#haha drip(stone)

[oleander-neruim]

Oddities & mystery reside in the caverns of Gobland. Watch your step, Traveller.

Inktober Day 7: Drip

Dripstone for the day? Absolutely.

Sausage is just going down for a little adventure , nothing bad will happen. Probably.

Here's the sketch & flat penning

I love taking pictures of the sketch & flat penning cos seeing it come to life with the detailed penning scratches all the good parts of my brain

[latenightdaydreams]

Had a dream

Recruits make a bet on who can scare Colonel König

first. Money for the winner. Stupid idea I know lol

Got me thinking about

Hiding under his desk when hes out of his office. Him coming back later and locking his door. Sitting down in his chair. Just as your about to grab his leg to scare him he undoes his belt and pants.

Recruit wants his cock in their mouth

This isn't stupid at all! Sounds like a porn set up haha

Let's Make a Bet (g/n)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: bets, voyeurism, oral, mention of sex, masturbation

1.2k word count

.

.

Colonel König is a stoic man, never showing any emotions. Never laughs at jokes, crying at sad moments, or even showing fear when face to face with death. The man is made of stone. That’s when you and another recruit got the stupid idea to try and scare him; whoever wins gets $200. Shaking hands, you both accepted the challenge.

Your fellow recruit first tried something small and simple, a tarantula in the break room. König simply looked at it, picked it up, and walked it outside, totally confused. Small pranks like these didn’t shake the man so you decided to turn it up a notch.

When you knew König would be out of his office running drills, you decided to sneak into his office. Your heart pounds as you enter. You’re small enough to fit comfortably so you crawl under the large wooden desk and wait.

A half hour passes before you hear the door open, König muttering about things in German as he locks the door behind him. He walks over to his desk chair and sits down, facing sideways. You wait until he turns to try and scare him. 

You hear the clicking sound of his mouse and occasionally the keyboard when finally, he turns to face you. You wait a little while trying to suppress your giggles from the excitement. König types quickly and then relaxes back in his chair.

Just as you’re about to grab his legs, his hand moves to his belt buckle and you watch as he unbuckles his belt. His hand unbuttoning his cargos before pulling his zipper down. You watch as he pulls out his flaccid dick, which looks like your boyfriends fully erect. The smell of his natural musk after a long day of sweating fills the space. Instantly you feel yourself getting turned as you watch in anticipation. 

From his computer, you hear soft sounds of moaning and you realize he is watching porn. His cock slowly getting erect, he grabs it and pulls the foreskin back, exposing his bright pink head. His hand begins to lazily stroke himself unaware that you’re under the desk watching. His cock is massive, porn star huge, and you’d love nothing more than to know what it feels like.

With one of your hands, you slowly begin to rub yourself through your pants, your own arousal growing by the second as you watch his hand begin to move faster. Small moans leaving König’s lips as you see precum begin to drip from his tip. His other hand came down to tug on his balls. 

You feel an overwhelming want to just suck his cock. Taste how his bitter cum would taste on the tip of your tongue. Trying to decide where to go from here, you just continue to watch as you please yourself. 

König’s hand slows as he moves the one from his balls back to his mouse and seems to be looking for a different video to watch. You take a deep breath, one you think König heard, so you gently rest your hands on his lap.

You won the bet; König jumps in his seat and screams like a small child as he kicks his desk back. He looks down and sees you.

“I’m sorry I know this looks so weird,” you begin to explain in almost a panicked ramble.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” König shouts, his mask hiding his red face full of embarrassment.

 “I- I,” you stumble over your words before deciding to just be bold, “I want to suck your cock.”

“What?” König’s defensive demeanor changes slightly as he hears your words. He couldn’t believe his ears. He always found you attractive, so to be put in this situation, he feels as if this is a dream. 

“Let me help you cum.” You look at his hand trying to cover himself.

He looks down at his cock losing its erection because of the fear, and then up at you with desire in your eyes.

“Are- are you serious?” He sounds slightly unsure.

“I am…”

König sits for a while before he nods his head and motions for you to move out from under the desk. You crawl forward and kneel before him. 

His piercing blue eyes gaze down at you as you inch closer to his cock, his hand slowly moving to the side so you can grasp it with your own. He lets out a soft shuddering breath as you do. You slowly stroke his cock as you look up at him, his eyes have softened.

You lower your head and pull his foreskin back before flicking your tongue on the tip of his cock. König’s breathing begins to pick up, his eyes shifting to the frozen porn and then back to you.

“Can you take your shirt off?” He asks feeling a little nervous asking for something extra.

You gladly lean back and pull your shirt off, König looks over your body and smirks under his mask. Your skin looks so soft and beautiful. As you lean back down and begin to lick his cock again. He reaches out and begins to caress your bare shoulders and down your arms, you feel as soft as you look.

Holding his cock up, you lick his balls. Gently taking one into your mouth at a time and sucking on them while on of your hands strokes his cock. Your tongue licking them all over, making them slobbery before moving your attention back to his cock.

You wrap your lips around his cock finally and he lets out a soft moan. You lower your head on his length, taking in a few inches, sucking as you bob your head. König looks down at you, eyebrows pinched beneath his mask.

“Just like that Schatz,” He leans his head back and closes his eye; letting the waves of pleasure take over.

One of his hands moves to the back of your head and gently pets your hair, resisting the urge to shove your head down farther on his cock. The room filled with the sound of your mouth desperately wanting to please him and his small moans.

Your hands grasp his thighs as you push your head down further, making yourself gag. His hand applies slight pressure to help you get his girthy cock into your tight throat. His hips bucking upwards slightly as spit begins to pool at the corners of your stretched lips. He looks down at you and stares in awe at you before his eyes travel down what he can see of your body.

He looks back at the frozen porn of a woman bent over and he looks back at you. Your eyes looking up at him noticing his want. Slowly releasing his cock from your mouth, a line of spit connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

König doesn’t speak, just nods. His eyes look as if they’re glossed over with a lustful daze. You stand up in front of him, his eyes traveling down your body. You begin to undress in front of him. His hand reaches out and caresses your hips before standing himself, his pants dropping to his ankles. He grabs your waist and turns you around, pushing you gently down onto his desk. Your face touching the cold wood as you feel excitement rush through your body. He steps behind you and squeezes your ass before lining himself up with you.

You won the $200 bet and get to experience your first BWC, it’s been a pretty good night.

[kingcael]

yes, please, what inspired the portraits of the gods? did Matt/Brennan have ideas or did they give you free reign? i particularly like the paint dripping down, it feels so...authentic.

When the concept of the project was being brought up Hannah kindly asked me to join for the Divine aspect and together we had come up with murals or secret shrines within Aeor, so that’s why the characters are all depicted with the stone wall. We worked a bit with everyone, actually the players had done a lot of thought and had some excellent input about their gods! I also referred to the Taldorei Campaign guide for any bit of canonical appearance but largely I had a lot of freedom. We all generally agreed the idea of secret shrines behind walls or painted in forgotten ruins was a good one and everyone signed off on it!

When I was painting them I imagined painting them as a follower might, so some of them have hastily done sections, or areas carved and overworked like many different hands contributed to the piece. Notably the Wildmother has the moss, which I imagined people would connect with her by touching her image with hands covered in blood or water to nourish the moss.

The Dawnfather and Everlight also represent life and light, but I cast more shadows on the Everlight where the Dawnfather is painted to make you almost squint with his brightness. The Raven Queen was not particularly far from our original concept sketch for proof of concept, she definitely encompasses vibes I enjoy painting haha

Hannah and I worked in tandem to make them overlap 1:1 which was an interesting challenge but the animation when they invoke their godly forms worked exactly how we hoped!

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[kassiekole22]

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

His Angel

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader

Description: Desperate to save your boyfriend, Josh, you travel through the mines alone to find him, soon to have a bittersweet reunion...

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mention Of Death.

Word Count: 735

A/N: The queen of fluff and angst is back, bitches!!! Haha, just kidding. I'm not the queen. 😂 But I am back and plan on delivering some brand new fics to the Until Dawn fanbase to celebrate the remake, starting with this fic here. I hope you enjoy it. 🖤 (Find all my fics at #kassieuntildawnfanfics until I can fix my masterlist, and comment to let me know if you want to be added to the new taglist!)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

She screams his name, her voice echoing off the rocks walls and dirt pathways, traveling for miles through the underground tomb but falling on the deaf ears of the dead. She runs through the rugged maze that is these old mines, while fear grips her heart tightly. But she isn't as afraid of the possible dangers that lurk in the shadows as she is afraid of losing that one person she searches for.

Jagged stones scrape and cut her flesh as she climbs, painting the environment crimson with her blood. The harsh cold air bites fiercely at her skin, freezing through to her bones enough to cause nothing but a painful numbness to course through her limbs. The agony she feels is more intense than anything she has ever been through, but she must keep going. Her love for him fuels her strength as she pushes through and bears it all.

She won't stop until she finds him... Death wouldn't even get in her way...

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

He sits with his head in his hands, his body trembling from the freezing temperature and his deep fear of isolation. He wishes for redemption—to see her again and make things right. It is the only thing that keeps him holding on anymore. He chews at his dry and cracked lip while familiar voices echo in his brain. Are the memories? Did he create them? Were they even real? He doesn't know. Though he hopes that some day he can get some answers.

But suddenly—amist the sadist voices swirling around his mind—another voice calls out. It's much sweeter than the rest, with a hint of sorrow and a broken sob mixed within it. Though it still sounds warm, just like home. It takes him a moment before he can comprehend the voice, until she is crouching before him and taking his bruised cheeks in her icy, frostbitten hands.

His pale blue eyes lift up, and a gasp of a shaken breath leaves him at the sight of her. Soaking wet hair frames her dirty face, and a few trickles of blood drip from a wide cut on her forehead and a few more from falling from her lips. Then his eyes glance back down to see even more blood covering her clothes. He wants to ask what happened to her, but he can only muster up one word to speak...

"Angel..." He whispers, which filters through a cold breath, parting his chapped lips ever so slightly.

She smiles faintly at this as her glistening eyes light back up with life. It was a word that always made her heart flutter, just as long as it came from him. She wraps her arms around him, embracing him like it will be the last time she ever gets to. And he rests his head on her shoulder while returning the embrace, sighing happily now that he is right back where he belongs. Although she looks a mess, she couldn't look better to him in this moment. His angel—the girl who had saved him time and time again—was finally back in his arms. He couldn't be more grateful for it.

And she is grateful that he didn't hear it—the screams that tore from her blood-stained lips as her stomach and other vital organs got ripped out by the wendigo. He didn't need the guilt weighing him down any further than he had already sunk. She may have died trying to find him, but she reached her goal in the end. She vowed that not even death would stop her. And even though it tried right before she got to him, she continued to push through due to her overwhelming love for him. 

Now she will watch over him while he waits to be saved, maybe even while he tries to heal in the hospital and longer if she's allowed to leave this place. She would hold his hand while he learns of her fate, even if he doesn't know of her presence. She knows that deep down, he would still feel her near. She would watch him find love again and raise a family like they had talked about in the past. Despite the pain of that future no longer being with her, she would watch with a tearful smile, proud of him for all he overcame. She would continue to protect him from beyond for years—she would continue to be his angel.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch16

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4,Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15

Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, sexual thoughts, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff, touch starved, shower sex

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You felt like you were in a movie.

Penthouses like this only existed there! Who would have thought that people truly lived in homes like this. For whatever reason, you thought Miguel would have a regular apartment like you.

You forgot that he was a CEO.

Miguel's bathroom felt nearly the size of your own little apartment. It was large and quiet fancy. Hell, he had a hot tub, a regular stone tub and a large, beautiful rainfall shower.

"Whoa, does your toilet speak too?" You asked, honestly curious at this point.

"Haha,"

Miguel burst into a small fit of laughter towards your cuteness. He took your hand and started to kiss you. Pressing you against the wall, Miguel reached his hand towards the shower, turning the water on with ease.

"Mhpm, Miguel~"

"Have another question?" Miguel asked as he took off his shirt.

You tried to say something, but Miguel captured your lips with another passionate kiss. His tongue exploring your mouth as his hands worked their magic. Your clothes slipping off with ease one after the other.

"W-What...mhm~ What d-desires...do you have?" You asked between kisses.

Miguel grunted softly as he took off the rest of your clothes. He took his off and pressed you against the shower wall...Water rolling down your skin.

"A family," Miguel groaned as he lifted you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist, "Kids of my own."

Your heart started to race as Miguel stared into your eyes. His harden dick rubbing against your dripping crotch. Your body grew hotter, feeling Miguel's growing sex drive. All it took was one sentence and you would be Miguel's all night.

"Hah, that's...sweet," You managed to say, wishing to have Miguel ravish your entire being, but not yet.

"After we deal with this mess, I'll make sure to fill you so much, (Y/N). I want you to have my babies," Miguel groaned lowly.

"I'd like that,"

Honestly, you couldn't think straight. The steam from the shower along with Miguel's kisses and grinding was fogging your brain. All you could focus on was his touch and how much you wanted him to fuck you.

Wrapping your arms around Miguel's neck, you whimpered and whined as he teased your aching hole. His dick just poking against it, begging for entrance.

Like a starved man, Miguel's kisses became rougher. His grip tighten as he lifted you slightly. Your body arched slightly as you felt Miguel begin to enter your body.

The pain soon subsided as you felt full. Miguel made his home inside you, making sure to fill you to the brim. You had gotten used to the size of Miguel's dick by now. Sure, it still made your brain fuzzy, but it felt so good.

Clenching against his dick, you whimpered a moan. Miguel understood as he started to move. Unsure if it was the shower or you, everything felt hotter. Miguel was able to thrust into you with ease, sending shivers up your spine.

Resting your head into his shoulder, you tried to hold onto Miguel, but you felt your body grow weak with every thrust. His tip hitting your cervix with each thrust into you. His dick stretching you out and making a home inside your cunt.

Miguel gripped your ass as he pumped into you. Every thrust getting rougher and quicker. Pressing you against the wall, Miguel started to grunt and moan in your ear as you kept squeezing his cock.

"Fuck, want you now, (Y/N)." Miguel hissed.

Your head was getting foggy and it was getting slightly hard to breathe from the steam. Feeling the pool of heat getting more intense, you cried out a loud moan as you cam from another thrust.

"Good girl,"

"M-Mig," You muttered.

Miguel grunted as he held your hips, giving you a few more pumps before unloading inside you. Inhaling deeply, you whined softly as you felt your womb filling up. Relaxing for just a moment, you gasped as Miguel bend you down, your ass towards him.

"Miiiig," You whined, your chest pressed against the wall.

"Just once more," Miguel whispered in your ear, sliding his dick inside you again, "My cute clumsy, (Y/N). So perfect, taking my dick so well."

"Mhm~"

"Taking such good care of me," Miguel kissed your shoulders as his hips slapped into yours, "For staying with me."

"Ah~ Miguel~" You cried out.

Your legs were shaking and your arms grew weak. The pleasure was overwhelming you. Biting your lower lip as Miguel kept kissing your back, you leaned forward as his hands played with your breasts.

His dick feeling like it went deeper with each balls deep thrust Miguel gave you. Your pussy clenching and sucking him in more, begging for more. You were at war with your own body, desperate for more pleasure.

"God, it's so tempting to make you mine now, (Y/N)." Miguel grunted, kissing your ear, "I promise to tell you everything."

--------

Miguel grunted softly as he looked down at your naked body. Water streaming down your sides as he kept thrusting into you. Your head resting against the shower wall as your moans grew sloppier and louder.

Chuckling softly, Miguel groaned as you cam once more against him. He held your body up before giving you a final few thrusts. His seed pouring into you once more.

"I love you, (Y/N)." Miguel whispered in your ear before giving you a gentle kiss.

Lifting you up gently, Miguel made sure to wash you thoroughly. Your peaceful expression making him feel better about confessing to you. To think he managed to have someone like you.

His precious little mouse.

Miguel was determined to protect you. Miguel was determined to make sure that you knew everything about him. Just the thought of you leaving him hurt. The thought of Dana hurting you boiled Miguel's rage.

"I won't let her ruin this."

Miguel grunted softly as he finished washing you, drying you and then putting on his pajamas on you. Once he put on his own pants, Miguel grabbed his phone and decided to make a few phone calls.

This was something worth fighting for.

You were worth fighting for.

Miguel was not going to let Dana win this. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure that the two of you stay together without worries.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson @ivkygirly @reader-1290 @daddyfroglegs @eepybunny0805 @ddreabea @iamperson12280 @migueloharasoulmate @tojishugetiddies @koko-1025 @hyeinwluv85s @daisy-artfield @migueloharastruelove @a-lil-whore @hcqwxrtss123 @the-pan-liquid @tojisfav @pochapo @bubblegumfanfictions @brighterthanlonelythoughts @ghstypaint @mangoslushcrush @synamonthy @scaleniusrm @moonspectorx @dorck26 @a060403 @lunablackcosplay @soraya-daydreams @lovefanfic1 @mymrsweirdnessshipperstuff-blog @pretty-pink-princesss @corpsebridenightamare @razertail18 @gachagator @droolingmuttt @miguelsfavwife @ryzguy06 @raideaters-blog @manishkaworld @keidilla @byjessicalotufo @pigeonmama @k3ythesapphic @acesangels @stealingyourturts @angel-xx-1 @amberbalcom14 @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @oscarissac2099 @keepghostly @zeyzeys-stuff @k3ythesapphic @nightingale1011 @uncle-eggy @safixiovi @flaps200 @dahehow @weirdothatwritess @gerblinradio @electronicchaoschaos @mafiaanomaly @keyisloved @unwrittenletter @reader4life @leenasgirl200 @oscarissac2099 @mari0-o @cinnamoro1l @leryg0 @hizzielover @resident-clown @girl-of-multi-fandoms @sana-408-blog

[simplygojo]

Let's Play A Game...

Prompt: “Lets play a game; don’t get caught”

Authors Note: I have not written something like this in a WHILE. This was requested/suggested on one of the prompt lists I reblogged by @smsm22. Thank you for requesting thissss, I needed a little push so I hope you like it.

I did struggle a bit but I think this is a good little blurb to re-introduce me to writing smut, haha!!! I am sorry because I do feel like this could be better, but this is the best I can do right now, I will improve on my smut writing asap, 🫡 .

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x f/reader

Word Count : 1K

Warnings : 18+ ONLY!! Power Dynamics, Smut

The cursed energy in the air was suffocating, thick and dark as Ryomen Sukuna’s voice echoed through the shadowed temple halls. You could feel him before you even saw him—his presence coiling around you like a predator toying with prey.

“Let’s play a game,” Sukuna’s voice slithered into the silence, his tone dripping with amusement. His form materialized from the darkness, crimson eyes glowing with a sinister light. A mocking grin curled his lips as he stalked forward, each step slow, deliberate. “The rules are simple: don’t get caught.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest. You never thought this was a situation you’d be in. You had heard about the king of curses before, but never thought you’d be this involved. 

The sheer intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, but instinct kicked in—survival. You forced your feet to move, bolting down the stone corridor of his own domain, your movements frantic but silent. You knew this game was stacked against you. Outrunning Ryomen Sukuna was impossible, but if you could just buy a little time…

His laughter, low and cold, echoed through the empty halls. “You can run, little one,” he mocked, “but you can’t hide from me.”

The shadows swallowed you as you darted into an alcove, pressing yourself against the rough stone wall. Your heart pounded against your ribs, each breath shallow, controlled. You couldn’t let him hear you—couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how terrified you were.

For a moment, everything was still. Too still.

And then his voice, dark and taunting, broke the silence. “Found you.”

Before you could even register the movement, Sukuna’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around both your wrists like iron. He yanked you from your hiding spot with terrifying ease, slamming you back against the wall, a satisfied grin creeping onto his face. You barely had time to gasp before his body was pressed against yours; his eyes roved over you like a predator savouring its catch. “Hmmmmm…” he growled, “You’re one of the better-looking ones…”

Sukuna’s hand slid to your throat, his grip firm but teasing, his thumb brushing your pulse point. You were completely vulnerable. He leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek as he growled, “You really thought you could run from me? How pathetic.”

His lips ghosted along your jaw, the contact sending a shiver down your spine despite the overwhelming heat radiating from him. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, his hand sliding down to your waistband and yanking down your pretty panties with force. His hold on your wrists was unbreakable as his free hand explored your thighs and travelled back up to your clothed breasts. 

There was no space left between your bodies now—just the overwhelming presence of Sukuna and the electric tension sparking between you. 

And the worst part was—you liked it.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, his voice low, leaking with satisfaction. “Good.”

Sukuna’s lips found the side of your neck, his mouth rough and possessive as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your skin, his teeth grazing dangerously as you let out a loud gasp, practically hanging from your wrists in front of him as he watched your squirm. His other hand trailed up your side, fingers tracing over the fabric of your clothes, teasing but commanding. Each touch, every brush of his skin against yours, sent waves of heat pooling in your stomach.

“You look scared,” he taunted, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “And yet…” He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “You’ve stayed still here, just for me. What a good girl you are.”

The space between you vanished as Sukuna’s mouth crashed against yours, his kiss aggressive, consuming. His lips moved with a dominating hunger, his teeth biting at your bottom lip with a growl of satisfaction. The kiss was punishing, meant to remind you of exactly who was in control, and yet it left you breathless, your body betraying the fear coursing through you.

His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as if marking you as his. The air crackled with cursed energy, and with each kiss, each rough touch, Sukuna made it clear—there was no escape. You lost.

Sukuna pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “You’re mine now, whether you like it or not,” he purred, voice dripping with arrogance. His hand slid under your shirt, fingers cold against your heated skin, tracing slow, deliberate patterns along your stomach before moving down toward your soaked pussy. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re trembling.” He said, shoving his long fingers deep into you, absolutely giddy watching your reaction. 

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your body reacting to him in ways you didn’t fully understand. His mouth was back on your body, kissing and biting it while still under his iron grip above your head. His grip was harsh; you could feel his power reverberating through your skin with every touch, every bite. You could tell how much he reveled watching you fight your natural instincts and surrender your precious body to him.

“Let’s see how much you can take,” Sukuna whispered darkly against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone as he removed his fingers from your dripping cunt, positioning himself to fully enter you. He chuckled, low and threatening, his teeth scraping against your skin as he kissed the base of your throat. “You’ve already lost.”

---

Author's Note II: Just a short blurb for this one, I am still getting used to not writing academic papers lol. Always open to feedback :)

[lovelizards]

"No! No, please!"

Whynne screamed, and thrashed against the ropes that bound her, but all she could do was watch as her entire party was slaughtered right in front of her.

She'd tried so hard to warn them. The rope knot gag had done its job, they hadn't heard her, hadn't understood the dangers. It didn't matter what happened to her, but how could she let them die like this?

"Whynne! We're coming, hold on!" Thats what Malcolm had shouted across the throne room to her, his sword already drawn.

"Let her go, you sick cunt!" Else had roared, her grip white-knuckled around her holy symbol.

"Your friends have arrived," the man, the villain she had come to know as 'Mael', whispered too-close into her ear, "don't you want to talk to them one last time?"

He'd ripped the gag away, burning the corners of her mouth against the rope.

"It's a trap!" She'd cried, "You have to get out! It's a -!"

The rest was drowned out by a deep earthy rumbling, the crashing of stones grinding against each other, and wild, elated laugher from Mael - as shadowy spears shot up from the floor, and tore through her friends faster than she could blink.

The hall echoed with cries of pain and surprise, blood splattered the walls and nauseous horror threatened to overcome her. Her breathing was jagged, strained, as she pulled against the ropes.

"No! No, please!"

Mael held her fast, stronger than he seemed - something she'd become familiar with after a week of being thrown around by him. She thought she could endure it, as long as her friends were safe, she could endure anything...but not this...please, not this!

"How beautifully you led them to their deaths," Mael snickered, "adventurers are truly fools! Ah, I love it - oh my, it seems some of them survived the first wave, what shall I do?"

Tears streamed from her eyes as she watched the two stronger party members tremble, and hold fast against the pressure and pain of the spikes. Blood soaked through their clothes, and dripped into puddles on the tiles.

"Please, please - you can - you can do whatever you want to me, just let them go! I'm begging you, please, just - just let them go!"

"What a tantalizing offer, you must really care for your friends..."

"I - I do - I - they're all that matters to me! So - so please -"

Mael waved a hand, and the shadowy spikes disappeared into puffs of dark smoke. Everyone fell to the ground, groaning, and Whynne allowed herself - stupidly, naïvely - a moment of relief.

"Pfft - but don't you already know?" Mael laughed, jerking her ropes back hard, "I can already do whatever I want to you! Nothing you or your pathetic mortal friends do could ever stop me! Haha~!"

"No, please - aghh!" She was silenced by the gag again, despite shaking her head, trying to fight it.

The shadow spikes shot up from the floor a second time.

Whynne's heart felt like it stopped. She couldn't breathe.

Then the spikes disappeared again, dropping the bodies back to the floor. They struck again, and then disappeared again. Over and over, until the hall was finally quiet.

No more groans of pain from her friends. No more movement.

She managed one or two weak gasps of breath, blinded by tears that burned in the back of her throat, and she screamed. She screamed, and thrashed, and fought to break free.

Until, eventually, she was so overcome with grief that she fell slack; all she could do was sob over the gruesome, bloody mess that used to be her friends.

 『 Previous / Next 』

[witchezandwonderz]

Chains and Promises

Pairing: Sihtric x Reader

Request: can you do 5 from your prompt list with sihtric please?

Request Quote: "If you can’t hold your tongue, perhaps you should find someone else to sharpen it."

A.N- I really don't know where I went with this one loool just go with it haha

The cell was small and damp, its stone walls slick with moisture. Y/N sat upright, her now numb back pressed against the icy structure. She had lost feeling everywhere, including her heart. Seven hours, she had counted, that she had been stuck in this dreadful place. Peering up, she looked through the solid bars on the one window that sat high up. She had spent seven whole hours attempting to think of ways in which she can escape, but alas, it seemed nearly impossible.

The silence began to deafen her, the only sound keeping her sane being the harsh clank of the chain around her wrists whenever she made a slight movement. She wondered when someone would come and get her, put her out of her misery. At least if she was dead she wouldn't have to sit in this hell hole any longer.

The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the cell, and she held her breath in anticipation, fighting the creeping feeling of fear that tried to overwhelm her. No matter what, do not show fear.

"Why do we not just kill her?" She heard a voice whisper, or an intended whisper at least.

"That is not how my lord Uhtred works." A voice replied bluntly. She had heard of this lord before, but had never had the pleasure of displeasure of meeting him.

"You do not know how dangerous she is." The other man replied, still in attempt to speak in a hushed tone. Y/N found great amusement at these words, causing her lips to curve into smile. She had always wondered this; why is it that when a man shows intelligence, whit and cunning behaviours, they are praised. But when she, a woman, shows the same, she is branded as 'dangerous'. Stupid men.

Y/N thought this would be a great opportunity to capitalise on this unknown mans stereotypes. She, as quietly as possible, rose to her feet. She could hear the two men now conversing, distracted, so she crept up next to the locked door and peered her head out.

"Dangerous? Is that what they're calling me now?" She spoke loudly, with the intention of scaring them both. One man jumped, nearly out of his own skin. Whereas the other man did not react in the slightest. She could tell from this, which man had said what, as their differences in personality were clear.

"Stay back, girl." The cowardly man said, his voice shaking.

Y/N's chains jingled as she jokingly raised her arms in defence. "ooo sorry, I will be a good little girl and do what I am told." She responded, sarcasm dripping from every word as she plopped herself back down on the floor lazily.

"See, what did I tell you, dangerous!" The man emphasised the word 'dangerous'. The other man, whom seemed to only speak when absolutely necessary, smirked at the scene that played out before him.

"Yeah, really dangerous." He said, sarcasm also dripping from his words. "Why don't you go back to your post, I think I will be fine."

The less confident, shall we say, man's face screwed up, showing clear disapproval towards the idea. " I am not sure, my friend, I think that I should help you."

She watched in amusement as the other man rolled his eyes. He clearly wanted to be left alone. So, she felt it would be best to help. And also have some fun of her own. She crept once more to the door, now pushing her head through as much as possible before shouting "BOO" as loudly as she could. The man jumped, physically and screamed before bounding away. Y/N laughed, shouting "I don't think this job is your calling." As he ran away.

She turned her attention to the other man, whom watched her carefully in amusement. She licked her dry lips. "Wow, so now I am left with the handsome one." He laughed at her words, playfully rolling his eyes. This will be easy, she thought.

"Do you speak?" She asked, he did not respond, so she tried her luck again. "Do you have a name?"

He stopped what he was doing briefly to look at her, before stating the word "Sihtric" and continuing his business.

She nodded. "So you do not speak but your name is in fact Sihtric."

Sihtric did not look up, humming in response to her words. "Tell me, Y/N, what exactly is it that makes you so" He paused and look at her, then smiled before finishing his sentence, "dangerous?"

Y/N rolled her eyes before responding. "You tell me, since everyone thinks that I am so dangerous, what have you heard?"

He thought for a moment, now stopping what he was doing and sitting down, observing her through the bars. "I heard that you are a talented blade-smith that has been planning a rebellion against the King."

Y/N scoffed, letting out a slight laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the rumour. "You see, Sihtric, this is the problem with men." She stood, leaning closer through the bars, but Sihtric did not move back. "They can't stand it when a woman has more to offer than a bedding, they can't stand it when a woman is more intellectual and more talented than them."

Sihtric chuckled, nodding his head. "You are correct, they cannot stand those things, no." He agreed. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Are you not a man, then?" She asked, half jesting, half serious; she had never expected him to agree, for she was used to being told to 'sit down and shut up'.

A hint of amusement flickered in Sihtric's dark eyes. "Oh, I absolutely am a man. But, unlike Saxon men, I think of all those characteristics to be very attractive in a woman." He smirked. Y/N leant closer. "Is that so?" She asked, ensuring her eyes locked into his. He hummed in respnse.

"But." He held up a finger, "You are a prisoner for a reason, and you will have a long time to explain the events to me because we have a long ride to Uhtred." He explained, now beginning to unlock her cell.

Sihtric’s smirk lingered as he swung the cell door open, the creak of iron hinges echoing through the dimly lit space. Y/N rose slowly, her chains rattling softly as she stepped forward. Her sharp gaze never left his, her mind already working through what lay ahead.

“And here I thought you were simply enjoying the conversation,” she quipped, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Oh, I am,” Sihtric replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “But duty first. Lord Uhtred will want to hear your story himself.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “And what of you, Sihtric? Do you believe I’m guilty, or will you decide after this ‘long ride’ of ours?”

His dark eyes softened slightly, he leant down to unlock the chains that held her captive- only the ones on her ankles, however. "It does not matter what I think, Uhtred will decide." And with that, he gestured her to walk through the door.

Y/N wriggled her ankles slightly, relieved that they were no longer being held down by thick, painful, heavy chains. He instructed that she went before him, so that he could ensure she wasn't going to run off.

"Scared I'll escape?" She teased, peering over her right shoulder. He grunted, so she continued, "Don't worry, I would be dim to try and run away from a man as good looking as you."

She did not have the pleasure of seeing his reaction, but she would have loved too. He thanked the gods for the lack of light within the room, for his cheeks were bright red and flushed; he had never met a woman like her. He told himself to replace his ridiculous thoughts with serious ones, remember why he was here- he could not let a woman outsmart him with flirtatious tactics. He thought about his words wisely.

"If you can’t hold your tongue, perhaps you should find someone else to sharpen it." He called out loud enough for her to hear, his tone firm. She laughed in response.

"Ah, yes, could I count on you to sharpen my tongue? Have you imagined what my tongue can do?" She asked sweetly, now looking directly at him as they both halted before his horse.

He cursed under his breath- she had a comeback for everything, and it didn't help that she was one of the most gorgeous women he had ever laid his eyes on- scrap that. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He took a deep breath, and decided not to reply to her. She smirked at this, at the way his jaw tightened and his teeth gritted. He gestured up at the horse, implying that she get on. So, in a practiced motion, she swung her legs over the horse- enjoying the familiar feeling.

His eyes lingered on her as Y/N approached the horse, the sway of her hips drawing his attention like a moth to flame. She placed a boot into the stirrup, the motion pulling her tunic taut against her figure, revealing the curve of her thighs. The fabric shifted as she lifted herself gracefully into the saddle, and Sihtric’s throat dried at the sight. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if she knew exactly the effect she had on him.

As she leaned forward slightly to gather the reins, her tunic rode higher along her legs, revealing a sliver of skin that made his chest tighten. His gaze trailed over her, from the subtle dip of her waist to the curve of her hips, every line of her body etched into his mind like a brand.

He cursed inwardly, hating how easily his control slipped. She was a prisoner, for the love of the gods. He was supposed to be watching her for any sign of trouble, not letting his mind wander to thoughts he had no right to entertain.

She sat up straight, with the intention of showing off her curves to the man before her, who looked up at her with an almost animalistic hunger in his eyes.

"Come on, I thought you had a duty to carry out?" She called, pretending to not notice his distraction. He cleared his throat, before murmuring a quick "ah yes" and following her actions, thought not quite as slowly and seductively as she had conducted it. However, she too took quite a fascination at his toned arms as he straddled the horse. He sat behind her, and she peered behind her shoulder watching every movement he made.

"Ride" He commanded, refusing to look at her and instead attempting to focus on anything and everything else. "If you can prove that I can trust you then I may get you your own horse to ride."

She hummed. "Yes, sir, I will be a good girl." Before winking and turning her head back so it was now facing the road ahead.

As the weeks progressed, so did Y/N's attraction towards Sihtric, and unbeknownst to her, Sihtric had grown both a fondness and an attraction to his prisoner. Over the days, Y/Ns overly confident façade had slipped and her true personality shun through- she could not help it. She tried to stop herself from divulging information about herself, but spending hours on end with a person who you naturally get along with will only end one way. Sihtric's façade had slipped through too, for he was no longer giving her the cold shoulder and revelled in both the light hearted and deep conversations that they would have.

"Do you think he will find me guilty, Sihtric?" Y/N asked, randomly. Sihtric lowered the reigns that he held firmly in his hands, consequently slowing his horse down so that he was now riding next to her. He looked at her for a moment, clearly pondering her question. His gaze lingered on her face, studying the lines of worry that softened her usual confidence. “I believe what you say, and I think he will too” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady.

"But what if he does not?" Her words tumbled from her most almost immediately as he had stopped speaking, it was clear that it did not matter what he said.

"Then I will do what I have to do." He reached out his hand and placed it on her leg softly.

“Though I must admit, I’m not entirely sure whether I’d be fighting for your life... or my sanity.”

Her brow arched, a spark of amusement flickering in her eyes. “Your sanity?”

He leaned slightly closer, his dark gaze sweeping over her face and lingering on her lips for a moment too long. “You’ve been driving me mad since the moment I met you,” he said, his tone dropping to a low, teasing rumble. “That sharp tongue of yours should be a weapon in its own right. It’s a wonder you weren’t arrested for it alone.”

Y/N blurted out a laugh, one that she was instantly mortified for and so her hands flung towards her face in pure embarrassment. Sihtric heard a very muffled "oh no".

"What was that? I can't hear you." He teased, revelling in her vulnerability. Y/N peered through her hands at him, "leave me alone." She pouted, "I am embarrassed so please pretend that never happened." She laughed, half joking, half (very) serious.

"I did not realise that you were so shy." He smirked. "It is charming."

She playfully leant over to slap him on the shoulder. "I am not shy!" Y/N defended, now coming to a complete stop. Sihtric followed suit and halted his horse, too. "You just." She paused, looking at him- butterflies erupting in her stomach, as they did every time she looked at him. "It's your fault." She finished.

Sihtric grinned at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping low and teasing. "My fault, hmm?" He tilted his head, studying her closely. "How so?"

"You're too… distracting." Y/N looked up at him, her eyes locked into his. He stepped closer to her, closing the tiny gap that was left between them. "You know," he said softly, his voice low, "I don’t think you realise how beautiful you are when you’re not trying to hide behind that boldness of yours." His hand reached her face, where he gently swept lose pieces of hair away.

"Is that so?" She asked, her stomach erupting with fireworks, and her heart skipping a million beats. She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers. He nodded, humming a yes.

Before Y/N could say another word, Sihtric leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both fiery and tender, as if he had been waiting for this moment. The world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the rush of their emotions colliding.

Sihtrics hands found her waist, as he harshly gripped her and pulled her closer. In turn, Y/N’s placed her hands firmly on his chest, gripping him tightly as she kissed him back, the butterflies in her stomach exploding into something much deeper—something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. His lips were gentle at first, coaxing, but quickly deepened as the tension between them snapped. The kiss became more urgent, more desperate, and Y/N found herself leaning into him, as if she couldn’t get close enough.

She did not know what was going to happen to her, nor did she know how this had all happened. But what she did know, was that she was excited for her future with Sihtric, she just wished he would take the chains off.

[pumpkinbxtch]

Greetings again, since you replied that you write for Lester I wanted to give you my request, without obligation or rush obviously.  I had thought of a one-shot set during The Trials of Apollo where reader knows about Lester's crush on Reyna and is extremely jealous about it, so much so that when he is rejected, reader doesn't even want to give him a little support.  With a happy ending because I don't need my depression at my door!  Thanks again for your availability and I apologize for the inconvenience and misunderstandings since English is not my language.  ☀️

“hope python eats you” ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

— apollo x fem!reader

summary: do you like Apollo. does he like you? uhmm no. he likes Reyna and you're dying of jealousy. but perhaps the situation is not so hopeless. warning: swear words. a/n: heeyyyy, here you haveeeee. i'm hopin' that you like this. Reyna and Apollo's scene is one of my favorites, it makes me laugh how she reject him. haha, poor baby. Thank you for trusting me 💙 - Kisses from saturn, maría

Why did you have to get along so well with Reyna?

You took a sip of your apple juice and caught Apollo looking at her; those little glances, the nervous giggles and the babbling when he was around her.

You shifted in your seat, snorting and letting out small curses. Why did you have to fall in love with him? It was literally the worst.

Inside your thoughts you heard a gasp and felt water splashing right into your face. You looked ahead, disoriented. Apollo had red cheeks and stammered apologies.

— dork! — Meg shouted at him, hitting the guy on the shoulder. She looked at you and you rolled your eyes. It was like the third time Apollo ended up spilling his food just because Reyna caught him watching, always ended up all over you or Meg.

Cherry soda dripped from your chin.

He looked at you worried, more for his personal good because of what you could do to him.

— Sorry!

You lifted slightly from your seat and grabbed napkins to dry yourself.

— You are an idiot. I don't know why I don't help Python eat you.— You touched your cheeks.

— Hey!

Meg let out a laugh, making you break your scowl. How horrible love was.

—Gods, why me?! — Meg shouted, cutting her underbrush with her scimitar. You watched her out of the corner of your eye while you took stones and threw them with force. One of them with such force that it was buried in the surface of a fruit.

You wished that were the face of Apollo

— You wish it were Apollo's face.

You laughed and nudged Meg, clearly playing.

— Meg, kill me. I hate that I like your brother.

Meg shook her head and continued digging with the tips of her swords. You climbed a few more meters and the antenna was already visible.

— I don't understand how you like him.

You let out a whimper. 

A laugh echoed and both of you turned around.

—They're having a good time— You murmured, trying to escalate further. You tilted your head, trying to listen better. —Is that laugh from Reyna?

Meg narrowed her eyes at the sound and nodded. —yep.

Practically, after almost dying and hanging from high altitudes, you were able to eat in the comfort of the camp. But to be honest, your hands were still shaking.

You didn't know if it was because you had witnessed the death of another god or because you couldn't believe that Apollo had proposed to Reyna and that she had, in fact, rejected him.

Maybe it was the second.

The moans echoed around the table again.

— I'm an idiot.

Meg looked at you out of the corner of her eye. Your look was gone and half of your food was cold.

Maybe you were overwhelmed by everything, actually.

Another squeal from Apollo made you clench your fork.

— SHUT UP!

You screamed and threw the metal cutlery at him, making him scream.

—You should hug me and cry with me.

You snorted.

— Never, I don't know why you told Reyna your feelings like that!

—And how was I supposed to do it?

— You are the god of poetry, shouldn't you already know that? You are a fake.

Apollo let out an indignant groan. He looked to Meg for support, but she agreed with you by nodding and extending her palm towards you.

— she has a point. Hmmm — and she went back to devouring her salad.

You went to sleep, and the first to fall like a log was Meg. You kept trying to shrink and squeeze your eyes until they finally stuck together, and slept, but you couldn't.

Stayed quiet and played with the seams of the mat you were resting on. You felt overstimulated, very restless and miserable. Almost as always, but this time it was for love.

Meg's soft snores made you smile.

The three had been through a lot up to that point. You had gotten used to it and feared what would happen next. You couldn't hide what you were feeling anymore, it was unfair to your sleep cycle.

Apollo could be unbearable, but he had a good heart. He learned consideration and to value effort. You had become hooked on that part of him and ended up falling in love.

You pressed the seams of the pillow together and let out a sigh.

— You don't sleep, either?

His voice behind you made your heart race. You cursed in your mind. The least you wanted was to talk to him.

— I was about to — You mumbled, a certain meanness could be heard in your voice. Apollo laughed softly, it almost seemed like he was humming a song.

— Sorry.

You adjusted the sheet.

— Alright.

—I'm sorry for spitting soda so many times in your face.— You struggled and wanted to prevent your heart from feeling anything because of his clumsy way of apologizing. But it was not like that.

—It's okay, Apollo. No hard feelings.

—Have I done something to make you upset with me all the time?

The question was suspended, and your hands began to sweat.

— What are you talking about? — You were thankful that you still turned your back on him. Any trace of drowsiness was left behind.

— I know I'm clumsy and very new to being mortal, but I've learned a lot. Partly thanks to you.—He paused and tapped your shoulder. You were a fool for him, so you turned around, coming face to face with him.

His blue eyes shone in the moonlight. He was funny, he looked beautiful underneath the opposite side of him.

Artemis might have gagged if she'd heard you say that.

His curls made like a second pillow for him, and you thought that was cute.

— Really? — Your voice barely came out in a thread.

Apollo nodded and gave you a sweet, slightly lazy smile. He pulled his hand out from under his blanket and caressed the frame of your face. The contact made you shudder, but you didn't move away.

You longed for his touch and be the reason for him to spit juice in others' faces.

You imitated his action. arms were crossed, while carefully caressed each other. Taking care of yourselves.

Apollo's heart warmed, and he felt a tug in his stomach.

Maybe you could have a chance, and that night had begun.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

prompt8: urge ! I Love the way you describe all the Feelings in your stories :DD ( and keeping It gn so i can at least have my mxm Imagine haha xDD)

Hiiiiii so sorry it took so long, wrangling that muse is difficult. I did, however, manage to subdue it with the help of this post, much thanks to OP.

You feel it well up from deep within you. A barely contained fury, a dark sinister urge to rip apart those responsible for the scene before you. Orin smiles from her perch above Astarion, who is bound upon a slab whilst Orin's dagger rests just above his heart.

"Come to save your beloved?" She smiles at you eerily, twirling her dagger. You say nothing, mind clouding with anger as you walk down the steps towards the stage upon which Orin will perform her final dance. She laughs, eager to get the ritual started but your gaze remains cold.

You don't need a Slayer form to kill her.

What happens next is but a blur. All you know is that at the end of it all, Orin lies in a puddle of blood at your feet, gasping her last breaths as she reaches out to you. The Urge within you howls victoriously, eager for the feast and your ears ring, the shouts of your companions muffled. All you can focus on is the dying traitor in front of you. Blood roars in your ears, the beast inside hungrily calling for you to take your place as Bhaal's true chosen but when you deal the final blow, it's to save the man you love from Orin's clutches, not to become what your father wants you to be.

As your dagger tears through skin and flesh, ripping away Orin's final breath, the pained cry that slips past her lips sounds familiar, almost as though it were…

Astarion.

You blink and the scene before you changes. Astarion lies before you, bloodied by your blade, your magic, you, while the monster Orin laughs from her place upon the sacrifical stone slab. Your mind goes blank, arms falling to your sides as you crumble to the floor.

"Star." The word feels thick in your throat. Bile floods your mouth, making you sick and you resist the urge to gag. Blood bubbles from Astarion's lips as he tries to speak but all that comes out is a gurgle. His crimson eyes glare at you, as if blaming you for being unable to differentiate your lover from your sister. He's right to blame you, all this is your fault, all because of your inability to see past Orin's illusions. You can vaguely hear Orin cackling as your other companions fight their way to her, and then everything falls silent, save for the dripping of blood onto the stone floor. She's disappeared, leaving only a mocking thanks for your sacrifice to Bhaal.

"Star." The word comes out as a sob, your greatest fear now realised. Tears stream silently down your cheek but no one's there to comfort you. You've killed the one who was always there for you, gentle whispers of reassurance lost forever because of your bloodstained hands. Overwhelmed with grief and self-hatred, you scream.

And then you wake up.

Sweat clings to you like second skin, drenching your clothes. Your chest heaves with each gaping breath you take, your hands clammy and your face sticky with tears.

Astarion.

You whip around wildly, eyes frantically searching for your lover in what is slowly registering as your shared room. The vampire is peacefully trancing in the bed next to you, a singular crimson eye cracking open at your wild movements.

"Darling? Some of us are trying to sleep, you know."

Relief floods you at the sight and you collapse back onto the bed, nearly bursting into tears yet again. Then laughter takes over, your abdomen hurting from the effort.

Orin is dead. Astarion is alive, as alive as an undead can get.

Astarion rises to get a better look at you when he realises you're acting weird, concern colouring his face when he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. The snarky facade quickly fades, giving way to genuine worry. His cold fingers send tingles running up your spine as they run along your cheek, gently wiping away the stray tears that roll down.

"Orin's dead," you gasp out between the laughter. "Orin's dead."

"She is." Astarion is unnaturally quiet. His eyebrows are furrowed in worry, lips tentatively hovering over your forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You reach up, cupping his cheek, feeling the skin beneath your fingers. Your beloved is right here, in front of you, unharmed. Orin lies somewhere in the bowels of Baldur's Gate, carrion for the rats that lurk there. You exhale sharply, closing your eyes as you try to bring your heart rate under control once more.

"You're here." The words leave your lips in a shaky whisper. "You're here."

"I promised I'd always be, love. And I'm not one to break my promises." Astarion slips an arm around your waist, an invitation that you gladly take. You bury your face into his chest, muffling the sobs that you choke out and feel him curl around you, holding you tightly. You feel the kisses he presses to the top of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he holds the back of your head. The silver tongue from which honeyed words usually flow remains quiet, the only sound in the room being your sobs.

"I didn't kill you. I didn't sacrifice you to my father." The words are but a whisper, and yet his sharp ears catch each and every single one.

"Bhaal has no hold over you anymore, no more than Cazador has over me. You're no longer his captive, you're free. Free to do whatever you want without that Urge taking over, free to be more than just a creature who slaughters for the sake of it. I'll kill whoever tries to convince you otherwise." His grip on you tightens, fangs peeking out at the mention of killing.

You sniffle, clinging onto him as though he would suddenly disappear and nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. His underlying undead scent pokes through your clogged nose, a comforting scent, much to your amusement. Taking a deep breath, you dive into your still fractured mind, searching for the bloodthirsty Urge within but find nothing. Instead, a stillness you weren't aware of before resides where the Urge once lay, waiting to be filled with something else.

Astarion presses a kiss to your forehead, crimson gaze still resting on you. In his eyes you find a fondness he reserves only for you, an unwavering loyalty, and most of all, an undying love for the one he calls his significant other. Maybe the void within you can be filled after all, bloodlust replaced with gentleness, murder replaced with love. Your hands will never be clean, that much you know, but perhaps they needn't be stained with more needless bloodshed, not while you remain free of your father.

You tilt your head up, pressing your lips against his and savour the moment. You're free, truly free, and this is proof of that.

[hyunsvngs]

You've convinced me that Han Jisung has a piss kink, like it's just canon in my head at this point.

I feel like he'd be the type of boyfriend with no boundaries. If you live together and there's only one bathroom, he's coming in with you (even if there are multiple bathrooms he'd see peeing and showering as communal activities).

Butttt I feel like he'd be nervous admitting he wants to experiment with piss sexually so he'd try and show you and hope you catch on. Like imagine you get in from a long drive and you're both dying to pee so you race to the bathroom and you beat him there but he says he can't hold it and asks to just pee through your legs.

You're too desperate to argue about it so you sit on the toilet and he's standing over you pulling his pants down and you both start to pee. The noises he makes are ungodly and at first you're just like damn he really needed to go but then you realise he's staring at you with those gorgeous cheeks all flushed. He's gripping his chubby little cock and gushing pee but you know that look in his eyes.

You press your legs closer together so the gap he's peeing through gets smaller and some of it splashes on your thighs. It's warm and surprisingly pleasant and you see his cock jump as he gasps at your actions. Then you get bold and reach out to rub your thumb right over his slit so that his stream soaks your hand.

"Fuck baby…" he whimpers.

You sit back and spread your legs wide, running your hand dripping with pee - HIS pee - over your stomach. "Do it Sungie, I know you want to."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He aims his still spurting cock right at your clit and you both let out the loudest moans. The pressure of his pee is so intense from how bad he needed to go you almost come on the spot.

His legs are trembling and his head is thrown back in ecstacy. He's running his dirty little mouth of course but it's an unintelligible mess. "Ohmyfuckinggodbabyyesyesyessofuckinggood."

Finally, his stream trickles off and your pussy, stomach and thighs are soaked in his pee. It splashed up almost to your tits and he just about faints when you swirl your finger in the mess then suck it off.

"Mmm, you taste so good my sweet boy." Your finger pops out with a wet smack. "But I bet you're even sweeter at the source."

You grab his hips, digging your nails into his soft honey-toned thighs, and pull him towards you to take his already hard cock into your mouth. Poor baby is so overwhelmed with pleasure that he can only moan and whimper for the few seconds it takes to make him explode down your throat.

---

That was fun to write. I thought you might appreciate it haha

I'm tempted to write more of these for the other members - could I be an anon? I don't mind which emoji, any that's free x

I DONT KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT I NEED TO KNOW. I REALLY AM IN LOVE WITH YOU…….

IM TRYING TO THINK OF AN EMOJI HANG ON IM KINDA STONED RN.

what about THIS: 😺

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: I am home from the shit show that was my work meeting haha. Feels good to be back in my own bed, and I will hopefully be able to write more and post more often. I went back through all my planned chapters and holy shit I have a lot hahaha, might have to cut it down a bit oops. Thanks for all your love and support as always and thank you so much for all the beautiful birthday wishes!!!! <3 Enjoy

Chapter 69: Alone

You had stewed in your chambers, staring out the window at the water, willing the oceans swell to calm your rising waters, but it did nothing but let you sit in your bitter anger and resentment. Thinking of all the ways he had hurt you. Of all the ways he had wronged you. Of all the ways the Greens had taken everything from you. 

From your mother. 

From your brother. 

It spiralled out of control and you found the anger mount within you at a frightening pace. Your blood rushed in your ears as you stared into the fire, pacing in front of it. Thinking more and more of what they had done.

What they would do. 

What they could do. 

What you were forced to do. 

Forced to lay beneath a man you did not love. Forced to have his seed inside of you as he thrusted above, or below. Forced to kiss him back. Forced to smile at him, and dress prettily for him like a doll. 

You were voiceless. 

Powerless. 

Defenceless. 

You thought of how you had crawled on top of him and ridden him, seeking your own pleasure and basking in his. How you had moaned and whined, uttering his name to the Gods as you peaked. How you had let him touch you, hold you, whisper praise to you. 

The doors to the chambers had opened, and Aemond entered quietly, whispering your name as you stilled. Without turning to face him, you kept your eyes on the flames, watching them devour a log inside. Wishing the flames were devouring the Keep. Devouring the King. 

Devouring him. 

Aemond came to stand beside you, and you saw in your periphery that he placed your book down on the coffee table beside you. He uttered your name again, but you refused to meet his gaze. Refused to meet his eye knowing that you would lash out at him. 

Strike him. 

Curse at him. 

You wanted to hurt him.

You wanted to so badly that your fingers twitched at your side, forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek, tasting the bitter copper of your blood flood over your tongue. Your hands shook in anger, bawled in tight fists as he continued to stand there. 

What did he want?

My blessing?

To fuck her?

To leave me with them?

Fuck you.

Aemond whispered your nickname, trying once more to gain your attention, standing still as he watched you, but all it did was make you bristle. 

“Dracarys.” Came the whisper of Lucerys.

You blinked, and let your eyes drift to the window away from the raging flamed. 

There, seated on the seat beneath, was a mop of brunette hair you wished to bury your face into. The boy you missed dearly. Someone you would do anything to have back, including giving up your own life for his. 

Lucerys sat, wet, watching you, stiff backed, but eyes dangerously angry. His hair stuck to his forehead, robes dripping below him creating a puddle on the chambers stone floors.

He reflected the anger within you.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to turn to look at Aemond. Instead, keeping your eyes on Lucerys who continued to whisper over, and over.

Dracarys. 

Dracarys. 

Dracarys.

You heard Aemond sigh beside you. His footsteps moving away from you, halting by the door. Pausing as though he wished to say more. As though he wished to do more. Thinking, waiting, wanting. 

The chambers doors opened and then closed. 

Lucerys leant back against the window, watching you as you watched him. He looked comfortable now that Aemond was gone, relaxed, at ease. Like all the anger had drained out of him with his uncle’s leave. 

His head tilted, dark curls flopping over his forehead. His robes had stop dripping, the sound of water ceasing in the room, only to be filled with the crackling wood.

You moved to step forward, to reach out, to touch him. 

Would you feel him as you felt Helaena?

The young boys lips split into a smile, teeth showing and cheeks rosy. And with a blink, he was gone. 

You exhaled the breath you didn’t know you were holding and looked at the empty space he was was in. The space looked cold, sparse.

Haunted. 

Why did he have to leave?

Why could he not stay?

The book on the coffee table caught your attention, and all the rage and anger came back.

Grasping the book, you hurled it across the room, pouring all your anger and resentment, fear and disgust, into the movement as you screamed. The book flew across the room and hit the wall beside the window where Lucerys had been. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud, cover half ripped off in the impact, and pages bent beneath its weight on the stone floors.

You stood, chest heaving as you stared at it without moving.

When the sun had sunk below the horizon, the maids came to your chambers bringing your supper, and only yours, placing it on the table. The smell filled the room and your stomach rumbled. Only then did you move away from the book, only then did you make your way to the table to eat alone.

One of the girls moved to pick the book up from its discarded spot on the floor, seeing how your eyes never left its sight.

“Leave it.” You all but barked as the girl neared it, hand outstretched to pick it up. 

The maid rescinded her hand beside her, uttering an apology and moved to leave the chambers with the other girl quietly. 

You ate alone, stewing your anger. Replaying the events that had led up to this very moment over and over in your head. Every single waking moment where Aemond had imposed himself onto you. Where he had come to haunt you. Where he had come to hurt you.

His visits to your chambers when Viserys was still King. 

The glass in your feet. 

His fingers in your core. 

His hand around your neck. 

Lucerys.

The fall.

The wedding. 

All of it. 

The longer you thought, the more resentful you became, drinking the entirety of the decanter of wine, not caring for the headache that would no doubt greet you when you rose in the morning.

The maids came later when you had finished to tidy the chambers and ready you for bed. 

They did not greet you, nor did they bid you a good night. The two girls seemed to have sensed your anger, and most likely had learnt that keeping their head down and staying silent was the best way to deal with a Targaryens fury. 

They would have learnt this the hard way from serving Aemond. 

When your hair had been brushed, and you were dressed for bed, you moved to lay in the sheets of the bed and stared at the ceiling thinking. Waiting. Turning possibilities over in your head. Thinking of the promises you made to your family, thinking of your duties to them. 

You fell asleep that evening, the flames within being doused with wildfire. 

And you let it consume you. 

When you woke the next morning, your head throbbed, but your thoughts were clear. The maids came, and you greeted them softly. If you were to do this right, you needed their sympathy, their loyalty, their love. You needed to be kind to them, not bark orders at them like your husband.

You ate alone, were dressed with their help, and once you were readied for the day, you stood and walked to the side of the room where the book had spent the night. 

You stood over the black leather cover, looking down at how it had half of its spine separated from the glue. It was broken. Ripped apart. Yet it was still the same. Still held the same words of ‘The Fourteen Flames’. Still held the tales of the Gods. It was still, despite its outer appearance, a holder of memories, truth, secrets. 

Crouching down, you picked the book up, careful to not rip the spine any further, feeling its weight in your hand. The pages were a little bent from where it had fallen atop itself. The crisp paper creased and marked.

The Septa would be enraged if she saw this.

With a gentle hand, you smoothed out the bends and looked at the pages. 

Still the same words, still the same tales, just marked.

Never to be unmarked again.

Scarred. 

You were the same.

Scarred. Bent. 

Broken. 

No.

Not broken. 

Different. 

Changed.

You took the book down to the Gardens by the water to read.

The sun peaked behind clouds, occasionally casting warmth upon you. The soft formations moved across the skies, growing heavier with each passing, and you wondered if it would rain. 

You hoped that it wouldn’t. 

You spent your first day alone, as you always did, seated where you and Helaena always had, looking out at the water and reading. And when the day had ended, and the evening had creeped in, you went back to your chambers and ate alone, as always, and went to bed alone, as you would with the absence of Aemond. 

You had passed Aegon in the halls on the way back to your chambers, skin prickling and anger simmering as he smiled at you and continued on walking with Otto and Jasper Wylde.

That smile followed you into your dreams.

When you woke the next morning, you followed the familiar routine, though not having seen Lucerys again, and sat yourself at the water with the torn book. You wondered if you could ask for some glue, or perhaps should take it to the Septa or Maester or maids, and have them fix it for you. 

“I thought I would find you here.” 

You lifted your head at the voice to see Aegon approaching you, smirk on his face and hands behind his back. Ser Cole stood behind him as he approached you, armour tight on his body and crisp, white cloak clasped to his pauldrons. Your eyes flitted between the knight and the false King.

Aegon’s green robes had a large, golden, three headed dragon on the front. 

You looked at your eldest uncle expectantly, waiting for him to continue speaking. 

He walked around the space, looking at the table and chairs, the bench, and the flowers surrounding you in false interest. When he got close to where you sat, you shut the book in your lap with a thud, finger in-between the pages to keep your place. 

Cole stayed where he was, at the entrance of the sitting space, hand on the pummel of his sword. 

“Thought I would give my niece some company, now that her husband has gone from Kings Landing again.” Aegon sat himself on the pillow that Helaena favoured, and you had to force yourself not to scream. 

“Aemond is performing his duties to the realm.” You replied, watching the man closely as a smirk wound its way on his face.

Aegon cocked his head as the smirk rose higher, “I wasn’t aware that his duty was between a woman’s legs.”

Cunt. 

You breathed deeply, pushing down the fire that burned you hotly. 

“The Prince assured me that his duties lay elsewhere,” Lie, “By your command.”

Aegon frowned at you in a mocking manner, a falsely sad smile as though he pitied you, or found you to be simple. 

“I am sure that he did. My brother has other interests in Harrenhal that I don’t require.”

Was Aemond lying?

Aegon smirked as he saw your composure falter. Standing, the King looked out at the water.

“Helaena loved this spot.” 

Your brows furrowed as you stared up at him. 

How did he know that?

“She spoke of you often.” He added, but his voice was quieter.

Softer. 

Nostalgic.

You watched as Aegon turned his head, his silver waves moving to look down at you. And for the first time, you saw some form of mourning for his sister-wife.

His eyes were soft, and if you weren’t mistaken, held sorrow. But as soon as you had witnessed the storm cloud pass over his eyes, it went, and instead, the King grinned slimily down at you before bidding you a good day. 

You watched in confusion as Aegon left you behind to sit with your thoughts.

Did he love her?

Did he regret what he did to her?

Was there a small piece of Aegon that mourned her death and descent to madness?

Did he mourn his son?

You shook the thought away.

No.

No one who loves someone would do what he did to her. 

You went to bed that evening with a crawling feeling of being watched. You had to remind yourself that Aemond was not there.

You were alone in your chambers. 

And you woke alone the next day too. 

The same routine, just as bland as the last. 

Wake. Eat. Dress. Walk to the gardens to read. 

Yet now there was a new part of your routine which set you on edge, something that you couldn’t seem to escape, like flies on a hot day, or the smell of soldiers after training. It came as a great annoyance, an irritant. Something that stirred fear and fury alike within.

Something that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

Someone.

Aegon. 

The King came to visit again that day, Ser Cole behind him as he came to observe the water with you for a moment, if only, just for a moment. 

He made a comment about the weather, which had earned him a look of confusion, which had then earnt you a laugh in return. Aegon asked if you were in want of anything in the Keep whilst Aemond was away, and you had answered, uncertainty in your tone, that there was nothing you were in need of. 

Aegon had left you to your reading, yet you found that you could not concentrate for the rest of the day. When you returned to your chambers that evening, you had a crawling sensation upon your skin and felt dread begin to settle in. 

Aegon’s sudden interest in you whilst Aemond was away was not a good sign. His sudden interest in your wellbeing, the weather and your peace was not a change in heart, nor was it a King doing his duties. 

It was a man who was plotting.

A man who was fertilising the seed that he had sown, checking if it was time to reap.

A man who clearly had interests in Aemond being away for long periods of time. 

The next morning you refused to go down to the Gardens, instead keeping to your chambers, having your meals brought to you by the maids. You told yourself you were not hiding, and that you were tired. That you wished to see if Aegon would notice your absence and storm the chambers. That you were testing him in the same way he was testing you.

You wrote a letter to your family, telling them that you would regrettably not be able to join them for Jacaerys and Baela’s union, and each stroke of the quill made your heart break. You had cried as you wrote the letter, and tears landed upon the ink, causing it to smudge the ink, and the parchment to dry funny. 

You promised that upon Aemond’s return, that you would find when was best for you both to visit them. Perhaps on Driftmark, instead of Dragonstone. You had told them about the beautiful flowers in the Garden, and even made reference to one of the songs the Septa had sung.

You described the purple flowers, and hoped that they would understand, and that should anyone from the Greens read the letter, they would suspect naught. They would simply read the letter and see a lonely girl, writing to her family about the days that drag on, and the nights that get cold.

That evening you could scarcely eat your meal as you mourned the union you would miss. A union in which you desperately wished to see. A union of love. A union of promise. A union of happiness and goodwill. 

Something you wished you had. 

You felt a calmness in knowing that Baela would not meet the same fate as you. For to wish your own sister that fate would be a cruel thing indeed. You knew that their marriage would last, and bring laughter and happiness for them both. And you knew that Jacaerys would be loved and would love fiercely in return.

When you finally retreated to bed that evening, letter drying of your tears upon the table, you found that you tossed and turned until the hour of the owl, and the sun began to rise. When at last you did fall to sleep, you were haunted by dreams of a woman with black hair and glowing green eyes.

When you rose the next morning, you decided to go for a walk around the Keep, opting to not return to the Gardens until later that day, when the sun had begun its descent in the sky, and Aegon would no doubt have lost his interest, if indeed he had any at all, and went back into his chambers to drink himself into a stupor. 

Your feet ached from how much you had walked, and your stomach growled in protest. You had not stopped to eat, aimlessly walking around the Keep, checking each room, each chamber, and each corridor for how many guards were stationed there. If there were any guards at all. You would turn corners quickly and pause, pressed against walls as if in thought, but waiting to see if any familiar face followed behind.

Watching you. 

You watched the people go about their day, noting their appearance, their colours, and any house sigils they have have adorned. You used the day well, finding that every single passage to the Dragon Pit was heavily guarded, and a small servant boy with bright blue eyes seemed to round the castles corners at break neck speed when you would hide amongst the shadows. 

A day of observing had helped in more ways than one.

One one hand, you were beginning to recognise members of the court, their houses, their spouses, and their duties in the Keep. You were learning the movements of guards and knights. And were not at all surprised about the small servant boy following you. You wondered if he was a spy for Larys, or for somebody else.

Perhaps Aemond?

But then on the other hand, your walking and observing, counting and hiding, gave you an opportunity to desperately avoid the company of the King.

The more you moved, the less likely he would find you, and the more you would learn. 

The birds chirped in the trees as they readied themselves for their sleep, and the waves below rolled softly up the cliffs. A calm spread through you as you looked out at the water, leaning over the edge of the wall. The sky was a soft pink, like dragonfruit flesh in the spring, or the peonies that sat at the bottom of the Gardens.

“I’d say that you have been avoiding me.”

He was like mould that you thought you could clean away. Hands scrubbing the dark spores until the surface was clean, and you would stand back in triumph and look at your success. A false sense of conquest. Only for it to return some days, months, or even years later, Aegon would come back to haunt you. 

You didn’t bother to turn to face him as he came beside you, the sound of Cole’s armour clinking behind you noisily. He could not sneak about the Keep even if he tried. He should put bells on instead to announce his arrival. Aegon leant against the ledge beside you, looking out at the water and the sunset. 

“Perhaps you should take it as a subtle hint.” You purred, hoping the tone would keep him at bay.

Aegon laughed in earnest, a guttural laugh that was not spiteful or mocking in its tone. It was a true laugh to your comment. 

You sighed.

“Does it anger you?” Aegon asked, curiosity laced in his voice. 

“What?”

“That I am King.”

Yes. 

Dracarys.

“I didn’t think you were that stupid.” You mused, keeping your eye on the water as a way to keep the rising anger locked down.

Fucking stupid cunt.

Aegon laughed again, leaning further forward on the edge as he looked over it and down to the cliffs and ocean below. Images of you pushing him over and watching him fall to his death flashed across your mind. 

It could be easy. 

A hard push would send him tumbling over and down on to the jagged rocks below. With any luck, he wouldn’t die straight away, and would spend his last living moments in agony upon the cliffs, body twisted and broken. 

But a quick death would be too merciful for him. As much as you wished to see his head dashed against the rocks, skull and blood around his head like a halo, you knew it would be too swift, too unjust, too painless.

“I’ve missed our little talks.”

“I wasn’t aware that we had them.” You quipped back, voice light.

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

“It was a lot easier than I thought it would be.”

Aegon waited for you to ask ‘what’ but you didn’t. You had no desire to play into his little games, and so silence spread between the both of you uncomfortably, and fell flat like a bad joke. Aegon huffed at your silence, before turning to look at you. You could see his face in your periphery as he observed you. 

“Mother had told me when we were young, that I was the challenge to Rhaenyra’s succession. I didn’t believe her at the time, but it is my birthright to be King.”

You finally turned your head to face Aegon, a triumphant smile on his lips as he saw that you had finally turned to look at you. 

“Viserys never named you his heir. Not once.” You looked him up and down, pausing at the crown atop his head, “Not once in his life, did he see potential in you. Not once, did he see you as being worthy. But he saw it in my mother.”

“And yet I sit on the Iron Throne.”

“A punishment from the Gods, I’m sure.”

Aegon smirked, hand coming touch you. You stiffened and grit your teeth as one hand came to touch the hair that had fallen over your shoulder. He held it in his fingers before gently pulling on it. 

You stared at him blankly, but within you were fuming. Screaming at him in your head. 

You are no King. You could never be worthy of being a King. You are nothing but scum.

A waste of space. A waste of flesh, and air.

A pile of dragon shit would have more right to the throne than you.

You are filth.

I cannot wait to see you burn.

I cannot wait to hear your scre-

“I have missed your fire, niece. It gets boring in the Keep with all these Lords.”

“I’m sure you can find the comfort of someone’s cunt to dive into.”

“Only yours.”

You sneered at Aegon and slapped his hand away from your hair. The sound of Ser Cole moving towards you came from the side. Aegon lifted a hand to halt the knight and quiet fell around you.

“Aemond should return soon. I am sure your mood shall improve once he has warmed your bed. After he has warmed Alys'.”

“And you will return to your empty bed.” 

“Did you bleed when he took your maidenhead?”

You blinked. 

You were so taken back by the comment that you could not even respond. 

Aegon smiled as he looked at you.

“Does he fuck you often? He is such a serious man, always brooding. I wonder if he takes it out on you.”

“Your repulsiveness never ceases to amaze me.” You snipped, turning your body to face him, hands pressed at your side to prevent you from hitting your uncle.

A lazy smile stretched up his face. 

“Does he make you scream on his cock? Does he kiss your cunny til you weep?”

You breathed a heavy breath out your nose.

It could be so easy.

You could simply grasp his shoulders and hurl him over the edge. If he grasped your robes and took you with him, you would not be upset. At least he would be dead and you would be free. 

Aegon’s hand came to touch your hair again and you had to force yourself to hold still, touching the strand as it fell down the front of your gown, but his hand did not stop there. It trailed a path down the strands and grazed itself over your breast. 

Bile rose in your throat as he openly touched you. A thick finger trailed over your nipple and you felt it stiffen beneath your robes. His hand finally fell back to his side, eye locked on your breast, clearly able to see the way your body had reacted. 

Shame and disgust curled around your gut and you fought to not gag. You thought of the night in the dungeons and swallowed thickly, rushing away from him without a word. You fled back to your chambers, heart racing and tears rising to your eyes.

You moved through the Keep so quickly, so angrily, so fearfully, that your breath was caught in your throat and your eyes stung with tears.

There was no escape from him.

There was no escape from this.

You wished to act now. To push forward and cast the first blow, but it was too early. It was too rushed. And you knew that you had to endure for this to work. For the pieces to fall into place. For the Gods to give you a sign.

And until then, you would wait, and endure, and suffer. 

You passed the knight at the door of your chambers, swinging the door open and all but racing into the chambers. The door shut quietly behind you.

Your eyes were blurred with tears as you made your way to the fire, staring at its flames, trying to steady your breath and fury. Trying to force the bile that sat in the back of your throat back down into your stomach. 

It was too much.

It was overwhelming.

It was-

“Y/n?”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat @hc-geralt-23 @daenerys-supremacy @rabbit-reveries @mari0302 @fallinglikeash @ivy-targaryen @nana-is-reading

Post

Bold is who I cannot tag!

[cacaocao123]

Naruto Imagines: Reincarnated! Gender Neutral! Reader

You’d like to say you aren’t a reckless person, but continuing to use a motorcycle with a flat tire in the rain is pretty reckless.

You were dying.

You’re not pointing fingers, but if it weren’t for that duck (yes a duck in the middle of the road), you’d have arrived at your destination without any mishaps or accidents (even with a flat tire).

Now, look at yourself. You’re in this mess cuz you couldn’t bear to live with a guilty conscience of turning that duck into roadkill.

TipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTapTipTap—

Head was bleeding a lot. Your body was sore all over. Bruises and scrapes? Definitely many. Are your bones intact? Doubtful.

The blood mixed with rain water was terrifying. That all came from you? Fuuuuck. So this is why they strongly advise people to wear helmets. Maybe if you wore one, maybe you wouldn’t be bleeding this much. This one’s on you. Forgetting a helmet because you were in a hurry.

And to make matters worse, last you checked, time was 2:23 AM. And the area you’re around in was always secluded when it’s around those hours.

Conclusion: there won’t be anyone nearby to help you and chances of survival is slim. (Maybe none if you wanna be pessimistic.)

Phone…. Your phone is too far from reach to call for help. If you stay like this until morning, there won’t be any need to save you. Death claimed you before the ambulance could.

Shit. Your surroundings are getting darker.

Haha…

You’re really dying.

Never mind the helmet. Never mind the rain. Never mind your motorcycle with a flat tire. And never mind the duck the most.

You should have stayed home.

If second chances exist, you hope you never feel the need to be in a hurry ever again.

Drip

You died.

And opened your eyes to see an unfamiliar woman holding you to her chest.

\(^~^)+++(^~^)/

Long story short: you reincarnated.

You did get your second chance. A whole new shot at life. You thought nothing would stop you this time as you’re equipped with knowledge far beyond what an infant knows—

You were so fucking wrong.

You and your new family evacuated far away from the chaos caused by the Nine-Tails. Yes, the Nine-Tails: Kurama. From fucking Naruto. How you confirmed it was the Nine-Tails from Naruto? You saw the hokage stone faces while you ran for your lives.

When did you realize you’re in the Naruto world?

Just now. JUST NOW WHEN THE EARTH SHOOK AND YOUR LIVING ROOM CRUSHED BY A HUGE DEBRIS.

You sobbed into your new mother’s arms. You only remembered your past life today! Why only now!? This body was born a month before this mayhem! You could have planned an escape, but noooooo, whoever put you here was an asshole with their timing.

Second chances be damned. You should have stayed dead. If you aren’t gonna die from the Nine-Tails, there’s plenty more chances for you to die in the future.

Fuck Konoha and its high mortality rate!

Luckily, your family evacuated safely and everything was semi-okay now if you ignore an army of ninjas trying to stop the havoc. Sigh.

Okay, while everyone be panicking, you are gonna cope by planning out how to stay safe in this world of ninjas. First and foremost rule is to definitely avoid getting involved with canon. To do that, don’t ever meet or make a huge impact on important characters.

How hard could that be?

Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy. Throughout your six years of living, you have cleverly avoided anything that would get you involved with the plot.

Mom wants to buy flowers from the Yamanaka shop and Ino is currently manning it? Look, mom, there’s another flower stall over that block and it’s nicer-looking and cheaper.

Dad is hungry for some barbecue? Uh-oh, Choji and his family are eating there. Dad, over there! A soba shop is offering a challenge! Finish the entire bowl and you don’t have to pay anything!

On your grocery trip, you and Itachi were about to reach for the same tomato and Sasuke was behind him? You smoothly turned your hand to reach for the closest vegetable beside the tomatoes and quickly payed for the goods without making eye contact with either Uchiha and skedaddled. You might be eating your most disliked vegetable for dinner, but nothing tastes more delicious than avoiding canon.

You leisurely walked through Konoha’s streets, celebrating your clean record of six years by eating your favorite candy. Last year, you had sakura mochi.

Keeping this streak will be easy as pie! You and your new family will definitely die from old age. Accidents? No, you only see yourself dying wrinkly and content!

“Look! The monster is crying! Wah-wah-wah, like a little baby.”

….. Of course. You round a corner and see tiny motherfuckers that ruined the sweetness of your candy. They didn’t notice you because you’re hidden and they’re too busy beating another kid up.

Not your problem, though. Time to get another batch to get that sweetness back—

“Ple-Please stop! It hurts!”

That voice?

On closer look…. Ah. You should have realized it when there’s “monster” and bullying in one situation.

Naruto Uzumaki.

The main character of the series named after him was beaten black and blue as he hunched on the ground, helplessly covering himself from the group beating. He got many bruises on his arms and you bet there’s more under his shirt. There was even nasty scrapes— did they just grab his hair roughly? He even has a huge cut on his cheek???

They were laughing. Laughter was supposed to sound innocent, free, and represent joy. But it wasn’t.

It was mocking. Sadistic. With the intent to hurt. This was the type of sound you’d never expect to come out from a kid’s mouth.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve seen Naruto getting bullied. From adults, teenagers, and kids the same age as you and him— they can be very horrible and cruel to someone more helpless and vulnerable than them. Even with the Nine-Tails in him, the current Naruto doesn’t fight back against them. (Not yet anyways.)

He was just a kid. A kid taken advantage of by ignorant masses solely because there’s no one better than him to take accountability for the casualties of Konoha during the Nine-Tail’s rampage.

It wasn’t his fault. It really wasn’t. Even if he knew anything about everything— about the beast sealed in him, his parents, and the village’s stupid reason of discriminating him—

It wasn’t his fault.

And again, you watch him become the outlet of their rage and sorrow.

And again, you walked away pretending you never saw anything.

You need to live long in this life.

This second chance…

“What did I ever do to you?!”

“Monster! Monster! Monster!”

…need to look away. This is just one of the many. He’ll get true friends later on anyways and have a happy ending unlike you with an uncertain future.

“I-I’m not a monster!”

He’ll face many trials and important character deaths for his character development. His problem now is lighter and isn’t as bad compared to what he’ll face soon.

“Hold his arms! He needs to learn his lesson!”

He’ll achieve his dream of becoming a Hokage, get married to the nicest girl, and have two kids and one of them is named Boruto and you never liked watching that show because it was better when you didn’t know there was aliens in a ninja world.

Yeah. He’ll be fine.

“Stop! Stop—“

THWAK!

“Ow! Who threw that!?”

THWAK! THWAK! THWAK!

“Ow ow ow ow!”

When did you become such a bystander? Did you die and save a duck just to be an asshole?

“You! The one with the candy! Why are you throwing rocks at us!?”

That duck probably had a sixth sense to know you were incoming. So even if you did not swerve the motorcycle into your death, they would just fly away before you could hit them and you would live without knowing you avoided said death.

But you took no chances.

You still swerved anyways, so that duck will be completely unharmed.

Maybe the reason why you’ve reincarnated is because the duck pleaded to a higher being to give you another chance?

“Hey! What are you standing around for? Come here so we can beat you up together with this monster!”

“Yeah!”

You suddenly let out a loud groan, surprising the bullies and Naruto. “My duck delusions are getting out of hand. My plan of 6 years is going off the rails. What next? I get a nice wife too?”

“What are you talking about?”

You looked at Naruto. He probably was shocked the most. You know no one bothered to stick up to him until you came around. That gaping expression of his really gave it away.

“Hehe. Hahahahah!”

“Are they… are they crazy!?”

Old or young, Naruto is still so easy to see through. He can’t even disguise the hope shining in his eyes! As expected of the knucklehead ninja and the comfort character of your childhood. Mini-you certainly did not waste watching everything (even the fillers!) so the you now can figure out what’s going through his mind.

You grinned, picking up a convenient-sized and convenient-placed plank and pointed it at them.

“Grit your teeth, punks! You’re in for a hugeeee ass-whopping!”

That duck better plead for your third chance too cuz you’re dying young again dattebayo.

[bekkarific]

Playing With Fire

Chapter Two: Spark

Chapter Masterlist

Pairings: Frontman/In Hi x Fem OC (Some Gi Hun x Fem OC)

It was raining. To Ji Ah it felt like it was always raining lately. An incoming sign of winter or a bad omen? That she couldn’t decipher.

They had already asked several market vendors did they know the name Seong Gi Hun, most met them with apprehensive no’s, others claimed to know him but not where he lived. Till at last they asked a Mrs Cho.

She was a kindly older lady. Ji Ah noted a framed picture of a young man in a graduation cap and grown sat atop her shop display case. Her son, Ji Ah affirmed at the proud look Mrs Cho gave her when she caught her looking. “He is a SNU graduate” Mrs Cho explained proudly pointing to the photograph “he is also single” she said pointedly looking at Ji Ah.

Ji Ah merely smiled politely, it was not the first time mothers had tried set her up with their sons. Usually they take one look at at her fair face, childbearing hips and decide she is the perfect match for their sons - some of whom she is arresting at the time - she tired to take is a compliment. However many years of dating childish, incompetent men had left her adverse from taking any mother’s recommendations on the virtues of their sons.

Mrs Cho did have the information they were looking for, Mr Seong Gi Hun, lived not far from here, as a friend of his mother she was able to give the detective’s his address - after assurance that he was not in trouble and that they just needed to ask him some questions - she was also able to slip in that Mr Seong was also divorced, looking again at Ji Ah who politely chuckled.

As they walked away, Jun Ho joked that their next great investigation should be to find Ji Ah a husband as they have a long list of suspects. Ji Ah sarcastically laughed “haha Jun Ho you are so funny, we should get you on stage” rolling her eyes. Despite the teasing, she was glad to see her friend smiling again. The last few days had taken all the humor from him, she was glad to see that lighter side returning.

Approaching the alleys leading to Mr Seong’s apartment the rain seemed to fall heavier, almost oppressively. ‘Definitely a bad omen’ Ji Ah thought.

They saw a the back of a figure, swaying, heading toward the apartment. He had no umbrella and was getting soaked by the rain.

Jun Ho picked his pace up slightly, approaching the man “Seong Gi Hun?” He asked as the man turned to face him.

He looked awful Ji Ah thought, sad in the eyes and long wet hair dripping down onto his bruised face. In other circumstances Ji Ah would have considered him handsome.

“Yes” Gi Hun asked apprehensively looking first at Jun Ho and then Ji Ah who took a step closer.

Jun Ho flipped out his police badge, as did Ji Ah who came to stand beside Gi Hun, offering him shelter under her umbrella. He gave her indescribable look as his eyes roamed her face before turning his head back to Jun Ho.

“Decective Hwang Jun Ho and Mun Ji Ah, we are following up on report you made that the station” Jun Ho started “You said a group abducted people and make them play games. You also said that some of these people where killed” Jun Ho finished, stone faced.

Gi Hun looked slightly startled, like he didn’t believe anyone would follow up. Eyes darting slightly between the two detectives before settling back on Jun Ho “Oh, all that? Yeah, I just made that up” Gi Hun lied “Yeah, a story made up when I was drunk” he nodded trying to convince himself of his own lies.

Jun Ho remained stone faced. “They sent a card to my brother” he said, trying to remain unemotional “just like the one you had”

There - Ji Ah saw it - a stutter in Gi Hun’s facade. His face twitched and shoulders dropped. She sucked in a quiet breath, unable to believe he may be telling the truth, about the games, all of it.

“I just found it, I don’t know” Gi Hun continued to lie, trying to find away of of this situation, looking between the detectives he settled on the pretty one that wasn’t giving him a murderous look “I saw it on the street and just put in on my pocket” his eyes pleading with Ji Ah to just drop this conversation.

Jun Ho interjected, “Mr Seong, you can help me” his voice starting to wavier “I need to get him back” he felt his only hope in finding his brother beginning to fizzle away.

Ji Ah felt her heart shatter at the broken voice of her friend, his face full of desperation.

“Mr Seong” she started placing a calming hand on his jacketed forearm “please, help us. Any information you have will be use” she spoke softly and calmly, trying to persuade the panicked Gi Hun who looked ready to bolt at a moments notice.

Gi Hun stared at the small hand placed on his arm, thinking it’s been a long time since anyone has touched him with warmth. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, but it all comes flooding back to him, the body’s dropping, the sound of gunfire, his debts, his mother’s illness, losing his daughter. He realises he can’t, he cannot say anything.

Resigned, Gi Hun pulls his arm from the detectives hold, almost immediately missing the warmth. “Why would you think, that I would be useful to you or anybody else” his speaks sadly as he turns to walk away.

Jun Ho and Ji Ah watch him go, unmoving. Ji Ah tries go think of a way to get him to come back, to co-operate. If she is right, and he was telling the truth about the games all of it. That means his, In Ho’s and countless other lives are in danger.

Turning to Jun Ho to ask what he thought, she stopped when she saw that determined look in his eye, something that has she has only seen a handful of times, but normally meant he was going to get his way through hell or high water.

“Jun Ho” she asked tentatively

“We need to follow him” Jun Ho replied, his voice full of resolve.

Taking a moment to look at her friend, she allowed her eyes to roam his face, taking him his hardset mouth and focussed eye. ‘We are in this together’ she thought.

“Let’s go partner” she quipped taking lead and following Mr Seong into the night.

[buggyswritingcorner]

OMG just found you through your NSFW-alphabet for Aemond, could you please please do one for his brother as well?

heyy... heyyy.. uh i know this is.. two years.. late, im sorryyyy, i had sooo much stuff happen to me tho and i feel like now im finally ready to start writing again! thank you for this request! check out my

MASTERLIST

NSFW Aegon Targaryen

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Yees girl go give us ⋆✩nothing⋆✩, hahahah no it really depends on what your relationship with him is, i can't see him being overly loving and patient with someone who's a fleeting moment in his life, if he is in love with you tho (whether or not he realises it) he will do his utmost best to shower you with love, even after a hate fuck this puppy couldn't possibly with good consience let you go without a bit of love

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he's quite insecure (shocking) so at first he had basically nothing, no part of him was entirely without flaw and he hated it, being with you and seeing how you look at him changed his mind and now he finds his shoulders and torso quite attractive (especially with your feet over his shoulders)

what he likes most on you differs every day, one day it's your eyes, the next your ass, he loves and longs for all of you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

this dirty bitch, anywhere... anywhere

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he definitely caught alicent and crispin doing it at least once.. did he enjoy it? debatable

he has many secrets, most of them dirty.. so yeah, he's probably even seen you naked many times before you courted officially, he has his ways..

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's always been very well versed in the art of sex, he fears nothing and is up to experiencing everything, so good luck with suprinsing him with something new.. if you do though, well just be prepared to not leave your room for some time, he loves new experiences

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

you on top, no arguments, on part because he's a little lazy, but also because he can see all of you that way, every curve, every sweet drip he'd like to lick up

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's a gooof, a silly boyy, cannot stay serious for the life of him bless this poor man he tried once and you laughed at him because he looked constipated, if you really want him serious tho.. that takes a lot of teasing the entire day, then at night he takes what he was promised in those foxy smirks flashed his wayy all day

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

no grooming, unless you ask for it, like really plead for it, i think he just also forgets and obviously on you he doesn't mind any hair, on the contrary i think it makes him more turned on because it feels 'animalistic' and raw

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can be romantic, he definitely uses his puppy eyes to his advantage and makes you take care of him haha

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he knows he looks good and won't hesitate to show you too, so you walking into your shared chambers while he's lost in himself is quite common, and then he just flashes you a coy smirk and get louder the longer you ignore him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

i fear... i may have to say this man has a mommy kink, or just a woman kink in general lol, he definitely searches for validation where he didn't recieve it, so you being able to praise him and make him feel loved is a biig YES

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Unlike his clean brother, this man is dirty as fuck and is down to do it just about anywhere. Is a never ending list really. He looks forward to taking you into the darkest alleyways of King´s Landing or underneath the stone table in the Sept of Baelor.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

once again, just you, there is nothing more ravishing than you in a pretty dress or tunic and a pair of pants, the lower the cut of the hem the better, he loves when you swoosh your hair around him, likes the wilder side of you more than the proper side

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

... i really tried to come up with something but i dunno, i feel like hes down for anything??

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

a master in giving, terrible at recieving, he wriggles and whines and tugs on your hair, wear a whole set of armor if you dont want scratch marks everywhere!! also be carefull this one bites

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he's sloppy mostly, but at times when he sobers up in a moment of clarity he can rock your fuckin world, you'll be climbing the walls im tellin you

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

yes,yes,yes - aegon on quickies, he loves it, anywhere anytime, he'll srsly take you in an alleyway if you let him, so be carefull

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

once again i feel like he'd risk anything for that rush of adrenaline that he just longs for, he feels so bored and dead all the time that he wants to experience it all with you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

if he's drinking? barely one, may even fall asleep on you. if he's sober? get ready for a ride till the sunrise, he takes his time and just kissing him may feel like only minutes passed when in reality you've been there for hours

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i mean, you saw the damn dildo, thats all imma say, he a freak

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he's such a little tease, but not in the way most would expect, he's not a very dominant boy, so he'll more likely tease you to make you jealous or to make you look at his neck and chest when his tunic get mysteriously untied in the wind

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

looud, get your chambers soundproofed please, for the sake of the children, he's grunting, moaning, whining, cursing and all in between, the more orgasms you give him the higher his voice goes in octaves, its a fun game to see how high the bird will sing

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

i think he likes getting spanked, something makes me believe he'd be begging for that sharp sting, be it his face, cock or ass, he'll take anything you'll give

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

average sized, pretty boy cock what can i say, curved with a very pink flush

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he's a whore, but a whore with feelings, he's down to do it most of the time but sometimes you'll have to console the poor boy because he feels like he's too demanding, just make sure you kiss him and he's forgetting all about those pesky insecurities

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

after you're done, he's not even letting you get up to use the restroom, he grabs you and just won't let go until he's sound asleep, you make him feel safe and loved

Hope you enjoyed!!

masterlist