#her brain almost fried

[barrenstars]

❛ do you trust me? ❜ // hanma to emma

@sociieties / angsty question prompts.

the large plank of wood slips from her grip and hits the ground with a gentle 'thud', and her chin drops even further. what the fuck? emma stands there, stanced up, ready to bite, claw, dangle from his neck like a chihuahua if he attacked because now she knows to expect it. and she can see him. no drive-by attacks, no sneak attack, nothing. only, the words that slip by his lips leave her completely dumbfounded. kisaki could have come up behind her, slit her throat, pull a plastic bag over her head and she'd just stand there and let him, that was how surprised she was. too bad kisaki was dead, huh. mustard hues blink several times in attempts to get the cogs turning once again, but nothing coherent comes to mind. ❝ oh my fuckin' god, ❞ the sano eventually mutters, moving to stand up straight after determining he was being completely serious.

emma didn't know this guy very well, she's only seen him a few times around the city, a few times in the gang, and his name floated around for a while. hanma shuji, or something like that. she knows draken doesn't like him, he's fought him a few times. but standing here, before him, after what he did? what he helped kisaki do? for some reason she just wants to burst into laughter, but also scream. and also tackle the big idiot and rip the flesh off his body.

❝ you're, like, totally batshit insane, ❞ part of her can't believe the question he's asked, but another part of her can. she's been surrounded by insanity for a good while now. ❝ i thought kazutora was bad, you know, because he killed my older brother then tried to fucking kill the other one - but you - you take the cake. ❞ there's just no way this guy can be serious... surely not? was he trying to intimidate her? maybe he wanted her to make a statement to the police and help him out, given the fact he was a wanted fugitive.

backing up a few steps, emma grips her bag and furrows her brows. ❝ if i were you i'd look into getting a therapist, you're clearly a fruit loop. ❞ a therapist or even just giving up and going to jail - just going somewhere no sane person would need to come across him. ❝ never talk to me again! or i'll call the cops and tell them where you are. ❞

[spacedlexi]

crying thinking about the ericson kids being like.. overly protective of clem post-amputation not because they think any less of her but because they just want to protect her the same way she protected them 😭

[soultiio]

day 3: monster, but affectionate

[chronomally]

Also read a paper on a smart house (not the DCOM) from the '90s that was like 1/3 horror story, 1/3 "that sounds really useful," and 1/3 "oh, like (thing we already have)"

[good-beanswrites]

Heyo!! :D uhh I was just thinking about prompts!! I have two that I've just been thinking of! You can do one or the other, I don't mind ^^ Yuno with Blanket (if you havent done that yet :o) and Muu and Yuno with Honesty :D

Thank you so much :D!! Your writing is so funky I love reading it, it's like my daily newspaper abejfncjcn

Hi Mug :D thank you so much aah!! I really loved these combos, that's so sweet for both of them ;-; Here's Yuno and Blanket -- something lighthearted from the beginning of t1, with a bit of her unfortunate people-pleasing habits.

“Requests are in!” Mikoto’s voice sang from down the corridor. The prisoners perked up from where they’d been lazing about. One would have thought he'd announced a jailbreak with the amount of energy that rippled through the room. Yuno leapt to her feet.

"You seem excited," Kazui chuckled as he stood. "What are you getting?"

She suddenly felt a twinge of shame for her reaction. Things weren’t bad in Milgram by any means, but the atmosphere was beginning to creep under her skin now and then. There was an old comfort she’d been dreaming of the past few weeks. It felt embarrassing to say to someone as concerned with his maturity as Kazui. 

"Oh, nothing much,” she said. “Just something that reminds me of home, like the cigarettes you ordered." She didn’t know him well enough to say so, but she was secretly grateful for his request. The smell of smoke was familiar to her as well. "But mostly it's something new around here -- isn't the whole thing exciting?" 

It was the first time they’d received a delivery, and everyone was eager to see if they got what they ordered. Though Yuno found the system surprising, it made sense. Milgram allowed more unique freedoms than a normal prison, given it also inflicted more unique restraints. 

She joined the group heading down the hall, all chattering in anticipation. 

"Yuno!" Mahiru waved her over. The woman had talked about the products and creams she'd requested, in the hope of keeping up her skincare routine. Yuno would be following suit soon, though she wanted those things to keep herself feeling refreshed rather than looking a certain way. There was no one here to impress. With her looks, that was.

Mahiru’s eyes gleamed. "What did you order?"

Yuno knew she wouldn't satisfy her appetite for gossip as much as Shidou testing his luck with medical supplies or Amane’s taste in high-level study materials had. 

"Something real cute~" was all she needed to say to get her giggling. 

Es instructed them to line up in front of their room to distribute everything. Yuno found her place behind Haruka. 

"Hey, hey! What are you getting?" She wasn't immune from that same gossipy curiosity…

His cheeks immediately reddened. "Uh, well, I h-hope I can get some c-candy. It -- I mean, it's kiddish, I know."

"Don't worry, some might think my request is childish, haha! Plus, I think Muu ordered sweets, too."

This seemed to calm him a bit as he walked ahead. Fuuta nudged her from behind.

"Oi, what did you ask for?"

She'd overheard him and Kotoko discussing what would likely be caught as a tool to escape, and knew her answer would disappoint him.

The bright smile she’d given Haruka angled into a more jaded smirk. "Eh, just something to get me through the night, you know? A practical comfort."

Fuuta grunted, respecting the choice. 

Her attention returned to the front of the line, where Haruka was returning with loose treats spilling from his hands. She took his place in Es' doorway.

"Prisoner 002," Es scanned a piece of paper. "For you… ah,” They read it again. “Just a blanket? Was that all?" 

She beamed. "Yup! Just a blanket." 

“You strike me as the kind to ask for a lot…”

“Mmm, you’ve read me well, Warden! Not this time, though. Gotta start small, then see what I can weasel out of you!” She winked. As usual, Es pretended to be unimpressed. Yuno knew she was wearing them down, bit by bit.

She offered a bouncy bow as Es handed it over. She hadn’t given many specifications, but it certainly looked as big and fluffy as she had hoped. Milgram had gone with pink -- the same shade as some of her uniform accents. 

"Thanks!" 

The prisoners' excitement died down fairly quickly afterwards. Amane began reading in silence. Kazui retreated to the smoking room alone, though Shidou and Mikoto promised to join him after the next round of requests. Haruka had nearly finished eating all of his candy by nightfall. Kotoko sat by herself to jot things down in her new notebook. Yuno’s good mood lasted much later. 

Once the bell had rung and silence fell onto the prison, she could feel the usual chill start to creep into her cell. It had gripped her with fear the first few nights -- that unshakable coldness that reminded her why she was here in the first place. Sometimes, when her body jolted her awake with the feeling of falling, she'd blame it on the temperature rather than a universal human experience. It brought up too many painful memories to be something so ordinary, after all.

But not tonight. 

Tonight there would be no falling, and no chill. No stepping into bed with enough skin showing to make her shiver. No more crafted conversations or flashing certain expressions.

A goofy grin spread across her cheeks. Yuno unfolded the blanket with a flourish. She swept it around her body, then flopped down on her bedding. With nothing more to worry about, she sank into the cushy blob.

‘Just a blanket’ her ass. This was the warmest she’d felt in a very long time.

[mezmer]

Idk this is really crazy and I should just find a way to share my story of my addiction because it is a God given miracle that I am alive today lol. Where would I even share that? My dad has had a few books published and he knows publishers. I’ve discussed writing a joint book of prose with him and releasing it just as something special for our families and friends, something special for us too. Perhaps I could make it part bio part prose and just write about it…. I need that story to be put out there, it would blow someone’s mind, and I would love to inspire somebody. Gosh if I could drive and had time I would be out there helping addicts in a second. Imagine saving an addicts life and she goes back to raise her children… i met so many mothers in rehab who didn’t have it in them to quit. Imagine being that person that plants the seed! Im so passionate and if only I had the chance!

[bl00dysavior]

The fun thing abt Stiletto is that, while she generally has her shit together in the field (rules of engagement aside of course) and can be trusted to be the Responsible One when in a group

That doesn’t extend to when she’s left unattended. Because hint hint- she’s got zero qualms over settling shit the old fashioned way or saying the wrong thing to a cop.

[romugh]

HISTORY IN THE MAKING - nerd!NR

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, gp!bottom!natasha, handjob (n rcv), blowie (n rcv), missionary, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie? muaha... shy daddy!nat UGHH, kind of orgasm control & slight edging if you squint

wc- 5.4k

a/n- drabble turned fic as i worked my way through these exact history shenanigans a few days back... in the same INTIMATE STUDIES universe! might make this a cute lil thing :) this is very much NOT my best work, i might rework it a little bit just to make it flow a lil more! apologies if there are any repetitions, i tried to catch them, but my brain is fried :/

synopsis- natasha's helping you study russia's history, and the rest is history?? idk it's too late rn guys i'm going to sleep

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches, @lizziewitchy ❀, @simpforlizzie, @riyaexee

You’re sitting cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, staring down at a jumble of Russian history notes that you’re certain might as well be in Cyrillic themselves. The words swim on the page, stubbornly refusing to click in the way chemistry formulas or physics equations do. You press the back of your pen to your lips, glancing over at the figure hunched over the desk in the corner of the room.

Natasha is fully engrossed in her game, brows furrowed in concentration as her fingers fly across the keyboard. The light from her monitor casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the gentle bite of her lower lip. She’s wearing a simple white blouse tucked into a plaid skirt, her usual attempt to dress professionally for class long since abandoned in favour of cosy socks and a messy bun.

You can’t help but smile a little. The contrast between Natasha’s outward shyness and the intensity in her focus has always been something you found endearing. You met in the class you were currently trying to study for, back when you’d shown up late to Russian history, fumbling through an awkward introduction as the professor sighed and directed you to sit in the last free seat beside her. It had taken a few study sessions for you to get past her initial stammering, but now, you could ask her about anything and her eyes would light up, eagerly launching into whatever story or fact you were struggling to understand. But right now, that focus is directed entirely on her computer screen.

You clear your throat. “Natasha?”

“Hm?” She barely looks up, eyes quickly darting back to her screen.

“Nat,” you repeat, with a hint of a smile. “I need help with the comparison of Russia until 1917 and the West-European’s Ancien Régime. And… pretty much all the details, too.”

She gives a little sigh, half-distracted. “Mm. Yes, the parables are… very interesting, baby. Give me one second. I’m doing really well.”

You hold back a laugh. “Right, but I’m failing Russian history. Melina and Alexei will both kill me. So can you take a break?”

Her eyes don’t leave the screen. “I will, I promise. Just a few more minutes. I’m close to beating this level.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her single-minded dedication. Her stubborn innocence, the way she always seems to be pulled between her gentle nature and her intense focus, has you mesmerised. But she can’t honestly think you’re going to wait forever.

“Natasha,” you say softly, standing and crossing over to her desk. Her gaze flicks up to you on her side, her big, doe-like eyes widening with an almost bashful look as you lean against the desk. “You’re seriously not going to help me?”

She blushes, biting her lip. “I really want to help,” she whispers, almost apologetic, “but, really, just a little longer? Please?”

There’s something about the sweet innocence of her pleading that has your heart racing. Her earnestness always has a way of drawing you in, those wide, round eyes like they’re begging for permission to keep playing, and her lips slightly parted in concentration. You tilt your head, taking in every detail of her—the slight blush dusting her cheeks, the faint glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, and the way her fingers clutch the keyboard just a little tighter, like she’s holding onto the game but secretly hoping you’ll take control.

You smile softly and reach for her chair, turning it around so she’s facing you. Her hands hover in the air, a brief look of panic on her face as she loses her place in the game. She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can say anything, you’re sliding onto her lap, straddling her, feeling the warmth of her strong thighs under you.

“Wait! You made me fall off the map!” Natasha squeaks, her voice a mixture of exasperation and a hint of excitement. Her hands instinctively find your hips, holding you as if she’s afraid you might slip away.

You give her a gentle smile, leaning in so that your faces are mere inches apart. “I thought you were going to help me study,” you murmur, your voice dropping to a soft, coaxing tone. You press your hands to her shoulders, letting your fingers trail along her collarbone, feeling the way her heartbeat quickens under your touch.

“I… I was,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing a deep pink, and you catch the slight tremble in her voice. “I just… my game.”

You tilt her chin up, making her meet your gaze, and she blushes even deeper, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips as her eyes grow wide, almost vulnerable. “Natty,” you say, your voice laced with playful patience, “I really need you to focus on me now. History, please.”

Her mouth opens slightly, as though she wants to argue, but all that comes out is a breathy whisper. “Okay.”

You hold Natasha’s gaze, the intensity in her eyes gradually overpowering her initial shyness. Her fingers rest on your hips, hesitant and yet possessive, as though she’s still trying to find some control in this position. Her breath catches each time you shift even slightly, and you can feel her heartbeat racing beneath your touch, each little change in her demeanour making her even more endearing.

You run your thumb along her jawline, feeling the delicate skin beneath, and she lets out a soft breath, her lips parting as she unconsciously leans into your touch. Her eyes flicker from yours to your lips, as if she’s desperately waiting for some kind of signal, a sign that she’s allowed to give in completely.

“Natasha,” you murmur, bringing your face close enough to feel her breath mingling with yours, “what are the key similarities, and how do the t<o regimes differ?”

She hums, her cheeks a soft shade of pink, but words seem to fail her. The hand on your hip trembles slightly, as though she wants to pull you closer but doesn’t dare to, not without permission. You feel the tension building, a mix of her nervousness and desire, and it only makes you want to pull her in even more.

Finally, you press a feather-light kiss to her cheek, just next to her ear, and whisper, “Come on, Natty. Think, please. Need your pretty self to explain it to me.”

She shivers under your touch, swallowing as she tries to remember the words. “Um… right, the… they didn’t have religious freedom,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. The fingers on your hip dig in just slightly, a mix of nerves and need as she fights to keep her focus. “Orthodoxy– uh, there were lots of violent riots… against Muslims, but mostly Jews. Those were called pogroms and… oh…”

Her wordds trail off as you tilt her chin slightly, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her blush deepens, and you feel the way her body responds, her tension giving way to a faint tremor as she tries to keep talking.

“You’re so good at this,” you whisper, guiding her with gentle encouragement. “But I’m going to need a little more focus from you if we’re going to get through all this history.”

Her breath catches, and she nods, biting her lip as she tries to concentrate. “I can focus,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. Her gaze stays locked onto yours, her wide eyes full of innocence mixed with a yearning she can’t quite hide.

Her fingers finally slide up your sides, settling on the dip of your waist with a delicate grip, as though she’s terrified of doing too much, yet completely unwilling to let go. You smile softly, placing a hand over hers, squeezing in silent encouragement, and her blush deepens, her eyes darting away for just a second.

But you don’t let her break eye contact for long. Tilting her chin back to you, you brush your lips over hers in a kiss so soft it’s barely there, and she lets out a faint sigh, melting into the touch. Her grip tightens again, and you feel her breath hitch as you deepen the kiss just slightly, enough to make her toes curl beneath her chair.

“Tell me more,” you murmur, pausing just inches from her mouth, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating between you. “About the razzias. I want to hear you explain it.”

Her lips part, her mind clearly racing to catch up, but she manages a shaky breath. “They just were um, a…,” she stammers, her voice a mix of strained focus and barely-restrained excitement. Her hands start to relax, as though she’s finding confidence in your guidance. “They… uh– it’s a reckoning against religious ideals.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum in approval, your thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. “And then the revolution happened?”

Her eyes flicker down to your lips, and she swallows, her voice barely more than a whisper. “There were two revolutions, technically. First, the February Revolution, and then the radicalised October Revolution.”

Her words start to blur into soft breaths as you lean closer, the warmth of her skin against yours heightening with each delicate touch. You feel her legs shift under you, and a soft gasp escapes her when you shift your weight in her lap, pressing yourself against her in a way that’s both innocent and electric. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes grow hazy, the careful focus she was trying to hold onto slipping with each passing second.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice soft and affectionate. Her lips part in a faint, breathless smile, and you feel her chest rise as she takes in a shaky breath, her grip on you tightening just a little more.

You tilt her head back, keeping her gaze locked on yours, letting your fingers trail down her throat, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your touch. Her eyes widen, a mixture of awe and anticipation in them as she watches your every move, her hands moving under your sweater like she’s trying to ground herself.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask softly, running a finger along her jawline, watching the way her breath catches in response.

She nods, unable to find words, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes hold that same innocent, almost pleading look, as though she’s begging you to take control, to guide her wherever you want.

You smile, letting your hand drift down from her jaw, fingers grazing along her collarbone, before you slowly trail down to her chest and stomach, where you can feel the rise and fall of her shallow breaths.

“Okay, baby,” you murmur, your words soothing yet commanding as you press a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling the way her pulse quickens under your lips. She shivers, a barely audible whimper escaping her lips, her wide eyes softening as she watches you, her gaze full of innocent trust.

“Natasha,” you whisper, drawing out her name like a gentle caress, “let me help you focus.” Her breath catches, and she gives a shaky nod, her hands tightening their grip on the chair. You slowly lower yourself from her lap, letting your hands slide down the smooth skin of her thighs, feeling the way her body tenses under your touch only to relax as you continue, inching her knees apart.

Her blush deepens, and you can feel her shyness mingling with anticipation as her skirt rides up, revealing the growing hardness pressing against the fabric of her boxers. You let your fingers trace along her inner thigh, watching the way she trembles slightly at each delicate touch. Her wide eyes remain fixed on yours, that blend of vulnerability and desire making your own heart race as you take her in.

“Relax for me,” you murmur, running your hands gently along her thighs. You reach up to brush your fingers over the fabric straining to hold her in, and her lips part in a soft, involuntary moan, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she squirms in her seat.

With slow, deliberate movements, you slide her underwear down, watching the way her member springs free, her blush turning crimson as she looks away for a moment, a mixture of nervousness and excitement flickering across her face. You press a gentle kiss along her inner thigh, easing her legs further apart and taking in her reactions, savouring each shiver, each small gasp that escapes her lips. When you move your mouth closer to her length, you look up at her, waiting until her gaze meets yours.

Once it does, you bring your mouth to her, pressing a feather-light kiss along her shaft, and her reaction is instant—her hips jerk slightly, and she lets out a trembling breath, her fingers clutching the arms of her chair as she tries to stay still. Her breath hitches with every movement, her wide eyes looking down at you, filled with both awe and that same sweet shyness that makes her all the more endearing.

Slowly, you take her into your mouth, your tongue gliding over her, humming at the way she gasps, her fingers gripping the chair so tightly her knuckles turn white. You can feel her body tense under your touch, the warmth of her length in your mouth, and the way she squirms with each gentle movement. Her breathing becomes ragged, her cheeks flushed as her lashes flutter, struggling to keep eye contact.

“Just relax, Natty,” you murmur between gentle caresses, pausing only to offer soft words of encouragement, letting her feel the warmth of your breath against her sensitive skin. “You’re doing so well.”

Her eyes soften further at your words, her lips parted in a soft, breathless smile as she gives a faint nod, her entire body melting under your touch. She lets out a quiet, shaky moan as you continue, her hips shifting involuntarily, her breath hitching each time your mouth moves a little deeper. The look in her eyes—vulnerable yet trusting—only fuels your desire to take her further.

You increase your pace just slightly, watching the way her eyes grow hazier with each passing second, her fingers now reaching out, finding your shoulder as if she needs something to hold onto. The desperation in her gaze, the slight whimpers that escape her lips, all signal how close she’s getting. You pause, pulling back just enough to look up at her, watching the way she struggles to catch her breath.

“You’re so good, Natasha,” you murmur, words muffled by her heat in you, enjoying the way she shivers under the praise. “But don’t let go just yet. I want to take my time with you.”

Her blush deepens at the command, and she nods, swallowing hard as she holds back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to control herself. You press a soft kiss to her length, smiling at the way she bites her lip, her fingers still clutching your shoulder as she gives herself over to your touch.

With her breaths growing more ragged, you let your hand slide down her thigh, resting at the base of her length as you ease back, switching from the warmth of your mouth to the gentle grip of your hand. Natasha whimpers softly, her lashes fluttering as she watches you with that wide-eyed, innocent gaze. Her hands grip the arms of her chair for stability, her cheeks flushed and lips parted as you begin to stroke her slowly, savouring each reaction.

“Does that feel good, Natty?” you murmur, watching the way her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she nods, her entire body leaning toward your touch.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a need she’s struggling to hold back. You watch the way her chest rises and falls, each shuddering breath making her more vulnerable, more open to your every move.

You increase the pressure slightly, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has her toes curling, her wide eyes looking down at you with unguarded adoration. You can see how close she is, her face a mix of tension and awe as she clutches at her chair, her mouth falling open in a soft gasp when you switch back to your mouth, taking her in once again.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling, barely audible. She shifts in her seat, her grip tightening as she fights to stay composed, though the desperation in her voice betrays her.

“You want more?” you murmur, pulling back just enough to look up at her, letting your breath ghost over her sensitive skin. She nods frantically, her gaze pleading, as though she’s ready to beg for you to keep going. Her vulnerability makes your heart race, and you lean back in, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her length before taking her in your hand again.

Each change between your mouth and hand drives her closer to that edge, her quiet, broken moans growing more frequent as her body responds to your every touch. You take your time, alternating between gentle strokes and teasing kisses, watching the way her resolve unravels completely. Her hips move instinctively, seeking more, her breath shallow and desperate.

Finally, you slow your pace, watching the way she shudders in response, her gaze hazy and her body fully at peace yet trembling in your hands. “I told you, Natty,” you whisper, pausing to press a kiss to her thigh, “I’m taking my time with you.”

She lets out a shaky exhale, her hands falling from the chair to clutch at your shoulders, her breathing still erratic as she tries to hold herself back. But you can see the way she’s teetering on that edge, fully surrendered to you.

As you continue to alternate between using your hand and mouth, her wide, vulnerable gaze grows more unfocused, her lips parting as her body instinctively responds to you. But just when you think she’s letting herself fall into your pace, you feel her fingers tangle in your hair, firm but trembling, gently pressing down, silently urging you to take her deeper.

The sudden assertiveness surprises you, but you comply, letting her guide you, feeling the way her grip tightens slightly, the desperation in her touch almost pleading. Her quiet whimpers grow louder, echoing in the room as she watches you, her gaze dark with fascination, completely enraptured by the sight of you surrendering to her need.

“Oh, please…” she murmurs, her voice a breathy whisper, barely containing herself. You feel her body shiver as you take her deeper, her soft gasp filling the air. Her eyes, usually so innocent and shy, are now dark with awe, wide and almost worshipful, as though she can barely believe what she’s seeing. She bites her lip, her face flushed, her expression somewhere between a plea and an apology, completely mesmerised by the sight of you.

Finally, feeling your control slip in her grasp, you tap her thigh, and she releases her grip on your hair immediately, looking down at you with that same innocent gaze, as if wondering if she’s overstepped. Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze shy once again, as she watches you with bated breath, clearly unsure of your next move.

Standing up slowly, you meet her gaze, your eyes smouldering as you reach down and slip off your underwear, letting the fabric fall to the floor before stepping out of it. Natasha’s eyes widen, her cheeks a deeper pink as her gaze travels from your face down the length of your body, lingering on the hem of your sweater as if transfixed by the contrast.

Before she can fully take in the sight, you reach for her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you tug her up from the chair, her body following your movements without hesitation. She gasps softly, her breath catching as she’s pulled to her feet, her wide, adoring eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Strip for me,” you command, your voice low, leaving no room for argument. You release her hair, your touch lingering for just a second as you make your way to her bed, settling yourself atop her scattered history notes, the crinkling of the papers the only sound breaking the silence. She watches, her blush deepening, clearly entranced by the sight of you lying there, completely at ease and in control. Her hands go to the hem of her skirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she begins to undress, her gaze never leaving yours.

Natasha’s fingers tremble slightly as she slides off her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her shirt soon follows, revealing the flushed skin of her chest and the slight rise and fall of her breath as she finally stands in front of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker between your gaze and your body sprawled out over her history notes, her cheeks flushed with both shyness and desire. You stretch out comfortably, your sweater rucked up just enough to tease her, watching her with that same confident, hungry look that’s left her at your mercy all evening.

“Come here, Natty,” you murmur, your voice firm but soft. She steps forward, her movements hesitant but her gaze locked on you, and you guide her down onto the bed until she’s hovering over you, her body settling between your legs. Her breath catches as she takes you in, her wide, adoring eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath her, looking up at her with that unwavering, confident smile that’s made her melt all night.

As Natasha hovers above you, her body fitting perfectly between your legs, you can feel the nervous tremble in her limbs, her cheeks flushed as she takes in the sight of you lying beneath her, waiting. Her wide eyes, so shy and adoring, sweep over your face and then down, drinking in every inch of your body, as though each glance leaves her more entranced. Her lips part slightly, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she steadies herself, hands resting tentatively on either side of you.

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands and guiding her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling the heat radiate off her skin. She melts into you, her body instinctively pressing down, filling the space between you as her lips respond, moving tenderly yet hungrily, every kiss leaving her more breathless. With a gentle nudge, you guide her hips forward, feeling her length brush against your entrance, and she lets out a soft, broken gasp, her face flushed a deep pink as she begins to press into you.

You hum, running your hands through her hair, tugging gently to pull her closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. She gasps against your mouth, her lips parting as you deepen the kiss, feeling her shiver as she responds, her body pressing eagerly into yours. She lets out a soft, desperate moan as she slides inside, her hands gripping the sheets beside you.

“Oh,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, her eyes fluttering shut as she feels the warmth of your body surrounding her, enveloping her in a way that leaves her trembling. Her breath hitches, and she clutches the sheets beside you, her hands forming tight fists as she adjusts to the feeling, her gaze filled with wonder as she looks down at you.

“Good girl,” you whisper, watching the way her face softens at the praise, her body shuddering as she begins to move, her hips rolling forward in slow, tentative strokes. You feel each careful movement, each deliberate inch of her body pressing into yours, her lips parted in a quiet moan, her eyes half-lidded as she loses herself in the rhythm, her shy gaze growing more intense with each passing second.

With every thrust, her body trembles, her gaze filled with a raw vulnerability as though she’s giving herself to you completely, utterly. She clutches the sheets even tighter, her breathing quickening, her eyes never leaving yours as she moves deeper, her breath coming in soft, desperate pants.

“That’s it, Natty,” you murmur, running a hand along her cheek, feeling the way her breath catches at your touch. “Just like that.”

Her lips part in response, a soft whimper escaping her as her hips begin to move faster, her body pressing into yours with a growing urgency that she can barely control. She shivers, the need and intensity in her gaze building with every touch, every whispered word of encouragement. Her lashes flutter as she looks down at you, her cheeks a deep shade of pink, her expression vulnerable, almost pleading, as though she wants more but can barely bring herself to ask for it.

“Right there, Daddy,” you murmur, your voice soft, just loud enough for her to hear. The word slips from your lips easily, and you watch the way her entire being responds—the tremor in her hips, the widening of her eyes, the soft, desperate whine that falls from her lips. Her face and neck flush a deeper, unmistakable red, and for a moment, she looks at you with pure, unguarded awe, her expression caught between disbelief and overwhelming need.

Her hands tremble, her hips stuttering as she takes in the title, her body pressing instinctively deeper as though the sound alone draws her closer to the edge. “Daddy,” you whisper again, watching her face as she loses herself in the word, her expression filling with a blend of shyness and barely contained desire.

“P-please…” she stammers, her voice trembling, almost breaking as she holds herself back, her body trembling with the strain of it. “I… I need…”

You reach up, running your hand through her hair, guiding her gaze back to yours. “It’s okay, Natty,” you murmur, your voice soft, coaxing. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Her wide eyes fill with a deep, unrestrained need, and she lets out a soft, shaky exhale, her hands sliding from the sheets to grip your waist, holding you as though grounding herself. Her movements grow more erratic, her hips pressing deeper, her body responding to every encouraging word, every touch, as though completely under your control.

As she moves, you see the way she loses herself in each thrust, her face flushed, her mouth open as her breath comes in ragged, desperate pants. She looks down at you with that same innocent, adoring gaze, but now, there’s something more—something raw, a hunger she can barely contain. Her hips press forward, filling you completely, her body shuddering as she reaches the edge, her wide eyes pleading, searching your gaze for permission.

“Come for me, Daddy,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, and you feel the way her body reacts, her grip tightening on your waist as she shudders, her hips jerking forward in a desperate, trembling thrust. Her eyes close as she gasps, her head falling forward as she loses herself completely, spilling into you with a soft, broken moan, her body pressing close, clinging to you as though she’s never felt anything so intense.

As Natasha trembles on top of you, her body pressed close, you feel every soft, shivering breath she takes, the weight of her against you as she finally lets go, spilling into you. Her head dips forward, eyes tightly shut, her lips parted in a quiet, desperate gasp as she comes, the warmth of her release filling you, a slow, deep pulse that seems to steal the breath from her lungs. Her grip tightens on your waist as if she’s clinging to you, grounding herself in the sensation, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

You can feel her chest rising and falling against you, her breaths ragged and shallow as she lets out a soft whimper, the vulnerability in her voice making your heart swell. Her hips press forward with each wave, as though she wants to be as close to you as possible, feeling every inch of her warmth, every pulse, spill into you, marking you in a way that’s both intimate and utterly consuming.

Each pulse of her release sends a shiver through her, her breathing shallow and uneven as she slowly comes down from the high, her eyes fluttering open, looking down at you with a dazed, awestruck expression. She looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and worship, her cheeks still flushed, her lips parted in a soft, blissful smile.

You brush a hand along her cheek, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as she takes a deep, steadying breath, her hands still holding you close, as though she can’t bear to let go.

“Natty,” you murmur, running your hands through her hair, guiding her face up to meet your gaze. Her eyes open slowly, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you, her gaze soft, overwhelmed, filled with a raw, unguarded adoration that she can’t hide. Her face is flushed, her lips slightly parted, her expression completely mesmerised as though she can barely believe you’re here, beneath her, accepting every bit of her.

A soft, blissful smile tugs at her lips, her hand moving up to gently cradle your face as she leans in, pressing a delicate, lingering kiss to your lips, her breaths still heavy, warm. She holds you like this, savouring the closeness, the feel of you wrapped around her, the warmth of her release settling within you.

Finally, she shifts, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes wide, her breath still uneven, as though she’s only just starting to come back to herself. She looks at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief, her fingers tracing your jawline softly, reverently.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammers, her face flushing deeper, her shy gaze flicking away for a moment.

But you smile, reaching up to cup her face, bringing her gaze back to yours, your voice soft and reassuring. “Natty… it’s okay,” you murmur, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I wanted this, too. I asked.”

She lets out a soft, relieved exhale, her body relaxing as she sinks into you, her arms wrapping around you, holding you as though afraid to let go. You feel her heartbeat gradually slow, her warmth enveloping you, her gaze still soft, full of that same innocent awe as she watches you, completely lost in the moment.

As Natasha catches her breath, her fingers lingering on your skin as though afraid to break the closeness between you, she finally shifts to pull out, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping her lips. She watches with wide, almost mesmerised eyes as your bodies separate, and her gaze drops to the way your mixed warmth slowly begins to spill out of you, the evidence of everything you’ve shared glistening in the low light.

Her lips part, her cheeks flushed as her gaze stays fixed, almost transfixed, and she can’t hide the blush that rises as she takes it all in. She’s caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief, her wide eyes drinking in every detail as though this might all disappear any second.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer, Natty,” you tease, your smirk playful, voice soft, cutting through her daze. She looks up, startled, blinking as she registers your words. But after a second, she lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, her blush deepening as she reaches over to grab her phone, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She snaps a quick picture, her gaze flicking between the screen and you, clearly savouring every second. The reverence in her expression makes your heart skip, a feeling of pride filling you as you watch her.

Once she’s put the phone aside, she reaches over with a soft, sheepish smile, helping you sit up and adjust yourself. Her gaze softens, that shy, affectionate look taking over as she wraps her arms around you, holding you close, savouring the warmth that lingers between you both.

And then she glances at the bed, a small, nervous laugh escaping as she spots her carefully scattered history notes—now crinkled, a little rumpled, with more than a few slightly smudged edges. Without missing a beat, she moves to gather them, straightening the papers, her cheeks still a warm shade of pink as she moves to tidy up.

a/n- apologies if this is the worst piece i've written LOL i've been surviving on a few hours of sleep for the past few days- big thanks to jess for somehow helping me get through this, i'll let you keep your ps5. sigh. i'd still build a princess castle tho.

[cythena]

JUST FRIENDS

ꨄ︎ synopsis . satoru told your parents you were "just friends" then proceeded to dick you down in your bedroom

warnings . fwb, porn with no plot, protected sex this time, almost getting caught, multiple orgasms, teasing, slight degradation, gojo has is attached, reader's feelings are ambiguous

word count . 0.8k words

notes . 100 posts yippee

"no don't worry, we're just friends," with an emphasis on that part.

satoru was a liar through and through and he'd be caught in a huge one if anyone were to catch you two right now. his broad shoulders covered your own as he dug his nails into your waist. his other hand pushed your back into the perfect arch for him. his strong thighs slammed against your ass, forming ripples for him to admire. you gripped onto the pillow that you sank your teeth into, soaking it with spit and muffling moans of your friend's name. he also tucked his shirt between his teeth to quiet himself.

"shiiiittt," satoru cursed into his shirt. he let it fall out of his mouth. "barely even touched you 'n you're soaking. should've done this way fuckin' sooner, y'know."

"t-toru! i- ngh—" your pretty voice slipped off into a whimper. satoru grinned at how mindless you became. your brain fried from his cock pounding into you. mascara dripped from your eyes onto your pillow now smearing from your watery eyes. you'd surely have to throw it away or maybe satoru could keep it.

it'd be a nice memorabilia. y'know, finally getting to fuck the girl he's been into since he met her. it needed to be framed, never forgotten. not that he could forget this if he tried. he already ingrained the feeling of your cunt around him and the sound of your moans.

"it's okay, pretty, don't need ya to speak. you're doing so good for me," he teased. you could hear your parents walking through the hallway but he didn't slow down. "you hear that-"

"y/n?" your mother called. satoru wrapped his hand underneath your chin and pulled your face up. he urged you to respond, squishing your doughy cheeks and pulling at your swollen lip. you blinked into to focus enough to reply.

"yes mom?" you bit your lip hard.

"pizza's here. you and gojo can come down wherever."

satoru sighed mentally, relieved that she had no reason to open the door. he gave you a particularly hard thrust. one that sent you over the edge just as you were giving your final reply to your mother. your juices spilled all over satoru's cock and dripped down to your bedsheets.

"yeah be down— ngh! in a sec!" you hurried your words before burying your face back into your pillow.

satoru leaned down next to your ear. he dipped his fingers down to your clit where he rubbed delicate circles. his sultry voice soaking you further with a soft chuckle, "naughty girl . . . you came while talking. didn't think you could be so slutty, all for me."

you let out of muffled sob into your pillow. "y-you're such a— fucking b-bully satoru," you hissed. his length continued hitting you in all the right places. he knew he was a bully but you didn't mind at all. you could feel every detail sliding against your walls and going so deep into your guts that you were sure you could taste him.

"i know it doesn't bother you. can feel you squeezing down on me. wanna cum on my cock again, pretty?"

you frantically nodded. your body writhe under the cool palm he dragged over your back and pushed your shoulders down with. you reached a hand back. your brain was overridden with pleasure and you grabbed onto nothing until satoru linked his hand with yours.

"oh fuck fuck fuck toru! i'm cumming!" you gasped so loud you slapped your hand over your mouth.

holding hands while you came on his cock again? how romantic, he thought. it made his head dizzy and his heart pound. he felt his cock twitch inside of you. he held you tighter while his pulsating cock spurted out warm ropes of cum. his eyes shut in bliss as he sighed.

"mhmm, so good . . . you're so perfect f'me."

he rocked his hips steadily before he pulled out. he sank to a sitting position where he carefully removed his condom then tied it and tossed it into the trash. he helped clean your smudged makeup and even replace your pillowcase. he brought you a new shirt to throw on.

"lie down with me," he whined. he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to his chest. he nuzzled his face in your neck.

you gently pushed away from him but it was futile. you sighed and let him hold you. "what are you doing satoru? we have to go downstairs," you reminded him.

"come on it's just an innocent nap . . . as friends." friends is what satoru decided to call you. it's what you were and he was okay with it being just that as long as he got to hold you like this.

[idioticbat]

Idk how to write this, but I got caught in the south Brazil floods. My partner and I have been homeless since last Saturday, we've stayed until this Thursday at a shelter, but things were getting worse and worse, and my partner's company paid a hotel stay in another town till the next week or two.

Thursday/Friday on the week before the last (may 2nd and 3rd) we were housing two friends, who were already homeless due to the flood which had just started. They're also both trans and have no family to support them.

Friday morning the power went out and our friends left for a shelter. In the evening, my partner and i went for a walk to check how bad things were, and it was already flooding a mere 3 and a half blocks from our house. On the time it took for us to walk across that block, the water was already covering our feet.

We rushed back home and the street in front of where we live was starting to get covered in water. We carried everything we could to the attic, mostly my art stuff, computer, etc. We originally planned to stay home and survive a couple days until it got better. I barely slept that night because I knew the water was coming, so my brain was on maximum alert. I woke up after 3 hours of sleep, from a dream that I was trying to escape the flood.

When I woke up, we organized a bit more and ate lunch for breakfast. On the time it took for us to eat, the water was already at our doorstep, and we rushed to pack. I had a panic attack as the water rushed into our house, and a police officer rescued us and carried our bags inside a barrel. I only got a few clothes, medication for two weeks, basic hygiene stuff, plushies and some food. My partner got clothes and their laptop. I regret not picking my computer.

We had to swim and waddle through 1.60m+ (5'3") deep water for two blocks. On some places it was probably close to 2m. It felt like an eternity passed while we found our way through the cold water. Some neighbours who were also helping us recommended us a place for shelter. After we crossed a bridge, some person gave us a ride, so at least we didn't have to walk 3km to the shelter.

We got there really early on Saturday, the university which was one of the places being used as a shelter had just opened, so we were able to shower and eat. They also gave us new clothes. As it got more packed, we got help from volunteer psychologists, who gave us a separate room in another floor, since both my partner and I have autism.

I had more panic attacks but we got some help from other volunteers. Things were otherwise fine throughout Sunday and Monday, we managed to shower once more. Stuff started getting worse on Tuesday, as the place went from sheltering some 100-200 people to around 700. We were seeing the psychologists only once a day for a couple minutes and food started getting delayed for hours. Water was also scarce and we started having power outages.

Wednesday we were without food til 4pm, and since we also had pretty much lost access to the psychologists, we accepted the offer from my partner's company to take us to a hotel in another town. Thursday we left for the hotel, I showered for the first time since in four days, had lunch and finally changed my patreon password so I can post from my phone, as I do pretty much everything from my computer. Yesterday and today (friday/saturday, one week later), i finally managed to have computer access on my partner's laptop and log in to tumblr, cohost and so on.

I'm still not sure what we'll do about the future. Our place was rented and all the furniture that belonged to the house will be lost. Our landlord lives in another country and it's almost impossible to contact her. The kitchen and laundry appliances are still underwater and I guess we'll lose all of these. We can't afford to renew a house that isn't ours, and buy new appliances on top of that. We have nowhere to go that's nearby after this is over, no family, and our few friends are worse off. I'm not even sure I'll be able to recover my computer since the roof on the attic is leaky, and there'll be even more rain this weekend.

I feel absolutely crushed inside. Some people have tried to get me art supplies and I did draw a bit on a whiteboard in the classroom we were staying at in the shelter, but it's not the same thing. I can't feel any kind of inspiration knowing I might be completely homeless in two weeks, knowing the only two friends we have here might also be homeless, knowing I might have lost more than 15 years of art and music that were on my computer, that I might have lost thousands of physical drawings and so on. But I'm just trying my best to not think about any of that, so I just feel numb, occasionally I cry and feel anxious. My partner has also been trying to cheer me up since we got to the hotel, but i still feel pretty terrible. I haven't slept more than 5 hours straight in some 10 days. A lot of the time I dissociate and everything feels surreal.

I'll leave my ko-fi here in case anyone wants to donate. I also want to help our two friends with at least 100usd if possible, since they're even more vulnerable than my partner and I. If you have me on discord, please dm me instead and I'll give you my paypal address.

[1980shorrorfilm]

pain breaks the rhythm

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

pairing…ellie williams x gn!vampire!reader

in which…ellie wants you to bite her out of curiosity. or something more.

before you read…18+. no smut; vampirism is just sexual. blood drinking.

nirvana plays lowly in ellie’s dorm, her warm fairy lights mixed with orange halloween ones, on the verge of falling due to how lazily she placed them.

they cast a warm glow in the small space, and over the few scattered books on her bed. they lay in between you, along with some notes, both of you sitting in silence as your brains are completely fried from studying at this point.

ellie hasn’t even spoken in five minutes, and knowing her, that means her mind is either empty or on overdrive. she keeps looking at you, as you keep looking at your phone, awaiting a message from whatever girl replies first.

your appetite is growing by the minute, and you can feel it. it causes your head to hurt, and your fingers to fidget, tapping them on your thigh as you attempt to focus on the opened textbook before you.

your little secret wasn’t a secret to ellie. you had trusted her with it, because you trust her with your entire life. she had found the whole thing fascinating, like something out of the many comic books she grew up reading.

except, this is reality, and it’s not as pretty as those colorful pages make it out to be. you’re not a murderer, you don’t have it in you. you’ll stalk the alleys of jackson for rats when desperate, and butter up pretty girls who think your bite is just that— a bite.

a painful yet sensational feeling that makes them want more, and why you rely on them in moments like these.

and for some reason, none of them want to fucking reply to you tonight. it feels like torture, and ellie almost feels bad watching you grow anxious— but she also doesn’t. you and another girl…it makes her want to throw up.

she’s not caught up with her lore, but a kiss from a vampire is equivalent to a proposal to her. and no one, other than her, deserves that from you. she tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth, heart jumping out of its chest when she finally speaks, “i’m curious.”

“hm?” you hum, glancing at your phone again, going over your irrelevant notifications to see if you missed anything. “what it feels like…you know…”

you look up at her, “what?”

“a bite…what it feels like,” she says shamefully; as if she’s admitting the most taboo thing ever. maybe because she had imagined it, seeing you at a corner of a party, head snuggled comfortably in a blonde woman’s neck, everyone else distracted by the blaring music and bumping bodies while she was stunned like a deer in headlights.

how she wasn’t disturbed, she was so far from. she thought about it being her, and letting you take what you wanted, not just what you needed. she could be your personal buffet, she would do that for you in a heartbeat. ellie could satisfy you. no one else, just her.

but, you laugh at her words, as if she told you a joke. ellie did have a habit of shitty vampire jokes and puns, often made in group settings because she thinks it is hilarious to have such an inside joke. she grabs your complete attention, “i’m serious.”

the smile you wore, leaves your face, understanding what she was trying to imply without asking. something off the table, absolutely forbidden.

“no…no, ellie,” you tell her, the rejection like a stake to the heart. there was absolutely nothing more in this universe you’d want more than to taste her, just the idea of it makes your heart beat even faster, shaking your head as though it would rid the enticing picture. you’re hungry enough as is.

“why?”

“because ellie.”

“you can do it to anyone else but not me?”

her question is more of a salty remark, causing you to glare at her, ellie now quickly swallowing whatever other comment she already had prepared. she doesn’t get it, she really doesn’t, and you cannot explain it to her.

how drinking from other people is a necessity, like eating food to her. how you have absolutely no emotional attachment to them, and you don’t crave any more than you’re given.

and with her, someone you love deeply, you could drain her completely. which isn’t an overstatement. you’ve watched the blood run along her veins on more than one occasion, how thick and sweet it is.

you can taste it on your tongue without having a single drop if it…how good it would taste running down your throat. you would get drunk off of her.

“it’s not that simple…you’re…you,” you scratch the back of your neck, confusion crossing her pretty features at the statement. “i’m me?”

“yeah…god, ellie, can we drop it?”

you don’t mean to sound so frustrated, but you are. ellie isn’t aware of the weight of her words, how her desire isn’t just hers. you share it, you want her. you want to quite literally devour her.

your phone vibrates, ellie trying to read the notification, someone asking to meet up with a stupid wink face. a sigh leaves her lips, sinking into her bed, redirecting her gaze to the book in her lap.

“see you tomorrow?” she quietly says, assuming you’re ready to go have dinner. and you should, you know you should, but you remain seated on her bed.

“it’s…hard…when it’s someone close to you,” you try to explain, “and i could hurt you.”

she’s sat up straight again, green eyes boring into you. “could isn’t a for sure thing,” ellie says, “i could get hit by a car tomorrow.”

“that’s not— you don’t get it.”

“i do,” she groans, tossing her head back, huffing, then looking back at you, “…i…trust you.”

the contemplation rests on your face, ellie noticing, her determination still adamant. she reaches for your hand, grabs it, and faintly leans forward.

“you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.”

the cool air thickens with tension as you consider her request, listening to how hard her heartbeat thuds. it compels you, along with the unwavering gaze of her green irises, luring you into her. she adds, “it’ll be a win-win.”

ellie is right. you think you could attack the first person you’d see when you leave her room, suck them until the light leaves their eyes— mouth salivating thinking about it. you’re practically starving, or so feel that way, and ellie could easily relieve you.

“okay.”

you expect a shit-eating grin on her face, the mischief glint in her eyes whenever you give her what she wants. and this was practically giving her the greatest gift on earth, yet her mouth drops ajar and she looks shocked, even nervous.

“really?”

“yeah…if that’s what you want.”

“yeah— yeah,” she responds almost too quickly, but she has already shown her desperation for you.

you push away everything in between you two, getting close enough to where you’re nearly in her lap.

“it’ll hurt.”

“i can take it.”

you watch the low spoken words leave her mouth, the suggestive tone combined with her hand squeezing yours, abruptly taking the air from you. for a moment, you find yourself more attracted to her lips, than her neck.

a very brief moment, because you’re swiftly distracted by the pumping of her jugular, the veins screaming at you.

you steady yourself, “ready?”

ellie nods, and with that, she lets your gentle hand cradle one side of her jaw, tilting it upward. her breathing hitches while you move in closer, fangs grazing the soft skin of her neck.

the heat radiating from her pulse sends shivers throughout your entire body, carnal desire growing stronger each millisecond that passes. along came restraint, slowly sinking your canine teeth in the side of her neck, afraid of actually hurting her.

she gasps immediately, guilt hitting you at the noise. maybe you should pull back. maybe you should stop, and apologize to her for even agreeing to this.

but the moment her smooth blood runs down your tongue, your delicate pressure turns into something feverish, electrifying. you crave more.

you bite harder, sucking the crimson from her body with your eyes fluttering to the back of your head, your worries about the ordeal fading into oblivion. ellie tastes even better than your fantasies, like the ripest fruit in the orchard, so fucking rich.

she is unlike anyone else— you mean that in every way, but the taste of her might just drive you mad. the way her blood rushes into your lungs, she fills you up just right.

when she whimpers, you moan, continuing to feast on her, the warm liquid is like ecstasy. ellie is gripping the sheets beneath her, the pain she feels is euphoric. addicting. damn perfect.

you’re driving her to an edge she’s never been before, in between life and death, a high that makes her body feel lightweight and her mind empty. the only thing she can think about is you, and your fangs inside of her, her life being in your hands as she gives you life.

for ellie, it is the best feeling in the fucking world.

she truthfully believes you could gnaw on her flesh until it was raw, and she would welcome the burning sensation with wide open, and loving, arms. she falls back, onto her pillows, your lips not leaving her for a single second.

“fu…” ellie murmurs, unable to finish the word, mind suddenly blanking.

on top of her, you can feel ellie shuddering beneath you; this is it.

for a moment, everything fades away. her warmth, her pulse, and the world surrounding you. you listen to her whimper once more, the color leaving all of her features, going pale.

your indulgence comes to an end, divorcing yourself from the crook of her neck, scanning her face out of worry you had gone too far.

she’s exhausted, breathless, fluttering her eyes at you. her pupils are blown, looking at you with pure admiration, as if you’re an angel hovering before her. then, she smiles faintly at you. and how beautiful she looks so drained underneath you.

you bring a hand to her face, thumb stroking her freckled cheek gently, “still with me?”

“mhm,” she hums, and you give her a moment to collect herself. you await for her heart rate to return to normal, for her temperature to rise, hand traveling down to her neck in the meantime.

softly, you touch the puncture wound, a strange feeling of pride at the mark. not wanting to heal it, and not wanting ellie to cover it up. it’ll remain a happy reminder of tonight.

when ellie’s pupils are no longer fuzzy, she takes in the view before her, her blood coating your face, on your mouth, on your chin. sinful thoughts run through her head, it makes her feel wrong— perverse —but with how tantalizing you look, she doesn’t care.

ellie almost wants to take a polaroid, and keep it locked away safely in her underwear drawer, afraid this won’t happen again.

she reaches for your face, thumb swiping the stray trail of crimson on your chin. you think she’s cleaning herself off of you, but she has different intentions.

after experiencing such an intimate moment with you, ellie feels bold, and she keeps it going, daring to brush her thumb against your lips— giving you a very clear signal, and order.

one that you accept, mouth opening slightly. her finger slips in, and your tongue curls around it.

ellie’s teeth dig into her bottom lip while you suck the blood off of her thumb, your eyes shut in bliss at the mere taste of her. you wouldn’t waste a single drop.

ellie is hypnotized by you, by the way you bring your hands to her forearm, holding her tightly in place until you are finished. and when you are, you glance back down at her, noticing how flustered she is by the pink hues of her cheek.

you can’t help but laugh, and she gulps, realizing she’s been caught in her trance. it’s cute.

the sudden confidence she had is now fleeting as you crawl off of her, ellie searching for the right thing to say. unfortunately for her, the only words that want to come out are ‘i love you,’ as if you had just taken her fucking virginity.

she decides to keep her mouth shut, lying there dazed.

ellie would happily die to you, if this was the death you’d give her.

[daintylovers]

imagine moving to beacon hills around season one. right around the same time, allison moves in. it's nice not being the only new girl, so you two quickly become friends.

imagine meeting lydia for the first time. it happens in your fourth class of the day, you two are assigned to be partners for the semester. albeit, at first she isn't thrilled, but once she gives you a chance, everything changes. she's found someone like-minded for once in this small town. someone as intelligent, yet fashionable as her. she thinks for a quick second, if she liked girls, she would love you.

imagine seeing stiles for the first time. seeing- not meeting, because the boy can only gawk at you from across the hall. it's definitely weird and a little unsettling at first, but it's nice to be admired? right?

imagine finally talking to the poor boy for the first time. it had to be you who spoke first, his brain going a mile a minute. it happens a few days later, when lab partners are assigned. stiles almost faints when he hears your names paired together. scott has to be the one to push him out of his seat. it feels kind of how you imagine bella felt when edward and her first meet, awkward and stiff. does he not like you? maybe that's why he was always staring, it wasn't in fantasy, but with disgust. not being one to dwell on whether someone likes you or not, you push through, introducing yourself with a raised out hand. stiles is quick to latch on, spewing out his full government name. then once he catches the confusion on your face, he tells you that you could call him stiles.

imagine going to lydias house party, that very night. running into all your newfound friends, dancing and drinking a little. then seeing your shy new lab partner chasing after his drunk friend. but also allison chasing after the drunk friend. whats his name again? shawn? smith? stiles? no- wait stiles is yours. scott! its scott. but by the time you have that revelation, the three are already outside. so you watch as allison gets into some random car and stiles stands are dumbfounded. scott has seemingly disappeared, and there's an unease building in your chest. who was that guy with allison? stiles, sensing someone behind him, turns around to face the one person he doesn't want to see at the moment. not because he doesn't like you, but because he is pretty sure his best friend is a freaking werewolf.

imagine asking him if he knew who allison got in the car with, and getting an unsavory response. great, your new friend might get murdered and tossed into the woods tonight. the alcohol is catching up to you rather quickly, and the worry is only increasing. stiles starts to make a move to his car, eager to see if scott went back home when you wrap a hand around his upper arm. it's not harsh or anything, so he doesn't flinch, but he is confused. you ask him if he will give you a ride to allisons, because you guys live close together and you want to make sure she gets home safe. stiles immediately says yes, but tells you he has to make a quick stop at scotts. something about possible alcohol poisoning or something, which makes your head spin. oh fuck, what if you have that?

imagine being told to wait in the car as stiles goes into scotts house. the boy is very persistent as you try to help him out. he offers to get you fries from the local drive-through if you just please stay in the car. that gets you to comply, so you're left staring out the window. it doesn't take long for stiles to come running out of the house and speeding down the street. you don't even have to ask because he tells you that allison went home with this guy derek who is very very evil. you never get those fries. but the good news is that allison is alive!

imagine stiles walking you to your door because you and allison really do live right next to each other. you guys don't say much, the adrenaline rush already crashing. you guys are about to part ways when you stop him and ask for his number. he seems like a nice guy and you joke about how you'll harass him until he gets you those fries. his heart does cartwheels as you exchange digits, and makes a mental note to kill scott. in a perfect world, you two would have managed to spend the whole night together, but scotts newfound supernatural abilities are already infiltrating stiles life.

imagine waking up the next morning with a pounding headache and a text from stiles telling you to get dressed cause he is coming over in fifteen minutes. it has you smiling like a child and it feels so goddamn good. maybe this kid will be cooler than you imagined. he pulls into your driveway and you open the door to see him with iced vanilla lattes and Mcdonald's french fries. this guy might just be an angel. you let him in and for the rest of the morning, you guys eat and talk about nothing while lounging around your room.

[consextualjane]

Ransom

Brandon jumped when his phone buzzed. His nerves were nearly fried from hours of worry, wondering where Alicia could be. Tuesdays were her yoga class days. She was usually home by seven, but it was going on midnight now.

He grabbed his phone.  What he saw on the screen didn't make sense. A picture of Alicia, ball-gagged and on her knees in front of a mirror, was sent from an unknown number.  The woman who had taken the picture was standing next to Alicia with her ass pressed against his girlfriend's face.

The message under the image was even more surreal: I picked up your dumb girlfriend at a yoga class. I told her I  ran an advanced class from my home, and this idiot believed me.  She's full of drugs and had a vibrator held to her clit for the last two hours. I doubt she even knows her name right now. If you want her back, wire five thousand dollars to the link in the next message. Or something worse will happen to her.

Brandon's phone buzzed again and the link appeared.  His brain didn't register what was happening. Was this some kind of prank? Alicia had mentioned wanting to spice up their sex life. Was this her way? Or was it real?

What the fuck is this, he typed in response, not knowing what else to do. He waited for what seemed like several minutes before he received a response.

You have one minute.

Brandon's worry turned to anger. He wasn't going to indulge whatever game this was.

He typed another message: Go fuck yourself.

Suit yourself, came the response.

He tossed the phone on couch. She'd be home soon, once she realized he wasn't into whatever game this was. And then they would be having frank discussion about what he considered cheating. He flopped himself down on the couch and turned on the TV.

A few minutes of channel surfing went by before he looked back at his phone.  Who was the other girl in that photo? Why was Alicia dressed like such a slut for her? Brandon picked up his phone and opened the photo again.

There was his girlfriend, on her knees and wearing a leather belt and collar lingerie. Since when did she act like that? The other woman's big ass was dominating Alicia's face. She almost looked like she was enjoying it. His cock stiffened.

He started to rub it through his pants, but then he stopped himself, throwing his phone down. He wasn't into this kinky stuff. And he didn't sign up to date a whore.

His eyes were drifting back to the TV when he felt his phone vibrate through the couch cushion. Was that her again? Reaching for the phone, he felt his heart rate quicken. When he looked at the screen he found text message with only a video.

A surge of images flashed through his mind. Was this woman actually doing things to his girlfriend? There was no way he could watch that video. He only hesitated for a moment before his thumb betrayed him and pressed play.

The video opened to a view of the woman's bedroom. The lights were off except for a neon glow coming from behind the camera, illuminating her empty bed. An eighties-style synth pop song started playing in the background as a women walked into the frame.

Only her bottom half was visible in the video, but Brandon could tell from her thong that it was the woman from the photo. She walked in front of the camera, showing off her wide hips. Brandon felt himself getting harder despite his disgust. He held the phone closer, and noticed a bulge in the front of the woman's thong.

She  stood in front of the bed, swaying her hips for several seconds, before reaching into the front of her thong and pulling out one of the biggest cocks Brandon had ever seen, fully hard and girthy. It was nearly twice the size of his own.

She stroked the behemoth a few times. His mouth fell open as a thick bead of precum oozed out of the tip and dripped out of the frame. His own cock was about to burst through his pants. Without realizing what he was doing, he unzipped and pulled it out.

The woman on the video then walked out of view. The synthesizer-heavy song continued to hum ominously in the background. A second later Brandon saw his girlfriend climb on to the bed on all fours. A mix of horror and lust coursed through his cock as he watched the woman get on to the bed behind her.  She pushed Alicia down into the mattress and pulled her hips up before giving her ass a hard slap. He heard his girlfriend moan over the music.

After another ass-slap, Alicia turned and looked directly at the camera. Brandon felt her looking at him. Her eyes were wide, full of fear, and lust, and something that almost seemed like an apology for what he was about to see.

Right on cue, the woman sank her massive, bare girl-cock  into his girlfriend from behind. Alicia fell to the mattress, letting out an orgasmic cry just as the video cut out.

Brandon stared at the screen, his phone in one hand, his throbbing cock in the other. The shock of the video made his mind go blank. Before he could think of what to do next his phone buzzed with another message.

Send the money to see the rest.

[sixosix]

hello six! since you put it on your example, can I request izuku, a charger, but fluff? :3 congrats on 5k!

a/n 1k words !!! anon sent this back in march…its now july… thank you so much anon! sorry i got to this late

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

"Seriously? None of you have one? Not even you, Denki?"

Kaminari inspects your phone from all angles, humming. He eyes your charging port distrustfully. "No? What even is this?"

You bury your knuckle on his head. "Dipshit. It's a phone. A phone that's about to die because you fried my charger trying to blow your hair this morning."

Kaminari winces. "Oohh..."

"Hey." Ashido claps a hand on your shoulder, sympathetic. "I'm sorry, but that idiot's right, ya'know? This model is outdated."

Bakugou is about to walk past when he plucks the phone from your grasp and then studies it intently. His eyes narrow.

You beam up at him, hopeful. "Do you have one, Bakugou?"

He throws it back at you, and you fumble to catch it. "Nah. Deku's got the same one, though. The nerd will let you borrow one."

And then he leaves, just like that. You're not sure if you should yell at him for risking your phone or kiss him on the cheek for presenting a ray of hope that came in the form of Midoriya Izuku.

Ashido's eyes turn sly. "Oh? Midoriya, huh? Looks like you'll have to..."

You slap a hand over her mouth. Kaminari perks up, his expression a visible representation of his brain lagging behind.

"Hafta what?" he asks in a whisper.

"Nothing!" you squeak out before Ashido could say anything. "Nothing at all. Mina, you're acting weird. I'm just gonna borrow a charger from my classmate. What's so strange about that? Nothing at all."

Ashido giggles. "Right, right. Make sure you don't stay longer than three minutes, or else I'll just assume you're stealing a ki—"

"God! Seriously. My phone's about to die! I should go now. Bye, Denki. I hate you, Mina."

You pad away, phone clutched in a death grip as Ashido's laughter echoes in the hallway. Of course. Of course, Midoriya would be the only one in the class with the same charger as you because that makes sense. Your long-term crush would be the only person, obviously. Right. Duh.

You have a suspicion that Bakugou is aware of this crush of yours, and Midoriya isn't the only one who has the same type of charger, but you'd rather take Midoriya than--god forbid--Mineta. Bakugou can play Cupid if he wants.

You knock softly. "Midoriya?"

Once, twice, and the door swings open right away halfway through the third one. You and Midoriya stare at each other for a startled moment. Midoriya gapes, mouth dropping open almost comically.

"Y/N!" he exclaims.

"Hi," you mutter. "Sorry, did I disturb you?"

Midoriya glances back at his room. You follow his gaze, falling on his desk with a single lamp lighting the room, directed at notebooks and pens spread about. He must've been studying.

Midoriya turns back to you with a soft smile. "No, don't worry. Did you need something?"

"Oh, yeah." You show him your phone, wishing to every deity out there that he doesn't notice how your hands are trembling. "Denki fried my charger, and my phone's about to die. Do you have one for this model?"

Midoriya's fingers brush your skin as he takes your phone to inspect it himself. You thank All Might and his mother that Midoriya's too busy with your phone to notice that you're steaming, positively overwhelmed by this proximity. You've never been close to Midoriya like this before. He smells like freshly pulled laundry, his warmth emanating even at this distance. You find yourself gravitating, inching slightly closer.

Midoriya looks back up again. Your noses nearly touch. You both jump back.

"Sorry!" you both cry out. 

"Um." Midoriya's face is beet red. "I do have the same model."

You knew that, obviously. You move to reach for your phone, eager to leave before you do anything else stupid and embarrass yourself further. "Thanks a lot, Midoriya. You're heaven-sent."

But Midoriya rears back. "Would you like to come inside?"

...What?

Midoriya wilts. "I—I mean, unless you want to charge in your own room, I was just— Well, that makes more sense, actually. Nevermind. Forget I—"

You brush past Midoriya, saying, "Sorry for the intrusion!"

As your eyes take in the alarming cluster of All Might merchandise, you belatedly register the door clicking shut behind you. Midoriya bounds over to his bed, pulling out his charger. He makes a show of plugging it into your phone and displaying how your phone brightens.

"Thank you, Midoriya." You sigh and cradle your now-charging phone in your arms, like handling a wounded child. "I might have to go out later to buy a new one so I don't bother you again."

Midoriya laughs, settling back on his chair, but he faces you. "I don't mind, really. You can visit here anytime."

You don't see why you must 'visit anytime' when you can bring his charger to your room, but you wouldn't want to overstep when he's already lending you his things. And there's really no downside to it aside from your impending doom of humiliation; you wouldn't take down the offer of rooming alone with your crush. Not when he smells so nice, and he’s giving his undivided attention to you.

"So..." You set your phone aside. "Is that Preset Mic's seatwork?"

Midoriya glances over his shoulder, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah. I wanted to finish everything today."

"Do you mind teaching me?" you blurt out.

Midoriya blinks owlishly.

"I-If you want, I mean! I'll pay you back or something—"

Midoriya slides his chair closer to where you're sitting, beaming. "Sure. While your phone charges."

"Yeah," you say faintly. "Yeah. While my phone charges."

You stumble into Bakugou on your way out of Midoriya’s room, giddy and floaty, like Uraraka’s touched you with all ten fingers and left you to rot in space. You muffle a squeal as soon as the door’s shut. Bakugou arches a suspicious brow, looking at you up and down like you’ve done something particularly scandalous.

“What?” you ask defensively.

Bakugou huffs, smirking. “You took your sweet time there.”

“He offered for me to stay while I waited for my phone to charge.” And then you stick your tongue out for good measure.

“As if. Deku uses a faster charger. Your phone should’ve been done five hours ago, dumbass.”

[skymar13]

Helping 1A with the post war effects

:angst/comfort

Bakugo

When bakugo started to lose his hearing you thought it’d be ideal and give him some reassurance to learn sign to be able to freely communicate with him as well as help him interact with his classmates as well.

Izuku

Izuku had always had scars on his body but now they had almost tripled to the point his body was more scar than skin. When yall would cuddle you’d lightly touch his scars whispering how beautiful they were making him feel less insecure and grounded.

Denki

When Denki came back his brain was fried and he’d have random spells where he would just blank out. The rest of the class made jokes about it but when this happened you’d rub his back waiting for him to come back to reality and when he did he’d js look at you with sorrowful eyes.

Kirishima

Kirishima thought he was unbreakable but when he started falling apart during the war and was actually getting marked up he couldn’t help but feel useless. You stop by to change out his bandages and make him food since he refused to leave and for this he thanked you to no end

Mina

She had carefully manipulated her quirk all the time. Mina had never gotten chemical burns until the battle. Now she had to deal with painful light pink marks across her body. (I have vitiligo so I relate to the insecurity) she hated them thinking they were disgusting and she tried to hide them until you’d kiss each one carefully complementing their shapes and color.

Iida

His engines had blown and were terribly sore it hurt to walk. So you never let iida walk not even to fetch his water bottle that was across the room. You’d taken care of him u til he healed without a question and for this he was forever indebted.

Sero

His arms had been sore and he was all banged up from the falls he’d endured. Sero sat on the sink letting you change his bandages and lay kisses on them afterwards. He leant in to kiss you lips hissing in pain.

Ururaka

Poor had been vomiting all day. Ururaka couldn’t even stand straight without getting nauseous. And even if it was gross you held the bag or pulled her hair back and brought her water and liquid ivs or snacks to make sure she wouldn’t get sick.

Tsuyu

Her tongue had been sliced up to the Gods blood constantly spilling from her mouth. Every time you noticed tsu beginning to bleed you brought her hydrogen peroxide and cleaned her wounds.

Jirou

Her ears had been ringing all day none stop causing her so many head aches. Jirou had experienced too many loud sounds for way too long. The best way you could help was be her quiet you brought her noise canceling headphones and watched 1950s silent movies.

Todoroki

He’d had freezer burns and regular burns all over his body. Todoroki was constantly shaking from the pain he couldn’t touch anything before his nerves would flare up. You’d brought him some aloe Vera and Tylenol you wouldn’t touch him but you stayed with him and that’s all he could ask for.

Tokoyami

He had gotten pretty beaten up back there and shadow hadn’t helped. Tokoyami had barely any control over dark shadow to the point he stopped trying. Luckily you were able to patch him up and calm dark shadow with your words of love and treats.

Hitoshi

He had so many head aches from over use of his quirk. So you stayed in hitoshis dorm making it dark and quiet with just the tv playing as you let him nap with Tylenol on the bed side waiting for him.

Momo

She’d almost completely wrecked her whole body. Momo had felt weak for a while after barely being able to walk across her room without feeling dizzy and nauseated. You brought her some medicine and food and kept her entertained u til she felt better.

[spicy30]

Modernness of 1400s 006

Pairing: HOTD x Fem!Modern!Reader

Extra: The reader is noted to be bilingual (Spanish speaking) and is familiar with the majority of Latin-based languages, No use of Y/N

Rating: 18+

Not proofread

Tags: @fan-goddess @meowmeowmothermeower @bunxia @your-favorite-god @coolalienstatesmansports @georgiatesulitsyeykite @qwerrtsworld @wegottastayfocus @dakota-rain666 @talilosha @the-deep-dark-abyss @101crows @agustdeeyaa @ggglich-exe @illjhhlisa @deepeststarlightmoon @cluelessteam @a-fruity-snack @i-zenin

Side note: I don't know why it won't let me tag ppl.

WC: 8.9k

“Princess Helaena?” You entered looking at her. She looked up, putting one of her twins down. It still freaked you out that they were born out of sibling incest. “I have…brought a gift and a proposition.” You spoke quietly as you entered the room looking at the twins. 

You bowed and sat before her while she looked at you with a tilted head and wide eyes. It almost hurt to look at her. She wasn’t too far off from your age yet she held such wide child-like eyes. A child with two children. However, Helena was… breathtakingly beautiful. Of course, all Targeyens were as you quickly came to learn. Even the ones you didn’t like were beautiful. Though you don’t think anyone could hold a candle to the woman in front of you. You shook your head when you realized you were staring for a little too long at her. 

“Sorry. I have bought treats for your children and you, along with a gift that I thought you might enjoy.” You cleared your throat and had the snacks brought in. You smiled at your latest creations. While solving the genetics problem, you figured you needed brain food. Though your version of brain food included what was on the platters they had brought in. 

Potato chips, french fries, and popcorn! After nearly three weeks of starving yourself of junk food, you were feigning for something. 

“What are those?” Helaena asked. You picked up a crisp and bit down on it and it let out a crunch. 

“Potatoes with salt. This one too.” You picked up a fry and ate it. “And this is corn, but it is popped. I call it popcorn! It also pops when cooked. Try them, I think your children might like them more than you and I.” 

You watched Helaena eat one and smile as she chewed and you nodded knowingly. It wasn’t long before she called the twins over and they too began eating the treats. As Jaehaera and Jaehaerys took off with the plate you brought out something wrapped in a napkin. “I made this for you. I was told you liked sweets?”

She nodded and looked curiously at the cloth. Should it be anything like what you had her taste she was looking forward to this. She watched you unwrap the cloth, and there was a golden brown circular thing sprinkled with what looked like sugar. In the middle was something purple and it was glossy. She took it and smelled it before taking a bite. It was soft and the filling tasted like plums. Once more she smiled and you nodded knowingly again. 

“So uh,” You grin toward Helaena. “I hear you like dragon riding.”

… 

“Oh man….” You grimaced looking down at the paper. 

Bb:½ 

BB: ¼ 

bb:¼ 

Bb or BB taken. (HC)

Bb:½ 

BB: ¼ 

bb:¼ 

Bb or BB taken (EC)

JV: ¼ LV: ¼ JOV: ¼ 

¼ * ¼ * ¼  = 1/64 or 1.56%

JV: ¼ LV: ¼ JOV: ¼ = 1.56%

1.56% chance of having present phenotypes. 

You redid the math twice before finally moving on to the assumed father who would have dark hair and dark eyes. Keeping the assumed possibilities…it skyrockets, seventy-five perfect that one child is born with dark hair and dark eyes. 

¾ * ¾ * ¾ = 27/64 ≈ 42.2% 

42.2% chance of having present phenotypes. 

You took a deep breath as you cradled your face in your hands, double-checking the math in your head. There was no mistaking it. Officially and deemed by science. Jacaerys Valeyron, Lucerys Valeryon, and Joffery Valeyron were bastards. 

It was visible to anyone to see their parentage, but now here it was in numbers further damaging them. Were you wrong? No. You had checked the math dozens of times. Your math wasn’t wrong, but were you wrong? Wrong for doing this? Was it right? You only did what was asked of you. You suggested it. You were wrong. Were you? This could ruin lives. You could ruin lives. Is that why you’re here? Truly here? Why were you here? Why was this wrong? It was wrong. You were wrong.

You spiraled. You turned your head away from the table and his scent invaded you. You inhaled deeply balling your fists. Jacaerys coat still hung on your chair. Were you wrong?

A knock sounded on your door and you rushed to hide your work and hide Jacaerys’s coat. Stuffing his coat into your suitcase while you tossed the rolled-up paper under your bed you scrambled to your feet to open the door. 

There stood the last person you wanted to see right now. Jacaerys. You put on the best smile you could and extended your hand to him to beckon him inside. That night as you watched the movie your thoughts ran rampant. 

You wondered as you watched him become engrossed in the movie. Such innocent wandering. So many innocents here. You bit your lip. You were unsure of what to do. Go to Otto and tell him? No…you should probably hold off for a little bit. 

…

“Mayhaps, we can have a painter paint your pictures so that you may have them forever.” 

You snapped your head up. “Really? You would do that?” Your lips formed a wobbly smile. “It would mean the world to me to have them painted out.” You reached out in the dark for his hands holding them close to you. “Thank you Jacaerys Valeryon, really. Thank you.” 

Too many innocents. 

There would be too many innocents hurt. If you had proven him a bastard, what would become of his mother’s claim? The last woman they voted against because she simply was a woman. If it was proven Rhaenrya had no true heirs other than her last two children, she would be labeled a whore. You can only imagine the riots and the insults that will be thrown, and then those that would be slaughtered.

As you walked Jacaerys out you were silent thinking over your next steps. If you truly were here to make a change, if you had to change the course of history, then here and now would influence everything for centuries to come. You would influence centuries.

“Good night Prince Jacaerys.” You bowed. It was the first time you had addressed him as much. Your mind swirled with thoughts. To reform civilization. To speedrun progress. You shut the door and looked back towards your fan watching it spin.

“I am here to make a change.” You murmured as your eyes focused towards the window. Your brows furrowed as you nodded. “Okay. I will. I am…”

With that, you pulled another piece of parchment paper and went to grab the finished genetic problem. Rhaenerya must become Queen. If she became Queen, it would bring about a new era and you would make her reign the best there ever was. An era of change and progress brought about by women. The seeds of equality between man and woman would be planted by you and your first seed would be implanting Rhaenyra as Queen. 

There could be no doubts about her children’s legitimacy. So you rewrote the entire equation. Minor differences made big changes and soon with extra scribbles and making the problem more complicated than it should be…that night you were able to legitimize Jacaerys Valeyron, Lucerys Velaryon, and Joffery Valeryron. 

You looked towards the window, squinting your eyes as the sun began to rise. It had taken nearly a night, but your new and revised equation would serve you well. Standing up and grabbing the old equation you walked over to the fireplace. Once you burned this paper, the truth would be burned and your plan would begin. Without a doubt, you tossed it into the fire and it burned bright. You felt the heat lick at your face as you watched the paper shrivel and burn. 

You would speak to Otto and Alicent after your week away to the Riverlands with Helaena. 

…

You dragged your luggage as you walked to the Dragon pit. You struggled to keep up with Heleana who only offered a smile. 

“Wait here, I will bring out Dreamfyre.” She spoke and you nodded and watched her enter the pit. 

You didn’t know what to expect. Yes, you had seen Vermax, but no other dragon since. You didn’t even know what other dragons they had. You knew Aegon had one, but did Aemond have one? What about Daemon or Rhaenerya? Lucerys? You didn’t know. Were there wild dragons? Is there a place where they’re from? Were there other kinds? Like in how to train your dragon. Maybe large sea beasts! You gave a gasp and a smile bloomed on your face. Could you claim one? Oh, shoot! Maybe an ice-spitting one or one like toothless! However, a fire-breathing dragon is still pretty cool. 

The ground rumbled and you looked as a large claw came out. You stepped back in fear and shock as the very large dragon came out with a roar with Helaena on top. Her dragon was certainly prettier than Vermax in your humble opinion. Dreamfyre was pale blue with silver markings, silver crests, and pale blue wings. She was breathtakingly beautiful. However, that didn’t do much for your pounding heart as Dreamfyre snarled at you. 

Maybe riding a dragon wasn’t a good idea. Dreamfyre was a lot larger than Vermax. You watched the helpers strap yours and Helaena’s luggage to Dreamfyre whilst speaking Valyrian. You were still a bit salty about the fact that you could understand next to nothing when they spoke. 

You watched as Helaena giggled and smiled as she hugged Dreamfyre’s snout. You smiled at the sight though you stood off far in the distance awkwardly. 

“Do you like her?” Helena asked as she turned around looking towards you. 

“Like her? Of course, I do!” You grinned pushing back your fear. Helaena gave you a sweet smile. “How or why is she so big?” You asked with a laugh hoping to cover up your nervousness.

“Dreamfyre is about one hundred-” She began softly while petting Dreamfyre. 

“One hundred!? Years!” You cut her off and your volume made Helaena jump a bit. Dreamfyre was quick to snarl as you gave a small whimper and put your hands up backing away. “Sorry! Sorry. It’s just- one hundred years you said!? How old can they get!? How big can they get!?” You asked keeping your eyes on Dreamfyre making sure you could make a run for it if the situation called for it. 

“I don’t know. I know Balerion was about two hundred years old when he died and he was much larger than Dreamfyre and Vhagar is a couple of decades older than Dreamfyre. She is the biggest of all dragons. She is called the Queen of Dragons.” As Helaena spoke your jaw was slightly agape listening to her. Did you have any animals that were like that? Live to what sounds about two to three hundred years? Trees maybe? Tortoises can live for a hundred or so, no? What about crocodiles? Parrots? No, they only lived up to like fifty or sixty. 

You cleared your throat and nodded pointing at the dragon. “Is she safe to approach?” The last thing you wanted was to be burned alive. Not after you just had your dramatic moment of committing to what you were going to do for the rest of your foreseeable future here. Or even worse, get some part of you burned. That would be ugly, and painful. High chance of getting infected as well. Not a good way to die. It was a miracle you hadn’t caught anything. Didn’t they have smallpox here or something? Most importantly has the black plague already passed?

Helaena smiled and nodded as you stepped closer with caution. You say the way Dreamfyre eyed you. She didn’t seem the most pleased with you. Helaena guided your hand towards Dreamfyre scales. You gritted your teeth in fear and leaned back against Helaena. “Wait! Shouldn’t you let her smell me first or something!? Tell her to not bite my hand off!” 

“Dreamfyre won’t bite you,” Helena assured you but it did nothing to calm you. Not as long as Dreamfyre kept looking at you with a look that stated ‘If Helaena wasn’t here you’d be toast. Literally.’

Your hand touched her warm scales and Dreamfyre gave out a huff. You retracted your hand quickly and stepped away, giving out a little squeal and shaking your hands. You took in a deep breath before nodding to Helaena who only gave you an innocent smile. “Okay, I’m ready. To the Riverlands.” 

As you adjusted yourself in the seat you held on tight to Helaena as she commanded Dreamfyre to fly out. Whilst you gritted your teeth Helaena only gave sounds of contentment. Well, at least one of you was enjoying it. As Dreamfyre picked up height you looked over the lands of King’s Landing. You’d like to see these lands a bit better. It would be nice to find a lake. Preferably walking distance or something. You needed to get out more anyway.

“Can we fly closer to the ground, below the clouds? I’d like to look down.” You asked. You assumed Helaena obliged though you could’ve done with a warning as Dreamfyre plunged. You have a high-pitched scream as Helaena only laughs enjoying the weightless feeling.  

Your grip is tight around her waist as you breathe heavily with wide and concerned eyes. Shaking your head you look around watching the unused green lands. Usually, when you look down in airplanes you would see lands cultivated by agriculture. It was almost strange just seeing green undisturbed. In the distance you squint your eyes and what looked like a lake. It wasn’t too far from King’s Landing. You tapped Helaena and pointed to the water. She looked confused but obliged. You gritted your teeth once more and hung onto Helaena for dear life as Dreamfyre made a sharp turn to the right. It only took a minute to reach the lake. It was in the middle of a small valley and coming from a small waterfall. You looked to the southwest and saw that King’s Landing was still in view. If you had to guess it was about three to four kilometers (≈ 2.45 miles) You gave a small nod. Yes, this distance would be good. It wasn’t too far. It was within walking distance. “Helaena, do you know who owns these lands?” 

Helaena shrugged and shook her head. “Who are the Lords near here?” You asked and Heleana paused to think about it. 

“House Rosby, but I think this might be too close to King’s Landing. It might just be the King’s Land.” You gave a hum listening to Helaena. If this was the King’s land, that would work better for you. 

You nodded then told her you were ready to go to the River Lands.

…

“I have already been unseated once before Daemon.” Rhaenerya urged. “Let me at the very least see the children home.” 

“You were unseated due to the uselessness of Laenor, I am not Laenor. I will not leave my brother. The Hightowers have ruled for long enough.” Daemon spoke unbothered by his wife’s dilemma while flexing his thumb. There was some stiffness but the pain was now gone. However, his nose ached. A cunt you were. 

From what he had heard you had left for the Riverlands two days ago with Helaena in search of an herb. He had also heard that you have been whoring yourself out, maids apparently seeing love marks on your chest and your late outings, but who was he to judge? 

Daemon Targaryen. That’s who he was, so he would judge you. He would judge your unusual way of speaking, your lack of manners (had you been a Valyrian woman perhaps he would have overlooked it), and your radical ideas. Everything about you grated him, quite the stroke of luck you must have to be favored by the Queen and his brother. He would’ve had your head by now if it had been anyone else. 

“You should see Jacaerys and Lucerys home.” Daemon looked up from his hand towards Rhaenyra who had a surprised expression apparently not expecting him to agree. “That girl is a minx. Not only does she have the Queen and King’s support, but Aegon and Helaena take a liking to her as well. Jacaerys already seems interested despite being engaged to Baela. I will not have my daughter being left for a slut that can be found on the street of silk.” It would be an embarrassment to him, his family, his heritage. A woman of non-valyrian descent takes the husband from his daughter who is not only fully Valyrian but a dragon rider no less.

“Jacaerys will not father any bastards with that girl much less leave Baela for her.” Rhaenrya held Daemon’s hand. “When I am Queen, I will send her far from here.”

“I’d like to have her executed. Have you yet to see how long Jacaerys spends on Dragon Back during the late hours? That girl has shown him something and now he spends his night searching for them. The boy searches for artists, those who paint portraits, why do you think that is?” Daemon tears his hand away from Rhaenrya. 

“She has healed my father Daemon. What Maesters could not do for over twenty years she has done in a fortnight. If my first action as Queen was to execute her the whole council would call me cruel.” Rhaenrya does not doubt that you have been worming your way into her family, but as it stands she does not have a valid reason to behead you.

“She is despised by the citadel and shows to have no regard for the seven. That girl has plenty of enemies around her, should you behead her, the Old Town will be more favorable to you.” Allies for Rhaenrya’s rule were needed. The first female monarch would need to appeal to everyone. 

“You hate the seven and the citadel. You care little for them, why would we try to please them?” Rhaenrya raised a brow towards her husband. 

“Frame this right and the small folk will despise her. You will be Queen, the first Queen of Westeros.” Daemon looked up towards Rhaenyra as she stood with her hands on her swollen stomach.

“She will likely earn a pardon from Alicent. A sum will be paid to her and the girl will leave back to wherever it is she came from. I will not behead the woman who has saved my father. Once her usefulness is no longer needed then as you said, the Citadel and the High Septons will call for her banishment.” Daemon looks at his wife as she sits down rubbing her belly. You need to go. Now. 

You were quite cumbersome. His brother refused to hear any criticisms of you and with Alicent in his ear, you were untouchable. You had clearly allied yourself with the greens and here in King’s Landing other than a few loyal gold cloaks, Daemon had no one to track you properly. Much to his displeasure Rhaenrya had kept him on Dragon Stone when they married. 

It was a sore spot for him. He left his niece with the impression that she would be able to handle herself and keep the Greens in control. Clearly not. He had no idea how to keep you in check; you did not fear him as much as you once did. That night that he had you running away from him, those days were far behind you. He could only assume that you were wrapping up any princes and princesses you could get your hands on to keep you safe. You had nothing to your name other than the protection of the Greens and now regrettably the future heir to the Iron Throne. 

Your cards were being well played and Daemon felt as if he was the only one truly playing against you. The only one who could see the wolf in sheep's clothing. The only one who saw your scheming and your seduction. The only thing he couldn’t see from you was your end goal. The Iron Throne? To conquer? Conquer what? All of Westeros? You had no dragon and no Valyrian blood as was visible. Mayhaps a spy from strange lands to bring down the Targaryen dynasty. Why? Some free cities weren’t fond of the Valyrians.

Daemon pressed the secret door and walked through the hidden halls of Maegor’s holdfast. As he fastened his cloak around him he heard steps echoing. He paused and listened. More likely than not a rat trapper. He waited and a figure passed him and an unmistakable scent. A conniving little girl you were. When and how did you discover these halls?

His hand itched for his ancestral sword; Dark sister. 

Fuck.

 He had left it in the room, if he were to go back for it he would lose you. Would he get another chance to rid himself of you once and for all? He clenched his jaw and followed you without any weapons. He followed you through the halls. You took twists and turns. Did you know where you were going? Did you know he was following you? Why weren’t you running then? Finally, you stopped and he stopped as well. He saw you press your hand to the wall. There was no door there. You didn’t know where you were going.

He grinned and crept behind you. He heard you give a small gasp and before you could run away he grabbed the hood of your cloak and some of your hair. It would be a while before anyone would find your body. A rip sounded and you were running away from him. He chased after you. You turned the corner. He ran faster but as he turned the corner he felt pain shoot through his face. He groaned but went to punch you, however, you seemed to duct or he misdirected the punch in the dark, he didn’t know, all he knew is that shoved into a nearby wall and suddenly your scent invaded his now bleeding nose as he watched you run back the way you came.

Swallowing the pain he grunted and stood up running after you. Much to Daemon’s displeasure you did eventually find a door and ran out. He chased after you but lost you as you jumped down the stairs and just before you disappeared into the streets of King’s Landing you seemed to turn around. You both stood there, Daemon from the top of the stairs holding his nose and you with all the people and streets of King’s Landing behind you. 

You flipped him off. 

He grunted in frustration as he watched you walk and disappear in the masses of King’s Landing. That was the second time you had caught him by surprise. 

A couple of days later he learned that you had been dealing with madams of whore house in the Street of Silk.

…

The moment you felt the humid air hit you your smile immediately evaporated. The humidity was your worst enemy. It wasn’t long before a castle came into view. It was built upon what looked like a swamp.

“Where are we?” You asked Helaena. 

“Riverrun. The ancestral castle of House Tully. The current lord is Grover Tully.” You hummed as Dreamfyre went to land, though as she roared it startled you causing you to lose your grip on Helaena and nearly slip off. You screamed as you managed to grab onto a rope on the saddle. Helaena gasped and attempted to grab you and in her haste steered Dreamfyre into a sharp left turn. 

You scream again as you help the rope tight. You didn’t dare look down. “Just land her!” You yelled and Dreamfyre dove and you screamed. Maybe a dragon wasn’t such a good idea. 

The sudden change as Dreamfyre gilded whipped you and the rope snapped. You screamed as you were launched into the swamp. You sank into the murky waters and your survival instincts kicked in. You desperately swam upwards, or what you thought was upwards. You were sent into the water spiraling. You were running out of air. As you swam upwards you gave a groan fighting the urge to not scream. A Charley horse now plagued you.

Great. 

Trying to calm yourself down you swam up mermaid style trying to preserve your energy. You took in a large breath as you broke through the water. You aligned yourself into a backstroke position letting your cramping calf float as you swam backwards towards land hearing Helaena shout your name. Dreamfyre had launched you pretty far and now much to your embarrassment people were watching you from the castle as you swam back to shore. 

Finally when you could stand you grimaced as you did your best to get out of the murky water. What if there were crocodiles or worse!? Clearly, things that didn’t exist in your world existed here. Who knows what was in the waters? You made a sound of desperation as you limped out of the water and fell on the grass.

As you rested on the grass you heard buzzing in your head. Great. Of course, swamps and mosquitoes went hand in hand. You swatted it away as you stood up and limped towards Helaena. 

“Are you hurt?” She asked, looking down at you worriedly. 

“Just a cramp.” You paused as an intrusive thought entered your mind. Good lord. What if you caught Malaria!? Your face contorted into one of disgust against your will and suddenly goosebumps covered your arms and your hair stood on end. Under no circumstances could you get bit by mosquitoes or anything here! 

A male voice called out to both you and Helaena. You turned and greeted the…well actually he looked to be around your age, he had a young face. 

“My Lord.” Both you and Helaena greeted each other. The boy or was it a man(?), looking at you with a concerned expression. 

“My lady you appear to have taken quite a fall,” he commented, and although you were completely soaked the back of your neck and face felt hot. 

“Yes, I took a fall…” You trailed off unsure what to say. The faster you leave the place the better. At all costs, you must avoid sickness. The lord invited you inside as Dreamfyre took off. You eyed the dragon from the corner of your eye. Good riddance! The dragon didn’t like you but went a step further and embarrassed you! Madness!

As you limped, Helaena called your name out worriedly as she went to your side. You held your hand out as you gritted your teeth trying to not make any sounds as you went forward. 

“My Lady! You are hurt.” The young lord went to your side. 

“Yes, I swam up too fast. Diver’s cramp. It’s sore, nothing to worry about. It should be better by the morrow” You purse your lips as you hear yourself. ‘By the morrow?’ You had spent entirely too much time here. You were now speaking as they were. You didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Shall I have a knight carry you inside?” Lord Tully offered. You thought for a moment. Well, it would be nice. Lord Tully took your silence as a yes and suddenly you were swept off your feet. 

You hissed as you grabbed onto the knight. “My leg, ser! Please!” 

“Apologies my lady.” The knight was quick to readjust his hand. All you could do was stare at the knight and give a simple smile as his hand was now a little bit higher than what was proper, even by your standards.

Fortunately, you, the young lord, had the insight to send for a bath prepared for you. As the knight carried you up the stairs you were especially grateful. Walking after a fresh cramp was always the worst. Finally reaching your room you smiled giving a friendly tap. “You are a very strong user.” You nodded as he thanked you before leaving.

Much to your displeasure inside the castle it was still very much humid. What you wouldn’t give for your fan right now. This was so much worse than King’s Landing. As you peeled yourself out of the wet dress you limped towards the bath in your room. You sank into the warm water. Honestly cold would’ve been better, but this was fine. 

You scrubbed yourself and waited for your things to be offloaded from Dreamfyre. Find what you came for and go back to King’s Landing. Tomorrow you’d have to go out and you’d be fully covered too, unfortunately.

“My lady, Lord Tully, has asked if there is anything he can offer.” The maid entered your chambers placing your belongings on the side of your bed. 

“Do you have alcohol?” You turned to face the maid. Bug spray had alcohol, no? Your mother used cinnamon to keep away pests such as fruit flies from fruit. Is cinnamon exported from ‘Essos?’ Is cinnamon a thing?

“Alcohol?” The maid asked, tilting her head. 

“Ale, beer, wine. Preferable ale or beer.” You clarified. “Along with that, do you have cinnamon?”

“Of course, I will send for Ale and I’m unsure. We have not imported any goods from Essos. I will ask the kitchen. Anything else?” You shook your head and dismissed her as you began scrubbing yourself. If you didn’t find what you came for there would be a serious issue. At this point, you might need this just as much as the King. 

‘Oh shit!’ You landed on the hard floor and pain shot up your legs as your feet tingled. You groaned as you stood up and looked behind you. Of course, it was Daemon. You stood there trying to ease the pain in your feet. They didn’t exactly have great shoes in this era and the best you had was some sandals and that wouldn’t be any help. If only a second suitcase had washed up with you as well. Where was that second suitcase anyway or the rest of them? Not only did you have your clothes but some sneakers as well. 

On top of that, your hand ached. You weren’t particularly skilled in punching people. You were running out of tricks to sucker punch this man. He wouldn’t just give up! You raised your hand flipping him off before running off. 

‘Sucker.’

It wasn’t long before you reached your destination. You dug into the pockets of your sweater and pulled a piece of paper and of course your prototypes. That night when you returned from your first-ever dragon ride. You had seen a run-down shop that looked like it was going to go out of business. 

Beggars can’t be choosers and this time, you were no beggar.

You knocked on the door and a rancid-smelling man answered. You gave a mute smile trying to breathe too much.

“M’lady this is a late hour.” The man spoke and once more you fought to make a face. 

“Imma busy woman. This is the only time I have.” You looked inside where his family rested—a poor living space. You purse your lips. “Well? It’s rude to not invite someone in.” 

His wife came quickly behind him. She smiled and immediately you were able to see her poor dental hygiene, but there were slight and subtle changes since the last time you saw her.  “M’lady it is quite the mess inside, but please do come.”

You stepped in and luckily it was only messy, not nasty. “Nonsense. It is homely. The unique quirks and the evidence of family is what makes a house a home.” 

‘Smooth.’ You smiled to yourself. The woman was quick to offer you a chair and you gladly took a seat. You pulled out a paper. A little contact of your making. “I can see you have been using my product?” You smile showing off your pretty teeth. “Your teeth are looking better already.” You hammered it in. You needed this deal to go well. It could spell out riches for you.

“Yes! I have gotten so many compliments on my teeth recently, M'lady. This combined with the mint we already chew, I reckon I’ll have teeth as good as you.” The woman beamed and you grinned. 

“That's the idea. I have better teeth than the King himself.” You leaned over the table covering the side of your mouth. “And between us, some would say even better than the Queen herself.” You grinned once more making sure your pearly whites were on full display. “You have a daughter, yes? Start her young and make sure when her teeth are loose, have her pull them out. Don’t let them layer your teeth like a shark. Follow this and she’ll have better teeth than me and of course, a smile is everything. It can make or break someone. Good teeth are the mark of beauty. A man could be missing an eyebrow but the first thing you will notice is a smile. A smile that could win many high suitors.”

Hook.

The man and woman turned to each other with a look you knew anywhere. “You flatter us m’lady, but our daughter would never wed a lord. We’d have no dowry or lands to give.”

Line.

“With this contract, I assure you, a dowry won’t be a problem.” Once more that look appeared in their eyes. The look of ambition. 

And sinker.

“What do you offer m’lady?” The man asked and you grinned. 

This deal was as good as closed. You slid the contract over with a jar of ink and a pen or a feather. “I’ll go over the details, I wouldn't want to blindside you.” You spend the next hour explaining the details of the contract. It was a five-year contract and if both parties were satisfied then the contract would be extended.  

“Well folks gotta make their livin’ normally I’d give a seventy-thirty, but I like y’all. I give it to you for sixty-five-thirty-five. I get sixty-five percent of all profits and you keep thirty-five percent. Sounds good?” You handed over the pen and then looked at it confused. You purse your lips. What's wrong? You were sure you sold it. Answered all their questions, kept the numbers high, and sweet-talked them. That's how you close a deal. Shame them if they don’t think it’s a good offer. 

“We can’t write.” The woman mumbled out. 

‘Shit.’ Did they even know how to do math right? It all depended on their competence. 

‘Note to self, don’t rely on others for a job well done.’ 

“You can’t do math?” You raised a brow.

“Course we do m’lady. We have a shop, we just never learned to read or write.” You smiled. Good, all that matters is counting coins. 

“Alright, we'll have thumbprints, just like this.” You coated your thumb in the black ink and pressed it on your side of the contract. They both followed. 

“When will we start selling these…what do we call them?” The man asked after wiping his thumb on a cloth. “And how much do we sell them for?” The wife asked her husband. 

“Call them…” A brand name was everything. Miswak wasn’t marketable. Maybe you’d steal names from Crest or Colgate. “This brand will be called…‘Sapwood Smiles’ and calls the brush by brush and of course, the charcoal…call it whiting crest. Your slogan could be ‘Timeless Oral Care for Modern Living’ or maybe ‘Your Natural Smile Solution’ or something catchy.” 

“What is ‘oral?’” The man asked as you took back the paper, rolling it up in your hand.

“Oral means mouth in short terms. Oral health is what makes your mouth healthy. Oh, maybe you can do ‘Oral Care Reimagined, Naturally.’ Natural remedies always appeal to a certain demographic.” You stood up and prepared to leave. After all, you had one more stop to get to. “The shipments will arrive in a week or two. I will personally deliver myself. You will sell the biobrush for one copper star and one groat. The whitening crest or just crest will be sold for two copper Groats and one halfgroat. However, should they purchase two it will be the price for two copper stars. Give them a deal. Save them money. After all, I sympathize with the commons, I myself came from humble beginnings. I know what it is to live at the bottom.” And you also knew that you needed to play just a little dirty to get ahead. 

With that, you nodded and bid them goodbye and once more pulled your cloak in over your head. One last meeting in the Street of Silk. You would bet that this idea would be the real money maker. At least the fastest way you could start making money now. You were sure this would catch fast within the brothels.

…

“I’m afraid of the rats,” Helaena murmured as you braid small braids in her hair. You both had been talking all morning about anything and everything. Such a barbaric world this girl lived in. 

“The rats?” You question. Aegon had told you about his sister-wife's strange sayings. 

“No one listens. The rats will come bearing a hollow savior.” Helaena continued and you furrowed your brows. Helaena turns to you with a sad smile. “A dawn of gilded skies, a great age shall rise. A betrayal…” She trailed off looking deep into your eyes. Her lilac eyes seemed to drown you. You felt a sharp pain on the sides of your jaw travel to your tear ducts and your waterline began to fill with tears. It’s like she wasn’t even there. As if she weren’t speaking to you. “A betrayal’s kiss shall usher in the forlorn.”

You drowned within her gaze. A deep pain bloomed in your chest as if you were struggling to breathe. As if you were drowning in waters that brought you here. You couldn’t understand why it hurt. It hurt so much and you felt her cold hands on her cheek. 

“If you will deliver us.” Was her final whisper before she stood up leaving you in the room. Tears streamed down your eyes. Only when she left the room did you feel your breath return to you. You bent, gasping as tears fell onto the carpet. What was she talking about? 

It took you quite a while before you were finally able to get your heartbeat under control and your breathing steady. You shook your head before you limped over to the cinnamon brought to you. Deciding it would be best to distract yourself from whatever that was you began melting shavings of soap. Once it has melted you pour it into the warm water that was bought for you. Then you splashed some ale into the cinnamon water mixture. Once that was settled you let it sit while you stretched your calf lightly. 

Wouldn’t want another cramp. 

Aegon was right. His was creepy because what in tarnation was that!? Most importantly, why did you cry? You couldn’t understand what you were seeing but in that moment it felt like you were drowning or something heavy was sitting atop your chest. Thinking back, you swore you heard pleas and what was this whole thing about ‘If you will deliver us?’ You were NOT a godsent nor a prophet. That misunderstanding nearly got you killed on your first day by Daemon. That was the last thing you wanted to be. Too much responsibility entirely. Not to mention you weren’t one for religion. What god exactly would you be receiving prophecies from? The smith? You scoffed out a laugh at the thought.

Religion here wasn’t something you had paid much attention to. The Great Sept of Baelor seems to be like their cathedrals. Perhaps one of these days you should pay a visit to them, see if their artwork compares to that of catholicism, or if there are any similarities with any other religions. 

The Seven represented by a seven-pointed star reminded you of paganism. No doubt the seven would be villainized like the pagans were. Throw in the excuse of the star looking too much like the star of the pagans and of course, there are the ‘seven deadly sins’ otherwise known as the carnal sins. The Seven were called ‘new gods’ and there were also those called the ‘old gods.’ To your understanding, they were the faith established here by the First Men…or was it Rhoynar or maybe the Andals? No, the Andals brought the faith of Seven, right? Then who is Rhoynar? 

What other faiths were there here? In your world, many faiths exist, including Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and Judaism just to name a few. From what you can recall the Eastern part of the hemisphere is much more diverse in terms of religion. In the Western part i.e. the Americas, Christianity dominates with its subsections through the continents. Of course, there is Catholicism that dominates both Central and South America, then there is North America with Mormonism, Orthodoxy, and Protestantism. The Eastern part which contains Asia, Africa, Europe, and Oceania, to your knowledge was more diverse. Thought Europe was largely held by Christianity, Italy housed the smallest country in the world inside of Rome; Vatican City was home to the Catholic religion, then the UK held the Church of England, but a majority of Irish are Catholic, then you have Asia which holds many religions but the most prominent are Islam and Buddhism no? Was it Hinduism? 

Either way, you wonder if Essos would be the same. Hosting many different types of religion as opposed to just two. The short amount of time you’ve spent here in the Riverlands you’ve learned that beliefs are separated by region. The North goes by the ‘old ways’ while the South abides by the ‘new gods.’ You’d like to go North one day. You much preferred the cold to the hot and humid South. However, Dragon Stone was nice. A constant breeze was always nice. 

You stood up and limped over to your bowl. You’d have to leave it to sit for another hour or two. That was fine, you couldn’t go out today to find what you needed anyway. Your calf was still pretty sore and you didn’t want to force it. Besides you needed a way to test your little concoction to see if it would work and for that, you need to catch some mosquitoes. Annoying little things. 

Dressing yourself you walk out of your room with a slight limp and a glass jar in your hands. You greeted the Lord Oscar Tully who assigned you a guard as you walked out. You made sure you were covered, even if it meant you’d sweat like crazy in this humid heat. It was fine however, it meant it would attract more pests. You walked out with the knight trailing behind you. You went to sit in a nearby log near still water. That's where mosquito eggs were laid and consequently where you could find the blood-sucking mosquitoes. 

Before you sat down you kicked the log making sure there was nothing in it. After kicking it a few more times and nothing came out you sat down. Slowly you lifted the sleeve of your dress and waited. It was humid and you were sweating quite a bit. It wasn’t long before I heard buzzing. Your head twitched as a response but you sat and waited. 

“My Lady?” The guard questioned. 

“I’m collecting mosquitoes for an experiment. I do hate these things, if all goes well, trust me, you’ll love me. These things can spread diseases, you know? I’d rather not catch any when I go out tomorrow, that means not being bit by these little bloodsuckers.” You explained that the mosquitos landed and you swept them up putting them in the jar.

You could feel the judgment radiating off the man. Oh well. You could make a fortune out of this. You needed the money and of course, there wouldn’t be any generated until next week. You had to pick up the shipment of miswak from the ships and had to grate charcoal. Once you had the money you’d generate jobs as well. Now that King Viserys was going back into politics before you’d make Rhaenyra queen you had to stabilize yourself first. The King seemed to like you a lot better than his younger brother and his daughter did. 

Of course, once the ‘truth’ about Rhaenrya’s children was out your protection from anyone would fly out the window due to you being of no use to Alicent and Otto. Speaking of Alicent ever since those rumors about you spread well she hasn’t been as inviting as she once was. Your time was running out and if you didn’t play your cards right, the rope would be cut and the guillotine blade would fall on your neck. 

King Viserys was your best option to solidify yourself. You need to make yourself invaluable and of course, do a little PR. If your head would be cut off, then you would need riots in the streets. That started with giving the people basic human necessities which was easy enough. They lived like trash. 

As you continued to catch mosquitos you racked your brain. A swear system would be nice. Certainly would be great for your nose. How you hated the smell of King’s Landing. You could smell the shit from five miles away. Not to mention it would get rid of that awful chamber pot. You hated using that thing. It was times like that made you miss the modern world.

Actually, everything makes you miss the modern world. It was torture living here. What you wouldn’t give for a nice hot shower, bug spray, air freshener, cars, trains, electricity, AC, the internet, or really anything from your time. How did the water system work? How did the plumbing system work? Speaking of which, you needed to develop a better water filter, which was easy enough. You already had a concept in your mind. 

You looked into the jar and decided that was enough. Capping it you stood up and walked back. 

“What are you going to do with them, my lady?” The guard asked as you both walked back towards the castle. 

“Test a bug-repellent spray.” You said you were uninterested as ideas ran in your head of how to solidify your position before you installed Rhaenyra as queen.

“How would that work?” He asked in a small mumble as if embarrassed to be asking. A smile bloomed on your face. How you loved explaining things. 

“Hurry on inside and I’ll show you!” You grinned at the man as you both began walking inside with haste. 

Once you both were inside you sat down on the nearest chair and sat down the jar. You then sent a maid to fetch your bowl of cinnamon water. 

“Okay, I want you to watch.” You put your hand over the jar holding it there. “Mosquitoes use three ways to locate prey. Mosquitoes, the females in particular, have a great sense of smell and that’s because only they suck blood. That is how they produce eggs, males on the other hand only feed off fruit because their needle-like proboscis isn’t strong or sharp enough to pierce human skin like the female is.” You grin up at the man and the other who had come along.

“Pretty interesting isn’t it? When they are near you they can smell the sweat or more specifically certain compounds within your sweat that you emit which draws them in. Next is the carbon dioxide you exhale.” You looked up and gave a big inhale. “We inhale oxygen.” Then you exhaled. “And exhale carbon dioxide.” You smiled up towards the guards who gave a nod simply agreeing with what you said. “Finally, what I think is most cool and what you’re going to see right now, is that they can sense body heat. Look.” You took your hand away and where your hand was resting were mosquitoes.

The guards let out a sound of amusement looking at the jar and seeing how the mosquitoes lined the imprint of your hand. “Because of the strong sense of smell, one can exploit that, and theoretically, make it a weakness. See if I opened this jar and placed my hand above the assumption that they would feast on my palm, but…” The maid returned with your bowl and you wet the palm of your hand. Then you twist open the lid placing your soaked hand. “With this, it produced a strong smell that in turn disoriented them thus repelling them.” You placed your hand and just as you predicted they did not get near you much less try to feast. 

More sounds of amusement sounded throughout the hall. Quiet the crowd you had, including the Lord Oscar Tully and Helaena who had curious eyes yet laced with something else. You looked away from her. “Now to show they would take the opportunity to eat I’m going to let them try to eat on my other palm which is not coated with my formula.” You capped the jaw and let the mosquitoes reorient themselves before you offered your other palm and they saw as they went to feed on you. Before they bit you took your hand away. No chances were going to be taken.

“What is this ‘formula?’” The Lord asked and you turned to him. You had two choices. One: You could sell the formula and make a quick buck or two: You could do some charity. A good image here would be good. The Riverlands are in the middle of everything. The word would spread. You needed a good reputation, only now did you realize you needed one everywhere, not just in King’s Landing. 

You smiled as you announced the name of your formula. Of course, you named it after yourself. You will be known throughout all the lands of Westeros.

…

“No more freaky tellings, yes?” You asked Helaena cautiously as you rubbed your formula all over your legs and arms. While Helaena did look a bit dejected she nodded as she too rubbed your formula over herself. “Okay then, let’s find that plant!”

“Five shadows shall creep across the age of light…seeds of-.” You heard Helaena mumble as you both walked into the forest. A sudden weight on your chest began to press down.

“Helaena!” You called her and she looked at you with innocent eyes. “Stop. Listen.” You stopped and a serious facial expression overtook your face. “I don't know what you’re saying and it’s not that I don’t want to listen, but it makes me…deeply uncomfortable and brings up memories I’d rather not remember. Please, stop it.” 

You watched Helaena blink and nod before turning away. Great. Now you feel bad, but it had to be done. You walked cautiously about the surrounding green. This was taking forever and you just wanted to go back to King’s Landing where it wasn’t as humid and your fan was constantly on. 

“What are you looking for, my lady?” The same guard from two days ago asked. Both you and Helaena had taken a guard whilst you went to search for your plant, though after you had told her to stop Helaena had left elsewhere. Hopefully not too far. The last thing you needed was a lost princess. 

You continued to walk forward looking around. “It is a bushy annual plant, ranging from 1 to 6 feet tall, depending on the variety and growing conditions. It has a central stalk from which multiple branches emerge, creating a symmetrical shape.” You moved a branch out of the way avoiding the vines. “Its leaves have serrated edges and are deeply lobed, usually with 5 to 9 narrow, pointed leaflets radiating from a central point. The color ranges from light to deep green, occasionally with purple or reddish hues under certain conditions.”

A breeze hit you and you picked up a familiar scent. You smiled as you went forward trying to catch the smell again. “The leaf and stem itself are often sticky. Then of course there are the flowers it has. The flower produces clusters of small, dense flowers in the female plants.” You spoke and a light green color caught your eye. 

“Plants can be male or female?” The guard asked, confused, chasing after you. 

“Not exactly. Plants can have male and female genitalia. Some can even change their gender and can self-pollinate creating exact copies of themselves, while others rely on pollinators such as bees or hummingbirds just to name some.” You saw Helaena playing with a spider that was entirely too big for your comfort. You grimaced watching the spider crawl on her hand. “Come on Helaena, it could bite you.” 

You saw her look up and nod before releasing the spider.

Ew. 

You smiled and dragged her along. If you found this plant, it would be gold. “Pollinators?” You heard the guard murmur as you felt another breeze and once more there was that scent. You were grinning from ear to ear barely suppressing your smile.

You broke through a treeline and there it was.

“What is that?” Helaena asked. 

You walked to the tall plant taking a bud and inhaling that unmistakable scent. 

“Yerba Buena.”

Note: And the plot finally begins. Pls talk to me! Let me know your thoughts! Also I can confirm that hiding behind a wall then surprise attacking them with a punch does work! But it hurts if you don't know how to punch right.

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