worn thin. She discarded the quill in the inkwell, turning her whole attention towards him.

“I was merely brave enough to state the obvious,” Aemond countered, his voice laced with the same sharpness he exhibited during supper. “They are bastards.”

Daenera rose to her feet, her cheeks flushed with mounting anger. “And what does that make me, then?”

Aemond met her gaze, his posture unyielding, arms folded across his chest. “A bastard.”

“My brothers considered having your tongue removed for your insults. And they’re well within their rights to have it,” Daenera snapped, starting to regret her decision in opposing her brother’s wishes.

Aemond let out a derisive scoff. “You’d regret the loss of my tongue more than I.”

Daenera’s voice was a low growl of warning. “Be careful. The last man who dared call us bastards lost his head for it.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, a clear boundary of her tolerance for disrespect. Her fury simmered just beneath the surface, a fire raging within, clashing with the icy, mocking flame in Aemond’s sharp, blue gaze. His expression was a curated mix of scorn and amusement, clearly relishing in getting a rise out of her.

“Years have done little to improve his skill. He still throws punches like a girl.” Aemond’s retort was laced with smugness, his lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk, only serving to further fan the flames of Daenera’s anger.

Daenera’s response was laced with venom, her frustration palpable as she let out a huff, running her hand through her hair and shaking her head angrily.

“It was a well deserved hit,” she retorted sharply, tempted to demonstrate firsthand the strength of a girl’s punch. “I only wish it had broken your jaw.”

“For someone of House Strong, his punch was disappointingly feeble,” Aemond taunted, the reply dripping with malice. It was clear that he was enjoying the effect his words had on her.

“Did you intentionally seek to provoke conflict, or was it a spur-of-the-moment decision?” Daenera inquired. The answer came in the form of a smirk, its curve as menacing as a Dothraki arakh. “Well, you’ve certainly succeeded in stirring up trouble by calling us bastards–by referring to me as your wife!”

“You are my wife,” Aemond declared, his tone infused with a mix of indignation and assertion.

Daenera released a weary sigh. “It wasn’t real, Aemond.”

Aemond appeared visibly taken aback, looking almost crestfallen, and he briefly averted his gaze to compose himself, something hardening within his expression. “We said the vows, we cut our palms–”

“But the Faith doesn’t recognize it. There were no priests, no witnesses,” Daenera answered, almost softly. Her heart twisted painfully, and she swallowed the pain as it seemed to wreck through her chest and climb up her throat.

His voice dropped to a low, resonant tone, deep and dark, “You know it was real.”

In her heart, Daenera knew it was both real and unreal. A fleeting act of folly, born of desire and the thing neither of them acknowledged. It had been a dream–a fantasy. They bore the physical marks of this fantasy, and whispered the vows in the dark, with only the flames and the shadows as their witnesses. It had been a moment that belonged solely to them, detached from the rest of the world.

And now, that world was crashing in around them.

“I asked Viserys for permission for us to marry.”

Daenera’s reaction was immediate and visceral. Her head jerked up, her body momentarily frozen in disbelief. Her lips parted slightly as she absorbed his words, her eyes searching his face, delving into the depth of his gaze. Confusion and suspicion furrowed her brow, while her heart pounded so fiercely she feared its beat might echo through the room.

The air in the room seemed to thicken with the gravity of Aemond’s declaration, each second stretching out, intensifying the tumult of emotions raging within Daenera. A storm of questions and doubts raged in her mind. Was this some elaborate ruse? A way to corner her, or was it a declaration?

Her heart’s frenzied rhythm seemed to mirror the chaos of her thoughts and her throat went dry, her words hesitant as she finally spoke. “You didn’t.”

Aemond’s gaze turned steely. “I could.”

“It wouldn’t make any difference. We can’t marry, Aemond,” she answered, her voice trembling with a mixture of realism and disappointment. She could feel the prickling of tears, her heart aching. Such a union seemed impossible–was impossible. Daemon would never consent, and she suspected Alicent would oppose it vehemently as well.

In the back of her mind, the haunting prophecy whispered, a reminder of a fate seemingly preordained: Your first marriage will be loveless, and your second cloaked in betrayal. The words echoed in her thoughts, a grim harbinger overshadowing any fleeting hope kindled by Aemond’s bold assertion.

They had spoken the vows like children uttering promises whose depths they could not fathom. They had cut their palms and shared their blood with the naivete of children who could not see the storm on the horizon, but only the calm waters at their feet. They had been children playing pretend, lost in the moment of each other, neglecting the harsh reality around them and the consequences of such fantasies.

His expression had become a mask of stone, impenetrable and unfathomable. Any insight Daenera had previously gleaned from his countenance was now obscured by the cold facade he presented. The subtleties and nuances she had once been able to detect were hidden, lost behind this unyielding mask that revealed nothing of his thoughts or feelings.

The atmosphere was charged, thick with unspoken words and emotions. Daenera’s heartbeat resonated in her ears, a relentless drumming that mirrored the tension in the room. Her words, heavy with meaning, seemed to hang oppressively in the air, creating an almost tangible barrier between them. “This infatuation–”

Aemond interrupted her with a scoff, his upper lip curling into a snarl. He gazed past her, as though searching the air for the elusive words.

“It is not infatuation, and you know it,” he retorted, his voice laced with something close to contempt. “I thought I had made my intentions clear. I want you.”

His admission was laced with venom, as if the very act of confessing this truth filled him with bitterness. His gaze returned to her, cold and incisive, his look piercing her as sharply as the dragonglass arrowhead had once punctured her skin. His next words were a mix of pain and cruelty, torn between wanting to wound her with his harsh truths or to handle her with the greatest of care.

“You are insufferable,” Aemond declared, his voice dripping with venom. “Your presence is more toxic than nightshade. You’re cruel, malevolent. You’re in my veins, a poison I can’t rid myself of without being drained of life.”

He moved towards her, his steps predatory, his lone eye unyielding and ruthless.

Daenera’s heart fluttered erratically, a disordered rhythm that mirrored the chaos swirling within her. Her palms, now damp with nervous perspiration, clenched tightly in the fabric of her dress.

Aemond’s presence seemed to darken the room, the shadows coiling around him as if drawn to his mood. His hair of spun moonlight, and the soft complexity of his skin, were the only elements that stood out in the dark.

“I killed for you,” he said, his voice a mix of accusation and fervor. “I ended the lives of those who harmed you, I killed your wretched husband…I’ve spilled blood for you, I recited the vows, performed the ceremony. I want you, Daenera. Isn’t that clear?”

Aemond’s hands reached for her, grasping her with a firmness that was both desperate and tender. His calloused thumbs gently brushed across her cheekbones, as if caressing away tears that had yet to fall. His voice carried an undercurrent of raw emotion, a mixture of desperation and reverence. “I need you to look at me – look at me and see what you’ve done to me.”

Daenera’s own hands instinctively moved to his wrists, her fingers pressing into his skin as she gazed up at the wild expression etched across his face, almost feral with its intensity.

In a soft, almost vulnerable confession, he admitted, “With you, I feel more beast than man.”

Daenera’s eyes shut tightly, overwhelmed by his words. It felt as if Aemond’s fervent grip was wrenching her heart from her chest. She swallowed thickly, her voice strained as she spoke, “We cannot marry.”

The impact of her declaration seemed to resonate within Aemond. His body, taut with tension, seemed to vibrate with the force of her refusal. Abruptly, he let go of her, his sudden release almost causing her to stumble. The lingering heat of his touch remained on her skin, a scorching reminder.

Forcing herself to regain her composure, her voice became firm despite the whirl of emotions that raged just beneath the surface of her skin. “Your desire for me is one thing, but I will not allow myself to be used as a tool against my own family. And don’t pretend it isn’t part of your plan.”

Her words were a clear indictment, acknowledging the complex web of both political and personal motivations that entangled them both.

“Don’t pretend that you haven’t been using my affections as a blade against my family as well,” Aemond sneered, his voice thick with accusation.

“That isn’t what marriage is supposed to be like, Aemond!” Daenera exclaimed. Her words lingered in the space between them, heavy with meaning. She took a deep, steadying breath, gathering the fragments of her composure.

With a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the charged atmosphere, she reached out to touch him. Her hand gently cupped his face, an intimate gesture that was meant to console. He shifted ever so slightly under her touch. It seemed as though part of him yearned to pull away, yet he remained anchored under her gentle caress. His eye watched her discernibly, with a cool expression.

Her eyes softened. “That isn’t what marriage is, Aemond. If we marry, bitterness will fester between us. One of us will emerge victorious, but at the cost of destroying what lies between us”

“I would still want you, even amidst resentment…I–” Aemond’s voice trailed off. Whatever he might’ve said died on his tongue.

“I’m leaving for Dragonstone,” she revealed softly, her words carrying the weight of finality.

At her announcement, Aemond recoiled as though struck. Daenera’s hand remained suspended in the air, marking the space where his face had been just moments earlier. Her hand fell to her side.

His expression was a blend of fury and agony, his jaw clenched tightly, lips no longer in a smirk but instead in a firm line of discontent.

In the quiet that enveloped them, Daenera uttered his name, her voice soft yet laden with emotion. The simple utterance of it held a depth akin to a prayer, a silent appeal for his understanding.

“You choose your family,” he concluded, his voice filled with the bitterness of resignation.

Daenera nodded, her eyes meeting his with a sad certainty. “As I know you’ll choose yours.”

What was between them had always been destined to fall under the weight of their duty. The path had always led to ruin and destruction. Each step they had taken together, each jape and gentle touch, were always going to be bittersweet. They had danced along the edges of the destruction for a long time, and they had seen the ruins in the distance since the night they bound their souls together in a moment of hope, in the mist of dreams.

It was never meant to thrive.

But she wished that it could.

Daenera wanted to hold onto the dream a little longer. “Ask me again once my mother sit upon the Iron Throne.”

Daenera observed the tumult of emotions playing across Aemond’s face, a complex tapestry of feelings that intertwined, scoffing disbelief, disdain, and a profound, almost unbearable agony.

Within this emotional maelstrom, she saw the emergence of a cruel, venomous undercurrent, its fangs and claws ready to strike. Yet, he restrained this inner beast–this impulse to ruin, taming it with an evident effort before speaking.

“When do you leave?”

“In four days time,” Daenera replied. “There are matters I must attend to before I go.”

Aemond closed the distance between them, his hand tenderly caressing her face, gently coaxing her head back to meet his gaze. His thumb delicately traced the contours of her mouth.

“Then I have four days,” he said, his voice a resonant blend of darkness and raw emotion, “to etch myself indelibly into your soul.”

At his touch, a shiver cascaded down Daenera’s spine, the fine hairs of the back of her neck standing on end. Part of her wanted to confess that he was already an intrinsic part of her, his blood running in her veins, their hearts and souls beating and existing as one. But she held back, knowing that such admission would add more bitterness to the inevitable.

His lips lingered tantalizingly close to hers, not quite touching, in a manner reminiscent of a predator toying with its prey. There was a challenge in his hesitation, a silent dare that hung in the air between them, inviting her to bridge the gap.

A familiar smirk curved his lips, slightly parted. Their breaths intertwined in the space that separated them, a shared whisper of anticipation. Then, Daenera closed the distance, pressing her lips firmly against his. The response was immediate as he seemed to devour her, his tongue brushing into her mouth to steal her breath away.

As Daenera surrendered to the moment, the intensity of Aemond’s kiss enveloped her completely. His fiery touch seemed to scorch her lips, each kiss imbued with a desire so profound it felt as if he was trying to engrave his presence into her very soul.

It was more than a mere kiss; it was a claim, a silent declaration that she belonged to him in a way no one else could match.

His hands, both firm and gentle, found her hips, pulling her closer, molding her body against his with a natural, almost instinctive fit. He maneuvered her backwards until her spine pressed against the cold surface of the stone column.

Daenera felt his hands weave into her hair, holding her in a tender yet commanding grasp. His thumb delicately traced along the curve of her jawline, coming to rest with a gentle pressure under her chin, tilting her face up to deepen their connection. His lips, ever demanding and insatiable, moved over hers, each kiss a wordless plea for more.

Daenera’s fingers clutched the collar of Aemond’s doublet, a playful giggle bubbling from her throat as his lips began to trail down her neck. The sensation of his tongue gliding over her skin tickled and sent shivers through her. His hand, rough and calloused, gathered the fabric of her dress, gently grazing the skin of her thigh as he did so, the touch making her bite down on her bottom lip.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, a rapid rhythm that matched the quickened pace of her breaths. She shivered as his teeth delicately traced the fragile skin of her neck, revisiting the bruise he had left earlier that day, a spiteful claim meant to cause trouble. The morning felt so long ago, lost in the chaos of the day.

“Did you feel my touch linger on your skin?” Aemond’s voice was a low murmur against her, his words sending a thrill through her. His hand found the way to the apex of her thighs, his fingers weaving through the soft curls before tracing a path over her clit.

At his touch, Daenera let out a deep moan, instinctively rolling her hips into his caress. She felt consumed by a fiery need, her body responding with an eager ache, already slick with anticipation. The blend of his gentle assertive touch with the raw sensuality of the moment left her breathless, intoxicated by his lips.

Daenera’s response was a moan, deep and filled with wanton pleasure.

“Your brother’s definitely noticed,” Aemond whispered, his voice a low murmur, as he gave her clit a sharp pinch, as if to emphasize his point.

Daenera couldn’t help but moan louder, her hips instinctively rolling into the sensation, her fingers grasping at his doublet in a desperate need. “You shouldn’t have left your mark–”

“Why not?” he asked sharply. “You’re mine to claim, byka narys.”

Little poison.

Aemond, undeterred, continued his tantalizing assault, his mouth leaving her neck to trail kisses along the curve of her collarbone. His fingers, now coated in her arousal, returned to her, circling her clit with slow, deliberate movements that varied in pressure.

“I bet you could still feel me,” he teased, alluding to their earlier encounter, just before the succession of Driftmark was brought up in court. “I bet my seed was still within you–leaking out of you as your mother defended your bastard brother’s claim.”

Daenera reveled in the sensation as Aemond’s teeth gently sank into her shoulder, his smirk evident even through the touch. The resulting dull ache intensified her moan, a blend of pain and pleasure that seemed to echo their dynamic.

“Mmm, you’d think so, but I hardly even noticed you, it was over so quick,” Daenera taunted back.

Aemond’s glare was sharp, but Daenera found a certain satisfaction in eliciting such a reaction from him.

However, the moment of triumph was fleeting. Aemond’s actions turned more assertive as he pinched her clit with a firm pressure, then plunged two fingers deep into her cunt, the sensation both sudden and intense. Her body responded instinctively, her inner muscles clenching tightly around his fingers. His palm pressed against her with a deliberate force, his words a mix of accusation and desire. “Liar, I felt you clinging to me, as if you never wanted to let go.”

A shaky breath escaped her in response, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She felt a rush of arousal, the tangible evidence of her desire trickling down her thighs.

“I should have taken you on the table, right there in front of everyone,” Aemond sneered against her skin, his fingers finding the spot inside of her that made her hips buckle against him, her teeth releasing the flesh of her bottom lip to let out a moan. “Mmh–made it clear to everyone that you are mine…”

Daenera’s eyes fluttered open as he lifted his lips from her skin, her heartbeat echoing through her body.

Aemond’s hand moved to her dress, attempting to pull at the bodice to release a breast. It resisted his tug, clinging tightly to her chest, her breasts heaving with each breath. He bared his teeth in annoyance and pulled harder, managing to free one tit. He immediately latched onto her nipple, sucking and biting at it with a fervor that made her gasp and moan. His fingers continued their relentless rhythm, plunging into her with force and precision, his thumb stroking her clit in tandem.

As her hands found his hair, Daenera pulled him back to her lips, their mouth meeting in a heated exchange. She moaned into the kiss, her other hand exploring the growing bulge in his trousers, rubbing and squeezing until he hissed.

His reaction was fierce, eye blazing as he grabbed her hand, pulling it away with a grip that spoke of his own desire and frustration.

Daenera was faintly aware of the taste of bitterness on his lips.

His fingers withdrew from her, allowing her dress to fall back into its proper place. He then firmly grasped her hips, guiding her away from the column. His lips were unyielding against hers, devouring her with a passion that propelled her backward until her spine met the canopy bed.

Her hands found their way into his hair again, soft and silk-like under her touch. She gently raked her nails over his scalp, tugging at his hair. Effortlessly, she removed the leather strap of his eyepatch, casting it aside, as her body pressed against his, her hip aligning with the growing bulge in his trousers.

Aemond pulled back, his gaze shifting to the side as if to hide the scarred side of his face from view.

Daenera felt her heart falter in her chest, a frown forming on her face as she studied his rigid posture. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen what lay beneath the eyepatch before, but the set of his jaw told her everything she needed to know.

Daenera responded with a tender touch, her hand softly caressing his cheek, reassuring him in a silent gesture. She gently guided his face back towards her, meeting the intense gleam of his sapphire eye. His expression was measured and hard, a tapestry of emotion drawn taut over cool stone –anger, bitterness, and resentment all flickering across his features. His narrowed gaze seemed to hold a storm of thoughts, poised at the tip of his tongue. There was a temptation there, a temptation to lay ruin to everything.

Yet, Daenera drew him back with a tender kiss, her lips meeting his in a soft, almost pleading manner. Each gentle press of her lips seemed to ground him, pulling him back from the edge of destruction.

Gradually, Aemond’s lips began to move in sync with hers, his tongue seeking entry between her lips, slowly reigniting the passion they had momentarily lost. The kiss deepened, slowly rebuilding the fervor until it burned bright.

Daenera couldn’t suppress the hiss when Aemond abruptly broke their kiss, her lips chasing his. He spun her around, his hands moving to the laces of her dress. His movements were impatient and eager, the strings giving way under his insistent tugs. His lips traced a path down the column of her neck, teeth grazing her shoulder, drawing out a moan.

She gripped the wooden pillar of the bed for support as he continued to work on her dress, pulling it down to expose more of her skin.

His hand then encircled her neck, gently pulling her back against him, compelling her to crane her neck to meet his lips again, all the while his other hand continued to pull at the ties of her dress.

Daenera couldn’t help but feel a mix of amusement and anticipation as Aemond expressed his frustration with her dress.

“Why must your dresses always prove to be such aggravating contraptions,” he grumbled, barely holding back a curse.

Her response was light-hearted, tinged with a playful chuckle. “I suppose it’s to give us a chance to rethink our actions before it’s too late.”

Aemond’s lips grazed her ear, his voice a deep purr, stirring a shiver within her. “A mere dress will not stop me from claiming what is mine.”

Realizing the futility of his attempts to undo the laces, Aemond seemed to decide on a more direct approach. With a swift motion, he gripped the fabric on either side of the laces and ripped it apart. The sound of tearing fabric was accompanied by a moan, only seeming to fuel Aemond’s resolve.

As the remnants of her favorite dress fell away, Daenera felt a sharp chill that sent a cascade of gooseflesh across her skin. Aemond’s hand slid down her spine, following the elegant curve of her body, eventually reaching the hem of her underdress. With a gentle tug, he lifted the soft fabric over her head, leaving fully exposed to his gaze.

His lips found her shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses as his hand wrapped around her waist, sliding down the curve of her stomach to her inner thigh, smeared with arousal. She could feel the pronounced bulge of his trousers pressed against her backside, a tangible reminder of his desire, as his lips brushed teasingly against her ear.

Daenera leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed as his hands explored her body with a familiarity that felt new each time. His grip on her breast was firm, his fingers pinching the tender flesh as the pad of his thumb circled her nipple, coaxing it into a taut peak.

His command was a low, resonant sound that bordered on a growl. “Get on the bed.”

Daenera gracefully ascended onto the bed, reclining with an air of expectancy as she observed Aemond remove his clothes. He shed his doublet and undershirt, revealing the wiry, well-defined muscles beneath his skin.

Her eyes trailed his body, captivated by the fluid grace of his movements. She observed the subtle rippling of muscle beneath his skin, a mesmerizing display of controlled strength and agility, honed over years of training. Her eyes traced the path of his fingers as they skillfully worked at the laces of his trousers, noting the prominent veins that ran beneath the soft skin of his hands and up along his forearms.

As he pushed his trousers down, she was drawn to the definition of his hips, sharply contoured and unmistakably masculine. His arousal was unmistakable–erect, pulsating with an evident need, a bead of prelude glistening at its tip. Below, his testicles hung with a weighty presence, a visual testament to his pent-up desire.

The sight was both provocative and intensely arousing.

And he was beautiful, she thought. Beautiful like a well crafted blade.

As Aemond lifted his gaze to meet hers, his pale hair cascaded over his shoulders, framing his face in a way that accentuated the intensity of his expression.

The sapphire that served as his eye caught the light, mirroring the similar smugness to that of his natural eye. The gem’s deep blue gleam added an enigmatic depth to his look, a contrast that was both intriguing and imposing. This combined with the confident tilt of his head and the slight curve of his lips, created an image of him that was both striking and captivating, leaving Daenera enthralled by his presence.

Aemond caught her angle, his thumb gently caressing the bone, his gaze intense as he looked up at her. After a moment, he released her ankle and prowed over her body, his nose trailing up her breastbone, replaced soon after by the tantalizing movement of his tongue along her neck.

Daenera tenderly cradled Aemond’s face in her hands, her gaze fixed intently into his eye. Her thumb gently stroked his skin, tracing the contours of his features with a delicate touch. She observed the subtle furrow of his brow, an expression that hinted at his confusion to the sudden tenderness.

Her thumb then followed the path of his scar down to its lowest point. She leaned in, planting a soft, reassuring kiss of the scarred skin, her lips lingering just a breath away from his.

Whispering softly, she said, “Syt bisa bantis kesan sagon aōha ābrazȳrys.”

For tonight I will be your wife.

In response, something flickered and curled in Aemond’s eye. A fleeting moment of softness, quickly replaced by a surge of bitter desire that darkened his gaze once more. His lips pressed against hers, desperate and demanding, branding her flesh as his.

Before being swept away within the fire of his touch, she caught the gleam of the sapphire, a cruel and possessive glint, staring back at her with an almost tangible ferocity. It was as if it held within it the capacity to both tear her apart and consume her entirely.

“Ñuha ābrazȳrys,” Aemond sneered against her lips, pinning her down with his body, the heat of it engulfing her. “Ñuha dōna byka narys.”

My wife. My sweet little poison.

She felt his hand venture up her thigh, moving between her legs to part her wet folds, slipping his fingers between them. A finger lightly brushed her clit before moving lower, teasing at her entrance.

Daenera’s lips eagerly sought Aemond’s, yearning for more of his taste. Yet, he evaded her with a sly, calculated movement, that familiar smug smirk on his lips. His eye, sharp and focused, the pupil blown wide, never left her as he lowered his head, simultaneously capturing a nipple in his mouth and thrusting two fingers into her cunt.

A moan spilled from her lips, her hips rolling into his touch.

As Aemond lavished attention on her nipple, his teeth gently grazed it, sending waves of pleasure and pain through her. Each nibble was followed by a soothing stroke of his tongue, a tender contrast to the preceding bite.

This rhythm was mirrored in his finger’s movements; each time he sucked, his fingers plunged into her, curling to press firmly against her inner walls, heightening her arousal with each deliberate stroke.

“Mmm,” Daenera moaned, “Ñuha qēlossās.”

Daenera’s nails found their way to his back, raking across his skin with an intensity that left behind vivid trails, marks that would linger come morning–her own form of claim.

“Please,” Daenera murmured, rolling her hips into his touch. It wasn’t enough, she wanted him, desperately.

“Please what?” Aemond’s voice was a soft tease against her skin, drawing out her desire.

“I want you,” Daenera responded, her voice raspy with desire. “Jaelan ñuha valzȳrys iemnȳ yno.”

I want my husband inside of me.

Aemond’s response was a deep, resonant growl, his lips finding hers once again in a passionate reunion.

“With pleasure,” he murmured into the kiss and withdrew his fingers from her.

Her cunt clenched around empty air, weeping to be filled with his cock.

Aemond’s hand firmly grasped Daenera’s thigh, spreading her further open in a bold, possessive gesture. As he did so, her own arousal covering his hand, was spread across her skin. He hooked her leg around his hip, aligning their bodies to brush his cock over her folds.

Daenera lifted her hips to drag her cunt over his cock, smearing her arousal up the length of him, feeling him hot and heavy against her. A hiss left his throat, the veins bulging slightly as a shutter went through him.

She felt the head of his cock against her entrance, felt the slight stretch as aligned them perfectly, her cunt fluttering in anticipation.

In one fluid, decisive movement, he thrust himself into her, sheathing himself completely within her cunt. The sudden intrusion stole her breath away as pleasure washed over her. Her hips rose to meet his, lifting off the bed and rolling into him. She could feel the pulse of his arousal, a tangible beat that seemed to merge seamlessly with her own.

Aemond then slightly withdrew, only to surge back into her with a renewed intensity. Each thrust was punctuated by the twitching of his arousal, a sensation that was echoed by the responsive clenching of her own body around him.

Daenera felt his body pressed unyielding against hers. His heat seemed to radiate into her, his skin akin to a blazing inferno, as he established a relentless rhythm. His hips moved with a fierce urgency, each thrust into her core carrying an almost savage intensity.

The sound of their bodies meeting resonated through the quiet of the night, punctuated only by her gasps and moans.

Aemond’s fingers gripped her with a bruising force, his blunt nails digging into her skin, leaving behind red crescents. In response, Daenera’s own nails dug into the sinewy muscles of his back, clawing at his skin desperately as he fucked her.

Leaning in, her lips found the pulse on his neck, feeling and tasting the rhythm of his heart. As her teeth gently scraped the skin, he responded with a guttural moan, his movements against her growing more fervent.

His pace was unrelenting, each thrust a testament of passion–and a way to lay claim to her.

Daenera was swept up in the tide of sensation, each stroke of his cock igniting a deeper fire within her, waves of pleasure crashing over her, threatening to carry her away to a place where nothing existed but the overwhelming sensation of him.

In the midst of this tempest of passion, Aemond growled out the words, “Iksā ñuhon. Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

You are mine. You are my wife.

His declaration was as much a claim as it was a growl of possession, his voice resonating with a primal intensity that echoed in the depth of her soul.

In the fervor of pleasure, Daenera found herself barely able to articulate, her voice breaking as she called out his name, “Ae–ah, mph–Aemond.”

Her nails dug into his shoulder blades as she felt herself teeter close to the precipice.

“Iksā iā narys sīr dōna, ñuha byka ābrazȳrys.” You are poison so sweet, my little wife.

Daenera could feel the desperation in his touch, a raw need to be an inextricable part of her very essence. It was as if he sought to imprint himself onto her very soul–as if he hadn’t already done so, to root himself so deeply within her being that he became unforgettable

This need was palpable in every kiss, in the fervent grip of his fingers, ad the relentless rhythm with which he was fucking her. Each action was a testament to his intense longing to be permanently intertwined with her, not just in body, but in spirit and memory.

“Ah, fuck, I–” Daenera uttered, her voice breathy and wavering as she found herself on the brink of release. “–so close…”

She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, biting into the flesh as tension coiled within her, poised on the edge of eruption. He hissed at her as she left a fine imprint of her teeth on his skin.

Aemond’s response was intimate, his lips finding her pulse on her neck, just below her jaw. He whispered into her, his words gentle yet laden with meaning, as if to leave the words imprinted on her skin. “Byka ābrazȳrys.”

My little wife.

Daenera echoed back softly, “Byka valzȳrys.”

My little husband.

A moan spilled from his lips, sweet, bordering close to a chuckle, as he turned his face towards hers. Their kiss was a tender caress, slow and sensual. Her fingers pressed into the nape of his neck, caressing the fine hairs there.

“Mmm,” Daenera hummed as she felt the intense convulsions of her walls around him, waves of pleasure cascading over her, her body prickling and thrumming with it. Her cunt fluttered and clamped down around him, and she felt the shutter go through his body as she dragged him over the edge with her.

Aemond groaned, the sound deep and resonant, his hips losing their rhythm in a final, desperate thrust as he buried himself as deep within her as he could, spilling his seed. His hips rolled against her, then stopped all together.

In the quiet aftermath, Daenera felt the gentle press of Aemond’s nose tracing the curve of her neck, culminating in the shared touch of their foreheads. For a brief moment, they remained motionless, a mutual basking in the fading glow of their release, their breaths gradually steadying as they regained their composure.

Upon Aemond’s withdrawal, Daenera was acutely aware of the poignant emptiness, a sensation that seemed to twist something deep within her.

With a heavy heart, she rose from the bed and made her way to the basin. As she cleaned herself, her thoughts turned to the necessity of brewing moontea. It’s been long since she ran out, and while she’s had her moonblood, she couldn’t postpone restocking her supply much longer.

The sound of water sloshing in the basin echoed in the silent room as she wrong the cloth once more, cleaning herself with a sense of detached efficiency. Glancing in the mirror, she saw Aemond’s reflection, his demeanor pensive, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, elbows propped on his knees.

Turning away, Daenera poured a cup of wine, its aroma unsettling her stomach and making her mouth go dry. She walked back to Aemond, offering him the wine, her gesture a silent attempt at consolation.

Instead of accepting the wine, Aemond let his head drop forward, resting it gently against her lower abdomen. This simple, vulnerable gesture tugged at Daenera’s heartstrings, and she closed her eyes against the welling of tears. Setting the wine aside, she wove her fingers tenderly through his hair, offering him a silent comfort.

The fiery mix of anger and desire that had consumed them only moments earlier had burned out, leaving behind a quiet resignation, a veiled bitterness that cloaked the sadness neither was prepared to acknowledge.

Daenera softly nudged him back, her hands cradling his face, compelling him to meet her gaze. In his remaining eye, there was a cold, resigned depth, but within the blue of the sapphire, a stormy darkness lurked. The darkness seemed to curl, and she thought perhaps, that it was like a cornered animal, baring its teeth and showing its claws out of fear.

She knelt on the mattress, positioning herself astried his thighs. Her eyes met his at the same level, her hands gliding down his neck as she leaned in, her lips hovering just above his.

In her heart, Daenera knew that some flames were destined to burn out, yet she chose to keep this one ablaze a little while longer, seeking its warmth against the impending chill of her departure.

Aemond’s hands gently moved up her thighs, his brow furrowed in a silent question.

She had no answers to give, only the shared moment between them.

Their lips met in the softest caresses, a fleeting touch reminiscent of silk. As his lips parted, their breath mingled. Daenera kissed him tenderly, a mere whisper of contact, a ghost meant to haunt.

Yet within this touch, there was a mutual imprinting, an exchange of their very essence. She deepened the kiss, her tongue gently exploring the seam of his lips, her fingers caressing his shoulder, leaning into him, her body brushing against his.

Aemond reciprocated, intensifying their embrace, his fingers gripping her hips to draw her nearer.

Tears trembled on Daenera’s lashes as their lips met, her senses awash with the warmth of his heart pulsing through her, enveloped in an earthy blend of sandalwood and his innate scent. Her hand drifted to his chest, feeling the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat under her palm.

His hands traveled to the soft curves of her, drawing her close until their bodies melded together, a seamless union of heartbeats and breaths.

As Daenera’s lips brushed over his, she inhaled his breath, her tears mingling with their kiss, lending it a poignant saltiness. He pulled back slightly, his hand ascending to tenderly cup her face. His eye roamed her features, a calloused thumb softly erasing the trail of her tears. She leaned into his caress, pressing a kiss to the scar on his palm, her gaze locked with his in silent communication.

It had been a dream, one that would haunt her for the rest of her life, she thought. Even as the scar would fade.

Their lips reunited, igniting a familiar warmth against her skin. Daenera felt the gentle pressure of him against her, moving in harmony with his soft sigh. Guiding him with a gentle hand, she welcomed him back into her embrace, their bodies rejoining in a dance they had known before.

Every motion was deliberate and sensuous–the rhythmic sway of her hips, the firm grasp of his fingers, their chests pressed together, hearts beating as one.

A moan echoed from his chest as she moved, her body responding with a shiver that ripped through them both. Maintaining a tender pace, her lips found their way to the pulse of his neck, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin.

Daenera and Aemond once again found themselves teetering on the brink. It wasn’t long before they both succumbed, tumbling over the precipice into shared release.This time, the waves of pleasure that washed over them were softer, more tender, enveloping them in a gentle, soothing embrace.

Exhausted and content, they lay down together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Daenera nestled into Aemond’s side, her actions gentle and affectionate. She planted a chaste kiss upon his shoulder, her fingers delicately tracing over his chest, drawing invisible patterns that spoke of tenderness and a quiet longing. Lifting her gaze to his, she found him already looking down at her, their eyes meeting in a moment of silent understanding.

The air between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken words that teetered on the edge of expression, as if it was just waiting to be released. Yet, there was a hesitancy, a pause as if both were contemplating the weight and impact of giving voice to their thoughts.

Doomed they were, should they say it.

Ultimately, Daenera chose to break away from the intensity of his gaze, seeking solace in the comfort of his presence. She rested her head against him, choosing the warmth of their physical closeness over the vulnerability of spoken words.

The unspoken enveloped them, a reality that was palpable yet remained unacknowledged. This truth lingered in every touch they shared, in every glance that passed between them, and in the intangible space that lay between their hearts.

It was there, like a world full of colors invisible to the blind, or the melodies and laughter of life unheard by the deaf. Their connection, though voiceless, were tangible in every caress, every moment of closeness. It was undeniably present, a force both terrifying and real in its intensity.

Yet, in their silence, in their refusal to give voice to this truth, they found a semblance of solace. Choosing to remain silent was like erecting a barrier, a protective measure designed to hold back the pain and chaos that giving voice to their feelings might unleash, preventing it from wrecking havoc on their lives.

It was the only defense against its agony, and the only way to limit the destruction of its fire.

And fire, it was.

Doomed they were, even in keeping the silence.

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