#among countless other characters

[alpaca-clouds]

Some historical context for Olrox

Okay, let me prephase this with one important message: Castlevania Nocturne made me really happy by making the plot all about colonialism, as colonialism and its fallout and how it influences us to this day is a topic that I am very passionate about. We do not talk enough about it. The US does not talk enough about it because it could make white people feel uncomfortable. And here in Germany we do not talk about it, because we act as if this had nothing to do with us at all.

But the show talks about it and I love it.

And I honestly also gotta say that I love that the BI_PoC character have a concrete cultural heritage. Olrox is Aztec, Annette is Yoruba, and Drolta is Egyptian. Other shows: Please take notes!

But let's talk Olrox, because he is so fucking interesting and amazing!

We know about him that he is Aztec and also that he is 250 years old. Or roughly that old by the time he kills Julia. Which would put either his birth or his turning somewhere around 1530.

Now, the fall of the Aztec Empire has a very exact date: August 13th, 1521. But you should keep in mind that this does not mean that on that day the Aztec's are extinct. To this day there is still 1,5 million people speaking Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, and preserving some of the Aztec cultural traditions. It was just that on that day the empire construct fell to Cortez and the Spaniad conquistadors and a lot of Aztecs went into exile to flee the genocide that Cortez was bringing upon them.

The question of course is: Was Olrox still human at this time or was he already a vampire? From his dialogue it is clear that he was at least alive and grown enough to remember the fall of the empire and the distruction Cortez and his men brought upon them. But you can bet it was very traumatic.

I also am assuming he was turned by a white man. Because so far my assumption is that vampirism is an old world thing that got brought to the new world through colonialism. (Mostly because in Dracula's court we do not see any new world vampires.)

Now, the other interesting thing is what he says about his dead lover. The one Julia killed. So, first the "town in Massachusetts" he speaks about is clearly Stockbridge. Which was the town in which many Mohicans have settled during the colonial times, as well as other people from the Iroquois Nations. Now, it should be noted that the Mohicans were not part of the Iroquois alliance and in fact went to war with the Iroquois, but by the time colonialism really geared up there was some cooperation between the Mohicans and Iroquois.

Due to this they were in an alliance with the Oneida (who were part of the Iroquois) by the time of the Revolutionary war. Now, the Revolutionary War created a lot of conflict between the Iroquois nations, because they did not agree which side they should fight on. Of course both sides promised that they could keep their land, but the Mohawk, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Seneca did not trust the colonists and hence sided with the British, while the Oneida and Tuscarora (and through them also the Mohicans) sided with the Colonists.

And the dead lover clearly was among those siding with the colonists. Now, a quick refresher for the non-Americans (and the Americans who slept to history class, which is understandable). The Revolutionary War lasted from April 19, 1775 to September 3, 1783 (which, yes, also means that Julia and Richter probably were in the US during the war the entire time and the "evil" Julia was fighting probably was linked to it). And of course we all know how it ended for the Indigenous people: The colonists won, countless Indigenous folks died on both sides, only to get booted of their land soon after. The Oneida und Mohicans were made to move westwards not soon after the war ended. So, yes, Olrox would have seen that happen.

Now, an interesting thing in his dialogue was when Erzebet said: "We will create a new world." To which he replies: "I have heard that one before." And she says: "This time we are going to make it to last."

And the big question is to what this is refering. Is it refering to the colonialization or is it refering to the revolutionary war? Or something entirely different. In both cases it would be possible. And yes, the American Revolution definitely were claiming to create a new world. But was it that what he refered to or something else?

Well, never the less: Interesting character. Really good writing.

[milksnake-tea]

(hi 🪼 i don't have a good sense of time so if this is way too late please feel free to bat this ask out the window)

can i ask for a nanook w/ prompt n. 5? (romantic) feel free to twist it however you want!!

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: They get caught staring at you. ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: nanook ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: none ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: I'M ASSUMING U MEANT FLUFF SO THATS WHAT IM GOING W BC ITS CUTE !!! imma be honest im really bad at ending stuff so im not too happy w the ending here, but i hope u liked this !!

For such a violent Aeon, Nanook was a quiet soul.

Many of your conversations were one-sided, with you rambling about your day while Nanook merely listened and observed, occasionally playing with your hair or poking at you - much like a cat, you'd often say. Whenever you mentioned that to them, they'd only respond with a comforting rumbling of their chest, which was their version of a chuckle.

You laid on your side in their large palm, the Aeon currently occupied with other matters - most likely implanting another Stellaron in some unfortunate planet. Rings of molten gold glowed above you, some of that glowing liquid dripping down in waterfalls of melted metal. But you paid no matter to that.

Instead, you focused on tracing lines on the Aeon's palm, fascinated with the folds and scars that spanned over their dark skin. Beneath those thin stretches of skin glowed the golden blood of Nanook, much like a lantern. When you pressed your ear against them, you could briefly feel a pulsing beat against your head - Nanook's heartbeat.

You hummed to yourself, a sweet melody drifting through the endless void. When Nanook was busy, it was in your best interest to keep quiet. Any distractions, and Nanook might accidentally kill you instead of a planet (it's happened before).

It took a few moments of pure silence before you noticed a pair of eyes trained on your body. Knowing that there was only one other person in this space, you rolled over to meet Nanook's gaze.

You couldn't see the entirety of Nanook's body from where you were, but you didn't mind. The honey-like amber of Nanook's eyes was enough to enrapture you - no matter how many times you saw it, you were fascinated by their beauty each time.

The Aeon rested their head on one of their hands, leaning into their palm as they watched you - a hint of fondness making its way onto their expression.

You smiled cheekily up at the Aeon whose name sparked fear into the hearts of countless.

"Enjoying the view?" you teased. Nanook raised a brow.

"And if I am?" they mused. Their voice was low, yet unbelievably loud. It rumbled throughout the galaxy, both soothing and overwhelming to your ears.

Rather than replying, you sat up and beckoned towards them, making grabbing motions with your hands. Obliging, Nanook lifted you to their face so that you could touch them.

Their skin was warm like a fireplace under your skin. Nanook's eyes fluttered closed as you kissed their nose and nuzzled against them. A smile flickered onto their lips, but it was gone as fast as it had come.

"You know," you hummed, "for an Aeon of Destruction, you're awfully gentle."

"Only for you."

You chuckled, pressing your forehead to theirs as they tilted their head down. "Quite adorable too."

You didn't see it, but you knew Nanook was rolling their eyes at you. But you didn't really care. All that mattered right now was this moment, a silent yet intimate night among the cosmos.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , -

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

In the heart of the military training ground, you, a seasoned Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician, stand poised amidst a group of nervous soldiers. Among them is Private Jameson, a newcomer with trembling hands and apprehensive eyes. With unwavering composure, you take charge, your voice steady as you address the group.

"Today, we're covering the basics of bomb disposal," you begin, your tone reassuring yet firm. Turning to Private Jameson, you offer a patient smile.

"You, Private. What's your name?" Despite his nervousness, Private Jameson responds, and you guide him with a calming presence, instilling confidence as you impart your expertise.

"Jameson, take a deep breath," you instruct softly but firmly. "Remember, focus is key. You've got this." Private Jameson nods, his eyes locked on your reassuring gaze.

As he examines the device, you watch attentively, offering guidance with each movement. When he finishes, you nod approvingly. "Well done, Private. Now, let's move on."

As Private Jameson continues under your guidance, the other soldiers watch with admiration. They've seen you in action before, witnessed your dedication to the mission and your willingness to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good.

"Ma'am, what if the situation calls for immediate action?" Private Reynolds interjects, reflecting the group's curiosity.

You acknowledge the gravity of the question. "In a real-world scenario, there may not be time for thorough examination," you explain calmly. "Trust your instincts and make split-second decisions."

Private Jameson glances at you, newfound respect shining in his eyes. "But you always seem so calm under pressure, ma'am," he remarks admiringly.

You smile humbly, reflecting on the countless moments of uncertainty you've faced. "It's not about being fearless, Private," you reply earnestly. "It's about pushing through fear for those counting on you."

Your words hang in the air, a silent reminder of the sacrifices made by soldiers like you every day. With renewed determination, Private Jameson nods, his resolve strengthened by your example.

As the door of the training facility echoed with a sharp knock, you exchanged a puzzled glance with your comrades. The abrupt interruption stirred a sense of unease within you, a foreboding whisper of uncertainty.

"A lawyer wants to see you," the soldier at the door announced, his voice tinged with urgency.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Me?" you repeated, your mind racing to grasp the sudden turn of events. "Hmm, he sounds British," you mused aloud, your instincts sharpened by years of training.

With measured steps, you followed your comrade through the maze of corridors until you reached the visitor's area. There, standing before you, was a figure from your past, a familiar face veiled in the somber cloak of time.

"Miss," the lawyer greeted you with a solemn nod, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him, the memories flooding back like an unstoppable tide. It had been fifteen years since you last saw him, a lifetime of distance and estrangement separating you.

"I assumed something bad happened?" you ventured cautiously, your tone laced with concern and apprehension.

The lawyer, Cedric, nodded gravely, his expression betraying the gravity of the news he bore.

You and Cedric found a quiet place to talk. "Something's wrong?" you inquired, noting the somber expression on Cedric's face as he adjusted his glasses.

Cedric remained silent momentarily, his gaze fixed on the ground before meeting your eyes. "Duke Rupert died two days ago," he finally uttered, his voice laden with gravity.

Your heart clenched at the news. Duke Rupert was your stepfather, and the thought of his passing filled you with a mix of sorrow and apprehension.

Cedric continued, his words weighed down by the weight of the news. "On his will, he wrote that he wants all the family to gather. I came here as soon as I could. And you could attend the funeral too. He probably wants it too."

You nodded, absorbing the information with a heavy heart. The sudden loss of Duke Rupert had thrown your world into disarray, and the prospect of gathering with the family only added to the uncertainty swirling within you.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, determined to face whatever lay ahead with strength

You nodded in response to Cedric's words, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I'll gather my things," you said quietly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

As you packed your belongings into your bag, Private Jameson approached you, his curiosity evident in his voice. "So, it turns out you're a noble," he remarked, his tone tinged with surprise.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head in response. "I'm not. It was my step-dad. There's no noble blood in me," you explained, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice.

Jameson furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "We've been working together for years, but you never mentioned anything about this," he observed, his tone filled with genuine interest.

You zipped up your bag, pausing momentarily before meeting Jameson's gaze. "It's just family stuff. Nothing interesting," you replied cryptically, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes before you turned away, ready to face the uncertain future that lay ahead.

After a grueling 12-hour flight, you finally arrived back in the UK. As the car pulled up to Evergreen Abbey, your childhood home, a rush of nostalgia washed over you. The manor stood proudly, its historical façade unchanged by the passing years.

Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to absorb the familiar sight before you. The memories of your upbringing flooded back, filling you with a sense of belonging despite the years of absence.

As you entered the manor, you were greeted by the sight of a middle-aged woman wearing a classic black dress adorned with a string of pearls. Her youthful aura belied the years that had passed since you last saw her. It was your mother, Susan.

"You're back," she exclaimed, opening her arms wide to envelop you in a warm embrace. The familiar scent of her perfume brought tears to your eyes as you returned her hug, feeling a sense of comfort and homecoming wash over you.

You nodded as Susan spoke, absorbing the news of Duke Rupert's accident with a heavy heart. The realization that your stepfather had passed away hit you like a wave, stirring emotions you had long buried.

"I'm so sorry. What happened?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to grasp Susan's hand for support.

Susan sighed her expression a mixture of sadness and frustration. "That silly old man's, I told him not to ride a horse, but he insisted and he fell," she explained, her tone tinged with regret. "Rupert always well-prepared, but I don't know why he really insisted on riding a horse that day."

Before you could respond, the sound of another voice broke through the somber atmosphere. "Thank God you're here," the voice exclaimed, drawing your attention. You turned to see your stepbrother, Charles, standing before you.

But your breath caught in your throat when you saw him wearing priestly attire. "Charles?" you uttered in disbelief, your eyes widening in surprise.

Charles opened his arms and enveloped you in a warm hug, his presence comforting despite the unexpected change in his appearance. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his handshake firm and sincere as he greeted you.

You were speechless, your mind struggling to process the transformation before you. There was a warmth in Charles's eyes, a genuine kindness that seemed to radiate from within him. He was different from the last time you saw him, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him in his new role.

"Are you wearing a cassock?" you finally managed to ask, your voice filled with curiosity as you glanced at Charles's attire.

Susan gently pinched your arm, her expression amused yet reproachful. "Silly girl, this is why you should reply to my letters, phone calls, and emails," she chided gently. "Charles has become a priest."

"I know you will find it hard to believe. But I went through a miracle that made me fully believed in God." As Charles spoke of his newfound faith, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the memory of Charlie, who once hurled harsh words at you.

Then you heard a familiar voice, cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're here."

It was Charlotte, Charles's twin sister. Her gaze bore into you with the same disdain it always had, unchanged after all these years.

Charlotte was never one to hide her feelings about you. From the moment your mother brought you into their lives, she had seen you as nothing more than an unwanted burden.

Your mother's marriage to the Duke had brought you into a world of privilege and resentment. While your stepfather had become a father figure you'd never had, it came at the cost of your relationship with your own mother. Susan was desperate to fit into her new role as Duchess, and you were often left feeling like an outsider in your own home.

The Duke's children, Charles and Charlotte, had quickly formed a bond with your mother, leaving you feeling like an intruder in your own family. They resented you for stealing their father's attention, and the tension between you had only grown over the years.

Living at Evergreen Abbey had always felt like walking on eggshells. That's why, as soon as you came of age, you left for the United States and joined the army, seeking refuge from the suffocating atmosphere of the manor.

Charlotte's cold gaze was a painful reminder of the resentment that had always simmered beneath the surface. "Let's get this over with, please," she said, her words dripping with disdain.

"What does it mean?" you asked, scanning the room for answers but finding only silence and the weight of years of unresolved conflict hanging heavy in the air.

You couldn't believe your eyes as Charles stood before you, now a priest leading your stepfather's funeral. Rupert's passing seemed surreal, and as they closed the casket, you had a chance to see his face one last time.

His face looked different, smiling unnaturally due to the glue used to preserve it. It starkly contrasted the smile you remembered, and you regretted not seeing Rupert one last time before this moment. Placing a red rose near his casket, you whispered, "I'm going to miss you."

During the burial, your gaze wandered, and you noticed a little boy standing near your mother.

But someone standing alone amidst the gathering of family and guests caught your attention. Who is he?

After the burial concluded, the house filled with guests offering condolences. The strange man also disappeared. Susan and Charles gracefully accepted their sympathies, while Charlotte's whereabouts only God knows.

Amidst the crowd, you heard a gentle voice call your name. "Y/N?"

Turning around, you saw Eddie standing there. "Eddie? How are you?" You greeted him with a side hug, grateful for the familiarity in the midst of the somber occasion.

Eddie hugged you back, offering his condolences as you shared a moment of solace amid the chaos of the gathering.

Eddie's inquiry about your military service brought back memories, including a long-kept secret: you used to have a crush on him. It was partly why you joined the army, sharing a dream of serving alongside him. "Yeah," you answered, still groggy from the day's emotions.

"What about you? Did you join the army too?"

Eddie chuckled. "I did, but I left to pursue a business."

You nodded, finding it fitting for him. "You're looking more like a duke these days."

Taking a sip of water, Eddie revealed a surprising truth. "I am. I became a duke after my father passed."

Your shock was evident. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Eddie's chuckle held a hint of understanding. "Yeah, after you left, you sort of cut contacts with everyone."

You hesitated, recalling the mention of a will by Cedric. "What about your family tradition? Isn't your older brother supposed to be the duke?"

Eddie's expression shifted slightly. "It changed after my father's will."

Your unease grew as thoughts of Rupert's will resurfaced. Eddie noticed your worry and reached out, touching your hand. "Hey, if you need me, just call me."

Grateful for his support, you managed a small smile. "Thanks, Eddie."

########

As everyone sat waiting for the lawyer, a new presence entered the room. A little boy, perhaps around 10 years old, joined the gathering, taking a seat beside Charlotte. He stole occasional glances in your direction, his curiosity evident in his wide-eyed gaze.

Unable to contain your surprise, you turned to Charlotte and asked, "You have a child?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes in response, her annoyance palpable, while Charles chuckled softly at the exchange.

Feeling a familiar pinch on your arm, you turned to see Susan giving you a reproachful look. "This is why you should've answered my calls. He's your brother," she scolded gently.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Huh?!" you exclaimed, your mind struggling to comprehend the revelation as you glanced back at the little boy sitting beside Charlotte, a newfound sense of connection dawning within you. Now his face and future look similar to yours.

You found yourself at a loss for words, grappling with the sudden revelation of a long-lost sibling. The realization that you had cut off all contact when you joined the army weighed heavily on your conscience, leaving you with a profound sense of regret for the years of missed connections and lost opportunities.

Running a hand through your face, you let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past 15 years bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Will there be another surprise?" you wondered aloud, the question hanging in the air as you braced yourself for whatever other unexpected twists fate had in store for you.

A few minutes later, Cedric, the lawyer, strode into the room with purpose, placing his briefcase on the table before retrieving the file. With a solemn expression, he began to read aloud the contents of Duke Rupert's will.

"Everyone will get a share of his insurance and investments," Cedric announced, his voice measured and professional. "Except Y/N."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of resignation at the news, having expected as much given the strained dynamics within the family. Glancing around the room, you noted the acceptance in your mother's and the twins' expressions, as if they had anticipated this outcome.

But then, Cedric's next words shattered the calm facade that had settled over the room. "For the Evergreen Abbey Manor and the title, I hereby give it to Y/N L/N," he continued, his voice resolute.

Your shock was palpable, the expletive escaping your lips before you could stop it.

'HUH?!'

"What the fuck?" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events as the weight of Duke Rupert's decision settled heavily upon you.

As Charles let out a disbelieving "Hoo," and Charlotte expressed her relief with a curt "Great, not my problem anymore," the tension in the room seemed to escalate.

'Wait. The twins aren't angry?'

Your mother reached out, gently squeezing your hand and offering a reassuring look, her silent support a comforting anchor amidst the chaos unfolding around you.

"Why do I feel like I'm carrying a bomb in my hand?" you muttered, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

Cedric adjusted his glasses, his expression grave as he spoke. "When you became the Lady of this house... Your grace, pardon me that I have to tell you this," he began carefully. "The former Duke had debts, and he was involved in what we might call 'creative' work."

"You mean drugs, gambling, and the like?" you interjected, your voice laced with disbelief.

Susan shot you a warning glance, her lips forming a silent reprimand. "You shouldn't say that word in front of your brother," she whispered, her tone urgent.

Turning to her younger son, she leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not drugs, but weed," she clarified softly.

"Oh, wow. Now I feel relieved," you replied sarcastically, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you as you struggled to come to terms with the unexpected revelations about Duke Rupert's illicit activities.

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, the enormity of the situation sinking in. "How much is the debt?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"8 million pounds," Cedricbreplied solemnly, his tone grave.

Charles made the sign of the cross a gesture of disbelief. "Oh Lord," he murmured under his breath.

"And he wants me to repay the debt when I never took a single cent?" you exclaimed, incredulity coloring your words as you struggled to comprehend the injustice of it all.

"Was he high when he wrote the will? Why me?!!"

Sighing heavily, you turned your gaze towards the imposing manor, its grandeur now overshadowed by the weight of Duke Rupert's debts. "Can I just sell this manor?" you wondered aloud, desperation creeping into your voice.

"It will take months or years, Your Grace. And the debt has to be paid by the end of this month," Cedric explained, punctuated by a sense of urgency.

But before you could act on your impulse, Susan's voice cut through the air, her tone laced with urgency and apprehension. "You can't sell the manor," she interjected, her gaze pleading with you to reconsider.

Confusion flickered in your eyes as you turned to face her, a mix of frustration and resignation bubbling up inside you. "Why not?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Susan's response was swift, her words carrying the weight of years of pent-up frustration and resentment. "If you sell the manor, I would lose my title as a duchess," she explained, her voice quavering with emotion.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, stirring up memories of the strained relationship that had defined your interactions with Susan over the years. Her obsession with upholding the image of a perfect duchess had driven a wedge between you, leaving your relationship fraught with tension and resentment.

As you stood there, grappling with the weight of Duke Rupert's debts and the expectations thrust upon you by your title, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness creeping in.

You let out another sigh, resigned to the reality of the situation. "I need a drink," you muttered, the thought of seeking solace in the most potent alcohol near the lake seeming like the only reprieve from the turmoil raging inside you.

As you sat by the lake's tranquil waters, the weight of the situation bearing down on you, regret began to seep into your thoughts like a creeping mist.

Coming back here had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of Duke Rupert's debts and the burden they placed upon you, you couldn't help but wonder if it had been a mistake.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you allowed the warmth of the liquid to wash over you, momentarily easing the turmoil in your mind. But even the soothing embrace of alcohol couldn't dispel the unease gnawing at your insides.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled when a small figure approached, breaking the silence that had settled over the lakeside. You glanced up to see your little stepbrother, Hugo, standing before you with a tentative expression on his face.

"Uh, hi. Hello. I'm your older sister," you greeted awkwardly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

Hugo returned your greeting with a shy smile. "Hi, step-bro. Hugo. Ten years old," he introduced himself, his voice soft and uncertain.

An awkward silence hung between you, the gap between your worlds feeling vast and insurmountable. Sensing the tension, you made an effort to bridge the divide.

"You want to walk?" you offered, gesturing towards the path that wound its way around the edge of the lake.

Hugo hesitated for a moment before nodding hesitantly. "Hmm...," he murmured, his eyes brightening with a hint of curiosity as he took a tentative step forward, ready to embark on this uncertain journey with you.

As you and Hugo began to playfully throw stones into the lake, the tension between you gradually dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie born from the simple joy of shared activity.

"So, Hugo, do you know what's happening at the household?" you asked, choosing your words carefully. You had learned in the military that children often possessed an innate honesty that could shed light on complex situations.

Hugo paused in his stone-throwing, considering your question for a moment before responding. "Walls have ears, and the workers always gossip," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with wisdom beyond his years.

Impressed by his insight, you couldn't help but smile. "Wow," you remarked, genuinely impressed by Hugo's observation. "Do you want to share?" you prompted, curious to hear his perspective on the goings-on within the household.

As Hugo shared his insights, you listened intently, surprised by the depth of understanding hidden behind his youthful facade.

"Charlie doesn't want to take the house because of the debt, and he wants to become a pope," Hugo explained matter-of-factly, his words carrying a weight of resignation.

You responded with a puzzled "Huh?"

"And Charlotte doesn't care since she's going to marry a prince. She doesn't want anything related to Dad's 'creative work.' It will ruin her image."

"Her image? She's marrying a prince?" you interjected, your incredulity evident in your tone.

Hugo regarded you with a knowing look. "You're really ignorant, huh?" he remarked bluntly, his words stinging with a hint of playful teasing.

Feeling a pang of embarrassment at being corrected by a child, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "Hey..." you started, but Hugo continued without missing a beat.

"Sis Charlotte has quite millions of followers on social media," he elaborated, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "If her name is connected to weed and family debt—"

"It will ruin her image, and she'll have to pay the penalty," you finished, the implications sinking in as you processed Hugo's words. "Wait, how old are you again?" you asked, feeling a mix of surprise and amusement at the maturity of his observations.

Hugo raised both hands, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Ten," he replied, the innocence of his youth juxtaposed against the weight of the knowledge he carried.

You chuckled softly, taking another sip of your whiskey as you observed Hugo with newfound respect. Children were indeed frighteningly perceptive these days, and you made a mental note to tread carefully around him in the future.

You looked at the lake and sighed again. No wonder Charlie felt relieved upon seeing you. He wouldn't have to worry about these things. If his past caught up with him while pursuing his path to becoming a pope, it would ruin everything for him.

As for Charlotte, nothing ever seems to be enough for her. If her future in-laws from the royal family were to find out about this business, they would likely cancel her marriage.

So it's obvious they were relieved when Rupert chose you as the heir.

As both of you made your way back home, your senses went on high alert as you spotted a black Range Rover parked near the entrance. The sight of the familiar car sent a chill down your spine, and you felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

He's the man who watched Rupert's funeral from afar.

"Hugo, go inside," you instructed quietly, your voice tinged with urgency as you gestured for him to retreat to the safety of the house.

The man who emerged from the car was none other than the same individual you had seen at the funeral. James Barnes, or "Bucky" as he preferred to be called, approached you with a confident stride, his demeanor exuding an air of authority.

"Sorry to disturb your afternoon walk," Bucky began, his voice smooth and polite. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm James Barnes, but you could call me Bucky."

You nodded in acknowledgment, your guard instinctively rising as you braced yourself for whatever news he had come to deliver. "How can I help you, Mr. Barnes?" you inquired, your tone guarded yet polite.

"It's difficult for me to say while you're still grieving," Bucky admitted, his expression sympathetic. "But the former duke owed money to us."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "You see, Mr. Barnes, I just got here two days ago after 15 years," you explained wearily, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at your revelation, his interest piqued. "Yeah, Rupert mentioned it a couple of times," he remarked casually.

"Did he?" you muttered under your breath, feeling a surge of annoyance at Duke Rupert's apparent penchant for gossip.

"Let's continue this at the office," you suggested tersely, eager to put some distance between yourself and the unsettling presence of James Barnes.

As you stepped into Rupert's office for the first time, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingling with the lingering scent of his cigar and the familiar musk that seemed to permeate the room. It was a scent you had grown accustomed to over the years, a reminder of the man who had once occupied this space.

Pouring another whiskey for yourself and a glass for Bucky, you couldn't help but feel a pang of melancholy as you reflected on the memories associated with this room. Duke Rupert's presence seemed to linger in every corner, his larger-than-life persona casting a shadow over the space.

Bucky took a moment to savor the whiskey, his expression one of appreciation. "Your step-dad always did have a good collection of alcohol," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words as he raised his glass in a silent toast.

You nodded in agreement, acknowledging the truth in his words. Despite the complexities of his character, Duke Rupert had always taken pride in his impressive selection of drinks, a testament to his refined taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Taking a sip of your drink, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence in the air. "Do you have business with my step-dad?" you asked, your tone cautious as you eyed Bucky across the desk.

Bucky's admission hung heavy in the air as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of responsibility and obligation.

"I lent him my money and I protected him," he explained, his tone tinged with a sense of duty.

"Why? His weed business didn't work out?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the revelation.

Bucky shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "It was successful. But he had a change of heart and wanted out. And his boss didn't like it. That's where I came in," he elaborated, his expression grave.

"Eight million pounds. Is all because of you?" you queried, the enormity of the debt now beginning to make sense.

Bucky tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours with a solemn intensity. "The price of the damage I got for protecting your step-dad. I gained more enemies," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

Setting down your whiskey glass, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Despite the tangled web of intrigue and deceit surrounding Duke Rupert, at least his involvement in the weed business was not the cause of his debts.

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Options seemed limited, and each path forward appeared fraught with challenges and uncertainties.

Glancing at the bank statements and stock reports spread out on the desk before you, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Duke Rupert's financial situation was far from ideal, and the prospect of producing eight million pounds seemed increasingly daunting.

Your mother's reluctance to sell the manor only added to the complexity of the situation. Despite the financial burden it represented, the estate held sentimental value for her, serving as a tangible connection to Duke Rupert and the life they had built together.

The twins' indifference to the predicament only further highlighted the sense of isolation you felt in confronting this dilemma alone. But then your thoughts turned to Hugo, the youngest member of the family, and the realization dawned on you that the manor held a special significance for him as well.

Selling off the artwork and alcohol collection was a possibility, but the process would take time, and the prospect of navigating the complexities of the open market and taxation only added to the uncertainty.

With few options left to consider, you knew that your best course of action was to confront the man himself. Despite your reservations, you couldn't ignore the fact that Bucky held the key to unraveling the mystery of Duke Rupert's debts.

As the desire to return to the U.S. gnawed at you, a sense of urgency washed over you, driving you to seek resolution as quickly as possible. But with time ticking away and the weight of responsibility bearing on your shoulders, you knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and sacrifices.

You sighed heavily, the weight of the situation settling upon your shoulders. "What options do I have?

Bucky's smile was almost too slick, his finger pointing at you like a loaded gun. "I really like your attitude, Your Grace. Straight to the point," he remarked, his voice smooth as silk.

As he unbuttoned his suit and slid his hands into his pocket pants, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a dark cloud. "I'm also intrigued by your career as an expert in bombs," he continued, his words sending a chill down your spine.

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach as you braced yourself for what was to come. "Go on," you replied tersely, the tension crackling in the air between you.

With a calculated gesture, Bucky brought his hands together, the glint of gold rings catching the light and adding an air of menace to his demeanor. "I will make the debt of 8 million pounds disappear. If you help me," he declared, his tone dripping with promise.

Your heart skipped a beat at the audacity of his offer, the implications of his words sinking in like a lead weight. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty before he finally spoke. "I've got more competition after I helped Rupert. Thinking about it gives me headaches. That's where you come in," he explained cryptically, his words laden with hidden meaning.

Raising an eyebrow, you regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The silence stretched between you, thick with tension, until Bucky finally broke it with a chilling revelation. "I want you to create an explosion. To get rid of them," he stated bluntly, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Fuck!"

Cursing under your breath, you cast a wary glance at the painting of Rupert hanging on the wall. His eyes seemed to bore into you, judging your every move. As an army EOD technician, the thought of making a bomb for a criminal to pay off a debt filled you with a sense of dread.

Regret gnawed at you like a festering wound as you grappled with the weight of the decision before you. Coming back home had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of the situation, you couldn't help but wish you had never returned.

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[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Going flower picking with Sebek, Vil, and Rook, seperately please, headcanons or just a drabble is fine! gn reader :3

Flower-Picking the Heart

Characters; Sebek Zigvolt, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Rollo Flamme

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, pining, hurt/comfort, unresolved feelings

Word Count; 1.4 K (headcanon format)

Author's Note; I included Rollo since you mentioned that you also wanted to include him. I included some of the symbolism behind the flowers, but may miss some; so do be mindful of that! Also deviated a bit, but still stayed on prompt!

Do not put my work into AI. If you would like to read more of my work, please see my masterlist

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was standing by your side in the flower garden; this was supposed to be a relaxed day with no duties or responsibilities demanding your attention. Yet, his back was as straight as ever as the both of you slowly made your way through the botanical garden.

You nudged him in the arm, trying to get his attention, only to garner him giving you the side eye and letting out a quiet grunt.

“Hey, you were the one that wanted to come to the botanical garden,” you offer, giving him your own side eye to rival the one he was sending you.

Sebek sighed, silently questioning why Lilia recommended the garden as a hang-out spot (no, it wasn’t a date as Lilia taunted, that’s what Sebek told himself anyway).

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he said in a clipped tone, but he was eyeing the floral displays.

For today they could pick a single bloom, and he was set on getting the best flower for the dorm; a rose that could belong back at the queen’s rose garden! That’s what Sebek had originally thought he was going to do.

That was until you went over to one of the displays and plucked a flower, and gave it to him with an expectant look.

“What is this for,” he nearly shouted, paying mind to control his voice since others were also attending the showcase and he didn’t want to bring prying eyes to this situation.

You tucked a bright blue bloom into his chest pocket, a bright, cheery, contrast against the black of his jacket. A single morning glory blossom.

You hummed, “No reason. It just spoke to me is all.”

A simple honest answer. But why did it cause his ears to burn?

A favour. I cannot owe them a favour for this! So he did the same, looking among the vast amount of blooms until he chose a pale pink peony, shoving it into your hands.

You eyed the flower, and put it into your chest pocket, to match with him. “Alright then, where to now?” Where will we go? Will we continue in this or will we grow into something else? 

Flower Language - Morning glory; willful promise, affection - Peony; bravery, bashful, happy life, shame

Vil Schoenheit

Vil had received flowers countless times before, so many times that he had honestly lost count. He was also versed in both flower and overall plant toxicology, but also flower language itself.

This flower-picking trip was originally supposed to be for him to restock for both the school (since Professor Crewel trusted him) and his own stock for potions.

And you just so happened to be there, giving him a small wave from where you were collecting your own flowers.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Vil offered, walking over to where you were. “Hard at work I see.”

Vil took note of the flowers in your basket, as well as the dirt on your hands; it was charming. Daffodils and pansies? That’s odd, I didn’t take them as the sort to make poison… Hopefully, they do remember that daffodils are toxic and pansies are fine—

“Good to see you too,” you chirped, dusting off your hands from the dry dirt. You took note of his own basket and patted the ground next to you. “Come on then, join me.”

Vil looked at you and without much thought or other prompting, he knelt beside you in the sea of yellow daffodils. “What are you planning to do with those,” he asked, gently clipping a yellow bloom from its stalk.

You paused, a white flower in your hand. “I was going to give them to someone special to me,” you said quietly, deciding to be honest.

“Hm, you must hold this person in high regard then,” Vil eyed you curiously since the long stalks of the daffodils looked quite awkward next to the pansies. “Respect, regard, unequalled love,” he said, holding a daffodil. “Thoughtful and caring,” he looked at the pansies, before looking to you.

“I do, and he is,” you answered, hoping that he hadn’t caught on to your little plan.

Well, he didn’t until he came back to the dorm to find the flowers in a vase. For Vil; I suppose you already know what these mean. And he did.

Flower Language - Daffodil; respect, regard, unequalled love - Pansy; thoughtful, caring

Rook Hunt

“Rook, where exactly are you taking me,” you asked him, facing in his direction (or at least you hoped you were facing his direction since he had handed you a blindfold to “make the surprise be meaningful”).

Rook just gave you the answer he had given you the entire way, “You’ll see soon, Trickster.”

Eventually, the two of you did stop and Rook took off the blindfold.

Flowers, flowers everywhere. Of every shape and colour. They were blooming everywhere.

You were silent for a few moments, just taking everything in. The slight irritation that you were blindfolded slipped to the back of your brain (you could be annoyed with him later) and you watched hummingbirds and fat bees flit from flower to flower.

“What do you think,” Rook asked you quietly, not wanting to break the spell you seemed to be under.

You looked back at him, and a breathy chuckle left your lips. “What do I think? It’s stunning,” you say in awe.

Rook smiled brightly; either at your reaction or that he was correct in that he thought you would enjoy this.

He didn’t say anything though, and just watched you go about the flower field. Even though he wanted to say so many things, he found that he was for once, speechless.

Looking down for a moment something caught his eye; violets. Next to the gardenias, most would not pay them much mind; but Rook gently plucked a few, alongside a gardenia.

“Rook!” Your shouting snapped him out of his own thoughts, and he looked up. “Am I allowed to pick some?”

He blinked before regaining his usual cheery mask. “Oui, but only a few.”

He eyed the flowers he held in his hands before ultimately setting them back down. For although they spoke the truth, Rook wasn’t yet ready to lay his heart bare; not yet.

Flower Language - Gardenia; you're lovely, secret love - Violet; honesty, watchfulness, modesty, faithfulness

Rollo Flamme

Rollo hated that he could feel his heart beat like a bird trying to escape a cage, yet he found himself next to you again, the very person who caused the anomaly; like a moth to flame.

You were taking a path on the outskirts of the city, silent. And while Rollo was often used to the quiet, it only heightened his nerves, causing his heart to beat faster. 

“Why did you invite me along,” you asked, breaking the silence. 

Rollo faltered in his step before regaining his composure. “While the city is our main attraction, I do find the quiet walkways to be more enjoyable.”

You hummed, eyeing one of the numerous hydrangea bushes that lined the walkway, separating it from a lavender field. “It is rather nice, thank you. Although you can stop your sales pitch on your city.”

Rollo blinked at you, brow slightly furrowed. “Sales pitch?”

“Yeah, like selling all the good points? … Damn, I’ve been spending too much time around some people, sorry.” You felt embarrassed, that you had distrusted him when he was most likely just being proud of his city.

“Hmm,” was all he said, moving along. The silence returned, as Rollo was not the type to make simple small talk or force a conversation where one wasn’t needed.

“Pft,” your sudden outburst of near-silent laughter caught his attention and he stopped, turning to you with a curious look.

“What seems to be funny?” He meant it in a genuine manner, but you just started laughing more which only made him more perplexed. Perhaps the fresh air can do you some harm?

You got a hold of yourself, eyes watering from the wind and your little chuckle fest. “Fleur City, your city is literally flower city, and look what we’re surrounded by; flowers.”

Rollo looked at the flowers and then at you. “It is a bit on the nose, I guess.”

You plucked a hydrangea cluster from the nearest bush and tucked it behind his ear. “But it’s fitting nonetheless.”

If his heart was beating fast before, now his face was sure to be red, and not from the brisk breeze.

Flower Language - Hydrangea; pride, gratitude for being understood, frigidity and heartlessness - Lavender; faithful, distrust

~~~~~~~

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[thepaperpanda]

Sneaking Away || Neteyam x fem!Omaticaya reader

Summary: You might be a bit mistaken if you thought that escaping Neteyam's hut was a good idea

Warnings: smut without plot 🔥

Word count: 1665

Author: Rouge

A/N: prior to reading, it’s important to know that: the reader is female Omaticaya ✤ characters are aged up (Neteyam is 20, reader is 19) ✤ a few things are in Na'vi language ✤ you'll find a glossary underneath the fic

Your legs and arms were tangled after what seemed like a long nap; his naked body pressed against yours, his breath bathing your nape.

Slowly, you tried to stretch a bit, but couldn't since Neteyam was tightly hugging you. The fact that you were completely naked didn't stop you from getting up. After slipping away from Neteyam as quietly as possible, you ran for the door.

It was not long before his voice reached every corner of the room. "Why are you getting up?" Neteyam asked, his tone devoid of sleepiness.

"My limbs feel sore, so I need to move a bit. I think I’ll get dressed and have a little walk," you explained with a sigh, "I'll be back soon, you can get back to sleep," you promised, but hesitated to take another step.

Before he even spoke, you knew he was standing behind you. Even though he hadn't touched you yet, you could feel chills running down your spine as he whispered right into your ear, "Nìawnomum, there's no need to leave this place to move your body, oeyä 'eve." His lips brushed your earlobe slowly, and you whined quietly.

After turning you around, he grinned widely when he saw that you were turning bright red up to your pointy ears. Neteyam cupped your face, as he had done countless times before, planting kisses along the outline of your jawline while his fingers reached to your lower, exposed regions.

You couldn't resist giving in no matter how hard you tried, and this time was no different. The contact between his thumb and your clit caused you to inhale sharply as you turned your head away from him as you were trying to hide the blush showering your face, though it made no difference, since he already kneeled down, grabbed your thighs, and bit lightly on your soft skin while kissing your flesh tenderly.

In no time at all, your moans would be heard outside the hut, and you knew that they'd only get louder, so you decided it was pointless to hide your pleasure.

Knowing he could bring you to the point where you would be unable to control your own actions gave Neteyam immense satisfaction, and it was impossible to deprive him of it.

That's the exact look he gave you when he pulled away so he could push you back onto the bed.

"I have not moved an inch even though you told me I could by staying in here with you. So, among other things, you are a liar too, Neteyam," you responded and watched his eyes widened; in spite of your willingness to give him all the satisfaction he wanted, you continued to make your usual sarcastic remarks.

Hissing, he said, "You'll regret those words soon enough." After these words he tenderly kissed your breast.

You closed your eyes and drove your nails into the cot; your pulse increased at the mere thought of his taste.

While he pinched your nipples and kneaded your breasts, you ran your fingers through his hair and wrapped your legs around his slender waist.

His kisses were like torture as you needed him right there and then already, yet Neteyam seemed to gloat whenever quiet whimpers escaped your parted lips; he slowly kissed your body, tasting your warm skin, trembling like a leaf on a northern breeze under his every kiss as he kissed his way down, between your legs. Soon, using two fingers, Neteyam rubbed his fingertips along your outer lips until he found you were wet enough. Even though you knew he was holding back in order to get you to apologize, something you didn't intend to do, your body was begging for something much greater. "Nì'ul!" you moaned without thinking, trying to push your hips more into his touch.

Neteyam heard your pleas out and stuck another finger into you, never separating his lips from your pussy.

Your hips trembled as you whimpered, "Deeper, Neteyam."

A brief chuckle passed through his lips, but as soon as it vanished, his fingers curled into you, even though it wasn't enough to satisfy your desires.

Reaching out, you took his hand in yours, positioning it so as to allow him to reach deeper; your pleas for greater things were mixed with cries of pleasure.

His thumb put more pressure on your clit as he watched your facial expression with a wry smirk dancing in the corners of his mouth.

You were only a few seconds away from climaxing when he pulled his fingers out, leaving you looking at him with contempt in your eyes.

"I told you you'd regret it," his huge smirk just annoyed you more, and you attempted to get up from the bed to leave the hut, but he pulled you back under him, pinning your shoulders down with ease.

In an effort to switch places and bring yourself on top, you exhaled, "You're the worst, Neteyam."

As his gaze traveled across your body, he focused on the places you loved to be touched most; he was in a submissive stance, but looked at you as if you were at the bottom.

Even though you knew it was nearly impossible to change that, you still wanted to try. Before you reached his abdomen with your palm, you planted kisses on his neck, moving down to his collarbones. As you stroked the base of his cock, you felt him twitch under your touch. You couldn't help but sneer - it was unusual for him to react that way, which made you even more eager for what would follow. When you first took him in your hand and started pumping, his cock was already rock-hard.

The pace increased faster than usual; you were so excited that you couldn't stop yourself. You pushed him off yourself and rolled on top of him, and he gladly obliged. While bending down, you licked his tip and took him little by little into your mouth. Your greed made you move even lower, causing his balls to come in close contact with your lips as you left behind all signs of restraint.

When Neteyam was close to finishing, you pulled away slowly, ensuring that your tongue slid along his entire cock. In the midst of playing with a hair strand, you leaned against his ear. "What's wrong? You want more?" Your voice was nothing but a whisper; his body was tensed under you as you straddled him slowly, gently grinding your pussy against his erected shaft. "Don't worry, I am not finished yet, yawntutsyìp."

Tugging at his left earlobe, you sucked at the crook of his neck, savoring the warm taste of his sweaty skin. You were almost ecstatic at the mere thought of this man being willing to share his corporeality with you. After you'd finished, you sat up slightly, grabbed his cock, lined it up with your entrance, and lowered yourself onto him until he was inside of you. Upon entering your core, soft moans escaped your lips and you sat on his lap more firmly, regaining your balance and moving your hips fluidly.

Neteyam caressed your breasts and traced the outline of your spine with his hands; his lips parted as he watched you with a bliss. After you leant forward, your chin was raised by him and he kissed you, his tongue running over your teeth briefly before he went deeper, holding you close to him throughout.

"I assume your limbs are not that sore anymore. Why don't you just lay back and relax?" He suggested in the softest tone he could muster.

After nodding, with a last roll of your hips, you rolled off him and lied down on your back, grateful for the cold sheets underneath you.

"Are you willing to apologize for what you said previously, for calling me a liar?" Neteyam asked, tracing the curve of your hips with his index finger. When you opened your mouth to protest, he harshly pressed his lips against yours to silence you in an eager kiss.

Your gaze was fixed on his face as he climbed on top of you and yanked your thighs apart. After jerking his shaft a few times, Neteyam pushed into you without the slightest sign of hesitation. His movements were slow and not without impact as you moaned his name and the occasional harder or quicker, both of which he conveniently chose to ignore.

The fact that he had been waiting for his turn made you realize that he would probably take his sweet time with you. Soon, however, his hips thrust into you faster, his cock so deep inside your pussy that your bodies became one. Moaning, you felt your pussy clenched around his shaft, spasming rhythmically, leaving you trembling in his arms; it was one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever experienced. In spite of this, he didn't slow down and you could see drops of sweat forming on his brow as his speed increased.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you caressed the skin of his nape with your nails, whispering sweet nothings into his ear - you expressed how much you loved him, what he meant to you. You clung to him, rocking back and forth in perfect sync, lusting for more even if you'd already reached your climax.

The last time he pushed himself forward, he wanted to get as deep inside you as possible, and you welcomed his cum when it filled you.

As Neteyam gasped for air, he laid on top of you, occasionally kissing your cheek. 

In the midst of a long silence, you teased, "So? Are you not interested in my apology anymore, oeyä yawntu?"

As he gazed down at your face, still flushed from the intercourse you two shared, he propped himself on his hands. "Don't even start, little one, or I'll get angry again."

Biting your lower lip, you flicked his nose. "I'm just teasing. You know I mean no harm. Nga yawne lu oer.”

Glossary:

oeyä yawntu - my beloved

oeyä - my

oeyä 'eve - my girl

yawntutsyìp - darling

nga yawne lu oer - I love you

nìawnomum - as you know

nì'ul - more

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Also, I would like to add that Malleus’s blatant disregard for the autonomy of others and fits of rage is DELIBERATE on his end. Being one of the top five mages in the entire world, I am sure that he KNOWS there is a large disparity between his power/social and the rest of the peers/subordinates etc. His sheer and utter confidence in his abilities to get what he wants and general disregard for others isn’t only an indicator of his awareness about this disparity, but is also a reflection of the abuses of his power AND social status as a whole.

In light of his age, imagine the amount of times he has repeated these mistakes despite others advice and criticisms against his choices. Only Ace has been able to overcome others general reverence and fear towards Malleus when it came to calling him out. He is not an innocent person who is ignorant about the ways of humanity verses faes, and is certainly not the innocent character the fandom (especially those who are infatuated by him) think he is.

[Referencing this post!]

***Standard disclaimer: In sharing my thoughts, I do not mean to disparage Malleus fans. Furthermore, me disliking him should not detract from your own enjoyment of the character. If you do not feel comfortable reading about this topic (ie critique of Malleus’s character), then I encourage you to scroll on and to not engage with this post.***

My thoughts below the cut!

I do feel that, to some degree, the disregard for others and inappropriate fits of rage come from blatant ignorance (since Malleus did have a very isolated and sheltered upbringing). However, it's also hard for me to believe that in his 178 years of living that he was NOT told countless times by those around him (mostly Lilia and his grandmother, Maleficia) to wield his power and social status more tactfully than how he has. Did he take none of those lessons to heart??? What about the 2-3 years he spent living among the non-fae at NRC? Nothing from then too?? Regarding self-awareness of his strength and social status, Malleus has made it clear on more than one occasion that he stands above others. Right from his first appearance in the main story (in book 2), it's implied he's well aware of his position--so much so that he deliberately hides his identity from Yuu. He also cannot propose to Eliza in Ghost Marriage because he is the crown prince of a nation. Time and time again, Malleus's status is mentioned and it plays into his importance as the sole heir to Briar Valley. He must also know he is powerful, given that he is one of the top 5 strongest mages in the world and can perform incredible feats (like reassembling a stage and walking through Vil's poisonous miasma in book 5) like they're nothing. His grandmother and Lilia tell him the Draconias are powerful and shouldn’t use their magic to harm, but to help those they rule over. Yet he seems to have surprisingly few qualms when turning these powers against people who are only at a fraction of his power (Rook, his dorm mates, everyone in the Scalding Sands trip group, Ortho, etc.) or have no magic at all (remember when he attacked those civilians in Terror is Trending and the other Diasomnia students had to restrain him?). Malleus may be emotional in these moments, but the fact remains that he's making the deliberate, intentional choice to wield his magic in this way. He has the ability to hold himself back (as we see him refrain from fighting Rook in Malleus's PE Uniform vignette, only because he knows Rook is baiting him), but the vast majority of the time he fails to do this. For someone who is acutely aware of his power, you'd think he would... I don't know, keep a better leash on it? And what about his identity? So Malleus is concerned about Sebek insulting Leona (the prince of another country) but he ISN'T concerned about how his own fits of anger poorly reflect on himself, who is the CROWN PRINCE of a country??? Please make that make sense... Why is Malleus so selective ���

I'm actually quite shocked at how little Malleus's pride and arrogance is pointed out; it's usually Leona who gets those labels even though Malleus is also just as arrogant, prideful, and confident in his own powers. Most of the time, I feel like I see Malleus being called "innocent". Maybe his negative traits on display get overlooked because TWST tries so hard to present Malleus to us as someone we are supposed to like (especially with how often they use his overpoweredness or loneliness is used as a punchline for jokes). Our interactions with Malleus are also so few and so short, particularly early in the main story, that fan project their own ideas about what he's like onto him and that forms a certain “image” of him that may not be the same as how he actually is. Him being lonely makes it easy for fans to perceive him as desperate for company and even easier for fans insert themselves as his “special” friend or S/O to fill the void.

It's... quite ironic, really? Malleus says in Riddle's Suitor Suit vignettes that he is familiar with the concept of "noblesse oblige", which is the implied duty of the privileged and nobility to act gracefully towards those less privileged. Yet... he is sometimes overstepping "fae playfulness" or "teenage childishness/immaturity" and continuously creating situations which put people around him in danger (all of Endless Halloween Night, not holding back his attacks against the Magicam Monsters, all the times he let his temper get out of control, book 7 OB, etc.) When defending the extremes he took in book 7 by citing his status and his UM, Malleus has this to say, which is very telling of his lucidity: "Monitoring? Meddling? Heh, how silly. It's a king's duty to govern, is it not? I'm watching over you. To ensure no nightmares befall you in the fairy tales you now reside in... To ensure you have happy dreams that last forever!" It's implied that Malleus's grandma has told him since childhood that their line has powerful magic to protect their people's smiles--and here he is, overextending those words to people that aren't even his subjects, and twisting the meaning to justify his own brutal rule.

What I noticed is... Malleus is often so oriented on seeing the situation from his POV that he fails to consider those from any entity aside from himself. In Endless Halloween Night, he feels sorry for the ghosts who showed up late and were left out of the festivities because he can relate to them, so therefore he wants to make sure they are included. In book 7, Malleus fears his loved ones leaving and projects this fear onto everyone else so he feels right in being the one coming in to be their "hero" and grant them happy endings they never asked for. In his own Dorm Uniform vignettes, Malleus frames the circumstances as, "I wouldn't be mad if you did the same thing to me" instead of listening to his peers' complaints. He centers problems around himself (which admittedly is very frustrating to me), and this is how Malleus tries to understand and navigate the world. This gives me the impression that he has a very particular way of thinking and it's perhaps difficult for him to understand others, even with extensive pointers.

I truly believe Malleus is ignorant about humans and fae. That much matches up with what we know of his history. What I do NOT get is why he continues to remain ignorant when 1) he has spent a few years exposed to non-fae and their ways; even if this pales in comparison to the 175ish other years of his life, he should have some new basis for appropriate social interactions with other races, and 2) most of the major adult figures in his life are exposing to him he should consider others' perspectives and try to learn more about that which he is unfamiliar with. Malleus has so many opportunities to expand his horizons and get to know new people, but he seems to sit around and keep waiting for others take the initiative for him. But he could initiate too, so why doesn't he???? (He has shown he is capable of it, as he approaches Deuce to fix his virtual pet and chatting with Idia about the same pet in the main story; if not by himself, then Lilia can easily assist or invite him into activities such as the Silk City trip.) Even if Malleus fails to socialize in a way that's considered appropriate, at least that's something he can learn from and correct for next time... But why doesn’t he????????? If he did, it would sure help out with his inability to empathize with his peers and could even curb his temper (which would be seen as socially inappropriate). So why exactly does he seem to know so little and make so little effort to try and rectify this???? Why does he keep postulating that his word is above everyone else’s and then get upset when people don’t like him for this very alienating attitude? Aaaaah, it's a sad cycle to witness him devolve into again and again... 😭

P. S. Bless Ace for being the one character who still held it against Malleus for the fucked up “prank” he pulled in Endless Halloween Night (and then convincing everyone the misunderstanding was their faults for “attacking the ghosts first”).

[ash-rigby]

Who Knows, Who Cares? (Tentacle Monster) [F/?]

Featured Characters: Female human and a tentacle monster of indeterminate gender. Both are adults.

Description: Agatha has figured out how to conjure an inter-dimensional glory hole and enjoys the variety of monster dicks that come through. On one particular night, she is visited by a tentacle which treats her to an unexpected ending. Contains: Magical Glory Holes, Tentacles, Ovipositor, Egg-Laying, Stomach Bulge, Aphrodisiacs, Masturbation, Sex Toys.

Completion Date: November 7th, 2023

Word Count: 1609

-

There really should have been a warning provided about how addictive the spell would be. It was rare that an evening went by where Agatha didn’t activate the portal in all its brightly glowing, pink glory. The position of the other side was random among countless dimensions, its runes designed to be translated for whatever horny beast it appeared before. A hole with unmistakable purpose.

Agatha had made herself comfortable, propped up against her multitude of pillows as she lay in bed pumping a thick toy deep into her cunt. She had learned to loosen herself up a bit before summoning; there was no telling the size of what came through.

The towel Agatha had laid out beneath her was already slightly messy with lube. Wet, filthy noises mingled with her moans, her pussy squeezing around the toy. It was far from enough; she needed the feeling of some faceless creature’s cock throbbing inside her. The heat. The cum. The knowledge that whoever was on the other side only cared about getting themself off. A kind lover was great, but sometimes she craved to just be fucking used.

Needy and whimpering, Agatha used her free hand to trace the spell’s sigil in the air. Her room was bathed in magenta light, flaring as the circle came into existence on the mattress between her spread thighs. She waited a few moments as she continued to fuck herself and bite her lower lip with impatience.

“Please…please…anyone,” she begged, sweat glistening in the garish glow.

There was movement at the center of the circle. Agatha watched as a light blue, shimmering, translucent tentacle slowly began to emerge. It was long, lined with shallow ridges starting at the tip which faded to smoothness about eight inches down. She could see thin, faintly glowing purple veins just beneath the fleshy surface, pulsating rhythmically with the creature’s heartbeat.

Agatha softly gasped, removing the toy from herself and tossing it aside.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she said.

The tentacle felt out her foot, traced her ankle, and began caressing its way up her calf. She trembled as it slid over her thigh and trailed slime. It explored boldly, working inward until it found her pussy. The tip ran up and down the wet, twitching line of it, teasing her folds and making her achingly empty hole quiver.

“There it is,” she encouraged, though she knew she went unheard. “Mmm, there you go.”

Agatha expected to be swiftly filled as was typical of tentacles. She was used to such roughly-pumping appendages. For one to finish only for another to come through circle. Sometimes leading to being stretched around a deeply writhing mass of multiple; always leading to ending up leaking cum.

Instead, she watched as the end of the tentacle opened up into a sort of small, toothless, slick-dripping mouth. It latched onto her clit seconds later. Her head tossed back in time with a sharply sucked-in breath that released alongside a moan. A tight, warm, sucking sensation had the whole of her lower body shaking.

“Ngh—what are…fuck!”

The tentacle was relentless, ravaging Agatha’s clit. A tingling sensation spread out where it was attached. She felt the pleasure growing as it traveled down her legs and up her torso. It was a near numbness to all but where it mattered; she was hyperaware of her cunt. Leaking, twitching ceaselessly, on fire. She moaned louder and distantly wondered—but hardly cared—what the hell was in the tentacle’s fluids.

With her weak fingers gripping the sheets, Agatha lost herself to the intensity. Her hips squirmed and bucked. She cried out mindlessly, without words. Getting her clit sucked had never felt this good before. The constant action and whatever influence she was under had her head swimming and floating.

Agatha convulsed as she came, clit pounding in its confines. The tentacle continued to suck. A delirious giggling started to break up her wild moans. Waves of a prolonged orgasm crashed into her until she arrived at a second, near-blinding peak. She wailed, feeling fluid gushing from her, soaking the towel beneath her. It was only then that the tentacle released.

Panting and whimpering, Agatha tried to right herself in her own mind while her body screamed for more. Her clit felt more swollen than it ever had been, hot and throbbing madly. Her pussy was in much the same state as the last of her release dribbled out of her. The break didn’t last long. Seconds later, the tentacle was teasing aside her sensitive folds to find her hole.

“Ohhhh…oh, my—GOD!”

The word was punched out of her as the tentacle slammed in. Her pussy took it easily. Almost greedily; sucking it in and squeezing enough to practically conform to its shape. Her legs snapped open wider despite not needing to accommodate a body between them. It was a reflex. Instinct. Silent begging for a deep fucking. The tentacle quivered before beginning to thrust.

Agatha moaned as she felt the tentacle swell slightly inside her and increase its girth. The ridges ground into her as her insides pressed against it. Her heart hammered in her chest, echoed in the pulsing of her stretched walls. A mix of her fluids and the creature’s made a mess of her hole, audibly spurting from her with every plunge.

The pace became crazed. A rough, quick pounding. Agatha whined, breaths gasping from her open mouth. The frantic undulation of the tentacle was mesmerizing. She watched it reel back and slam forward, oozing along its entire length with some natural lubrication. Her pussy clenched, milking it; she needed that cum. The creature began to throb hard inside her, the veins glowing brighter.

But all at once, as the tentacle fully sheathed itself and stilled, Agatha knew something was different. Round shapes were visible in the inner organ as they travelled along the slick, twitching length. She barely had time to process it before the first popped into her. Eggs, her hazy mind supplied. The thing was laying eggs inside her. It should have scared and disgusted her, but it felt amazing.

Agatha’s gaze fixated on the monstrous appendage lodged in her cunt as she was filled with countless eggs. She could feel each one moving through the tentacle before joining the rest in a rapidly growing mass. There was no end to them in sight. Breathing hard, she watched her stomach start to bulge with them.

“Fuuuuuuck!” she moaned, eyes rolling from the alien sensation.

More and more eggs pressed in and filled whatever space they could find, clearly an amount that another of the creature’s species was designed to take. What did it know, or care, about human limits? Agatha’s belly distended; round, heavy and strained. She moaned and shook with ecstasy, but the mounting danger won over her greedy pussy.

“S-stop can’t—ahhh, take anymore!” she cried, doing her best to reach for the tentacle and possibly pull it out.

Luckily, the creature seemed spent. With a few final twitches, it slithered out of her. Agatha panted, half hoping that she would feel that delicious mouth on her clit again. But instead, the magenta light faded.

The tentacle was gone.

Agatha lay there for a while with her stomach full of eggs, whimpering as they shifted with her heaving breaths. They needed to come out. But first, she needed to cum. Her used body ached for it; the monster aphrodisiac pumping through her was the likely culprit, keeping that incessant pulse in her cunt despite her situation.

She reached for her vibrator that had miraculously stayed on her bed through her thrashing. A buzzing sound filled the air as she turned it on, angling it around her belly to rest on her still-pounding clit. The pleasure was a shock and she choked on her moan.

Agatha’s thighs trembled, pouring sweat. She gasped as something moved inside her. One of the eggs pushed through her passage, squeezing out of her hole with a wet pop. And damn did it feel good coming out. A second followed it, making Agatha whine. She continued to tease her clit, moaning as more eggs parted her twitching folds and gathered on the bed.

Heat engulfed Agatha’s pussy; everything—inside and out—throbbed hard. She had been filled to bulging with cum before, reveled in feeling copious seed dripping down her legs as she limped to the bathroom to deal with it. But nothing would ever rival these eggs; the stretch of them as her hole’s ecstatic twitching squeezed them out. They started to come faster, lining up so one could begin its exit right after the last.

“Mmmm! Keep coming…keep coming,” she chanted, grinding the vibrator harder against her clit. “Fuck, fuck—ahhhh!”

Nothing could have prepared Agatha. As she came, a flood of eggs escaped her. Quick, rhythmic expulsions in time with the rapid clenching and releasing of her insides. Her hips rose off the bed from the sheer, intense pleasure of the sensation, heels digging into the mattress. The eggs landed beneath her, plopping wetly onto the saturated towel. She kept cumming, a string of orgasms brought on by that sweet stretch.

Agatha dropped, empty—as far as she knew. She lay among a mess of fluids and monster eggs, her stomach having returned to its normal size. Her body still buzzed with the small amount of aphrodisiac still in her system and she mindlessly pawed at her sopping cunt, jolting with pleasured aftershocks and moaning weakly.

Somewhere in the haze, she resolved to find a way to make the spell locate the portal somewhere of her choosing. Now that she had just begun a list of creatures she wanted to revisit, after all.

End

Masterlist

[euphoricfilter]

im in LOVE w your yandere ddlg fics… can i request one w namjoon? 🫣🫣 i feel like he fits the ddlg concept so well ugh

𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦:

pairing: yandere! namjoon x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || established relationship au ||

summary: if namjoon’s life were a book, he thinks the day his eyes set on you, it had been the start of a fairytale. where he is the prince, and you, his princess.

word count: 5.5k

tags/ warnings: disgusting amounts of fluff, buff bf namjoon, reader is definitely an ipad baby, she’s also very very spoiled, and very very shy, ddlg themes, non-sexual dom joon, descriptions of murder, a few references to literature, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), dom! namjoon, sub! reader, he’s girthy, size kink, cockwarming, belly bulge, dick riding, female masturbation, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of praise, and she’s a bit of a pillow princess, aftercare

notes: i agree!! he fits this concept so well!! and thank you for reading my other works babes! and here i present my last post of 2022! if there are mistakes, no there aren’t you didn’t see anything

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You were Namjoon’s fairytale dream. A distressed princess locked in the wicked witch’s tower— that was this corrupt world that the two of you lived in.

Him, your knight in shining armour, sweeping you off your feet and dressing you in pretty dresses and jewels just like a true princess.

Truthfully Namjoon liked the classics better, words articulated like poetry and feelings forever carved into paper with ink. Little pieces of each author weaved into each book they’d ever written, secrets between pages and fantasies hidden behind flowery words. Hours upon hours of knowledge stacked up in Namjoon’s mind, useless little things that no one had ever cared to ask him about.

Perhaps romance novels were his guilty pleasure. That sickly feeling you get, reading about two people so in love that you have to sit back and realise that your own life is nothing more than a slow burn. Where truly, you’re the side character that is left and forgotten, watching the people around you— the main cast of the story, fall in love and find their god-awful happiness that you can only dream of.

You see, Namjoon had learnt how patience was a virtue. He’d waited year and years for that love story, for the perfect, pure, unadulterated adoration for another human, like in all those romance novels.

Countless flings and unexplainable anger from all the women who had shattered his heart over and over again had led him to you. Had steered him towards the right path. Perhaps like the yellow brick road, him being Dorothy and you, Emerald City. His final destination.

You’d always been awfully shy. Something Namjoon completely adored about you. Something he knew you were a little insecure about; among other things.

His remedy to your doubt, fucking you until all you knew was his and your names. Fucked so dumb you could only cry, clinging onto him like he weren’t the wolf and you weren’t little red, pure white dove chomped and chewed in his jaws like Carol Ann Duffey had described— you locked in his claws as he ripped away at tattered old clothing.

Past relationships had ended on bad terms for you, similar to himself, because it seemed no one had ever taken the time to read into you properly. Hadn’t taken the time to map out your story on paper and analyze you; the perfect specimen, the apple of his eye, a goddess among humans and his pretty little princess.

So soft and so pretty. Something a little sick, twisted, in his mind that he’d been able to lock you away in a cage like a bird, delicate little wings snapped in two where escape was impossible; thoughts of a life without him nothing more than a breathy whisper in the wind.

“Which one do you want today, sweetheart?” Namjoon’s arm laces around your shoulder, tugging you closer into his side. Your Mary Janes tapping gently against the tile floor.

You peer into the display case, fingers tightly clasped around the sleeve of his hoodie; an anchor for your fraying feelings, anxiety creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t rush you, simply raising an eyebrow at the worker behind the counter who gets angsty at your thoughtful pondering. Line of customers slowly building behind the two of you; and Namjoon can hear a few impatient mutters.

“Strawberry, please” you fall back into his side, weight solely dependent on Namjoon holding you up.

Your boyfriend turns his attention back towards the barista, fingers carding through your hair.

“One americano, a hot chocolate and one of the strawberry cakes, thank you” he turns his attention back to you; watching as you rock and forth on your heels.

“Why don’t you go and pick a table out for us, darling?”

You hum, fingers tugging at his sleeve mindlessly once more before you’re scampering towards a table by the window.

Namjoon feels his cock twitch in his pants as you bend over the table slightly, collecting the discarded straw wrappers that had been left on the table; and he watches your skirt raise a little up your thighs, supple skin taunting him.

He doesn’t bother with whatever the barista tells him, pushing his card across the counter as he watches you; legs bouncing anxiously as you grip the hem of your shirt, finally taking a seat.

He waves at you as he waits at the end of the counter, the scent of freshly brewed coffee thick in the air and Namjoon worries about the impeding headache you’re sure to have.

“Here you go, pretty” he places the tray in the middle of the table, tutting when you go to grab your mug of hot chocolate. You simply fall back into your chair, eyes trained on Namjoon’s hand as he places your drink before you.

“Thank you” you smile up at him as he pulls out the chair beside you.

“You’re welcome” he coos, dragging your chair closer to his own, his neck craning to kiss your temple.

Your smile is shy though your attention is quickly snatched by his fingers that dig around the pocket of his hoodie.

He pushes his phone to your side of the table, hand laying heavy on the back of your neck as you pick it up.

“I’m gonna get a new high score” you tell your boyfriend, turning to give him a determined smile as your tap tap tile game loads.

“Yeah?” he asks, eye smile so pretty you get lost looking at him for a moment. Only snapping out of your own little reverie when he blows on your hot chocolate. “Drink up” he reminds you.

You nod, delicate fingers picking your mug up by the handle, and you watch as Namjoon brings his own coffee to his lips for a taste.

“Good?”

You nod, “Good”

Namjoon’s thumb continues to brush over the back of your neck as you hunch over the table, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you load up one of the songs of your game.

Your mouth falls open when Namjoon’s fingers dig into the back of your hair, tugging your head back.

He watches as your lips close around the forkful of cake he feeds you, endeared smile on his face as a little bit of the cream clings to the corners of your lips. You don’t seem to take much notice as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen of his phone.

Your lips part after swallowing, tongue peeking out to lick at the pad of Namjoon’s thumb before he’s slipping it into your mouth.

“Yummy?” he asks, and you fall back into your chair— game suddenly long forgotten as Namjoon’s thumb lays heavy on your tongue.

You nod, fingers itching for the fork. Your boyfriend simply tuts, “Let me do that for you” his thumb slips out of your mouth, soon replaced with another large forkful of strawberries and cream.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Namjoon’s attention is quickly snatched from his laptop when he hears a gentle knock on the door of his home office.

You always seemed to count a few seconds before you opened the door, always mindful that he was often busy; even if he’d made it clear that he was never too busy for you.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he closes his laptop, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not in bed” you whisper, still lingering in the doorway. Frilly-socked feet shuffling anxiously against the carpet.

Namjoon thinks you look like a dream, eyes heavy with lingering sleep, thin strap of your silk nightdress slipping off your shoulder as you curl in on yourself. Always ever so shy, even after years together.

He’d taken his time pampering you that evening. An hour spent in the bath where’d he’d lathered your body in thick suds of soap, sweet smelling like roses that had sat in the summer sun all afternoon, skin warm like petals that had basked in the golden rays of light. Silent promises of a love that will last forever, until he takes his last breath, until the world ceases to exist and his love can longer be— traced under light fingertips that knew your body better than you ever would.

You squirmed as he’d rubbed lotion into every inch of skin your body had to offer— body his temple, your soul his goddess that he worshiped like you were his only purpose in life. Each breath he took, every step he’d continue to take, everything for you.

You’d laid spread across his lap as he’d worked any knots out of your back before dressing you up pretty for bed. Flimsy silk nightdress tickling your skin, brushing against bare thighs, where Namjoon’s hands had the freedom to roam your body until you’d been giggling at him to stop.

His favorite pastime, brushing your hair before bed; his hands those of Rumplestiltskin, each strand treated like intricately created golden thread, gentle as he tugs each knot until perfect.

He’d been there when you’d fallen asleep, bones jelly after he’d fingered you to an orgasm and mind nothing more than cotton candy softness as you’d tugged your precious little bunny to your chest. A gift he’d given you your first date together; and although you claimed you never had favorites , it was always his bunny that remained in your arms as you slept.

And truly he thought tonight he would finish up the last of the project he’d been given, the rest of the week yours; his time cupped in your hands to use however you pleased. The smile you were sure to give him each day after work, worth the pain of a single one nighter.

“I have some work to finish up, why don’t you go lay down, and I’ll be there in a little while” he tilts his head, gentle smile toying at the corners of his lips.

Your lips mould into a pout, “No” you shake your head, voice pulling out a little whiny “You have to come with me, Joonie. Right now”

“But I’m busy, darling” he coos, rolling his chair away from his desk. Legs falling open and he wonders how long it’ll take you to crawl into his lap.

He watches you thrown yourself to the floor, falling to your knees with a dull thump, and he worries they’ll bruise. You don’t seem to care, too pre-occupied with the start of your bubbling tantrum to care about any future injuries; you’ll be sure to milk all of your boyfriend’s sympathy when you he patches you up later. Crying until he’s kissing it all better, and maybe he’ll buy you a gift for being so brave.

He’d seen you scrolling through a few shops online earlier in the day before dinner, rosy-red blush painting your cheeks at a few items you’d hopefully saved.

You hiccup, stuffed bunny clung to your chest as you shake your head. “No, no” you sniffle, “You have to come now” your legs kick a little underneath you.

It was no secret that Namjoon liked to spoil you. Truthfully, he didn’t see the issue— what else was he supposed to do when housing a little princess? If you wanted something then who was he to say no?

Especially when you looked up at him through wet lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks like freshly fallen rain would the petal of a flower.

“Don’t cry” he frowns, heart clenching at the utter distraught on your face; cheeks glazed in saline tears and eyes watery, another miserable cry ready to slip past your lips. “Come here, my precious little baby”

The sob you let out is pitiful, bunny’s fluffy little paw held so tight in your hand as you push yourself to stand. Floppy ears soaking up your tears as you wipe your cheeks.

Namjoon’s hand’s curl under your thighs as you push yourself into his lap, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

“oh dolly” he croons, “You’ve been fussy all day, haven’t you? What’s wrong?”

Your arms wrap around his neck, face tucked tightly into his shoulder as you choke on another sob. Bunny tucked between your chests.

His thumb is gentle as it brushes over the top of your thighs.

“Tell me what happened” he rests his cheek against the top of your head, mean little smile pulling at his cheeks as your sobs fizzle to little hiccups.

“Work” you whisper, fingers threading into his hair, tugging rhythmically as you mouth at his neck.

“What happened at work?”

You whine, pushing your body flush against Namjoon’s. His hands wander, grabbing your ass as you rock forwards; bare pussy brushing over his pyjama pants.

“There’s a— there’s a new guy” your hips falter and Namjoon holds in a groan as your weight settles right over his cock.

Namjoon hums, “What about him?”

“He—“ a breathy moan drips off your tongue as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“He what, darling? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he murmurs, fingers mean as he tugs your face away from his neck by the back of your hair.

Your mouth falls open, and Namjoon watches your eyes glaze over, though this time it’s not tears; and he wonders if you can see how ruined you look in the reflection of his glasses.

“Tell me” your thighs clenching at his tone.

You whimper, “He said a bad word, can’t say it”

Namjoon’s head tips backwards, “Go ahead and say it, baby. I won’t get mad”

“Promise?”

He smiles, endeared “Promise”

“He asked me on a date” your fingers grasp onto the neckline of his shirt, and your boyfriend hums, “I said no, because I have a boyfriend”

“And?”

He watches as your bottom lip quivers, breath hitching in your throat. “Said you didn’t need to know, could be a quick fuck in the back room”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks, “What’s his name?” his fingers skim over your jaw, your hips jutting forward. “Name, darling”

“Jimin” you breathe, “Told Nana, and she said she’d talk to him”

“Yeah?” Namjoon hums, “I’ll sort him out, okay?”

“Okay” you nod.

“Well done for telling me, darling” he smiles, an attempt to ease any lingering anxiety you had. The last thing he wanted was for you to hate work when you enjoyed it so much.

Your hips rut forwards, Namjoon pulling your nightdress up around your hips, watching as your bare cunt drags over his slowly hardening cock.

You lean forwards, lips brushing over Namjoon’s jaw as his hands guide your hips. You moan as the head of his cock brushes over your clit.

“Feel good, darling?” Namjoon’s breathing is heavy, one of his arms tucking under your thighs as he hoists you further up his chest, his free hand tugging his pants down.

Your hand travels between your bodies, tips of your fingers brushing over Namjoon’s slit, precum oozing out the tip as your hand runs down his length.

“Up you get” he helps you, head of his cock running through your slit as you roll your hips forwards.

You bite down on your bottom lip, watery whines bubbling up your throat with each nudge of your boyfriend’s cock running over your clit. Arousal seeps past your folds down Namjoon’s length.

You hold his cock against your cunt, Namjoon’s fingers digging into your hips, sure to leave bruises, but you didn’t seem to care all that much as your hips roll forward.

“Inside Joonie” you whine, tongue laving over the skin of his neck.

Namjoon takes a hold of the base of his cock, and you use his shoulders as leverage, chair wobbling under your joint weight as you line up his cockhead with your hole.

Your fingers run through your folds, wetness soaking your fingers as you circle your clit gently, Namjoon helping you as the tip of his cock brushes over your hole. And you let out an involuntary whine as the stimulation.

Your arms wrap around Namjoon’s neck, head of his cock splitting you open as you ease yourself down an inch before you’re pulling off slowly.

“Your pretty little pussy is so small” Namjoon groans. Flared cockhead pulling your pussy taught as you try and ease down lower.

You breath gets stuck in your throat, Namjoon’s fingers gently thumbing at your clit as you clench around his length. Slowly starting to stuff each agonizing inch into your cunt.

You whine as you reach the hilt, hips rutting forward messily. You moan at the lick of please that wracks through your body with each slow drag of Namjoon’s thick cock against your walls.

Namjoon pulls your face away from hiding by the back of your neck, tugging you until your lips mould into one, tongue pushed into your mouth, fresh minty toothpaste coating his tastebuds.

You start to bounce in his lap, childish impatience starting to take over as you chase after an orgasm. Always a little greedy when it came to your own pleasure, using Namjoon to get yourself off before you ever allow him to chase his own release.

“That’s it” he moans, unabashed in his arousal.

Namjoon uses his legs as an anchor, holding the two of you in place, ensuring the chair doesn’t tip over as the back of your thighs slap against the top of his own.

You moan as his thumb continues to brush over your clit, a ring of your arousal gathered at the base of his cock with each jittery raise of your hips.

“Doing so well for me” Namjoon groans, “Always such a good girl, yeah?”

“Mhmm” you nod, bunny tumbling to the floor. Long forgotten as you feel the precipice of your pleasure slowly boiling away in your stomach.

“Gonna cum for me?”

Your thighs shake at that, deep groan of pleasure shooting straight to your cunt as you continue to ride Namjoon like it were the last time.

“Go on, cum for me”

Namjoon’s hands find themselves perched under your ass, aiding you as your legs start to grow tired. Muscles in his arms bulging as he drags you up and down his length.

“So small, could use you as my own little fleshlight. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he groans, mirth swimming in his eyes.

Meanly, Namjoon pinches your clit and that’s all it takes for searing hot pleasure to wash over your body, thighs shaking at your release.

You hiccup another sob at the burning arousal as Namjoon continues to ram his cock back up inside you, thick rivulets of your slick coating his balls as he chases his own release.

“Too much” you cry, hands wrapping around his wrists as his fingers dig into your hips.

“I’m close, hold on for me” Namjoon’s head tips back.

Namjoon can feel your pussy as it pulsates around his length; you let out something akin to a squeak as you feel his cock twitch.

Mouth falling open in a silent moan as his warm cum paints your insides white.

You raise up on shaky legs, tip of his cock left nestled between your walls before you’re falling back down on his length; cum pushed deep inside of you.

“Oh my baby” he coos, fingers gentle as they brush through your hair, “Sleepy?”

You nod, words fizzling out on your tongue as you yawn.

Your cunt continues to clench around his cock, even as you fall asleep on his chest.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The bell above the door is obnoxious in announcing Namjoon’s arrival.

‘Pages of Love’ the little bookshop you worked at.

He would have gotten you to quit the shitty little job by now if it didn’t hold such significance in your relationship. He’d first met you here, had dates here, and it made you so happy that Namjoon couldn’t bare to see the sad pout that would be sure to form if he ever suggested you left this place behind.

“Namjoon” the old woman behind the counter smiles, waving him over. “I’m sure you’re aware but it’s y/n’s day off”

“Actually, Nana, I’m here for something else” he smiles, expression saddened and the old woman frowns.

“Anything” she nods.

“It’s about Jimin. He doesn’t happen to be working today, does he?”

“He’s on break right now.” She tuts, “Is this about what he said to y/n. I’ve already warned him about it”

“She came home upset” he shakes his head and Nana sighs.

“Poor girl. She’s lucky to have you, Namjoon”

“Thank you” his smile is genuine, though it drops the moment he steps out the door.

And he waits, waits weeks before he decided what he wants to do with the lowly piece of shit that dared suggest you cheat on him.

Waited weeks as he wrote down every sick little fantasy he had about the ways he’d maul his body. Shredding limbs, gutting him alive. Maybe he’d decapitate him and then send his head to his mother, or chop his filthy dick off and make him watch as he fed it to whatever animal is willing to chew on nearly nothing.

Written fantasies weren’t enough. Namjoon’s fingers always itching, always eager to finally wrap around the boy’s lithe throat and make him beg for mercy until his face is red and pride oozing out of his body with his fear.

“I’m gonna be home late tonight, little one” Namjoon tucks your hair behind your ear, gentle smile rivaling your frown.

“Why?” you ask, blinking up at him through your lashes.

“I have a small job I need to take care of”

“Can I help?”

“Nope” he leans down, soft feathery kiss pressed to you cheek before he’s pulling back, standing at full height.

You look up at him, “You can’t go”

“And why not?” he challenges.

“Because” your defense weak and truly Namjoon wishes he could stay.

“I charged your ipad this morning” and your eyes light up.

“Be quick, okay?” you push yourself up on your tippy toes, hands cupping his cheeks as you press a kiss to his lips.

“Promise” he smiles, “Now be a good girl, and don’t cause any trouble”

“I won’t” you wave him off.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Namjoon isn’t exactly sure what he expects to see when he finally gets home, a quick detour to Seokjin’s house to wash off Jimin’s blood and a change of clothes taking longer than he’d anticipated when his friend had insisted on making them both tea.

He can’t help the groan that bubbles up his throat at the sight of you. Skirt flipped up with three fingers, knuckle deep inside your pretty little pussy as you play a colour by number game on your ipad.

“Fucking hell, darling” he kicks his shoes off, jacket long forgotten on the floor as he crouches down in front of you.

You pull your slick covered fingers out of your cunt, gently circling your clit as you blink down at him.

“Couldn’t wait until I got home?”

“I got bored” you whine, legs falling open wider and Namjoon takes that as his invitation to run his thumb through your slit.

His hands hold your thighs in place as he leans down to press a kiss over your clit, tongue slipping from between his lips to lick over the bundle of nerves.

You hips stutter as his tongue drags across your folds, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt at the unexpected nudge of his tongue against you hole.

Your fingers tangle into your boyfriend’s hair as he sucks over your clit, fingers teasing your entrance before he’s pushing two fingers inside of you.

“How pretty” he coos, accompanied by a wet squelch. “The prettiest little pussy, it’s a wonder how you fit anything inside of you”

You squirm, finger stuffed into your mouth as you try and hold back an embarrassed moan.

“Not little” you whine, hips chasing Namjoon’s fingers each time he pulls out.

“Oh, but you are” your thighs twitch as his warm breath brushes over your sensitive clit, hours of mindless toying with your cunt bringing you to the brink of an orgasm.

Namjoon kisses over your mound, kisses over your clit, and then kisses over his fingers as they curl up inside of you.

He can’t help the smile that pulls at his cheeks at the guttural moan you let out when he finds that particular spot inside of you.

“Cum for me, darling” his voice breathless, as he starts to scissor his fingers.

All it takes is one mean little nip to your clit and you’re tipping over the edge; legs shaking as they clamp around your boyfriend’s head.

His tongue continues to flick over your clit, fingers nestled deep within your walls as he helps you ride out your high.

“Enough” you whimper, tugging his head away from between your legs.

You squirm at the glossy sheen that covers Namjoon’s chin when he finally pulls away from your pussy.

“Well done” his hands run up and down your trembling thighs, “Think you can take a little more?”

Your eyes flicker down to his cock, heavy in his pants and you nod; tongue wetting your lips.

“My good girl”

Namjoon pulls you to lay across the length of the couch, fingers tugging your blouse over your head as you shuck off your skirt.

You tug messily at the back of your bra, and Namjoon smiles, bending down to help you.

He groans, taking one of your nipples into his mouth as he palms himself through his slacks.

“God, you’re so pretty”

Your squeak when he bites the plush skin, trail of kisses searing as he reaches your neck.

Your hands fumble with his pants, waistband pulled taught as your try and slip your fingers into his underwear.

“Always so impatient, aren’t you?” he coos, “here let me help you”

You pout at the loss of warmth, the loss of his large body completely covering your own; hands grabbing for neck when he sits up on his knees.

Your hips rock upwards, silently begging for any sort of stimulation as you watch Namjoon’s cock spring free, slapping against his stomach.

Your pussy gushes another wave of slick at the sight of your boyfriend with his hand wrapped around his cock, his hands always had been big; swallowing the girth of his cock when your fingers barely wrapped around it.

You can feel the phantom ache in your jaw, countless times he’d shoved his dick into your mouth, splitting it open like he would your cunt with absolutely no mercy.

“You’re staring” though there’s no embarrassment in his tone, eyebrow lifted cocky and lazy smile tugging at your lips.

“Inside, please” you whine, legs falling open enough for him to slot in place.

“Of course, sweetheart”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, eyes squeezing shut as he runs the head through the slit; slicking up his length before he’s pushing at your entrance.

“You sure you can fit me?” you can hear the laugh in his voice, retort on the tip of your tongue only he chooses that moment to nudge the tip of his cock over your clit.

“Joonie” you complain, “please, need you”

And Namjoon watches, lets you, grab onto his length, watching as you rut your hips down until he’s popping inside of you.

Your walls constrict around him, and he’s absolutely fascinated by how such a small pussy is even able to stretch around him.

“Good girl” and he can’t help the moan that follows.

He’s barely thrusting, gentle roll of his hips feeding each inch of his cock into your wet cunt.

You moan like he was ramming into you, always so sensitive, always so responsive to his touch.

“Feel good?” he asks when he finally bottoms out, thighs connected and heartbeats in sync. It’s moments like these Namjoon revels being alive, being one with you. Truly the closest you’ll ever be to one another; and he thinks he finally feels complete when lodged between your sodden walls.

“So deep” you whisper, fingers skimming over your stomach.

Namjoon pulls your legs over his shoulders, bending forwards until you’re almost folded in half.

Your moan is breathless when he gently pulls out, only to snap his hips back into you.

Your hands grasp onto the pillows of the couch as Namjoon picks up his pace, your tits bouncing, and cunt squelching with every brutal thrust into you.

“Fucking hell, you are tiny” Namjoon groans, and you whimper as his hand presses down on your lower stomach.

You dare take a look, hiccup of a moan ripped from your throat as you see it. An outline of his cock right bellow your belly button, head nudging the taught skin with each thrust into you, only for it to disappear as he pulls out.

Your fingers splay over it, cunt convulsing around his length as your feel him move under your skin.

You feel it rising, pussy swollen and worn from your previous orgasm. Namjoon seems to know, he always knows when you’re slowly climbing to the peak of high.

His fingers find clit, tight little circles sending jolts of pure, blissful pleasure through your body, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt to soak his cock.

“Gonna cum for me?” he moans between eat thrust, “Be a good girl and cum for me”

The cry you let out is near pornographic, knees knocking against the side of Namjoon’s head as he continues to flick at your clit. Pleasure numbing that when you finally reach your high, your mind blanks, a blanket of fluff consuming you as Namjoon continues to jackhammer into your used cunt.

“Doing so well for me. So close. I’m so close” he groans, fingers finally pulling off your clit as your thighs continue to shake.

When you come to, Namjoon’s thrusts are a sloppy, thrusts barely coordinated as he ruts into you.

And your breath hitches at the final twitch of his cock, he pushes as far into you as he can before he’s cumming.

Thick waves of cum filling you up. He groans as you clench around him, walls still spasming from your own release. And he gently rocks into you, an attempt to push his cum as deep into your soiled cunt as possible.

“You did so well, darling” he swallows thickly, back of his hand wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead.

You whine as he begins to pull out, mixture of both your releases dribbling out of your hole.

Your thighs twitch when Namjoon parts your lips, hole clenching around nothing as you push another wave of his cum out of your pussy. His fingers scoop it up, circling your entrance before he’s pushing them back between your walls.

“What do you think about a bath?” he hums, watching your eyes fall droopy.

You nod, hands blindly grabbing for your boyfriend to pick you up.

He smiles down at you, arms slipping beneath your body to pick you up as he wanders further into the house.

You wriggle around when he flips the light on, eyes stinging a little at the sudden burst of brightness.

“Alright missy” he sits you on the toilet, and you lean your head against his hip as pee, bones too floppy to even think of holding yourself up.

You remain sat on the toilet as he runs a bath, fussy when he picks you up again though it’s easily soothed with a gentle kiss to your lips.

He thinks you fall asleep as he washes your back, gentle as his soapy hands grope your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples and you squirm at that.

Namjoon is endeared when the two of you finally get out the bath, skin soft and sweet smelling, perfect for kisses. And he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat when you kick your pyjamas away, refusing to put them on yourself when his hands were fully capable.

“Oh my little princess” he kisses both your cheeks, “How about some cake for being such a good girl?”

You see, Namjoon had always been a little bit of a liar. Had told so many lies that truly he didn’t know the what was real and what was not anymore. And if he didn’t know then you never would either.

Every little lie he’d told you from the start, every white lie, every left out detail of his life suddenly seemed insignificant when you were tucked under his chin, sleeping so peacefully, a true sleeping beauty.

And maybe he didn’t really like the classics. Maybe his real love of novels were romances, because he’d always be the prince and you’d always be his princess. A perfect fairytale that would always have a happy ending.

Because if anyone dared scribble out the pages, change his plot, then he would simply erase their existence, and the readers of his life would never know the difference.

You belonged to him. You are his as much as he is yours.

Your life his only reason. Your happiness that little spark of good that still resides inside him. And as long as you come home every day with that same pretty little smile on your face, then Namjoon feels no guilt for the countless people that lay dead, long forgotten by the world as they rest six feet under for daring bring you sadness. Because he’d erased them, with no way to wiggle their way back into the story of his life.

Because what was a prince if he couldn’t take care of a villain that would disturb his perfect fairytale ending?

[azul-marie]

flirtatious character intros. (various/goddess reader.) (3)

note: fem. reader. suggestive. 3rd person pov. feat. raiden (+ dark) fujin, nightwolf, scorpion

i’m so happy to finally share the newest installment of this series! all the exciting news about mk1 definitely gave me some much needed motivation to finish these. once mk1 drops later this month, i’m considering adding its brand new roster to this series as well — let’s hope future me does so. thank you all for the love and patience you’ve shown; please enjoy your reading.

part 1 ; part 2.

raiden

raiden: i am glad to see you look so well, name.

name: you act as if we haven’t seen each other in years, old friend.

raiden: no matter our time apart, i will always be glad to see you. 

raiden: do you still accept my friendship, twisted as i am?

name: so long as we serve the realms together,  never will i stray from you.

raiden: your kindness is undeserving, name.

name: raiden, there are rumors whispering about us. 

raiden: do they speak falsehoods, name?

name: for my heart’s sake, i hope them true.

name: raiden, there are rumors whispering about us.

raiden: are they a nuisance to you, name?

name: i’d merely like to know how to make them fact, is all.

raiden: you never fail to surprise me, name.

name: how so, my lord?

raiden: despite our years together, my affection for you grows ever stronger each time we meet.

name: i visited the sky temple some time ago, but you weren’t there.

raiden: is that so? what were you in need of, name?

name: what else? you, of course.

dark raiden

name: my lord, i beg of you — do not test my resolve this way.

dark!raiden: haven’t i proved myself worthy of your devotion?

name: how could i, knowing what you’ll become?

dark!raiden: devote yourself unto me, goddess.

name: my lord would have me succumb to darkness?

dark!raiden: he would have you as his rightful bride.

name: what is happening to you, my lord?

dark!raiden: do you fear me, name?

name: i fear i am losing my dearest friend.

name: what is happening to you, friend?

dark!raiden: i’ve sought this power to protect us, name.

name: in doing so, you would sacrifice the raiden i cherish?

dark!raiden: tell me whose presence offends you most, name, and i will bring you their head.

name: my lord, surely you jest?

dark!raiden: i’ve told you, haven’t i? anything for your sake is worth doing.

dark!raiden: i will allow no harm to befall you again, goddess.

name: what have you done, raiden?

dark!raiden: whatever necessary to have you remain by my side.

fujin

fujin: the winds have blown the most loveliest of breezes my way.

name: (laughing) i am sure i’ve heard those words countless times before.

fujin: yet still they flatter, should your smile show for it.

name: fujin, there are rumors up in the air about us.

fujin: no need to mind them. let the others speak all they want.

name: are they correct, is all i wonder . . .

name: my lord, there are rumors up in the air about us.

fujin: you need only ask, and i shall speak my heart, name. 

name: fujin . . . will you accept mine in return?

fujin: my lady, would there ever come a day you’d reconsider my offer?

name: earthrealm has its brothers thunder for protection. is it necessary for me to join you?

fujin: it would certainly put my mind at ease, gazing upon your beauty each day.

name: dearest fujin? you’re still alive?

fujin: of course. i couldn’t bear another moment without your company.

name: i am glad your spirit remains ever breezy.

name: dearest fujin! everyone told me you’d been lost to time.

fujin: time itself could never keep me from you, lady name.

name: thank the four winds that guided you back to me.

fujin: tell me, has bi-han troubled you in any way?

name: the dark one has no hold over me, my lord.

fujin: should that ever change, allow me to be the first you turn to.

fujin: you’re quite popular among our mortal friends, name.

name: (laughs) worry not, he of wind. my eyes are still set on you alone.

fujin: i . . . ahem. it’s not like you to tease, my lady.

nightwolf

name: your wisdom surpasses that of many mortals.

nightwolf: it is by the great spirit’s guidance, not my own. 

name: humble and handsome . . . she’s chosen her champion well. 

nightwolf: the great spirit wasn’t lying about you.

name: pray tell, were they kind words?

nightwolf: kind as you are lovely.

name: i admire your resilience, nightwolf.

nightwolf: all i am, all i have become, is for the matoka’s sake.

name: blest be the matoka to have you, dear one.

nightwolf: haokah is especially fond of you, name. he a close friend?

name: indeed. we’ve known one another for eons now.

nightwolf: (scoffs) if i were him, i would’ve asked for your hand the moment i laid eyes on you.

name: i’ve never met a nightwolf in person before.

nightwolf: thoughts on your first, name?

name: if you’re willing, allow me the pleasure of knowing you further.

nightwolf: the great spirit’s keen on our meeting together, name.

name: she wishes to boast the power of her latest champion?

nightwolf: she wishes for us to be . . . compatible. take that as you will.

name: have you any sage words for me, nightwolf?

nightwolf: none whatsoever.

name: the way your eyes wander tell me otherwise, young pup.

nightwolf: i have heard that countless suitors vie for your hand, name.

name: such is the life of a goddess, i’m afraid.

nightwolf: allow me to put a stop to them for you, here and now.

scorpion

name: the thralls of hellfire no longer consume your heart?

scorpion: my suffering can only be quelled for so long.

name: if i may, allow me to ease it for as long as i can. 

scorpion: shinnok was infatuated with you.

name: he, like many others. does it trouble you, hanzo?

scorpion: so long as i am the only one in your company, no. 

scorpion: for all we’ve suffered, will you bless the shirai ryu?

name: grace me with honorable kombat, and blessings you shall receive.

scorpion: your kindness will not be forsaken, name.

scorpion: should you ever desire it, the fire gardens are welcome for you to visit.

name: a kind invitation, grandmaster. i’d hope it would come with a tour.

scorpion: it would be an honor, name.

scorpion: sub-zero has mentioned you time and time again, goddess.

name: is that envy i hear, hanzo?

scorpion: there will be no need for envy once i’ve proven my superiority for your hand.

name: i admire such ardent loyalty for your comrades, grandmaster.

scorpion: the ones i cherish fan the flames of my devotion.

name: i hope that i, too, am among such ones.

[dianneking]

The Bet - Brienne/Reader bookshop AU

Hi dears, in case you wanted some trashy, slightly angsty romance bookshop AU starring none other than the majestic Brienne of Tarth as well as yourself...well, look no further cause you're in the right place! It is with great pleasure that I present you

The Bet

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bookshop, Out of character, Angst with a happy ending, POV second person, Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Misunderstanding, Panic Attacks, Hints of past violence, Swearing. Word count: 5423.

AO3 link in the title above.

"Hello?" 

You did a double take when you lifted your eyes from the monitor. You didn't mean to, but the woman in front of you was not the kind of person that usually found her way to your tiny bookshop. 

She was...well, she was imposing , to begin with: taller than you'd ever seen a woman be, with broad shoulders that the t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide...and she looked clearly out of her environment among the shelves, standing with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, a frown taking over her face the more and more you looked at her without saying anything. As if she was waiting for your reply...

Oh!

Right.

"Oh uhm sorry, yes? Uh hi, welcome! What brings you to our bookshop today?" You cringed at your own awkwardness, but her expression didn't change too much from her frown.

"I lost a bet."

"A...bet?" Well this was unexpected. Surely your little shop was not so scary that getting into it was a dare? And this woman in front of you looked as if she'd be afraid of very little. She looked more disgruntled than scared anyways, light eyebrows corrugating over those piercing, beautiful blue eyes, lips pressing together as her nostrils flared out. She looked like the type of woman who spends more time in a gym than in a bookshop but apart from that, you had no idea what kind of bet would bring her here. Not that you were complaining. 

"Yes. I lost a bet and now I have to buy a book here. Surely you can provide me with one." She enunciated, as if she was talking to the dumbest person alive. You didn't care. Her accent was melting your insides into a pile of goo. 

I'd like to provide you with my number , your mind dreamily suggested as a reply, but you squashed it ruthlessly down. Not every woman with muscles is interested in other women, you reminded yourself. And even if she were, it didn't follow that she would be interested in you , anyway - the woman was the definition of Out Of Your League, with her short blonde hair, her chiseled jaw, her strong arms crossed on her chest…and you had lost your train of thought once again. 

"Hmmmm yes sure. Uhm not a fan of reading?" She bristled as if you had insulted her.

"Of course I read .” She scoffed “I make time to read daily. I simply don't waste my time with all of this..." she gestured around her, vaguely including the manga section and the horror shelves in her speech "...this fiction ." She spat the word as if it had offended her by its own existence.

Right.

If you had to be completely honest, if it had been anyone else insulting your beloved books, you'd have been all up in their faces. These weren't just books, they were your babies, your companions during the long days at work and your even longer sleepless nights, they were your best friends in a way no human ever could aspire to be. From the moment you had understood that in those pages lied countless stories, adventures you could partake in, emotions you had never felt, you were in love with reading already.

That's why you were working here, day after day, smiling up at the shelves filled to the brim, cursing the paperwork and cleaning and everything that kept you away from cracking open the newest release and losing yourself in its pages.

You loved your job because you loved books.

So anyone insulting your papery companions would be treated to your Cold Stare™ and Dismissive Attitude™.

And yet...you guessed this woman was clearly misguided in her dismissing all fiction with such a sneer. The fact that her sneer was so damn attractive didn't absolutely play any role in your sudden conciliatory attitude. Absolutely not. Nuh-huh. Not at all.

"Hello? Are you still there?" 

Well, fuck. Daydreaming of a client when they are in front of you. Great way to appear professional, and to make a good first impression on a gorgeous first-time client.

"Huh. Yeah, uhm sorry, I was thinking of possible recommendations that would suit your needs. What are your general interests?" You tried to patch things up only to be once again met with her frown.

"That is a useless endeavor. I will not enjoy wasting my time reading it anyways. Just give me one." 

"But you will read it?" 

"Of course! I did give my word."

Her word . Who said that nowadays? Giving your word? That was the stuff of old, of knights, of epic tales of heroism, of... fiction .

Oh.

You might have the right book for this hard, formal, stunning woman.

You stood up, surprising her with your sudden movement, but you didn't notice the way her eyebrows shot up, nor the way her eyes followed you as you made your way to the book, rising to your tiptoes to reach it.

You presented it to her like a hunter presents their caught prey.

"This." 

She gingerly caught it between her fingers, as if it could bite her, or worse, contaminate her with the debauchery of reading for pleasure.

"This?" 

"You'll like it." 

"Haven't you listened? I said I don't like fiction."

"I heard you. You didn't say you don't like it. You said you don't read it." You didn't even know where the confidence came from, but you were sure. This was the right book for her.

She seemed to be surprised by it. Surprised enough to give up her fight with a huff. 

"I guess I might as well get this since you're so sure about it." 

She started skimming the first pages as you rang it up for her, and you could see her frown slightly easing up.

You hid your smile, feeling it pulling at the corners of your mind as she absent-mindedly handed you her card, paid and wandered out the shop, her nose still in the book.

____

"So about that little bet we had, did you get the book?" 

Brienne didn't like admitting she was wrong. She sure as shit wouldn't admit that to Jaime of all people. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

But no matter all of her misgivings, she was enjoying that book. The plot had captivated her against her will, and more than one time she had found herself up until the early morning hours glued to the pages, lost in the description of adventures that had never happened if not in the fantasy of the author.

Such a far cry from her usual dry, factual fare of nonfiction books. Boring , some would call them, practical , she’d counter. You see, Brienne was a practical woman and she happened to like that about herself. And if people found her boring, it was their fault, not her own.

"Yes, I did get that" she replied in a bored tone, hiding her excitement below her well-polished mask.

She thought of the excitement on your face as you got the idea of suggesting this book to her. Of how smug you had looked when handing her the volume.

So sure she'd like it. And the most shocking aspect of it all was the fact that she did. 

And maybe, maybe in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to herself that she also thought of the way your shirt had risen as you reached for the book, exposing a sliver of your midriff as it did so. And the way your eyes had sparkled when you had handed her the novel, challenge and amusement and confidence mixing in your gaze. 

She had liked that too, just like the book, and just like the book she had liked it almost against her better judgment.

________

"How did you do it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as she charged into the shop, the bell ringing behind her long after she had entered, a thunderous frown on her face, the copy of the book she had purchased from you tightly held in her slender yet strong fingers.

She had gorgeous hands too…some people were just blessed with beauty, you thought. And you were blessed with being able to see and talk to such beauty.

The smile that climbed to your face was not your usual customer service one, but a warmer one, a special one just for her.

"So, did you like it?" 

She looked taken aback at your warmth, and you could see the faint beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

"I did, if you must know it!" She looked offended at the very thought. It was adorable.

"Oh I am so glad to hear that! The author is an emerging one, only has another one published, if you liked their style you might enjoy this too!"

"What for?"

"Why, as your next fiction book, of course. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I…maybe."

This time your smile got a definite hint of smugness in it.

"Are you going to fight me over this one too? Should I dare you to read this as well?"

"Listen here, don't get cocky. You just got lucky there. It won't happen again."

It did.

As a matter of fact it kept happening, and you fell into a sort of beautiful bookish routine. Depending on how long the book was and how busy she was, your favorite client would grace your shop with her presence once every couple of weeks or more, always putting up an offended front at having liked the fiction book you had suggested and yet always asking for another one.

Slowly but steadily she would start opening up about what she liked in them, allowing you to start collecting tidbits of information about her as well - she loved historical fiction, and fantasy too. She wasn't so keen on sci-fi and urban fantasy unless the plot was somehow worth it. She loved strong female main characters and complex character arcs. 

During the day she was kept busy from her work (law enforcement, she told you on one occasion, and didn’t go in more detail, you wondered if she was just a regular cop or maybe something cooler), but she found time to read in the evenings ("Mornings are absolutely for working out, no way I am skipping that for a book. Even if it is a good one.” she had stated, as if it was the law, and you had nodded dumbly, once again mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze, even if you woke up with a book and read it during breakfast and on the commute to the shop and couldn’t think of a better way to start the day). 

_______

“And I loved the world building in this one, the interaction between the characters, and I can't wait to read the second part and understand where these mechanical enemies are originating from!” 

You looked up at her as she agitatedly waved her copy of Clockwork Boys in the air, trying to express how much she had enjoyed it. You found it hard to believe how different she was from the hard, reluctant person that had first set foot in your shop. Mesmerizing. Just as she was. 

Suddenly you felt brave, braver than you'd ever thought you could be.

“In two weeks the author is going to be at our local book fair, if you'd like…maybe we could…go together?” you stumbled on your words a little and you could feel your cheeks getting hotter but that didn't change the fact that you had managed to ask your crush out!! 

And she didn't say no! She looked a bit stunned for a second but then she ran her free hand through her hair (oh it looked so soft and silky, you wanted to bury your hands in it too).

“Sure! Is it going to be Tuesday in two weeks, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Had she just…?

“Cool, I have the day off anyways, so it works like a charm.” She… She…

While your brain was still reeling, unable to process the fact that she had said yes , she grabbed the stack of post-its and pen and started jotting down something.

You blinked at her, unsure of what to make of the string of numbers you were seeing until she straightened up and handed you the sticky note with a…was it a shy smile pulling her lips up? Her eyes had never looked so big before, of that you were sure.

You looked at the sticky note. It was a pink one, and you had to resist the childish urge to draw hearts all around the numbers. You just were so happy! You thought as you went to save it into your phone, only belatedly noticing a glaring tactical error on your side. 

You still didn't know her name!

You felt like hitting your forehead on the desk. How was this even a thing? Who doesn't know their crush’s name? You, that's who. Too busy ogling her and inviting her to book fairs to remember to ask her her frickin name! 

Hehe. But you did ask her out and she did say yes. That had to count for something, right?

You looked down at your phone and then typed up “ My Knight 🩷 ” in the name field, struggling to contain the giggle that threatened to escape your lips. In another world she would have totally been a proud knight, protecting the defenseless and fighting for justice, you were sure of it. And she would have looked gorgeous in armor. 

Tomorrow, you told yourself. You'd text her to work things out tomorrow. Surely you could resist that long. The fair was ages away anyway. You could resist a handful of hours to avoid seeming desperate, surely you could.

You texted her that same night, of course. 

But she did reply almost instantly, and you managed to start a conversation beyond the bare minimum details of your…was it a date? It had to be a date, right?

She told you about her dinner, and how she had already started on the sequel of the book she had just finished. You could almost feel her excitement through the message.

You fell asleep with your phone beside you on the pillow, dreaming of soft blonde hair and armor  and book fair dates. 

____________

"Are you the one who's been selling Brienne fiction?" 

You were pretty sure you had never seen the man who had just entered your shop as if he owned it. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You know, Brienne? Tall, blonde? Hates all fiction books except the ones you've been selling her?" 

So that was your knight's name! And what a roundabout way to learn it! Just like in the best novels, it seemed that you had been spared the humiliation of asking her for her name after you’d known each other for months. 

Brienne.

You liked the way it sounded. 

Brienne.

It sounded like the name of a warrior, a strong, hard-headed and hard-working woman who'd stop at nothing to achieve her dreams. A knight. 

“I am Jaime by the way, nice to meet you. So are you the one?" He offered you his hand, you took it mechanically, trying to answer his question without giving too much away. Your knight’s reading habits were none of this dude’s business,that’s for sure.

"I don't know if I am the only one. Maybe she just doesn't tell you about all the fiction she enjoys."

"Nice try to defend her honor. I see why she likes you."

She liked you?

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and it took all of your self-control to avoid bursting into a happy dance.

She liked you!! Shelikedyoushelikedyou.

She liked you. 

She liked you.

She liked you !

The man in front of you kept talking, oblivious to the cheering going on within your brain.

"Listen, I know Brienne, okay? She's a lovely girl but I had to bet with her to make her unwind enough to consider reading something for pleasure."

“Well she probably didn't find the right book until now.”

“Or the right book dealer… so are you hers or not?” 

"Maybe I am…But why do you want to know that?"

“Well if you were , I'd owe you a huge thanks and possibly a round of drinks, cause she's been in a downright good mood for the past months, and especially in the past week or so. As her partner, I spend most of the day with her, and believe me, I am beyond grateful for the change.”

Oh.

Her…

Oh.

Of course.

Of course she had a boyfriend. No, a partner. That's even more committed, right?You had been so stupid. Stupid and stupidly hopeful. So hopeful and you'd once again mistaken friendship for something else, just like you did so many times in the past. 

You tried to swallow around that piece of news, you kept on a brave face while he still waffled about something or something else, but you had no idea what he was talking about.Nor did you care, all the joy that had taken over you had just as quickly dissolved, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You didn't remember him leaving, but you knew that you were quick to lock the door after him and close up shop.Only then, surrounded by your beloved books, you allowed yourself to break down and cry all of your tears.

____________

You didn't cancel on Brienne, even if a part of you wanted to do nothing but stay home and mope. Yet you were sure you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't go. 

And she had looked so happy when you had invited her. She probably didn't have a lot of female friends, you thought. When she talked of her hobbies, it had always been things that she did on her own. Working out, reading, jogging. 

She was probably glad to have some company. Someone to talk to that she vibed with. That was that. It had always been that, and you reading more into it didn't change the harsh truth.

Your heart was beating faster when you pulled up to the parking lot of the venue, but it was more due to trepidation than happiness. You had been preparing yourself mentally for a bookish date with your crush, not for…an outing with a friend. You weren't sure how to behave now, your mind too busy going through every single interaction the two of you had had, dissecting each word, each smile, each playful joke at each other's expense. When did you start thinking you could have a chance? At what point had your hopes become delusions?

Your phone started buzzing as you got out of the car. “My Knight 🩷” appeared on the screen, and you had to swallow against a hard knot. 

You know you should have changed the name. You knew her name now, and she most definitely wasn't your knight. And yet…you still hadn't.

With a sigh, you picked up, trying to be optimistic despite the dread pooling in your stomach. You could do this. Friends. You could hang out with your friend that just happened to be the hottest woman you'd ever seen. It was going to be okay. 

_____

It was not okay. 

It was anything but okay. 

Who thought that Brienne was going to be the kind of straight girl that gets all touchy-feely with her female friends? She had hugged you when you two met up and you thought you would die on the spot, surrounded by her arms and her perfume and the happiness of her voice.

And then as you walked through the venue, weaving through the stands, checking out books (you couldn't remember a single one you'd seen, preoccupied as you were with your companion) her hand kept finding excuses to touch you, once on the shoulder to get your attention, once wrapping around your elbow to direct you to a certain stand, once simply splayed on your back as you discussed cover designs.

It was torture. Every time her warm hands touched you, your heart would start racing, still stubborn in its hopefulness. But then you’d remember that it was all in your head and your heart would painfully constrict because oh it would have been so nice if it had just been true.

By the time you sat down in the auditorium where the author panel was about to start, you were a jittering mess. 

You kept replaying each interaction you had with Brienne, trying to rationally explain to your heart why, even if it might seem like she was coming onto you, she had a boyfriend and therefore it had to be her way of being friendly. 

Yes, even when she placed her hand squarely on your knee as the authors started their introductions.

To be honest you weren't sure what had been said at the panel. You mechanically laughed when you felt others do the same, and studied Brienne’s profile out of the corner of your eye. She had a soft smile on her face. As if she was enjoying herself. As if there was nothing wrong with the way her hand was resting on your leg, absentmindedly stroking lazy patterns with her thumb. Driving you mad. 

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in her touch that you hadn't even noticed that the panel had ended, and most of the spectators had filed away, leaving the two of you alone in the auditorium.

You did notice Brienne shifting in her seat to turn towards you. Mainly because that caused her hand to climb slightly up your leg, putting it decidedly in the thigh area. Clearly an oversight on her part, but you could feel your breathing getting slightly quicker, and looking up to see her stunning eyes trained on you with laser-sharp focus didn't help you with that.

How unfair.

How terribly unfair for her to be so close, and yet unreachable.

How crushing that her hand, searing hot on your thigh, was not a promise of something more.

How sad that you'd never get to kiss those lips even if they were getting closer as Brienne leaned towards you…you could see her blonde lashes fluttering slightly, the small scar on her upper lip, her breath light on your face…

Suddenly she was too close.

Your heart jumped in your throat, and it felt like it had cut off all of your air supply. 

There was a ringing in your ears, and your skin was crawling hot and cold at the same time. 

You could see the little scar on her lip almost flickering, as your vision swam with black, and you knew without any doubt that you had to 

GET OUT OF HERE!! 

______

"So this is where you've been hiding." Brienne's voice was not warm anymore. You guiltily looked up at her from your spot on the bench. She wasn't smiling at you anymore and you wanted to hit yourself for that. It wasn't her fault that you had misunderstood all of her cues and kept seeing what your wishful thinking desired, and yet she had been the one to go through the pains of searching for you while you hid away to work your way down your panic attack.

She sat down beside you, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"I need to ask you something."

Oh. There it comes, you thought. The direct questioning that preceded the gentle let down. The 'I'm flattered but I don't feel the same' speech. As if you had never heard it before. Your heart remembered the pain as if it had been yesterday, and valiantly tried to brace itself for the inevitable rejection.

"Why?"

Huh? That…that was not what you expected her to start with, but she kept talking, and you had no choice but listen. "Why ask me out if you're so clearly uncomfortable with me? Is this some sick joke? It wasn't enough to prove me wrong over and over again? You wanted to humiliate me, too?" 

You could only stare open-mouthed at Brienne as she rained down harsh words on you, anger and pain mixing on her face. She was so beautiful. Even when angry. She looked like a vengeful angel, the righteous hand of God, coming to punish you for daring to hope too much .

"I-I'm sorry." You tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you, her voice hard and cutting and relentless.

" You are sorry ? Is that all you can say? That's not enough for me. Especially when it's clearly bullshit. Do you think that's the first time people make fun of me? That someone thinks that going out with Brienne The Beauty is the funniest prank on Earth? Did you do it for a laugh, hm? Didn't expect me to say yes when you asked?" 

"No, actually I did not."

"You! The fucking nerv-"

"I didn't dare to hope you'd say yes because you're out of my league!" 

A stunned silence met your words. You didn't know where the strength to interrupt her came from but you had to. You couldn't let her go on thinking you had asked her out to make fun of her or something. And once you started talking, you couldn't help yourself. The truth had to come out, so you pushed on: "Which clearly you are. But you said yes and I…Brienne, I am so sorry. I tend to live in my head and you were so nice to me and I thought…but clearly I shouldn't have. Thank goodness Jaime told me before I made a fool of myself. Which apparently I still did. Fuck. I am sorry for that, I promise you I am enjoying myself today and I am sorry I am awkward and I understand if you don't want to see me anymore after this." 

"Jaime? What does he have to do with all of this? Did…did he set you up to do this?" You could hear the betrayal seeping in her voice and you couldn't bear it. If you couldn't have her, at least you could do your best not to have her break up with her boyfriend over a huge mess of a misunderstanding that you did all by yourself. By thinking you had a chance with this goddess.

Better if she hated you instead. Which she would do anyways. If she didn't already.

"No. Nono he's been nothing but friendly. He just dropped by the shop because he was curious about the books you've been reading." 

"Then why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't know, okay? When I asked you to come here, I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Oh she wasn't making it easy on you, was she? 

"I thought…I thought you might be interested in me - which I now realize is ridiculous. That's why I asked you out. I asked you and you said yes and you gave me your number and I thought it meant…I swear I didn't know! But then he told me and now I can't help but be awkward because I had thought this was a date and now it's not and I didn't want to ruin it for you which I guess I did anyways. I swear I didn't know when I asked you."

" Know what ? What did Jaime tell you?"

"That he's your…That you're his…That you two are together. Which makes sense, because you are so well assorted and you look perfect for each other and I am sure he can make you happy in ways that–" 

"WHAT?" The roar that came out of Brienne's mouth was almost feral.

"What 'what'?" You babbled back. You looked worriedly at her shaking hands. You knew she was going to be angry at you once she found out about your silly crush. But you still hoped she wouldn't hit you or something. She didn't seem like she'd be the type to take out her anger on you but…but those hands looked like weapons, clenched as they were into tight fists. 

"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?"

You flinched away. You couldn't help it. The loud angry voice booming next to you, the hand shooting out towards your shoulder…you flinched away, your hands instinctively coming up to shield your face. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Just as instinctively, apologies started dropping out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" 

Silence.

Well, not really silence but the soothing pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above you. 

But no words.

No more loud anger.

And no new pain blooming on your body.

You dared to open your eyes and peer beyond your hands. 

Brienne…well, she was beautiful, as always. But she was also white as a sheet, her deep, blue, stunning eyes wide open and bright with unshed tears. Her whole face a mask of hurt as her gaze took in your shape, as far away from her as the small bench allowed you. Her hand was still in the air, but it had lost all the strength, it was just hanging, palm half-opened towards you as if to show you it was harmless. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"I…I wasn't going to hit you."

"I…huh…I'm sorry."

She sighed and straightened in her seat, tearing her eyes away from you to settle them on her hands, now clenched in her lap. Her back was once again ramrod straight. Just as she probably was , your mind cruelly reminded you.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, to make you think that I was…unsafe. I guess that with how I look, it's an easy assumption to make."

"Beautiful."

"I'm sorry?" 

"You said 'with how I look' and that's beautiful. You're beautiful, Brienne. He's a really lucky man."

It wasn't her fault and you knew it. You couldn't blame her for this huge misunderstanding, you couldn't let her think that she or her appearance was to blame for your reactions.

You put your hand on top of hers, trying to get her eyes back on you, to show her how truthful you were. Her hands were so cold. She still didn't look at you.

"He…We huh we're not together together." Her whisper was so soft that you thought you had misheard.

You had to. 

"I'm sorry?"

"Jaime and I are not together." 

"You two…are not?"

"No! I don't know why he would…wait. What did he say? What were his words?"

"Huhhh I don't remember exactly. He said something about you being his partner." You tried to keep the accusation out of your voice. She didn't seem like the type to try to cheat on her partner, denying she was in a relationship at all. Gaslighting you for her own ends. And yet, you didn't dare to hope that…

"Oh for fuck's sake! Is this where all of this came from? He's my work partner . Not my romantic partner!"

"Your… oh . Fuck."

"Yes, fuck. And since we're on the subject, when you asked me, I thought it was going to be a date as well, that's why I gave you my number!! But then we were here and you kept avoiding me and you tensed up every time I touched you and when I tried to kiss you you just ran away and I thought…I don't know what I thought."

"Could you maybe…try that again?"

"Try what?"

"To kiss me. I promise I won't run away this time. Or have a panic attack."

"Just like that? That's not how it's done! The moment must be right and mmmmph–"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You threw yourself at her, lips on lips, slightly smashing your noses together in your haste. 

But neither of you cared, lips moving against each other, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, and both of yours coming up to cradle her face. You didn’t care, because unbeknownst to the other, each one of you had dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet now that it was happening it was better than any fantasy. 

Comments are always welcome. If you want to read more of my fanfictions, here's my masterlist.

[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

So so insane about just how well the Dune movies walk the line between making Paul sympathetic and making him...uhh.....everything else.

Because it would be easy to tip it too far in either direction and make him out to be either cartoonishly evil or (excuse the term) woobified -- but I think the key to it is that it's never depicted as being a "but" situation and rather always a "yes, and" situation. Yes, Paul is a very young, very deeply alone person who has lost everything and is under the pressure of thousands of years of genetic engineering and religious propaganda and really never stood a chance against all that, and it's a tragic and heartbreaking thing to witness. That is all true. Also, he's using an oppressed group of people for his own political gain and is about to cause both a horrible environmental disaster and a war that will leave countless people dead, among other very very bad things that you are absolutely not supposed to agree with and root for. This is also true. All those things are equally true, and it WILL make you uncomfortable. And you as the viewer are not supposed to choose a side to fall on, you're fully intended to see all of that at once and walk that fine line with the character, and the chaotic and messy experience of having all those things packed together as truth without it being an either/or situation is absolutely the most accurate way of perceiving him.

[kiame-sama]

Warnings; bg3, full party (because I want them all there to talk), Druid Tav*, Slight druid path spoilers I guess?, Owlbear, Protector type Tav, yandere companions (ALL of them), basic identity spoilers for first act followers, slight early story spoilers, they/them reader, yandere Raphael makes an appearance too.

* Tav is the name that always appears in the character generator first, so technically Tav is the unofficial term for the player character- or Reader in this scenario.

~~~~~~~~

The large owlbear lumbered slowly amongst the fallen undead, using the sharp beak to pick around the bodies for anything useful. Of course, not everything picked up by the defacto leader of the group was typically deemed useful. Such was the way of the unusual soul the group found themselves following the every whim of.

Countless battles had been won with their leadership and each companion had true respect for their leader, even if respect for the other companions was variable. To take them from desperate and hopeless about their plight to truly believing they could succeed their impossible mission. Each odd soul brought in to the fold by the odd druid may not believe, but they believed in how much their leader believed. For them, this was enough.

This meant that when their trusted leader wandered around as a creature that could feasibly carry three of them, they just followed along and grabbed what they wanted if their leader didn't pick it up first. They trusted their leader to distribute loot and treasure adequately based off of who could best use what was collected. Still, that didn't make the experience any less surreal, even for those who were familiar with druids that favored their bestial forms.

"Astarion, do you ever feel like we, as a group, just adapt to everything around us a little too well?"

Gale, the wizard of the group walked next to the rogue vampire spawn, his arms crossed in a contemplative way. Never before would he have imagined himself having light banter with such a being without bloodshed, but here he was regardless.

"Do tell me you are joking, right?"

"No, should I be?"

"God's, Gale, we're all stuck here as a group with only one thing in common- the fact that we're facing impossible odds to simply survive- and we can barely keep ourselves from killing each other. On top of that, just what do you think we're doing right now? Hm?"

"... Collecting the spoils of our battle?"

There was a distinct moment of silence as the beautiful vampire spawn stared at the wizard with a look of disbelief and disgust. The apparent pause catching the attention of the rest of the party- minus the owlbear lumbering ahead of the group- as they all decided to listen in. It was good fun to hear the others squabble and it gave a sense of comradery despite the situation they were in, misery loving company in most ways, though things weren't seeming too miserable now.

"We are in a temple that is inside of a crypt- some depth underground- picking amongst the remains of reanimated corpses that have all been stomped to death by our Owlbear leader. Not to mention this leader who just so happens to be the most balanced person among us and somehow isn't corrupt as all hells while doing it."

Some of the others nodded along in their own ways, knowing Astarion's assessment wasn't too far off from the crux of the situation they found themselves in. A few cast glances at the afore mentioned owlbear leader who seemed rather content rooting through what little remained from their earlier rampage.

"And they're hot as the hells while doing it."

Karlach, the literal flaming tiefling barbarian, commented, putting herself in the conversation with a wide grin.

"You're one to talk, Karlach," Wyll playfully jabbed back, "You've literally got fire coming out of you!"

"You know I'm right though!"

"Well, I didn't say you were wrong."

Before the two could continue, Astarion cut them off, bringing the now group conversation back to Gale.

"Anyways, my point still stands. We are not the ones who make this all work. They make it work for us. We are stuck together- like it or not- and they call the shots. We can get used to anything because they can get used to anything. Don't pat yourself on the back too hard now, it might get you excited."

Gale slightly winced at that jab, given the fact that he was the most obvious about being smitten with the group leader, and yet his beloved was completely unaware of how hard he had fallen. How hard they all had fallen.

"Are you all fools," Shadowheart hissed in a low voice, "you know they can hear us, right?"

It was Lae'zel's turn to bark out a laugh, her lips curled in a sly grin as she regarded the Sharian cleric. It gave the Githyanki soldier a sense of satisfaction to know something about their leader the cleric didn't.

"They can't understand us in that owlbear form. Why else would these fools talk so plainly?"

Unknown to them, their leader could understand them, but simply didn't want to cause in-fighting or favoritism to arise. So they simply carried on as if unaware of the conversation, just trying to focus on finding what was salvageable.

Unknown to them all, a demon watched from the rafters. His arms were crossed and a grin played across his lips. He had to admit, that druid was certainly a fetching prize as they clearly enamored not only their mismatched companions but him as well. Time would leave him the last among them by the druid's side, he would ensure it. Besides, he had plenty of time to wait.

[nyimasu]

BLEACH MEN, PART 2

───── 𝑊𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝑇𝑈𝑅𝑁𝑆 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑀 𝑂𝑁

— CHARACTERS : Kuchiki Byakuya, Aizen Sosuke, Szayel Aporro Granz (+ small bonus at the end)

— CONTENT WARNING : implied size kink, wall sex, oral (m receiving), degradation kink, power play, cowgirl position, aftercare with byakuya, bdsm content (flogging, master/slave dynamics, use of a monoglove/armbinder, brat taming), cum eating, an*l, quirofilia, orgasm denial

ANYA'S CORNER : my gorgeous friend loni aka @nagumoan helped me immensely with the bonus part at the end and I can't thank her enough for it. I love you dearly, my beloved. thank you 🤍. you can find the first part here ! also stay tuned for the women version, it'll be out soon aw hope you enjoy this!

REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

✧. AIZEN, SZAYEL — POWER PLAY

Both these men are used to be hold in high regard from everyone, whether they like it or not. But the fact is, Aizen and Szayel can put up with your attitude to a certain extent. And for that, they have different aces up their sleeves.

The ex-Captain prefers to have you between his legs, with your sinful lips wrapped around his cock. He might require your "services" at any time, even during his daily meetings with the Espada.

It isn't unusual for them to see the back of your head bob up and down on his girth from under the table, or to hear the obscene squelches bouncing back off the walls to them when Aizen shoves his hand among your locks to push your face flat against the neat bush of pubic hair, making you gag on him while the man talk with either Ulqiuorra or Tosen.

He only does so when you've been particularly infuriating. That'one of the ways he uses to shut you up and convince you to take what he mercifully gives you without complaining.

And when it happens, he doesn't even let you touch yourself as you pleasure him, oh no.

He rather prefers to have you choke on his cum when it paints your mouth white, with your arms restrained in a leather armbinder behind your back. The Espada would look at you, unfazed, when you tilt your head up and press it against his thigh when their boss simply says,

"Open your mouth. Let me see."

You oblige, sticking out your tongue to show him how much of a good girl you can be if he can be reasoned with. Then you swallow with a smirk he reciprocates.

"Now, what do you have to do next? Don't make me repeat myself."

As Aizen proceeds to take off the restraint device, you immediately sit on his lap, waiting for him to wrap up the meeting and continue your business elsewhere.

All while you're covered in nothing but a flimsy replica of his white jacket, of course, so that everyone can see how your nipples push against the fabric and the arousal gushing down your legs soak your partner's trousers.

The one who enjoys the view the most is Aizen himself, of course, even if Ulquiorra doesn't disdain it so much, either.

The same sort of minimum decency can't be assumed of Szayel, however. If you push his buttons, he will strike back twice as hard. You can be unnerving if you put your head to it, and that the Espada can't stand.

So, whenever you're within reach, he'll push you against a wall face first. Do you think he cares if someone sees you? You've been down that road with him countless times. No one is safe with him around, especially you.

"Still want to run your mouth like that, slut?" a sudden sting of pain has you grasping for air, and you turn to see the pink-haired Espada holding the black cat o' nine tails whip he just hit you with.

Maybe it's the voice, his eyes sparkling with sadism or the fact that you're so exposed to others. Either way, a moan crawls past your lips before you can catch it.

And that pushes Szayel to press his body against yours while the flail ravages your skin one, two, three times. The Arrancar thinks he's finally found the instrument which will keep you in place for good.

Jokes on him. You're enjoying your punishment a bit too much. "Oh, Szayel," you coo at him, ass pushed against his growing erection as you grab him by the wrist and raise the whip until it brushes your cheek. "Do you really think such a tiny thing will scare me? Try again, oh perfect being."

Needless to say, after that he's quick to shred your dress to pieces and bare his cock oozing in precum, just to then coat it in your wetness and enter you altogether.

His height consumes the space behind you as he bends over to bite your ear lobe, hand around your throat when he growls,

"And you really think that I'll let you off the hook with just a whip? I'm just getting started with you."

✧. KUCHIKI BYAKUYA — HANDS

Just to stare at him in awe while he takes your hands in his in the intimacy of your bedroom feels like a dream. He has a scorching obsession for your hands, so tiny compared to his.

But to have one of his thumbs stroke soothing circles on the back of your nape while your fingers grab the base of his girth to guide it deep inside you? To moan softly with him when your chest collides with his, thighs pressed on either side of his, at the feeling of it caressing your walls?

You're so tight around him that to accommodate every inch of his draws a breathless string of whimpers out of both.

Everyone is well accustomed with Byakuya's calm manners, with his gray eyes analysing every fraction of their surroundings. And what about the fact he has no desire to be physical with no one but his loved ones?

His true colors escape many souls, except yours.

His resolve to be as collected and serene as possible with you is always wiped out by your touch on him. One brush, and the Captain crumbles, his love scattering and flying around you like a cherry blossoms' storm.

"Easy, my petal. Take your time. I'm in no rush today." a little smile tugs at his lips, but it's nothing compared to what he's truly feeling. To seethe with affection, to be kissed by the intense kiss of adoration... all because of you.

What Byakuya is unaware of yet, however, is that you're also deeply enamoured of his strong grip on you. The moment your ass finally meets the warmth of his thighs, you let out a sated giggle and look at the man under you while you push his hands upward to rest on your butt. Stars dance in the corner of your eyes.

"Y-yes." you stutter, so focused on gaping at his gorgeous face that you almost forget what you're doing.

Byakuya makes sure to remind you that, and his taut muscles under you tense when he shifts position to straighten his back. Now with his shoulders flush against the headboard, the Captain starts to push his hips upward to meet yours in earnest. A whimper even escapes him as you crush your forehead against his, kissing him to steady yourself as he picks up the rhythm.

He's losing his decorum. Again.

Kuchiki Byakuya has you chanting his name pretty soon as he keeps fucking you from under, and you come undone around him just as quick. He lets you make a mess of the sheets — he cares little about such trivial things — and helps you ride out your high with heart-shaped eyes. So, so pretty.

He's a goner, and it doesn't take long for him to join you in the bliss of the moment.

Half an hour later, you are both in the bathtub. You love to have a nice bath before bedtime (the innocent one) and the head of the Kuchiki clan loves to indulge every little habit of yours.

You carry the scent of cherry blossoms in your hair when you lean forward Byakuya, eyes sparkling with love when you tuck a strand of his long, wet hair behind the ear.

Your touch sends electricity down his spine, and before you know it he has scooped you in his arms, giggles filling the air as he places you on the bed to kiss you gently.

Being his lover is the greatest gift you could ever receive, and for you to give yourself completely to Byakuya speaks of unconditional love he treasures as his most most beloved treasure.

✧. BONUS — ANAL SEX

Little reminder: these men love, love being physical with you and sometimes, a few of them will push you over the edge. To almost destroy your every bit out of lust and love, including your ass.

It's theirs to worship, and some of them includes the likes of: Kenpachi Zaraki, who'd take you from behind while his big, strong palms of his hands impact against your ass, spanking you until the skin cracks open and you're nothing but a mess of trembling limbs, sweat and incoherent moans under him. His cock fills you to the brim every single time he's inside you, but to be so full that you beg for him to spread your ass cheeks further for him to ram himself into you deeper is new. And Zaraki enjoys every second of it.

And what about Bazz-B? This troublemaker is always pointing his fingers at others. Man, he does it for a living.

So imagine his surprise when you bring up the wet dream you had about him and that specific scenario. As you talk, you can literally see the gears in his brain spin and bang against his skull.

The Quincy has you on all fours in a second, and his first finger is already prodding your other entrance when he adds the second one. Years of training and use of his abilities left a trail of calluses on them and they press against you as you try to turn, but his other hand grab a fistful of your hair to push your face flat against the mattress.

"You gotta be a good girl and take the heat for me, hm? Come on, I know you can", he whispers and a string of spit trails down his lips and onto his fingertips.

Occasionally, Muguruma Kensei would enjoy it, but only if he's in the mood. You'd have to talk him into it through and through, since he gets annoyed easily by situations he hasn't complete control over. But a few strokes of your fingers around the '69' tattoo on his chest do the trick, and the man flips you over to slip his tongue in the tight ring of muscles above your pussy. It's gushing, your arousal dripping onto the sheets as your whimpers caress Kensei's ears. Oh, and if he feels like going the extra mile, he'd also press a thumb on your clit as he eases himself in you. Overwhelmed by the new angle, you both look at each other. It's hunger, what you see in his gaze, and he groans in your neck just as hungrily as you swallow his dick deep into you with every deep thrust he gives you, ready to stop at the first sign of distress.

But once you relax and he gets the gist of it all, he'll be the happiest man ever.

tags! — @aiztoru @burnishedcrown @stygianoir @romiyaro

© azanthys — do not copy, translate, repost and modify my works.

[celestie0]

taglist for choso x reader zombie au fanfic

hellooo i've been itching sooo bad to write some sort of au with choso in it and i've just decided to go ahead and start writing it. just wanted to make this post to see if anyone wants to be added to the taglist for it in advancee for when i've got the first chapter up. if you want to read a bit more about what i've got planned for it here's a lil summary as well as some tags:

ᰔ pairing. zombie au - zombie killer choso x assassin reader (f) ᰔ summary. in a world overrun by the undead, choso kamo is a name feared throughout the world--a man with unparalleled skill, the renowned "zombie killer" who leaves a trail of corpses behind in his wake. but he is a lone wolf, his location consistently evaded by any of the major post-apocalyptic factions across all continents. you are a survivor who has been haunted by endless loss, and your fiancé is among the countless missing since the outbreak began. forced to adapt and survive, you've honed your own intellect and strategic abilities, establishing yourself as a formidable re-conqueror of territory to establish livable areas for civilians. in a chance encounter with a mysterious organization called The District, you're told they have information on your fiancé's whereabouts, which they will offer you contingent on one condition: that you track down and kill choso kamo. ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, angst, smut, fluff (sort of), heavyyy enemies to lovers they're literally gonna be trying to kill each other lol, forbidden romance/cheating, gore, character deaths, slow burn, post-apocalyptic, dark themes, psychological trauma, moral dilemma, also many of the other jjk characters will be in it

if you're interested and would like to be tagged please reply to this post!! thank you if you're interested, i'm so excited to write it i've been planning it in my head for a while <3 much love

[tyrantisterror]

A Dozen Or So Great Vampire Ladies

Ok, so, on a mostly unrelated post the topic of good vampire ladies came up, and @bisexualdaikaiju suggested/challenged me to do a top 10 vampire women list. As a self-professed lover of vampire women, it felt like a challenge I couldn't back down from. But it is kind of challenging, for two kind of contradictory reasons.

First, while there are MANY female vampires in fiction, most of them feel like afterthoughts, getting far less characterization than their male counterparts, who more often than not are the star villains of the show. When these supporting lady vampires do get something to do, it's generally the same role: make their human lovers sad when they rise from the dead as a monster that has to be killed, an emotional beat that is often undercut by a lot of these vampire women not getting much characterization to endear them to us before they died. Everyone wants to have the Lucy Westerna plot beat from Dracula but they don't want to do the work that Bram did to make Lucy lovable. The lady vamps who get to step out of Lucy's shadow are rare - but that just makes them all the more wonderful.

The second problem is that, since this is an obsession of mine that few seem to share (there are lots of vampire fans, but man do the boy vamps get to hog the spotlight among them), I've done a lot of scattered thinking about it and I just know I'm bound to forget at least one excellent lady vampire character that should be here. And whittling it down to ten, and trying to rank them? That's too hard! My thoughts are too mercurial to do that reliably in a way I don't forget!

So instead here's a list of, like, a dozen or so lady vampires that I think are just fucking stellar, many of which I think break the mold of what pop culture makes us expect lady vampires to be. It is not ranked - I love all these characters more or less equally, and think it's a lot more interesting to see how they take their archetype in different directions than to figure out which one is "best" of the lot.

Carmilla Karnstein

I'm going to start with the most famous literary female vampire, Mircalla Karnstein from Carmilla. I think she might be the first vampire to have an unhealthy obsession with using anagrams of her real name as aliases, though I'm sure now that I've typed that someone will find an earlier example to school me. She's also the one who popularized the idea of lady vampires being extremely sapphic, with an arguably genuine romantic affection for her female victims. She's got well-deserved clout, basically, and like Dracula has been adapted countless times and reinterpreted in some excellent ways. My favorite screen Carmilla is Ingrid Pitt's take, which captures her fierceness, passion, and tragic nature so well.

2. Amy from Fright Night

Ok, we're having one Lucy Westerna knockoff on this list, but as Lucy knockoffs go, Amy is one of the best. It actually helps that she spends 90% of her movie as a human, because we get to know and love her so much before she turns monstrous. And once she does...

It is pants-shittingly terrifying. I will never stop raving about the vampire designs in this movie - they made their "game faces" so fucking monstrous and I feel like in a better world this would be the standard ever since, especially since they still gave the vampires pathos while making them so ghastly when they've got their feeding faces on.

3. Drusilla

Buffy the Vampire Slayer had a bunch of vampire characters, and to its credit they did a decent job of making the ladies just as distinct as the gents. Harmony and Darla could both have made this list, but my favorite was always Drusilla, who was so traumatized before she became a vampire that it kind of overwhelms the demon spirit inside her. Like, bare minimum thing to make a lady vampire more interesting than 90% of other female vampires in fiction: give her at least one personality trait, preferably an interesting one, outside of being a vampire. Drusilla's fun, and she survives the entire series after dumping her boyfriend to be a single female vampire. Good for her.

4. Ruby from Scary Godmother

Ok look I am a fake Scary Godmother fan but kudos to the artist of the books for making a lady vampire who's very clearly of the nosferatu mold and is also explicitly benign and sweet. A+ vampire lady character design. I hope it doesn't awaken anything in me.

5. Nadja

What We Do in the Shadows is excellent at finding new takes on vampires in general - it even made me actually like Psychic Vampires as a concept, a feat I thought was impossible - but goddamn do I love Nadja specifically. She's got a distinct personality as vampire ladies go, being very confident and self-assured while also being a complete fucking goober (it is a comedy, after all). She's perfectly capable of being terrifying AND hilarious, often at the same time. A vampire girl failure, in the parlance of our site. I love her.

6. Lady Dimitrescu

I know that she's apparently only in a fourth of the game, but it's still pretty great that Resident Evil 8 decided its mascot villain - its equivalent of the Tyrant, G, Nemesis, etc. - would be the hottest woman I've ever seen a milf an 8 foot tall lady vampire. She's not dainty and willowy like most lady vamps in fiction - not an ambush hunter - but rather HUGE and capable of tossing a human around like a rag doll. She's a physical powerhouse and she looks fine feminine while doing it. Despite being an unabashed blood-sucking monster, she still has enough depth and complexity to have important relationships (like a genuine love for her "giant mass of hive mind flies" daughters), and also she gets to have an awesome transformation into a fungal vampire dragon, which is rad as hell. Also goddamn, her fashion sense is immaculate.

7. Hecate from Hellboy

"Hey, she's not a vampire! She's a goddess! That doesn't count!" Fuck you, my list, my rules. Hecate posits herself as the progenitor and mother of vampires, she drinks blood, and her main form in the comic is as a sicknasty lamia version of the iron maiden used by Elizabeth fucking Bathory, if she doesn't count as a vampire, nothing should. She is the concept of a vampire amped up to maximum capacity, a major mythological figure and an awesome villain.

...also I lowkey shipped her and Hellboy when I was a teenager. They could have made it work!

8 - 12. Carmilla and her girl squad from Castlevania

I suppose I could have counted Castlevania's Carmilla as an adaptation of Miss Karnstein - they're both basted out of Styria, both sapphic, and it's clear she's meant to be an adaptation of the former, just as the Dracula of this show is meant to be a take on Bram's famous vampire. But ultimately they're VERY different characters in the grand scheme of things - Castlevania's Carmilla has none of the tenderness and vulnerability of her literary counterpart, instead being full of barely restrained fury. She is an excellent villain, complex enough to be interesting but thoroughly despicable enough to make it VERY satisfying when she bites it.

I also love her girl posse... in concept, at least. They've all got great designs and the groundwork of interesting characters, but of the the three, only Lenore, the waifish redhead, gets to do much of note. The two on the edges kind of just show up for a few scenes and then bail before the plot catches up to them, doing very little of note - though at least the big hunky one gets one of the coolest fight scenes in the whole show.

Back to Lenore though - she gets a really nice character arc, and manages to become one of the few sympathetic vampires in the series (while still doing a lot of monstrous shit - she is not a defanged vampire by any stretch). I think her death scene is one of the most moving moments in the series finale.

13. Seras Victoria

A good female vampire has at least one non-vampire part of her personality, right? Ok, so, Seras is:

the muscle in almost every scene she is, which is to say, the one absolutely beating the shit out of people while her allies run for cover

the perky henchman/morality pet of one of history's greatest monsters

the sole ray of sunshine in cast of edgy, cigar-chomping grizzled mercnaries and antiheroes she's been pressganged into fighting alongside

the victim of some HIDEOUS trauma even before her vampirization

the protege of a wise master who gets a full hero's journey arc, taking up his mantle at the end of the series

Like, I love her. She's the secret protagonist of Hellsing. She's got layers like an onion. The scene where she killed Zora Blitz reminded me why I love anime.

(yeah it's the TFS version fuck you)

14. Youko Shiragami

My Monster Secret is not a horror manga. It is a romantic comedy about a bunch of idiots trying to keep painfully obvious secrets hidden and succeeding only because almost everyone around them is as dumb as they are, just in very different ways. It is a manga where an entire chapter can be summarized as "all the characters race to get the last McRib, using their various supernatural abilities to try and cheat their way to the front of the pack." It is one of the funniest and most heart-warming stories I have ever read, one of my favorite romances of all time, and an excellent piece of long form story-telling.

One of the two main characters is Youko Shiragami, a vampire girl who can't let anyone know she's a vampire or else her dad will pull her out of school. She desperately wants to have a normal life with friends and, like, school shenanigans, but her fear of people uncovering her secret and hating her is so immense that she's been isolating herself from everyone, accidentally torturing herself by being close to what she wants but unable to actually have it.

At least, until Kuromine, the other main character of the story, discovers her secret while trying to ask her out on a date. He ends up promising to keep her secret, and the two of them form a real friendship that blossoms into a very sweet romance, where Youko gets to display all her incongruous personality traits that go against what you'd expect of vampires - namely, that she's kind of a ditz, with an unrefined style of speech and a complete inability to be suave and seductive. She's a sweet, flaky goofball with a big heart, who just happens to drink blood and tan really quickly in the sunlight. There is no other vampire like her, and the world is richer for her being in it.

15. Marceline, the Vampire Queen

This list isn't ranked, but if it was, I'd put Marceline at the top. I think she is not only the most unique and deeply characterized lady vampire in fiction, but ranks right up there with Dracula in how she redefines the idea of what a vampire can be. Like, look at the forms she takes!

There are DOZENS of different monstrous shapes Marceline takes during Adventure Time's 9+ seasons of television, and any one of them would be a superb and memorable vampire on its own. And she's ALL of them. Just on a design standpoint, she is a standout. I think only Dracula himself could compete.

But she also explores what the concept of what a vampire is in ways no other vampire in fiction can, in part because of the unique nature of Adventure Time's setting. In a world where humans are an extreme minority and most people are weird monsters, a vampire isn't that odd, so we get to explore what being a vampire means divorced from the comparison to "normal" human beings. There's the expected tragedy to Marceline, of course - she's a 16 year old who has been stuck in that adolescent state for hundreds of years, and much of her character arc over the show (including the magnificent vampire-centric storyline, "Stakes") focuses on the horror of being stuck in that transitional state, not quite a child but not quite an adult. Marceline struggles to mature, to understand herself and others, and her vampirism both keeps her distant from reaching those goals but also gives her a lot of time to figure out how to approach them when the opportunity arirves. Marceline goes from one of the most immature and selfish characters in the show to perhaps the most emotionally intelligent, blossoming into a sensitive and thoughtful person she could never have been without first becoming a creature that seems so inherently opposed to ever having those traits.

And she did it all in a children's show where she was rarely if ever allowed to actually drink blood - a problem the writers got around by having her suck the red color out of things, which is right up there with the Joker Venom from BTAS in terms of genius ideas spawned by children's show censorship.

Marceline is the GOAT.

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night she made Azriel lose control

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst, smut or at least my attempt at it lol

summary: Valeria is sparring with Cassian and Azriel when Rhysand invites her to the gathering of the High Lords of Prythian. The night is tortorous for Azriel, who can no longer hold himself back and finally gives in to his desire.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. This is my first time writing smut, which is why this took me forever to write. I even readchapter 55 of ACOMAF a couple of times again for "research purposes" lol Anyway, besides the smut, lots of stuff happen in this imagine and more ACOTAR characters make an appearance!

**

Valeria sat atop one of the training rings at the House of Wind as Noctis soared gracefully above her. In the brilliant sunlight, his dark wings glistened–a testament to his swift and powerful recovery. A radiant smile grazed her face, finding joy to see him whole and soaring once more.  

She hummed a familiar melody and Noctis was quick to catch the tune. His hauntingly beautiful song intertwined with hers. Setting aside the book Cassian had gifted her on Illyrian fighting techniques, Valeria perked up at the sound of wings beating the air.

It had been nearly half a year since the blood rite and Rhysand’s grand ball and so much had changed in that time. The news of two bastards and a half breed ascending to the title of Carynthian had sent shockwaves throughout Illyria, and perhaps even throughout most of Prythian. The revelation that both Cassian and Azriel were gifted with seven siphons each only added to the astonishment. Rhysand, too, had been gifted with siphons, though they had shattered, unable to contain his immense power.

Shortly after the grand ball, Cassian had returned to the Illyrian camp he was born, eager to reunite with his mother. Their separation had weighed heavily on his heart over the years and he had been looking forward to seeing her and taking care of her. However, when he arrived at the camp, he was met with devastating news. His mother was dead. The news had hit him like a physical blow and even more so when he found out the true nature of her death and lack of respect in burial. It left him reeling with an overwhelming grief and sorrow that morphed into anger and a thirst of revenge. With the help of Rhysand and Azriel, they took revenge on his mother’s cruel death and destroyed the village, allowing only the truly innocent to live. 

The High Lord of the Night Court did not take lightly to the actions of the three powerful Illyrian males. Valeria suspected that the remarkable power the three males held posed a potential threat to her father. In the weeks that followed, the High Lord assigned Rhysand a growing number of responsibilities as his designated heir. He offered Azriel the role of spymaster–a proposition that didn’t leave him with much room for refusal. Cassian, on the other hand, had returned to Windhaven, and swiftly climbed the ranks, now commanding a small legion of his own.

With all the changes and increased duties, it came to a surprise to Valeria that Cassian remembered the promise he had made prior to the blood rite. She had diligently studied the book he had gifted her, mastering nearly every technique within its pages. She still did so behind her father’s back. It was not an easy task as he hovered over her for the first couple of weeks after her return to the Night Court. This made it challenging to discreetly train with the Valkyries as she enjoyed doing so. 

So Valeria dedicated herself to playing the role of a dutiful daughter with the hopes that it would divert her father’s attention from her training and secrets she held. It was a difficult one as he still held resentment toward her. She immersed herself in music, spending countless hours practicing her violin despite her preference for the piano. It paid off, as her father’s interest in her began to wane and as she resumed her violin lessons, she found it increasingly easier to slip away for her secret training sessions.

“Alright, little warrior.” Cassian grinned as he touched down in front of her, his wings tucked behind him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Valeria smiled back at him, her eyes searching his face. She knew the past couple of months had been challenging for him yet he always managed a smile and optimistic attitude, masking the underlying sadness and grief he carried. He was one of the strongest people she knew–both physically and mentally.

“I didn’t get to train last week since I had an audition for a violin solo, so I’m a little rusty.” Valeria confessed as she patted the dust off her leathers.

“Did you get it?”

A spark of triumph gleamed in her eyes as she replied. “Of course I did.” 

Cassian’s grin grew wider. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to push you harder this morning.”

The training grounds were bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun as Cassian and Valeria stepped onto the training ring. She looked up to him with determination in her eyes and Cassian respected her spirit as he began to wrap his hands. “Let’s practice without weapons first and focus on hand to hand combat which is about…”

“Control, balance and swift strikes.” Valeria answered, reciting an excerpt from the book word for word and wrapping her own hands to prepare for sparring.

“Yes.” Cassian nodded at her, impressed as he stepped into a defensive stance. “Watch me closely and then we’ll practice together.”

He demonstrated a sequence of moves, fluidly shifting from one stand to another, showcasing the elegance and power of combat. Valeria followed his every move, memorizing the steps.

“I know you’ve already had some training with this but let’s start with the basics again. I’m going to make a move and you try to block or evade it.”

Cassian then made the first move, a precise jab toward her shoulder. Valeria reacted quickly, dodging the blow with ease and responding with a counterpunch. Cassian deftly blocked her attack, impressed with her reflexes.

“Good.” Cassian said with another nod of approval. “Keep that focus and speed.”

They continued the training session as Noctis watched, perched on one of the punching dummies nearby, his sharp eyes on his beloved keeper. As always, Cassian was patient in training Valeria. He showed her how to anticipate her opponent’s moves, find openings in their defenses and land precise strikes. Valeria was a quick learner and with each round of practice, her confidence grew.

As they exchanged blows, Valeria saw an opportunity. Her speed and precision was nearly overwhelming, catching the seasoned Illyrian warrior by surprise for a faltering moment. Just when it seemed like Valeria was gaining the upper hand, he intentionally left himself open. Valeria, driven by the thrill of the movement, lunged forward with a powerful punch. Her first met its target but Cassian, with a wly grin, grabbed her arm and twisted, sending her tumbling to the ground.

She landed on her back with a huff, her chest heaving from exertion.

“Never underestimate your opponent.”

Cassian’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked down at her. She was already drenched in sweat, her muscles aching and struggling to catch her breath. He held his hand out toward her which she begrudgingly took. He did not look nearly as winded as her.

 “Now, get up, my little warrior. We’re not done quite yet.”

“Not done?” Valeria echoed in dramatic horror.

Valeria’s senses were thrown into a whirlwind of surprise. Another voice, one she hadn’t heard in weeks, broke through the moment.

“It’s my turn now.”

Valeria’s head whipped around, feeling dizzy for a moment, but her eyes quickly found their way to the hazel ones she had missed so dearly. Azriel. 

He was also dressed in his Illyrian leathers, his cobalt blue siphons casting a soft, enchanting glow. His presence, as always, was a compelling blend of mystery and allure, making her heart flutter. The longing she felt for his company was undeniable.  She hadn’t seen him in weeks as he was preoccupied with the duties her father assigned to him and if it wasn’t the High Lord calling upon him, it was Rhysand, leaving little room for private moments together.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged nods in silent greeting. Azriel then turned to her, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. His eyes raked over her form as his shadows swirled around him in excitement and his large wings unfurled behind him. He looked at her with a mixture of pride, protectiveness and a hint of longing.

She felt like he was undressing her with his eyes.

“Cauldron boil me,” Valeria cursed under her breath.

Cassian chuckled. Azriel maintained his composed demeanor and gaze fixed on her, his smirk remaining unfaltering. He, too, had likely heard her choice of words and judging by the way his shadows whirled around him, he must’ve sensed the hidden meaning behind them.

He finally took his eyes off of her as he approached the weapons vault. “Where are you in your training with the Valkyries?”

Valeria considered the question for a moment before replying, "We've moved on to sparring with actual weapons."

Azriel's hazel eyes lit up with interest as he selected two swords from the vault, flinging one of them toward her. Valeria caught it with ease, though with a slight frown.

She much preferred daintier weapons such as a dagger or her whip. Zeila, her valkyrie trainer, had rewarded her with the elegant rope-like weapon for her remarkable progress. Crafted from pure silver and adorned with moonstone gems, it matched the necklace around her neck. At first glance, it appeared delicate, but when the moonstone gems were ignited by her power, it became a formidable tool capable of burning through those who dared to cross her. Valeria had glamored the whip to resemble a wrap-around bracelet when not in use and it currently shimmered brilliantly under the sunlight.

Azriel and Valeria stood facing each other, a palpable tension filling the air as Cassian sat on a bench nearby and watched. Much to his dismay, Noctis made himself comfortable atop of his head.

Valeria was the first to make a move, moving with a fluidity that was both elegant and powerful. As they sparred, Valeria demonstrated her newfound skills, seamlessly combining the precise strikes of the Valkyries with the fierce, aggressive style of the Illyrians. Azriel observed with growing admiration, impressed by her quick adaptation and her ability to execute the intricate maneuvers. Their swords clashed, the sound ringing through the rooftop, and with a deft flick of his wrist, he managed to disarm Valeria. His experience and training outmatched hers but Valeria was not one to give up easily. 

In a swift and practiced motion, she extended her arm, bringing the rope-like weapon to life. Azriel’s eyes widened for a flickering moment as he readied his sword but Valeria was too fast for him. Within seconds, her whip wrapped around Azriel’s wrist, forcing him to release his sword, the sharp piece of steel clattering to the ground. She grinned triumphantly as Cassian whistled in approval.

Azriel stumbled back, momentarily disarmed, until he saw an opportunity and seized it. He took advantage of the weapon wrapped around his wrist and pulled on it, throwing her off balance, sending Valeria stumbling forward. She was not able to catch her footing on time and both her and Azriel tumbled onto the ground. Azriel swiftly gained the  upper hand, pinning both her wrists by her head as he straddled her.

“I got you.” He smirked down at her.

With a mischievous glint in her violet eyes, Valeria shifted her hips up and wrapped her arms around his torso the best she could. She trapped his legs with her own and mustered up all the strength she could to roll over just as Cassian had taught her. In a sudden and skillful maneuver, she found herself hovering over Azriel, her dagger that had been attached to her thigh now pressed against his neck.

“Never underestimate your opponent.” Valeria said, her voice breathless but triumphant, echoing Cassian’s early words.

Azriel blinked back up at her, his pupils dilated. His gaze flickered down to her lips before locking with her gaze. Blood rushed up to her cheeks as she remembered the last time she had straddled him. It seemed so long ago and just as it had before they shared their first kiss, the world around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them. She dared to lean down–

A boisterous laugh shattered their trance, snapping them back to reality.

Valeria removed herself from Azriel. He was the first to get up, offering his scarred hand to her. His shadows slithered down his arms and toward her, reaching out to caress her face in a way he yearned to himself as he pulled her up with him. They turned to an amused Cassian who offered a round of applause for Valeria.

“I’m so proud of you.” He told her. “Keep it up and you’ll be a Valkyrie in no time.”

Valeria’s heart swelled. “You really think they’d let me in?”

“Of course.” It was Azriel who replied.

She was smiling at the two formidable Illyrian warriors when she felt a gentle talon caress her mind. She allowed her brother in, who wanted to know where she was. Her smile fell and the two males looked at her in concern.

“Rhys is coming,” she said in warning at the same time she gave her brother her location.

With practiced ease, Valeria used her powers to glamor and remove the telltale signs of her recent training session–the sweat-soaked training gear and leathers were replaced with a simple black dress.  Noctis returned to his usual place on her shoulder. She had just enough time to glamor Cassian and Azriel as well to paint out the illusion of them sparring.

Rhysand was still unaware of her extensive training as she had sworn both males to secrecy. While her brother did keep his promise in teaching her how to use the dagger they all gifted her, it was nowhere near enough to explain the advanced skills she had just displayed. 

Azriel glanced down at his shirtless body and arched an eyebrow at her. A devious glint flickered in her eye as she smirked back at him with an appreciative gaze. The tattoos adorning his upper body, a mark of his emergence as a true warrior from the Blood Rite, were a sight to behold. She wondered for a brief moment what it would be like to kiss them as she dangerously trailed her way down…

Cassian seemed to be unfazed by his shirtless form, picking up the sword Valeria had been using, eager to get into character.

Rhysand emerged from a cloud of swirling darkness. He smiled fondly at Valeria in greeting before acknowledging his two closest friends. “I didn’t know you two were sparring today,” he commented, his tone lighthearted.

Cassian responded with a cheeky grin, "Just releasing some pent-up frustration, Rhys." He turned to Azriel, a cryptic look in his eyes, sensing something in the Shadowsinger he was strangely familiar with. "Right, Az?"

Azriel glared at him. "I'm sure Cass still has energy."

Rhysand chose to brush off their strange behavior, not wanting to delve into it further. "It's alright," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm actually here for Val."

Valeria turned to him, her curiosity piqued.

"I need you to be ready by dinner. The High Lords are gathering at the Moonstone Palace for dinner, and Father requests our presence."

Valeria's eyes narrowed as she met her brother's gaze. She had her doubts that it was truly her father who had called for her presence, and judging by Rhysand's cheeky grin, she knew he had played a role in her being allowed to attend. Despite her skepticism, she nodded in agreement.

"I'll be ready."

**

The dinner among the High Lords of Pyrthian, their families and entourage was uneventful save for the mention of growing unrest between the mortals and fae. There were reports of some fae enslaving mortals–a matter that had drawn the attention of the High Lords.

Surprisingly, the High Lord of the Night Court appeared indifferent to Valeria’s presence at the dinner. A small victory.

Though she couldn't shake the feeling of being the odd one out as she was the only daughter to a High Lord present. She was grateful for Rhysand and Azriel, who sat on either side of her as Noctis–her usual companion–had to stay behind. Cerridwen and Nuala offered to take care of him for the night. The two males beside her watched over her, their protective presence enough to deter any unwarranted attention from the other attendees, especially the eldest sons of the Autumn and Spring court. Mor and her family were also present at the dinner, the first offering Valeria a sense of familiarity and warmth, but unfortunately, she sat far from her.

As the dinner came to a close, her mother, who sat across from her, sent Valeria a reassuring smile. With the main meal completed, the guests began to disperse into smaller groups, with alcohol and light desserts served for those who remained. Valeria took a moment to collect herself, her violin resting on a soft chair nearby. She picked it up and positioned it with care, knowing that her presence at the dinner came at a cost – the entertainment she could provide with her violin.

With a sigh, she began to play, the graceful notes of her violin filling the room and carrying a sense of melancholy and beauty. The Night Court’s orchestra arrived, a couple of songs later, providing a welcome respite. She smiled at them in greeting and they regarded her warmly, having grown fond of her over the past six months.

“That was excellent.” A voice praised.

Valeria looked up, eyes widening as they landed on the High Lord of the Dawn Court. Thesan. His aura radiated a warm golden glow, his brown skin and hair kissed with the permanent brilliance of sunrise. 

“You’ve grown into a wonderful young lady.” His gaze was warm as he regarded her. He remembered the last time he had seen her, when she was just six years old.

 Valeria recalled the memory clearly as it had been a slightly embarrassing incident when she had injured herself after chasing Rhysand around. He had snatched the last lemon cake and laughed in her face. Thesan had been the one to heal her injured elbow with a gentle touch while her father glared at her. She wondered if her father had also been embarrassed by her behavior that night as she hadn’t been allowed to attend a High Lord gathering until tonight.

“Thank you.” Valeria replied, her head bowed in appreciation.

“I’m sure your father is proud.” Thesan added, casting a meaningful glance toward her father, who had now joined them.

His gaze, though still somewhat distant, was not as cold as he regarded his daughter.

“She has an upcoming solo in a month.”

Valeria blinked at her father, surprise etched on her features. 

“What a shame,” Thesan lamented, his tone sincere. “I’m hosting a celebration for my Peregryns in a month. I would’ve loved for you to play for them.”

Valeria’s father hummed and she picked up on the hint. She excused herself politely. Though she knew her father’s demeanor was likely a result of Thesan’s presence, she couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of joy at his acknowledgement.

Valeria made her way to the desserts table, savoring the delightful taste of  a chocolate covered strawberry. Her gaze swept the room, searching for her brother amidst the sea of faces.

“Well, aren’t you a lovely little sweet.”

Startled by the sudden presence behind her, she jumped slightly before turning her head to find the source of the voice. Her gaze fell upon a red-haired male, whose amber eyes watched her intently. He held an air of arrogance and entitlement as he extended his hand toward her.

“Would you care to dance?” He inclined his head to his left, where couples where swaying to the music.

“I’m busy.” Valeria replied, referring to the dessert in her hand.

She glared as he plucked the strawberry from her hand and popped the remaining piece into his mouth, all while sporting a smirk that seemed to mock her. He took her hand, without asking again, and led her to the dance floor.

His hand rested dangerously low against her back and was hot as it met her bare skin. The dress she chose tonight was a blue mermaid gown with a plunging neckline and open back design to accommodate her wings but she had chosen to glamor them. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked over her.

Valeria’s lips curled into a smirk of her own. She had seldom experienced the sensation of being desired. The Illyrians in Windhaven had steered clear of her after her fling with Damien–if one could even call it that. The three Illyrian males in her life were fiercely protective, effectively warding off any potential suitors. But here, things were different.

 Though her heart longed for the desire of a specific male, she couldn’t deny the pleasure of feeling desired by others.

At that moment, recognition dawned on Valeria. The devilishly handsome male dancing with her was the eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court and if the rumors in Prythian were true, he was in search of a bride.

“You must be Eris.” She said, her tone cool and composed.

The fire in his amber eyes was unyielding as he spun her around. His movements pressed her back against his chest, and he leaned down, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered: “I’m honored you know my name, sweets.”

With a twist, he spun her back around to face him, catching the crinkle of her nose in response to his nickname with a dark chuckle.

“It’s Valeria to you.” She corrected him with a firm tone.

Eris paused, his eyes set ablaze at the challenge, as he teased her further. “Valeria Vanserra has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

In response, Valeria couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. When she opened her mouth to offer another sly retort, another voice beat her to it.

**

The entire night was torture for Azriel.

It all started when he spotted Valeria in a striking dark blue fitted gown that hugged her every curve and exposed so much of her pretty sun kissed skin– Gods, she was beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to trace her curves and exposed skin with his hands while he tasted her pretty lips once more. He almost had this morning after sparring with her.

A warmth surged through him, almost as if he were staking a delusional claim, as he noticed the necklace he gifted her was wrapped sweetly around her neck, the moonstone gem resting right at the curves of her chest.

It had been hard for him to part from her side after dinner. He wanted to be the one to walk with her, dance with her. The desire to take her away and have her to himself was overwhelming but he could not afford to give in to it. He was bound by the High Lord’s orders, hovering around with his shadows dispersed, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. He managed to spare a couple of shadows to accompany Valeria, instructing them to keep a low profile with her and reach out to him immediately if anyone that wasn’t Rhysand or her mother touched her.

 The torture had escalated with each passing moment as he noticed the increasing looks of interest sent her way. He had to summon every ounce of strength to keep his jealousy at bay, especially when he noticed that Valeria had attracted the attention of a red-haired male. Eris, heir to the Autumn court, his shadows happily filled in for him.

He watched with a tensed resolve, concealing the jealousy in his eyes behind the usual fierce and protective mask he wore. His gaze was unwavering as the Autumn Court male held her close, danced with her and when he made her laugh, he decided that was it. He was going to intervene. Perhaps, he would start by ripping the smirk off of Eris’s face. 

**

“Eris.”

Valeria found herself being pulled away and into the chest of another. A protective arm wrapped around her shoulders and she looked up to find her brother–his actions betraying the cool and measured demeanor on his face.

Eris’s smirk widened, picking up on Rhysand’s frustration. “I can see why you keep her hidden now.”

“Stay away from my sister.”

Rhysand’s glare was not enough to communicate his disapproval of Eris’s sudden and unwelcome interest in his sister. He didn’t bother with formalities and without saying another word, he pulled her away from Eris.

Leaning in closer to Valeria, Rhysand spoke in a hushed voice. “I have someone I want you to meet,” he whispered as he guided her through the crowded gathering.

Valeria followed her brother, oblivious to the Shadowsinger that had been moments away from tearing the heir to the Autumn court into pieces. She was curious and somewhat relieved to leave behind the tense encounter with Eris, wondering why the Cauldron had decided to bestow Prythian with its fair share of wicked sons.

But perhaps not all of Prythian’s sons were wicked, she found herself thinking as Rhysand introduced her to a quiet blond male. He appeared around her age. His green eyes were innocent and kind–a dark contrast to his older brothers, who had glared at her during dinner earlier.

His name was Tamlin and a light blush rose to his cheeks as Valeria smiled at him.

**

Finally, in the comforts of her room, Valeria let out a sigh of relief as she leaned back against her door. The night had been a hurricane of emotions from all the interactions she had, some were welcomed and others draining. She had ended her night with Mor, who was finally able to escape from the grasps of her family as Eris and his father approached Keir. Rhysand had to unfortunately leave early. Their father wanted him to check up on a growing conflict between Windhaven and a neighboring camp first thing in the morning so he thought it’d be best if he stayed the night at their house in Windhaven.

Valeria made her way to her vanity, seating herself upon the soft cushion of its bench. She slowly unraveled her bun, allowing her long dark hair to fall into a sea of ebony waves.

She unclasped her earrings next and as she went to unclasp her necklace, her eyes widened with alarm at the figure she caught behind her in the reflection from the vanity’s mirror. She abruptly stood from her seat, her initial shock giving way and gaze softening as she recognized the figure.

“By the cauldron, Azriel, you nearly gave me a heart attack!“

Azriel was behind her within seconds and she caught sight of his heated gaze through the mirror. “My sentiments exactly,” he told her, his fingers brushing the thin strap of her dress. He rejoiced in the way it easily fell from her shoulders. “When I saw you wearing this dress.”

“I wore it for you.” Valeria confessed as heat rose to her cheeks. The blue shade of her dress perfectly matched his siphons.

“Is that so?” He hummed, his gaze not leaving her bare back. 

He knew it was wrong to look at her the way he did. He knew that Rhysand would kill him if he saw the intent in his eyes but he had waited so long–six excruciating months– to finally have Valeria alone again and his shadows screamed at him to seize the opportunity. His hand then lightly grazed her back, tracing along the spot where her wings usually rested. Valeria shivered at his touch.

She turned around to face him and their eyes met, unspoken words between them as tension filled the air. Tension that had sparked between them since their first kiss. Tension that had lingered, waiting for the right kindling to ignite it once more. Tension that was set alight by their sparring this morning, further fueled by the exchanged glances during dinner. Tension that was no longer possible to ignore.

And then their lips were desperately crashing into each other in an ardent kiss.

They pulled each other close until their bodies were flush against one another, his shadows enveloping around the both of them. With Valeria’s arms wrapped around his neck, she slid her fingers through his soft dark hair and his slid to her hips, hoisting her up onto her vanity. Her legs instantly wrapped themselves around his waist and she pulled him even closer, feeling him harden against her and eliciting a groan from him that made a heat pool in her stomach.

He broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed, his breathing fast and sharp. “Val,” he breathed her name so heavenly, despite the slight tremble in his body. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to hold myself back.”

She knew she should stop him as they were both walking among a fine line but she couldn’t bring herself to. Not when Azriel was looking at her like she was the one who placed the stars in the sky.

“Good thing,” Valeria began, nudging her nose softly against his. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all the confirmation Azriel needed before he picked her up and placed her onto her bed. He was then claiming her lips again, darting his tongue along her bottom lip and she parted her lips for him, groaning into his mouth as his tongue caressed hers.

Azriel broke from the kiss and pulled on the dress that had left little to the imagination and an insatiable thirst for more. He was filled with a desperate desire to feel all of her against him. She arched into him, allowing him to undo the delicate laces and slide her dress off in one motion. He would’ve ripped it off her, if it hadn’t been one of her mother’s designs. 

His breath hitched as he hovered over her, appreciating her beauty–the sight of her almost bare before him. Her moonstone necklace shimmered and was nestled deliciously right above her exposed breasts. “Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, allowing his shadows to caress her breasts, rejoicing in the way she shivered with pleasure. 

She let out a moan as he lowered his mouth to one of her breasts and sucked on it, his tongue flicking against her nipple while his shadows continued to caress the other.

“Azriel.”

“Tell me,” he murmured against her soft skin. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to be yours.” She breathed in reply. 

He nearly moaned at her words, rapidly losing his resolve as the scent of her arousal hit him then. She pulled on his leathers, a silent request to take them off. He complied, disposing of his clothing until he was bare before her, his siphons landing on the floor with a thud. His cock sprang free, no longer restrained by his leathers and he took delight in the way her eyes grew wide, taken aback by his considerable length before they trailed their way up to the intricate tattoos on his chest.

Valeria wanted to kiss along his tattoos as she had desired to earlier in the morning but when she moved to sit up, Azriel stopped her. He pinned her back to the bed with a low growl. Her bare skin was so warm against his.

“You’re all mine.” He told her, echoing her wish from just moments ago, and then was grinding his hips against her clothed core in a teasing manner.

His lips trailed down her stomach until he hovered over the place she desperately needed him. He looked up once more at her. Although he told her he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back, he still sought her permission. 

She gave a nod and he smirked at her, a devious glint in his hazel eyes.

“Words.” He teased her, brushing his nose against her core as her arousal flooded him, overwhelming all his senses. His eyes and the shadows around him darkened.  “I need your words.”

“I need you.” 

He tutted, not entirely satisfied. “Need me where?”

“By the cauldron Azriel, I need you to fuck me.” She cried out desperately, her words making his cock throb almost painfully and before he could tease her further, she added: “With your tongue, fingers, cock. Do as you wish, I’m all yours."

“Gods, you have such a dirty mouth on you.” He replied as he slid her underwear off, imagining all the things her dirty mouth was capable of. He hooked her legs to rest on either side of his wings. “Where did you learn such vulgar things?”

Books, she had meant to reply but she was set ablaze and at a loss for words at the first lick of his tongue. A soft whimper escaped from her and he unleashed himself, eagerly devouring her and drawing out more moans that were like music to his ears. Her fingers found themselves entangled in his hair again and she writhed beneath him. Azriel placed a firm grip on her hips, smirking against her as her thighs trembled against him. He could tell she was close. 

Wanting nothing more than to hear her lose herself completely to him, he slid his tongue into her and allowed his shadows to caress her everywhere, wanting to touch every inch of her skin and discover her most sensitive areas. Her breasts, her neck, her clit. 

“Azriel.”

Another low growl erupted from deep in his chest at the way she moaned his name. It was lovely and it felt so right.

“Come on, princess.” He purred, pressing a kiss to her clit before kissing his way up her thigh. He replaced his tongue with his finger, slowly easing his way with one until eventually, he was pumping three inside her. He left trails of her essence all over her body as he continued to make his way up. “Let go for me.”

Azriel’s lips were pressed against her neck when the heat pooled in her stomach tightened and then her core was pulsing around his fingers as she came, waves of pleasure flooding all of her senses. He pulled away from her neck, watching as her body arched into his and trembled with a soft glow. 

Azriel had never beheld anything more exquisite than this–than her coming apart under his touch. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, engraving the sweet image into his mind. An image that he would savor for centuries.

A finger traced over the sensitive curve of his wing, pulling him out of his trance and it was his turn to moan her name. He felt her other hand on his cheek and he leaned in to it, savoring her touch. He allowed her to take control for a moment as she guided his lips to hers. She could taste herself on his lips.

Another whimper escaped from him, his eyes fluttering close when he felt her finger brush the curve of his wing again. Her movements were agonizingly slow as she trailed her finger down and his breath hitched as they brushed against his hard length before wrapping themselves around it. He placed his hand over hers before she could continue. She had barely touch him but he could feel his release quickening already.

When he opened his eyes, his pupils were blown, their darkness honing in on her. A darkness she wanted to dive further into. “Please.” Valeria begged against his lips. 

His forehead rested against hers and his breath fanned her face. He knew what she was asking for but there would be no going back from this. He wanted to make sure that she still wanted this, still wanted him.

“Are you sure?” He pulled away from her lips to allow her to answer, leaning his cheek against her hand once more, his eyes looking straight into hers.

“Yes.” Her voice was so sure as she held his gaze. It caused something in his chest to rise and flutter madly. “I want you to be my first.”

Overwhelmed by the surge of emotions, he found himself unable to suppress his feelings. Yes, he desired her, but it went beyond physical attraction. He yearned for more than just her body. He desperately and selfishly wanted her heart too.

“I don’t just want to be your first.” He told her, pressing a soft kiss into the palm of her hand. “I want to be the only one.”

“Yes, yes.” She nodded her head at him and though her eyes were clouded with lust, she genuinely meant it. She yearned to be his and his only. Heart and soul. “You’re all I can think about.”

“Gods, you’ll be my ruin.” He uttered a sigh as he fisted his cock. He rubbed his length along her entrance, coating it with her arousal before sliding the tip in.

Valeria let out a gasp as he slowly pushed himself further. His hands found hers, intertwining their fingers together and resting them on either side of her head. He sweetly kissed the tears from her eyes and stilled inside her, allowing her to adjust to his size. Blood pounded through his body, his heart surging with fervor as she felt so heavenly wrapped around him tightly. 

He’d imagined this moment before, on nights where his thoughts were consumed with her. He’d imagine what noises she’d make, what she’d feel like, how she’d beg for him. To finally have her like this, it surpassed his wildest dreams. 

And when she was begging for him to move, he happily obliged. 

“You’re taking me so well.” He praised as he thrusted into her, slow and hard, all the way until his hips were flushed against hers. "Fuck, you're so perfect."

  His thrusts grew quicker and harder, his shadows frenzied around him as he continued to draw out her pleasure. She was a sobbing mess beneath him. When he felt her pulsing around him, he sent a shadow to rub against her clit while his lips claimed hers. She moaned lewdly into his mouth.

His pace picked up, pounding into her mercilessly as their scents merged as one. His grip on her hands tightened as his hips stuttered into her. She tilted her head back, their kiss now all tongue and barely lips as she tightened around him.

Release tore through their bodies and when their eyes met, they were a beautiful and panting mess.

Through the window, the moon's soft embrace casted a gentle glow, illuminating her face as his shadows lingered behind him, admiring her beauty. She was the radiant light, and he, the comforting darkness. They existed in an unspoken unity.

She held his heart, and he, unreservedly, belonged to her.

***

tag list:  @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

a/n: I was inspired by a comment @kemillyfreitas made on one of the imagines and decided that if her father won't show her love, at least Thesan will. I have a soft spot for the high lord of dawn <3

I contemplated so much about this moment between Az and Val because it was definitely going to happen. It was just a matter of when. I wanted to save it for the actual storyline but ultimately, thought it was best for it to happen much sooner. They are aware that there's something special between them (Az more so than Val) but instead of letting words/reason guide them, they're being guided by their feelings and desire. also, if things are unclear or you would like clarification on some things, feel free to ask. I'll answer them happily!

songs I listened to while writing this on repeat: kingdom fall by claire wyndham, i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys if you couldn't tell by the dialogue lol, feels like by gracia abrahams. I did make a playlist for songs I listen to while I write. I want to incorporate some of the lyrics into the imagines.