#high key kin him

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Do you know that one Dexters laboratory meme

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Four - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapter One, Chapter Two, and Chapter Three! Masterlist :)

Chapter Four - Out Wrangled

Tyler had paid for breakfast, leaving a generous tip for the gals who both gave you smiles and winks as they watched him open the door for you. 

“Are you ready to experience not Youtube star Tyler, darlin?” He asked, walking over to the passenger side of his truck. 

“And there’s going to be no crazy schemes or secret live streams to embarrass me?” You asked, leaning against the truck. 

“Promise,” he said, opening the door for you. 

You squinted your eyes at him, unsure if he was being serious or not. You got inside the truck, gently placing the flowers in the backseat so they didn’t get crushed. Tyler shut your door and walked around to the driver’s side and slid into his seat. Being inside the famous red truck made you feel like you were in some sort of spaceship with how many buttons and switches there were. Some of the labels in Boone’s handwriting made you giggle, ‘color booms’ and ‘stay putters’ were the best two of the bunch. 

“Admiring Boone’s handy work?” He asked, putting his seatbelt on and putting the key in the ignition. 

“I don’t know if handy work is the right word,” you laughed, “Maybe lack of English skills, but I’ll let it slide.” 

“Yeah, he ain’t the brightest bulb when it comes to that, but he’s great with a camera,” Tyler laughed, turning the key and the truck firing up. 

“I’m glad your music isn’t as loud as this morning,” you teased, putting your seatbelt and sunglasses on. 

“I thought no one saw,” he groaned, putting his forehead on the steering wheel. 

You laughed, “If I count as no one, then yes. No one saw.” 

“Ugh,” he groaned, leaning back and putting his cowboy hat in the middle of the dash, “No, you’re not a no one. But I was really hoping I went unnoticed.” 

“You? Unnoticed? Ha!” You said, putting your phone in the cup holder and squeezing your purse under the armrest. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?” He asked, looking over at you over his sunglasses. 

“You’re basically a star in all of Tornado Alley, Owens,” you stated, looking back at him, “You could walk into a Walmart and be surrounded by people, even if they didn’t like you, they would flock to you.” 

He smirked, “Can’t help people enjoy watching what I do, but they’ll never enjoy it as much as me.” 

“It’ll be a hell of a way to go,” you said, crossing your legs and looking out the window, “Headlines stating Tornado Alley’s biggest Tornado Wrangler got out wrangled in his last tornadeo!” 

“Ouch,” he said, putting the truck in reverse and heading west of town. 

“You’ll be fine,” you said, rolling the window down. 

“You better hope so, otherwise you get to drive back,” he said, “And it’s a two-hour drive to where we’re going.” 

“Which is where? Do I need to inform my next of kin where they’ll find my body?” You joked, glancing over at him. 

“What?” He laughed, “You will be fine, I’ll keep you safe like my life depends on it.” 

“Good, because it does,” you said, looking over your sunglasses to watch his eyebrows go up, “My team is pretty protective of me.” 

He swallowed hard, “I know…” 

“Why don’t we listen to the radio?” you asked, turning the dial to hear the start of  The Dixie Chicks singing ‘Cowboy Take Me Away.’ 

This is where you had to decide how comfortable you were going to be with Tyler as this was the song you sang that won you the high school talent show. As you were debating on it, you noticed Tyler tapping the steering wheel along to the drums, at least you knew his taste in music was the same as yours.

As if it was planned, you both started to hum along softly before it got to the chorus. 

“Oh, it sounds good to me,” you sang softly, grabbing his hat and placing it on your head, “I said, cowboy, take me away.” 

Tyler glanced over at you, a smile coming to his face as he heard you sing. He’s heard a lot of great artists over his years of listening to music and seeing live performances, but none compared to the melody coming out of you. On top of that, putting his hat on while being in his truck? He fell even more head over heels for you, knowing deep down he was to do everything in his power to spend his life with you. 

“I wanna look at the horizon, and not see a building standing tall,” you sang softly, adjusting in your seat to put your boots on the dash, “I wanna be the only one for miles and miles, except for maybe you and your simple smile.” 

As he drove he pictured just that, the idea of having a little slice of Heaven with you sounded so peaceful. All too soon the song ended and moved onto one he could sing along to, even though he knew you could too. 

“Little place is a little bit understated, yeah, the O.J. 's always concentrated,” he sang, rolling his window down, “The AC’s broke so we gotta sleep naked, it’s a good day for livin’.” 

“Since when can this cowboy sing?” You asked, looking over at him while swaying your feet to the beat of Joe Nichols’ ‘Good Day for Living.’ 

“Since I was little, how about you Miss American Idol?” He asked, “You’d be America’s next big star, bigger than Lainey Wilson.” 

“Haha, I’ve tried back home,” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt, “Didn’t get me very far so I came up here and started storm chasing.” 

“Have you ever thought about going to Nashville?” He asked, knowing he would hate if you left, but he wanted you to live your dreams. 

“No, if I did grow into anything, I wanted to do it organically. Not the cookie-cutter molds that usually come out of Nashville,” you scoffed slightly. 

“Oh, you seem like you’ve had a bad experience with it?” He asked, his tone being hushed as he didn’t want to bring up any bad feelings. 

“I didn’t personally but one of my uncles tried and was told to do the opposite of what he was doing to become a star,” you said, “It is what it is, but I vowed I would never do it that way.” 

“Understandable, darlin’,” he said, leaning back into his seat and driving with his left hand. 

It was silent in the cab for about a half hour of the drive, just listening to music and feeling the warm breeze on your skin. You glanced over at the clock on the radio, it reading 10:26 am. You had been driving for an hour since leaving the diner, and you still had no idea where you were headed. You weren’t sure what all there was to do in Oklahoma besides chase storms or a rodeo. While you were thinking over all the things you could figure out to do in the state, your phone ringing pulled you from your thoughts.

Asher was calling you. As much as you appreciated him being a part of Storm Riders, he followed you around like a lost puppy and did everything you told him to do. If you told him to jump into the Grand Canyon, he would. 

You picked up your phone, answering “This is (Y/n).”

“(Y/N)! What am I supposed to do on a day off? I’ve already gone through the whole checklist you made for me when it’s a clear day, but now I’m stuck sitting in the van waiting,” he said, “Everyone went to the big town close by to go shopping and sightseeing.” 

“Why don’t you take the drone out and fly around the area, see if you can find some wildlife, and get some cool pictures of nature, Ash,” you said, bringing your hand to your forehead and rubbing circles gently. 

“Where are you even? Your truck is here, but you’re not. You weren’t even here when we all got up,” he said, you could hear the shuffling of papers and a door opening. 

“I went out with someone,” you stated plainly, “Go fly the drone, and if you get bored call Willow or Jade. I’m going to be unavailable for the rest of the day.” 

“O-Okay,” he said and hung up. 

You sighed, “I love that kid but he needs to grow more independent.” 

Tyler laughed, shaking his head, “Send him with us for a while and he’ll learn quick.” 

“Really?” You asked a little too quickly. 

“I’ll let Ben ride with you so he can get better shots of Ol Red here and the team shooting more fireworks into a ‘nado,” he said, smirking. 

“Only you, Tyler,” you laughed, leaning onto the armrest and laying your hand over the edge. 

Tyler glanced over and decided it was now or never. He took a deeper breath and grabbed your hand with his, giving it a soft squeeze. Why this caused you to jump, you’ll never know, but it did.

Want more? Here's Chapter Five!

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (04)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, oc cusses excessively, dubcon, pregnancy kink, child cussing, reckless driving, suicide justification, glorifying suicide, semi-drunk Jungkook makes sexual moves on a sober oc.

Pairing: dad!Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

←Previous Chapter (03) | Next Chapter (05) →

***

Present; 2023

Not long after you and Soobin finished your meal at ADA, you finally received the call you had been anticipating since last night:

A call from Jungkook.

“Hello?” Your breathing hitched as you waited for the person on the other line to speak. Unfortunately, what welcomed you was an unfamiliar voice telling you she was from the General Hospital.

Your heart dropped. You stuttered when you asked the person on the other line about what had happened.

The hospital staff explained, “Mr. Jeon is alive but has been stabbed. Your number is the only one saved on his cellphone. Will you mind coming over or telling us who we can contact—”

“No. I’m coming.” You cut off. You couldn’t remember what you said to the nurse after that. Your mind was floating as you grabbed your keys, eyes darting on Soobin, who was watching TV in the living room.

“Ma?” Soobin blinked; a groan escaped his lips when you carried him. You were inside the car with him in the blink of an eye.

“Sorry, darling. We’ll go out again, okay? Hold on tight.”

You drove your car to the hospital at a very high speed. Soobin didn’t cry, but the poor boy looked shaken and about to vomit. You could only tighten your hold on your son and murmur an apology as you ran to the hospital desk. You didn’t know how to explain the situation to Soobin, as your attention was solely directed at Jungkook.

“I’m looking for Jungkook Jeon. How is he?” You were breathless when you talked to the nurse.

“Good day, Mam. Per the hospital’s protocol, I need your name first. Please state your relationship with the patient as well.” The nurse was calm and collected. Her eyes were trained on the monitor before her.

You stated your name but trailed off after. You wanted to say you were Jungkook’s friend, but were you and Jungkook even considered that? Besides, hospitals would prioritize the patient’s next of kin over friends.

To your surprise, the nurse nodded at you, “You’re listed as Mr. Jeon’s emergency contact. He needs surgery as soon as possible. We will need your consent.”

You could be accused of being dumbfounded, but you didn’t have time to assess your reactions. You signed all relevant forms and requested the hospital to give Jungkook VIP treatment.

No one knew what happened to the Jungkook. He was simply lucky to be able to call for help before he passed out. Jungkook suffered multiple stab wounds. Lee Sung clearly didn’t hold back when he pierced and slashed the knife into the Jungkook’s body. As a result, the surgery took some time to finish.

Jungkook was unconscious on the operating table, his body taking all the trauma while his mind drifted to a place and time where everything was still right:

Nine Years Ago; 2014

To say Jungkook was obsessed with your stomach would be an understatement. Don’t get it wrong. He was obsessed with every part of your body: hips, chest, hands—you name it, and Jungkook would read you his essay about it.

But lately, all the Jungkook could think about was your stomach.

“Can I fucking help you?” You growled, unable to take the intensity of Jungkook’s ogling anymore.

Jungkook didn’t bat an eyelash, though. His gaze only deepened, a sigh leaving his lips. “Say, how many calories do you consume daily?”

“Hah!?” You looked down at your stomach, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “What shit are you up to, bastard!? Do you think my stomach is big!?”

First of all, you didn’t think there was anything wrong with a big stomach, or a flat stomach, for that matter. However, something about Jungkook’s words hit your nerve.

A bastard like Jungkook wouldn’t say things out of the blue. Usually, it entailed trouble.

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, still looking pensive while staring at the middle part of your body. “I’m just curious.”

“Keep your curiosity to yourself, then. I don’t know. I don’t count my calorie intake. I have more important things to do than that.” You were in the middle of writing your thesis paper. Frankly, your time was constrained. All you did these days was attend classes, meet with your thesis adviser, and write your paper.

You couldn’t be bothered to sleep anymore. Now that Jungkook kept hinting something was wrong with your stomach, you couldn’t help but add an extra hour of jogging.

“Hey, sweetheart~” You bumped into Jungkook one morning. You lived on campus, but Jungkook would be moving out soon. He recently informed you he’d be taking some time off college. During this time, you had no idea that his decision to take some time off studying would be permanent. Jungkook wasn’t just taking a break—he was dropping out.

“Why are you out here so early? I thought you were taking a break this semester. No more 7am classes for you, eh?” You taunted. Seeing your best friend up so early in the morning was rare. Jungkook even called you crazy before for running around the university’s field at five in the morning.

“Jimin-hyung and I had breakfast. I’m on my way to your dorm, actually. I got you something to eat,” by something to eat, Jungkook meant different kinds of high-calorie food—courtesy of Jimin’s recommendations.

“Here,” Jungkook gave you the food he got. He sighed after, “How many minutes have you been exercising?”

Here he goes again. Your fist clenched when Jungkook glanced at your stomach. What the fuck was wrong with this bastard!?

“Jungkook-shit!” You snarled, ‘Jungkook-shit’ was your favorite insult--a variation of your usual ‘Jungkook-ssi.’ You confirmed your guess by checking the logo where Jungkook got your breakfast: Healthy option. “I’ll squeeze in another hour of running tomorrow, okay! You don’t have to be a bastard about it!”

Your face was red, your nose flaring.

“That’s not—”

“Whatever! I’m fucking leaving.”

Jungkook was too slow to catch up to an angry version of you, so he let it go and simply shrugged his shoulders.

Unfortunately, Jungkook was still an asshole about your weight the next time you two met. You were supposed to have lunch together but walked out when Jungkook commented about your clothes.

“You are wearing a cropped top.” Jungkook’s eyes shrunk, voice laced with disappointment.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It shows your stomach. I—”

“You know what? Fuck you.” You couldn’t help but bare your teeth. You had been friends with Jungkook-shit for as long as you could remember. You loved him to death but wouldn’t take his dumbassery lying down. Comments about one’s body were never okay.

“I’m sick of you side-eyeing my stomach. I don’t think I wanna be friends with an ass like you anymore. Goodbye. I’m leaving!”

You left and never once showed your face to Jungkook again. Thinking about your fragile friendship hurt, so you drowned yourself in school stuff instead.

You rarely left your dorm, spending almost all your time writing your paper and ignoring Jungkook’s phone calls.

But Jungkook-shit was persistent; one evening, he came knocking on your dorm.

“Hey! Open the door! I need to see you!”

As much as you wanted to ignore him, you knew you couldn’t. Students were studying next door, so you opened the door with great reluctance.

“What—”

Jungkook crashed against your chest.

“—the fuck.” You almost lost your footing. Thankfully, you were able to grab the door frame to steady yourself. You snarled and wrapped your arms around Jungkook’s tiny waist.

“Bastard! Why are you here!? You reek of alcohol! Are you drunk!?”

Your jaw slackened; you weren’t sure if it was because you didn’t want to deal with a drunken bastard or if you were bitter since you couldn’t drink along with this drunken bastard.

You hadn’t had alcohol in a long time. Damn school.

“Hi, sweetheart~” Jungkook raised his head slightly, batting his eyelashes seductively at you.

You gulped thickly. Your grip on Jungkook’s waist tightened. “Don’t ‘hi sweetheart’ me. You’re drunk. You need to go home.”

“But!!!” Jungkook snickered. “I’m not drunk. I only had one glass of whiskey. Jimin-hyung insisted I drink. You know I can’t say no to him. He’s my favorite person.”

You ignored the stone crushing your heart. You brushed Jungkook’s fringe like you were brushing your hurt away. “Your face is sweaty. Did you run here?”

Because you weren’t heartless, you let Jungkook in and even helped him to your bed. You originally wanted your best friend to lie down first as you prepared some soup. However, Jungkook pulled you to bed with him.

“Oi, bastard! Let go!” You wrestled with him, but you couldn’t get away from his suffocating embrace.

Jungkook wrapped his legs around your body. He also buried his face in your neck.

“Stay here. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts,” Jungkook let out a whiny sob. “Please stay for a while, alright? I just want to tell you how my day went.”

Jungkook had never been this clingy and vulnerable before. He was only like this when drunk. 

But he really wasn’t drunk, at least not with alcohol or drugs. It was on something else--something good--a spark of joy.

You couldn’t help but coo.

“Okay,” you betrayed yourself. “Fine. You can talk. Tell me why you’re like this. Did something happen?”

“Yes. Something happened.” Jungkook’s eyelashes fluttered. “Jimin-hyung and I drank to celebrate. We are starting a business to help people! Me and Jimin—”

Jungkook abruptly stopped talking. He looked deep in thought. After a few seconds, he shook his head and smiled, “I will make those kids proud.”

Your heart swelled with joy upon hearing that. Jungkook never talked about himself, rarely using the word ‘I’ to express his feelings, but today, he really proclaimed a promise using that pronoun.

For the first time, Jungkook looked alive.

“What kids are you talking about, Jungkook-shit?” You asked as softly as you could, hoping your best friend would spill more.

But Jungkook sometimes had selective hearing, not to mention he was a bit tipsy. He only heard the word ‘kid’ from you.

He giggled; his hand roamed your body. “Kids,” Jungkook’s tone was sultry. You could feel his hot breath on your neck.

“I want to have kids,” Jungkook announced as his hand made its way to cup under your clothes—he was caressing your stomach.

You inhaled sharply.

“I want you to carry my baby.” Jungkook’s lips puckered, “I want to put a baby in your tummy. Why hasn’t your stomach grown yet?”

Oh. You thought. Heat crawled up to your face as the sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks:

Jungkook looking at your stomach...  Jungkook asking about your calorie intake...  Jungkook saw your flat stomach when you wore that cropped top...

What the fuck.

“I want to see your stomach grow like a balloon.” Jungkook stroked your tummy, his hand moving up to flick at your nipples. “These too. Wanna see them grow heavy with milk. Our baby and I can share—”

“Shut up!” you couldn’t take such lewd words from a shitty mackerel. He pushed Jungkook’s chest. “You...you don’t even like kids! You are just--!!”

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to ignore the warmth spreading to your belly down to your groin. Jungkook had always been good at dirty talking. You knew because it was mainly directed at you.

You and Jungkook were best friends who helped each other in many ways, including pleasuring each other’s bodies.

You had never done more than oral sex, though. You were easily flustered and oh so very easy to please. With a few touches here and there, coupled with dirty talk, you would be coming all over Jungkook’s mouth and hands.

“Why’re you pushing me away? Come, let me hug you.” Jungkook pulled you to his chest. “You want it, don’t you? Don’t you dare lie. I saw your face. You want to have my baby too.”

You shivered, your breathing labored. You didn’t consider yourself weak, but when it came to Jungkook? You couldn’t say the same thing.

“Admit it. You want me too. Wan  me to fill you up with my cum, yeah?”

Of fucking course you do. You swallowed hard, gripping your best friend’s shirt as you whispered, “I fucking do. But not now. I want you 100% sober, Kook. See if you can repeat those words tomorrow.”

Jungkook licked his lower lip and hummed, “Mn, I always want you.”

Present; 2023

Jungkook peeled his eyes open.

Everything hurt. It was hard to move. It didn’t help that all his eyes landed were white. It hurt his eyes.

Right. Before all this white was black—his world turned into darkness when Lee Sung drove that knife to his stomach.

Jungkook blinked. The words stomach triggered memories from the past, a memory that disguised itself into a long dream.

Before Jungkook woke up, he dreamed about you and his selfish desire for you to carry his child.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped; an overwhelming sense of sorrow settled at the pit of his stomach. But he was startled to see a small child staring blankly at him.

He tilted his head to the side. Huh? Why was there a kid in his hospital room?

“Hey, kid,” Jungkook held back his flinch for the sake of his aching stomach wound. The boy gave Jungkook the creeps; his irises were pitch black, and he wouldn’t stop staring dumbly at him. 

“Where are your parents? Did your daddy accidentally lose you?” Dads are the worst.

Jungkook had to hold another flinch when the kid answered his question with a cutthroat gesture: his little fingers were slitting through his neck, causing Jungkook to furrow his brow. Seriously, what was wrong with this kid?

“What’s your name? How old are you?” Jungkook enquired. Could this kid have lost his way and accidentally entered his hospital room? And speaking of room, Jungkook felt his fingers turning colder.

Who in the right mind would confine him in a VIP room!? Didn’t the hospital check his identity first? Didn’t they know Jungkook couldn’t afford this kind of service!?

“Name Soobin, twee yess och.”

You know what else Jungkook couldn’t afford? Listening to Soobin talk.

“Did you say three?” Jungkook pressed his lips into a thin line as he crossed his arms, “Huh. You’re three, and you still talk gibberish?”

The boy seemed to recognize the taunt painting Jungkook’s voice. He folded his little arms across his chest, his lips protruding into a sulky pout: “Am not dumb.”

For some reason, Jungkook’s heart softened at the look of this kid. He was so adorable that Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh—even when it hurt his stomach. “You even know the word dumb, huh?”

The child couldn’t speak straight but could read one���s expression. When he saw the mirth in Jungkook’s eyes, he thought it was an invitation for him to flex the words he knew.

“Stupid.” The kid uttered. “Fuck.”

“Hey! You can pronounce those words perfectly. Attaboy~.” Jungkook’s eyes glistened in awe, making the kid happy. Soobin slightly tucked his chin and relished the praise of a stranger. However, the feeling of triumph didn’t last long, as Jungkook quickly realized his mistake.

“I mean...no! Bad boy. Don’t say those words. Your mom is going to be mad at you.”

Soobin was similar to Jungkook. He could twist his expression in a second, too. His twinkling eyes immediately went back to being impassive.

Jungkook’s lips partly opened in shock. He narrowed his eyes at the kid, “What? Don’t tell me your mom is dead, too?”

Soobin made that cutthroat gesture earlier. Jungkook just assumed it meant his father died. The kid probably didn’t know what that action symbolized. Soobin didn’t seem to like what Jungkook had said, though. He creased his forehead, ready to throw his fist at Jungkook when the door suddenly flew open.

Soobin’s attention switched to that. His eyes glowed, “Ma!” And then he scurried toward the newcomer.

Jungkook followed Soobin’s movement, his eyes glowing when he saw the person who opened the door.

Soobin’s ‘ma’ was--

“Soobin,” --you. You opened your arms wide, ready to catch the small boy in your arms. Soobin jumped right in, squeezing your shoulders into an embrace.

“Ma! Not dead!” Soobin rubbed his cheek against your cheek, causing your lips to pucker. Soobin was squeezing too hard.

“Soobin,” You chuckled awkwardly as goosebumps pricked at your skin. Someone was ogling at you. You had been accustomed to this feeling since you were subjected to it nine years ago.

You looked at Jungkook’s bed, breath taken away from your lungs upon seeing your ex-best friend awake.

“You’re awake.” You made your way to Jungkook’s bed. You were about to press the nurse call button when a cold hand grasped your wrist.

“Don’t call anyone. I’m fine.” Jungkook said with a nasal voice.

“Okay.” You conceded. You wanted to say many things but didn’t know where to start. Jungkook had already met Soobin while you weren’t around. You never meant for this to happen. The nurse said Jungkook was supposed to wake up sometime later, but he woke up earlier than expected.

It wasn’t a bad thing, no—not really. Your heart was actually calmer now that Jungkook had opened his eyes. Gone was the feeling of standing on a precipice with the fear of falling down. You had retreated to a safer distance now that Jungkook was awake.

“How are you feeling?” You licked your lower lip, “The nurse called me. She said you’ve been stabbed. What happened?”

Jungkook was bombarded with questions. He didn’t know what to say, but it’s not like he didn’t see this coming. It was his fault. He was the one who saved your number on his phone the night you met. He was weak then. He allowed himself to hope that fate would make a move even if he didn’t.

He was also the one who never changed his emergency contact, even after everything that transpired. You left, but Jungkook never moved on.

Jungkook cleared his throat, eyes darting on the kid in your arms. An uncomfortable feeling settled at the pit of his stomach.

“Is…” Jungkook swallowed, “Is he your kid?”

You avoided the other man’s gaze. You looked like you wanted to avoid the question, so you did that.

“I asked you a question first.”

You had this face that said, ‘You won’t get a response from me if you don’t tell me things first.’ Jungkook usually teased you until you relented, but he felt that was not the case anymore.

“And I already told you I’m fine.” Jungkook didn’t want to make a big deal out of the situation. It was already bad enough.

But you begged to differ.

“And I asked you what happened. You can’t get stabbed and just ignore it, Jungkook.”

The image of Lee Sung’s mocking grin made Jungkook shiver. He really didn’t want to think about that bastard today—or ever.

Jungkook gave a dismissive wave, “I’m fine, aren’t I? No point in dwelling in the past.”

“Then I guess you won’t know who this kid is to me.”

Jungkook’s head snapped to meet your fiery gaze.

“Fine.” He scoffed. “I did it to myself, alright? I’m the culprit. What are you gonna do about it?”

The idea was to tease you back until you stopped with your query. Jungkook had no intention of divulging the truth as it was too humiliating. Pride was the only thing he had in this lifetime.

But to Jungkook’s disappointment, his response only ignited your anger and curiosity. You snapped at him, “Oi, Jungkook. Are you kidding me?”

Something about your expression riled up Jungkook. Yes, that’s it. That’s the face I want to see. Show me you care, but don’t you dare come closer. I’m not letting you in.

“You and I both know I don’t joke about this thing.” Jungkook blinked at you innocently. “I’ve wanted to die for a long time.”

“Fuck you.” you spat. Soobin’s ears perked up. He raised his hands and repeated your words:

“Fuck you.”

“Soobin, cover your fucking ears!” You snapped, a fraction of your anger directed at the small child in your arms. Soobin was not a pushover, unlike Jungkook. He recognized the thunder in your voice. Soobin immediately covered his ears.

You directed your fury back to Jungkook again. Your eyes and tone were both sharp. “You haven’t changed after all these years, huh? You’re still nothing but a fucking coward.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, yet he didn’t speak. It prompted you to voice out your pain.

“You’re still a coward who can’t face his problems, only relying on suicide to ease your fucking pain. Guess what, Jungkook-shit. Trying to kill yourself doesn’t end the pain!” It only exemplifies it, passing the hurt to those left behind.

Jungkook’s breathing quickened. He looked at you with wide eyes; his thoughts earlier of not letting you in felt like a resounding slap now.

That’s not true. Jungkook screamed in his head. You didn’t understand him. No one did. 

Suddenly, it wasn’t about what Lee Sung did to him or his lies to shut you up. It moved around Jungkook’s suppressed feelings.

It was unfair, wasn’t it? Everyone thought suicide was the easy way out. But honestly, it was Jungkook’s last resort. He had tried everything before: sleep it off, think happy thoughts, and wait it out. Maybe fate wanted to test him, but why did it still hurt the same after many years? Why did the burden in his heart not lessen an ounce? In fact, it only weighed more.

People thought it was selfish of him to end his life because he wouldn’t be here to deal with the aftermath.

But what about before the aftermath? What about those difficult times when his heart hurt so much that he couldn’t breathe? When the voices in his head were so loud he couldn’t make them shut up?

Those left behind deal with the aftermath but not what happened before that.

People didn’t know because they were also busy dealing with their own pain.

Your eyes were red. You glared at Jungkook, “I hate you so much, shitty Jungkook. Jisoo-unnie was wrong. You’re not a good person. You’re an asshole. She shouldn’t have trusted you. She shouldn’t have made me promise to return here in Incheon to tell you all about Soobin.”

Your embrace of Soobin tightened. “Because you know what? You don’t deserve Soobin. You don’t deserve to be his father. Fuck you.”

This scene was eerily familiar to Jungkook. He watched as you turned your back on him, aiming for the exit with no intention of ever returning.

***

←Previous Chapter (03) | Next Chapter (05) →

A/N: Comments are highly appreciated! Please leave some :)

I've written multiple Jungkook fics, you might want to check that out!

[rainswept]

counting backwards — throwing muses. 0.8k words.

Fog has found a comfortable residence nestled in Aventurine’s brain—a bustling one, strangling clear thoughts and fond reminiscence and expertly avoiding those gnawing memories he wished it would swallow.

He looks into the mirror, he shows his teeth. He hopes, to others, it looks like a smile and not a snarl—though, to him, he still looks afraid, and he swears he can still see the yellowing he had earned after so long of not being able to care for them (despite how the gold of his wealth had cancelled it out long ago and chased it off).

It was voracious, clamoring like a starved man, armed with an achingly empty stomach at all times; it was nimble, and it trembled whenever he did—with hunger, sickness, the cold, or fear, he didn’t know, it was a toss up—skin melded to bone. Yet, as much as it ate at his clairvoyance, it didn’t grow—it just… lingered, in the corner of his cluttered head, emaciated and shaking. It stared at him. It had his eyes, and the same blond hair.

He keeps practicing. He wants his expression to be bright like a future that is looking up, like the sun during the first glimpse of it after rain, and infectious—but it was bright like a warning sign, like the sun beating down on an arid and drought-stricken desert, and diseased. That wouldn’t do. His sight was bleary, and his hair was a mess, and he fell asleep in last night’s clothes; nothing about him screamed refined or expensive or high quality or worth anything at all.

It felt fearful, in a way, but it cared for its host just as the weather outside did. Maybe even less. It rained for Kakavasha, but this? This didn’t change for a thing. All it did was fast forward the time on the clock. All it did was steal from him, little by little, thread by thread, coin by coin, unraveling, rusting, wasting. But that was fine. He had money and memories to give now. He had the means to feed both himself and it. He was generous—he always was, but now he could truly afford to be without sacrifice.

For as long and well as he had played the role of carefully crafted, embellished with gold and beholding bones of wrought iron, every rotting rope making him up was one rainstorm away from snapping.

Speaking of Kakavasha, he didn’t remember much of him. All that lingered was the fear, because as much as he washed the blood—his kin, his kills—off of himself, that little frayed part of him, wide-eyed and with no more tears to cry, remained playing dead under its current.

He combs out any tangles sleep had imparted in the strands of his hair. He washes it out—the scent of the soap doesn’t take long to leave him with a headache, so he rinses and replaces it with equally migraine-inducing conditioner. He combs through it until he no longer looks unkempt or unwell.

That fog is still here. He should remind himself to grab his keys, just in case.

He hooks his finger in the corner of his mouth, pulls it back a bit further to check for any plaque or pieces of food left on his molars. There is none. He keeps looking. He straightens out his clothes, stares and bores holes into every last crevice that could hide a tell. He stares and stares. He remembers a time when he had no reflection, only sand and kin, only a guess at what he looked like. That was long ago.

In the mirror, when he still only saw himself in the faces of his family, mauve hair fell, and her voice still echoes: “What’s worth more to you, Kakavasha—the life in your veins, or the gaze you share with those incinerated bodies?”

What is more important to you, Kakavasha, the blood that keeps your heart that deserves nothing but death beating, or the blood that makes you Avgin, that ties you by something indisputable to the only thing you ever learned how to cherish?

That was what she meant. It was a stupid question.

He fixes his shirt one last time. He grabs his keys.

He knew how to answer, then, and he still does now, because he would drain his arteries of every last drop if it meant seeing them unpainted with theirs again—for the color to return to their faces, the life to their dull eyes—

He closes the door behind him with a soft click.

But that can’t happen. So he will continue to dress his wounds, cut his losses, and survive, until he inevitably joins them.

(He will never join them. They are dust, scattered in fragments across space. He will be buried in a lavish coffin.)

[erebusbabylon]

My Heart (RoP Celebrimbor x F! Reader)

As promised I am posting my Ao3 fics to Tumblr! This is the first one!

Summary: Some douchey elf named Thuriéal drunkenly hits on you. Celebrimbor gets angry and protective. Angsty fluffy comfort one shot.

Notes: No warnings. I proofread but I am only human (derogatory) so I probably missed something! Also, coming up with a male elf name was difficult for me. I settled on Thuriéal but its low key goofy. Forgive me.

My Heart

“What has happened?!” Celebrimbor asked with a twinge of fear in his voice.

You burst into the forge, tears glistening in your eyes, struggling to keep your composure in front of the other smiths.

“Oh, my love.” You whispered, reaching out to him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his embrace firm and reassuring. You sniffled against his chest, the warmth of his presence providing a momentary comfort.

“It’s Thuriéal… he’s… he’s…” you stammered, glancing around as if the walls themselves might overhear. “Actually, let’s not speak here.” Celebrimbor nodded, concern etched on his features as he led you into a small storage area at the back of the forge.

The moment the large wooden doors of the storage room closed, tears rushed forth from your eyes and you began to sob.

“What in Aulë’s name happened? You’re scaring me, beloved.” He said embracing you to his chest.

“I was in the great hall with Thuriéal. We were discussing some of the translation works I’d recently done for the High King. He was praising me for how quickly I managed to complete the translations, and how he was impressed with my knowledge. He had been drinking… a lot of wine.” You emphasized the last words, your voice trembling. "He began rambling about how I was not appreciated in Eregion, and that perhaps my knowledge would be better used and appreciated in Lindon. I tried to brush him off and end the conversation. I told him I had a meeting I needed to attend soon. As I turned to leave he grabbed my arm and pulled me into him.” Your voice broke and you put your hand over your mouth almost as if you were trying to stifle vomit.

After a moment you composed yourself and spoke again “He tried to kiss me but I pushed him off me before his lips could meet mine. I asked him what he was thinking and he began professing feelings for me. I told him to stop talking but he kept grabbing at me as he spoke. I was terrified.”

You stretched your arm out and showed Celebrimbor a scratch that went down the length of your forearm. He scratched me as I struggled from his grip.” you whimpered.

Celebrimbor's finger delicately trailed over the scratch on your arm. His expression shifted from concern to a simmering anger. “Where is he? Tell me!” He demanded, eyes blazing with the infamous Fëanorian fury his kin was known for. “Is he still in the great hall?”

As Celebrimbor’s fury simmered, he took a deep breath to steady himself, his mind racing with thoughts of how to protect you. “Stay here.” He instructed, his voice low but firm.

He turned on his heel and pushed through the storage room door, striding purposefully back into the forge. He walked across the floor of the forge trying to keep a calm face so that the other smiths did not sense an issue. He left out the front doors and walked across the courtyard. His pace quickened with each step he took. When he reached the great hall he entered to the sound of laughter and music. He spotted Thuriéal across the room, laughing heartily with a group of elves, oblivious to the turmoil he had caused. Celebrimbor's heart pounded as he approached.

“Thuriéal!” He called, his voice cutting through the noise. The laughter faded as the other elves turned to watch. Thuriéal turned, a smirk on his face, until he saw the expression in Celebrimbor’s eyes.

“Celebrimbor! What brings you here?” Thuriéal asked, feigning nonchalance, though the tension in his posture was evident.

“We need to talk. Now.” Celebrimbor hissed through gritted teeth.

Thuriéal’s brow furrowed, and he exchanged glances with the others, who began to back away, sensing the brewing conflict. “What’s the matter, old friend? Can’t a friend compliment —”

“Enough!” Celebrimbor's voice rose, fiercer than he intended. “You crossed a line with her. You know what you did.”

A murmur rippled through the small crowd, and the other elves began to disperse. Thuriéal's bravado faltered. “I—”

“You tried to force yourself on her!” Celebrimbor interrupted, his tone sharp as steel. “She told you to stop, and yet you continued. You terrified her.”

Thuriéal’s arrogance crumbled. “I didn’t mean any harm. I was just—”

“Just what?” Celebrimbor stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “Confessing your feelings while disregarding her wishes? You think that’s appropriate behavior? You think manhandling the Lady of Eregion is an acceptable way to conduct yourself?”

Thuriéal swallowed hard, the realization of his actions dawning on him. “I… I am drunk. I didn’t mean to—”

“Drunk or not, your actions have consequences.” Celebrimbor’s voice dropped, filled with a chilling calmness. “You will apologize to her, and you will ensure she feels safe within these halls. If I hear of any further advances, I will not hesitate to take matters into my own hands.”

Thuriéal nodded, visibly shaken. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I’ll speak to her.”

Celebrimbor's gaze softened slightly, but his resolve remained. “You will do it now. No more excuses.”

With a hesitant nod, Thuriéal moved to follow Celebrimbor, who led him back to the storage area where you remained, anxiously waiting. As they entered, your eyes widened at the sight of Thuriéal, and you instinctively stepped closer to Celebrimbor.

“Don't worry, beloved, he has something to say.” Celebrimbor said, his tone softer now, but still firm.

Thuriéal looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and shame. “I… I’m truly sorry for what happened. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was foolish and… drunk. Please forgive me.”

You held his gaze, your heart racing as you processed his words. Celebrimbor’s hand rested protectively on your back, a silent reminder of his support.

“It’s not just about being drunk, Thuriéal.” You replied, your voice steady despite the tremor of emotion beneath. “You disrespected me, and by extension your Lord, Celebrimbor.”

Thuriéal nodded, shame washing over him. “I understand. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Celebrimbor’s hand moved from your back and slipped around your waist , a silent vow that he would always protect you. “Make sure your actions reflect your words.” He warned, his tone stern.

As Thuriéal stepped back, you felt the weight of the moment settle around you. Celebrimbor turned to you, his expression softening. “Are you all right?”

You nodded, though the fear still lingered. “With you here, I feel safer. Thank you for standing up for me so fiercely.”

He smiled gently, relief evident in his eyes. “I will always be here for you. You are my heart."

[leftoverghosts]

outrun myself

pbr!patrick zweig x separated!wife!user

or, what I think what would happen between you and my cowboy!patrick bot. light smut under the cut.

requested by my love @diyasgarden!! i will never, ever get tired of pbr!patrick.

PLAY MY XMAS GAME AND REQUEST A BOT/BLURB HERE!

Your tumultuous relationship with Patrick was a constant roller coaster ride of emotions. Starting out as high school sweethearts and ending up married shortly after graduation, you knew all too well the pressure of being the small town's golden couple. He was Patrick Zweig, the reigning king of the rodeo, and you were simply seen as his pretty arm candy.

But deep down, you yearned for more - to explore, to travel, to break free from the confines of this stifling town. It wasn't entirely his fault; he had always been clear about who he was and what he wanted. Pat liked what he liked and at one point, so did you.

But that didn't stop the resentment from growing inside of you and when you finally took off his ring and left for college, you thought you had escaped the suffocating country life.

That is until the phone call came.

You were still legally his next of kin, a fact that you had almost forgotten in your quest for independence. But now you were rushing back to your home town, bracing yourself for the inevitable scolding from his mama.

As you used the keys he never asked for back to enter your old ranch house, your heart raced with worry and anticipation. You found him in the kitchen, dressed only in boxers and a cast on his arm, stirring something on the stove that don’t quite smell right. The sight of him brings back a wave of memories - good and bad - but all that matters now is that he's safe.

"You came, baby." He smirked, one side of his mouth tugging upwards in that infuriatingly charming way it always did.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You smiled at his smirk, your heart fluttering at the sight of him. Despite everything that had happened between y’all, he still knew how to charm you with just a look. But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the present.

"Yes, I came." You said quietly, your own accent thick, walking towards him. As soon as you reached the stove, you wrinkled your nose at the smell of the stew that was cooking. "What is this?" You asked with a laugh, peering into the pot.

Patrick chuckled and shrugged his good shoulder. "I don't know, I just found some things in the fridge and thought I'd give it a go." His eyes sparkled mischievously as he gestured towards the chopped vegetables on the counter.

You couldn't help but sigh in amusement. Despite being separated, he was still very much the same man you fell in love with - adventurous and carefree.

"I'll throw this out and make something simple for us." You said definitively, as you moved to grab out some pasta from the cupboard. Everything was as you left it, even the decor on the walls.

Without hesitation, Patrick jumped in to help. He grabbed some cans of tomato sauce as you boiled some water for the noodles.

The kitchen felt like second nature to both of you - each of your movements flowing together effortlessly, even with his broken arm. It was almost like no time had passed since you used to cook together back when you were living here.

As dinner came together on the stove, Patrick pulled you into his lap at the kitchen table, and you found yourself lost in tales of his latest rodeo adventures. His eyes lit up with excitement as he recounted the thrill of the crowd cheering him on, the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he rode atop a bucking bronco.

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, marveling at how his passion for the rodeo had never waned over the years. It was one of the things you had always admired about him - his unwavering dedication to the things and people he loved.

"And then, just as I was about to make the winning ride, ol' Bucky threw me off like a ragdoll!" Patrick laughed, his good arm wrapped snugly around your waist as you sat perched on his lap. "Landed right on my wrist and heard a snap. Knew right then I was in for a world of hurt."

You winced at the thought of him being thrown from the horse, your hand instinctively reaching out to gently touch his cast. "I'm just glad you're okay," you murmured, your eyes meeting his. "When I heard about the accident, I was so worried…"

Patrick's gaze softened as he looked at you, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. "I know, baby. I'm sorry for putting you through that. I thought I changed my emergency contact to my Ma. But I'm alright, I promise. Takes helluva lot more than this to take Patrick Zweig out.” He snickered, shaking his cast at you, as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“If you had changed your contact, your Ma would be sitting right here right now.” You teased and he gave you a disgusted face, shaking his head. "Forgive me God, but have I mentioned how annoying you are, Patrick Zwieg?” You continued negging him, rolling your eyes.

"I've missed this," he giggled softly, ignoring your taunts, his breath tickling your ear. "Just being here with you, talking like we used to. It feels right."

You nodded in agreement, leaning back against his broad chest. "It does. I didn't realize how much I needed this until now."

The timer on the stove went off, signaling that the pasta was ready, but neither of you made a move to get up. Instead, Patrick tightened his hold on you, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

"Let's stay like this for a little while longer," he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. Patrick would do this sometimes, clinging to you as if you were his tether to the world. He wasn’t one to speak a lot of words, but you could sense his anxiety from the tension in his smile. It was a subtle tell, something only a person well-versed in his expressions would pick up on. "The food can wait. I just want to hold you."

You twisted in his lap to face him, your hands coming up to cup his rugged face. "You plannin’ on burning my house down the second I step back into it?" It was an attempt at levity, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he shook his head, reaching up to trace the curve of your lips with his fingers.

The way Pat was looking at you right now, was as if he couldn't believe you were really here. “You make the whole world quieter just by smiling at me, you know that?” His blue eyes glistened with emotion as he leaned in for a slow and intense kiss.

The kiss deepened as Patrick's hand slid up your back, pulling you flush against his front. A low moan escaped your throat as his tongue explored your mouth with a sensual intensity.

Without breaking the kiss, Patrick effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on the kitchen table, settling himself between your parted thighs. His good hand roamed your body, caressing every curve and dip through the thin fabric of your sundress. The heat of his touch seared your skin, reigniting a passion that had laid dormant for far too long.

Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, pulling gently as you got reacquainted with the taste and feel of him. Patrick's hand slid up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress higher and higher until it was bunched around your waist, exposing your lacy panties.

He paused, pulling back slightly to gaze at you with hooded eyes full of desire. "God, you're so beautiful," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I've dreamt about this moment every night since you left."

"Show me," you breathed, your body aching for his touch. "Show me how much you've missed me." You found yourself tugging impatiently at the waistband of his boxers.

Clumsily, Patrick did his best to rip open the front of your dress, sending buttons scattering across the kitchen floor. His lips trailed hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone as his hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your bra.

"You're wearing too many clothes, darlin'," he drawled, his accent thicker than ever with arousal. In one swift motion, he unclasped your bra and tossed it aside, his mouth immediately latching onto a hardened nipple as his fingers moved back down to push aside your panties. He stroked your slick folds, teasing your sensitive bud until you were writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

You leaned into him, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. "Pat…" you whimpered.

He chuckled darkly against your skin. "Patience, baby. I'm gonna take my time with you, make sure you never forget how good I can make you feel. Make you want to stay in this shitty lil’ town."

Two fingers slipped easily into your wet heat, drawing a gasp from your parted lips. Patrick pumped them in and out slowly, his thumb circling your sensitive clit with each stroke.

"You're so tight, so perfect," he groaned, watching your face contort with pleasure. The normally reserved man was being incredibly vocal, giving you so much to work with.

Unable to endure the sweet torture any longer, you reached down and freed his hard length from his boxers. With firm strokes of your hand, you urged him closer. "Gimme what I came for, cowboy."

With a throaty noise of approval, Patrick removed his fingers and positioned himself at your entrance. Inch by inch, he filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way. You cried out in ecstasy, your nails raking down his back as he set a lazy pace, not wanting to just pound into you with abandon.

The table shook and creaked with the cant of his hips, but neither of you seemed to notice. Although a small part of your mind was aware that your grandmother would not approve of what was happening on top of her prized wedding gift. Your bodies moved together effortlessly, as if no time had passed since you were last entwined in each other's embrace.

"I love you," Patrick panted against your lips, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"I love you too," you gasped, your walls fluttering around him.

[perseephoneee]

snow chase [ficmas day 10]

[klaus mikaelson x f!reader] beauty and the beast au

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

warnings: longest thing i've ever written

author's note: my tendonitis is flaring up from writing this, but this might be one of my favorite things I've ever written, so it's totally worth it!! also maybe i should write more fantasy idek

playlist:

you make loving fun -- fleetwood mac

black friday -- tom odell

white winter hymnal -- fleet foxes

There was a wolf in the castle. 

Your sister was in there. 

You knew you shouldn’t have gone into the woods at night, but you couldn’t leave her there. Not when her daring was stronger than her weariness. Not when the schoolyard children pressured her into daring to see the Beast. Not when she might not make it to tomorrow. 

You hike your skirts up, lantern high, as you race towards the castle. Your cloak is barely enough to stave the cold. You have no real plan for when you get there. You don’t have the physical strength to fight the Beast. You have to hope you have something he wants instead. 

‘He.’ As if the Beast was a man. 

The castle was maybe once beautiful but was now worn with burned stone, and a drawbridge you were worried wouldn’t hold you. You made it across in one piece. You didn’t knock; what was the point? Why would he reward you for your politeness?

It wasn’t much warmer inside the stronghold. Your slippers made soft clicks on the tile. With a good dusting, the place would’ve been grand. You wondered who used to live here. You took a stairwell down. If your sister was captured, she would be in the dungeon. While having no experience in dungeons, you had never heard of one held up high. 

Your guess was rewarded with quiet sobs. 

You rushed to the first cell, the crumpled figure of your kin greeting you. 

“Y/N!” she cried, rushing towards the bars. You put your lantern aside to grab her hands. She looked unharmed. That was good. 

“I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” you whispered, looking for a key. There must be one somewhere. Your sister grew still, looking past your shoulder. The hairs on your neck stood on end, and you knew who was there without even looking. When you turned around, you were surprised by what you saw. 

He was much more a man than you imagined. When he stepped out of the shadows, you understood why they called him ‘Beast.’ His eyes were a deep red, his fangs long things that could rip you apart. Veins rippled under his eyes when he looked at you. You froze, holding your gaze. He grinned. 

“Look at what little bit brought in,” he crooned. “A friend.”

His voice was devoid of emotion. You found no comfort.

“I’m here for my sister,” you said with a confidence you didn’t have. He chuckled. 

“Sister? Your sister was the one breaking into my home,” he tssked, stepping closer. He wore a long black coat, the ends swishing against the floor. You didn’t balk from his gaze. 

“I’m sorry for her behavior,” you cautioned. “Please let me take her home.”

“That hardly seems fair.” He tilted his head, like a cat regarding his prey. You realized you were the prey. You gulped. He noticed. 

“Then take me.”

“Y/N, no,” your sister hissed, grabbing your arm through the cell grates. You ignored her. The Beast's grin grew wider. 

“Now, isn’t that sweet,” he smirked. Your heart rate picked up, and he perked up as if he heard it. He seemed to ponder your offer, weighing its merits in his head. His eyes were tinted gold when he looked at you next. “I accept.”

You heard your sister screaming, begging for him to change his mind, but you couldn’t hear her. She was a dull noise as you considered your own death while also your relief that she would be safe. You did your duty. You protected your family. 

He granted you a brief moment to say goodbye before he threw your sister outside, leaving you behind locked doors in a cold castle. The second he closed the front doors, the sound reverberating through the hallway, you were unsure what he would do to you. 

He moved faster than most humans. 

He had his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, tilting your head to look at him. You let out a choked sound as he held you. 

“You are mine now, pet,” he purred. “Let’s take you to your new home.”

He gripped your arm as he dragged you up the stairs and through the east wing. You would have bruises by the next day; you were sure of that. You glimpsed the outside through arched windows. You wondered if you’d ever see it again. 

He threw you in a room and, with one last calculating smile, slammed the door. It wasn’t the dungeon that much was obvious. It was a bedroom. Fancier than yours in the village. One four-poster bed, an armoire, and a little bathroom. You imagined you would stay here till you grew old and died. There was a window by the bed, advertising a very long fall. You imagined he put you here specifically to taunt you about being here forever. 

There was no fire, only the bed. You took off your shoes and climbed under all the covers in an effort to get warm. You shivered as tears fell until, eventually, you fell asleep. 

~

You were awoken by voices. 

You pulled back the covers, daring to look at who was in your room. 

A young girl, you assumed. She was quite mousy. Actually, her features were almost like a mouse. Maybe no human at all. Her nose twitched, and her eyes grew big as she saw you wake up. You both scuttled as far back as you could. You held a pillow protectively in front of you. 

“I’m sorry, miss!” she cowered, curled up by the door. Your brows drew together. “I didn’t mean to disturb you!”

“You’re…you’re fine,” you reassured. She was scared of you. That was new. 

“I came to see if you needed my assistance,” she trembled. You felt sympathy. She was as scared as you were. 

“Assistance?”

“Getting ready. Master requires your attention in the dining hall.”

Of course, he did. 

Your new mouse friend, Dahlia, stops trembling once you talk to her more. You have no clue about the horrors she has been subjected to because of the Beast, and you don’t press for information. She helps you wash up and even braids your hair back with delicate pins. The dress she supplies is nicer than you’ve ever owned. You wonder if maybe you should’ve left your sister here to experience these riches. You start to feel concerned for your psyche. 

Dahlia takes you to the dining hall. The castle isn’t any warmer than before. You think about asking for a fire but don’t in fear of how he might react. 

There’s a lovely array of food set up in the dining room. A long table with seasonal flowers in the middle and the Beast at the end. He ignores you as you sit down. 

There are other mice people. They bring you fresh juice, buttered bread, cuts of meats and cheeses, and other ripe fruits. You haven’t had this much food in a while. You eat a grape and suppress the urge to moan around the taste. You haven’t had this good of food your whole life. You eat some more before daring to speak. 

“Most people don’t treat their prisoners this well,” you say, taking a sip of your juice. The Beast looks up, a glint in his eye. “I was expecting torture.”

“Who says this isn’t?” he drawls. He has a book in front of him. He returns to the pages. “Lulling you into false security before I peel your skin off and use it as a coat.”

“I don’t think my skin would make a good coat,” you answer. “Maybe a hat.”

He looks up from his book. He looks confused. You take sick satisfaction in that. 

He makes you go back to your rooms after breakfast. Dahlia delivers some food around noon and then takes you back to the dining room for dinner. You don’t engage in any conversation this time. You eat your food (pork with roasted vegetables and a sweet sauce), and you are considered your captor. This is much cushier than you imagined your imprisonment. Still, you wonder if he wasn’t lying. Living in expectation of him killing you might be more torture than the act itself. 

Hours turn into days, and days turn into weeks. You manage to convince Dahlia to bring entertainment to your room. You both engage in a card game when she isn’t working. You find you like her a lot. She’s funny when she starts to be comfortable. She sneaks your custard from the kitchen when no one’s watching. You don’t ask why she’s a mouse, why the Beast is not a wolf or a man, but something in between. You assume no one would tell you. 

Autumn dissipates into winter. The castle is colder than before. You wake up with your breath a puff, your fingers tinged purple. You work up the courage to ask for warmth during your breakfast that morning. Up to this point, you occasionally would get him engaged in small talk. He would often insult you, glare at you or growl. You forget he’s not a man. 

You set your fork on your plate and look down the table to his figure. He’s reading again. 

“I have a request,” you say. He ignores you. “I would like a fire in my rooms so I won’t freeze to death.”

“What if that’s my plan?” he responds. He has no energy behind it. 

“I know it isn’t; you’re much cleverer than that.” He looks up finally. You calling him ‘clever’ was enough to get his attention. Bastard. “I’d also like access to the rest of the castle.”

“Are you in a position to make demands?” he growls. You know he could get to you and rip out your throat in a few seconds flat. You grip the arms of your chair to steel your nerves.

“No, I’m not,” you answer. “But I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. I haven’t tried to escape, have I?”

He considers your request. His eyes are an abyss that you wouldn’t want to drop into. You hope he doesn’t kill you for this. 

“You aren’t allowed to go to the west wing.”

That’s his only response. You blink and then utter a thank you. 

Somehow, there’s a fireplace in your room by nightfall. You imagine it’s magic. 

~

The first thing you do with your freedom is visit Dahlia. You can find the kitchen from the smells alone. 

The other servants scurry at your entrance. You feel bad for scaring them. Dahlia is rolling dough with another girl who looks eerily similar to her, mouse features aside. You ask if you can help, and they let you. 

You come to find out that the other mouse is Daisy, Dahlia’s sister. Their parents used to be servants in the castle, and they took over after. The confidence from your successful request allows you to ask them why they’re mice. Dahlia lets out a laugh, the most carefree you’d seen her. 

“I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“I didn’t want to be impolite.”

“A curse,” Daisy answers. She was in the process of making a roulade. “Master killed a village, and one of the elders was an enchantress. She cursed him to be stuck as a Beast. Unfortunately, the curse was put over the whole castle.”

“So everyone in the castle became…,” you trailed off. Mice were not beasts.

“We became our inner selves,” Dahlia finished. You wondered what your inner self would be.

“He’s not really a wolf, though, is he?”

“He is,” Daisy answered. “He’s just stuck in between right now.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You helped them finish preparations for the next day. You liked baking, it was soothing. Dahlia went with you back to your rooms to get ready for bed. You relished the feeling of finally having a fire. 

Sleep was elusive to you. After an hour of tossing and turning, you put on your slippers and decided to explore. The castle was huge, but you welcomed the feeling of getting lost. 

You found heaven when you pushed open an ornate door to the largest library you had ever seen. Stained glass windows decorated one wall, with rows upon rows of books going farther than you could see. You were happy to be tortured if it meant access to this library. After browsing the shelves, you found a book that interested you. There was a chair nearby with a fireplace, and you started a fire before settling down. 

You read for so long that the story merged with your dreams, and you found yourself asleep in the library. You woke up with the morning light, and the fire was already embers. The Beast was standing above you. You scrambled into a sitting position.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” He didn’t look mad. Merely commenting.

“I like…books,” you kissed your teeth, regretting your answer. Words were not your friend in the morning. 

“Breakfast is ready,” he said, turning on his heel and leaving the library. You blinked, unsure how to process his lukewarm response. You put your book on the chair and scurried after him, keeping a healthy distance. You kept quiet as you ate your breakfast. The Beast was reading the same book again. Your deliriousness emboldened you.

“What are you reading?”

He looked up again, mildly annoyed. He just held up the book. You saw the cover for The Marriage of Heaven and Hell. 

“Ah, Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air,” you hum, taking a bite of your eggs. The Beast blinks in surprise. 

“You’ve read it?”

“I like the artwork,” you shrug. You shiver under his gaze. It’s the most interesting he’s been since you offered your place in exchange for your sisters. 

“Do you have a favorite piece?” he asks. 

“Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog,” you answer. He blinks in surprise again. You wonder how he perceived you before this. 

Shocking to everyone, especially you, you end up actually conversing with him the whole meal. He knows a lot more than you about art history, but you managed to keep up. He seems mildly impressed and intrigued by what you have to say. You wonder the last time someone, let alone a man had shown interest in what you had to say before instead of how you looked. 

You go back to the library that night. He’s waiting when you get there. You realize that you aren’t frightened of his appearance anymore. 

Neither of you say anything. He’s pulled up a chair next to yours. You sit in companionable silence as you read your books. At some point, you fall asleep again. You wake up in your bed the next day. You’re scared to think of how you got there. 

~

“I would like to show you something,” the Beast tells you over dinner. 

You have entered into a tentative friendship; that’s what Dahlia tells you. She says that she’s never seen him talk to anyone so much before if it wasn’t barking orders. You only talk about art and books. Never anything personal. You read together in the library at night, and then he walks you to your bedchambers. It’s eerily polite. 

“I hope it’s not something dead,” you mutter. He is still no less violent than when you first met him. There have been a few times where you’ve seen blood on his mouth. 

“That’s for another day,” he hums. You frown, but he doesn’t notice. 

You follow behind him after breakfast. It’s a room you haven’t been to yet. Probably because it’s just slightly over in the west wing, and your self-preservation skills have at least kept your curiosity at bay in the closed area. He holds the door open for you. You brush past him, your eyes widening as you take in the room. 

It’s an art studio. And it’s a mess. Like a studio should be. There are paintings everywhere. There’s one chair in the corner, an artist's stool, and a window looking out to the gardens below. It’s perfect. 

You take a closer look at the first painting. It’s of a young girl in a hallway. She’s caught in a moment, a secret on her lips. As if she’s fleeing a ball. The details on the pink tulle of her dress are dazzling, and her eyes are almost lifelike. You see the artist's signature.

“My sister,” he says behind you. You don’t remember when he got so close. 

“Your name is Klaus?” you ask, turning to look at him. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, still fixed on the painting. There’s a longing in his gaze. It’s one you recognize every time you look in the mirror. He misses her. 

“No one has called me that in a long time,” he says solemnly. Even with his fangs, the veins, and the eyes, he looks the most like a man than he has been in a long time. 

You move on to the next painting. It’s of a man sitting in a library, the only light coming from the moon outside. Even with the emphasis on the night, you can see the resemblance between the Beast– Klaus– and the man in the painting. 

“Another sibling?” you questioned. Klaus nodded. You take time looking at the rest of the paintings. Many more of his family. Some of the scenery. One of a wolf, blood on its mouth, its kill fresh underneath it. Even with its macabre nature, its the best one of the bunch. You wonder if Klaus knows he wears his heart on his sleeve. 

“Klaus,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“The lighting is better in here if you need a place to read,” he coughs. You smile. This is him extending an olive branch. You realize you don’t fear him anymore. You haven’t for a while. 

You take him up on his offer, and you find yourself reading in his studio more often than not. You still read in the library at night. He joins you in the studio sometimes, usually painting. You try to sneak a peek, but he won’t let you see it. You learn to joke with each other. Dahlia is in disbelief.

“I haven’t seen him so…”

“Normal?” you venture. She’s brushing your hair out and applying a sweet-smelling oil. 

“Happy.”

You don’t know what to say to that. 

The next day, there’s snow. You open the window in the gallery to look outside, catching some flakes on your tongue. Klaus chuckles at you. You get one on your nose and shiver. 

“Would you like to go outside?” he asks. 

You find some warm clothes to bundle up in and follow Klaus to the gardens. He doesn’t bother changing. You get the sense that he can’t get cold. He watches you in mild amusement as you frolic through the snow. You explore the maze with him as your chaperone. He grumbles whenever you stop. At the end of the maze is a towering white oak tree. You take a seat below it, and Klaus joins you. 

“You’re overly trusting to someone who’s keeping you prisoner,” Klaus sighs. You roll up a snowball. 

“You and I both know that I stopped being your prisoner a while ago.”

Klaus doesn’t respond to that. He knows it’s right. You knew the first night he sat with you in the library. 

“You can return home if you wish,” Klaus breaths. You turn to him, brows furrowed. “You don’t have to stay here.”

He doesn’t say it as a demand. There’s insecurity in his voice. You realize he wants you to stay here. You think it must be lonely. You also realize that you haven’t really wanted to leave. You’ve never felt so alive in years. 

Courage emboldens you to bring a hand up to Klaus’ face. He turns slightly but doesn’t push you away. Your thumb brushes the veins under his eyes. His skin is cold. He opens his eyes to look at you. The red of his iris was the color of a bloody rose. You worried you might prick yourself if you looked any farther. 

You want to say something, but your voice has stopped working. You forget about the cold the longer you look at Klaus. He glances at you as if he’s unsure if you’re real. 

“Klaus–” you breathe.

The moment is ruined by a scream. 

Both of you are up in an instant, running back towards the castle. You are much slower than Klaus, and he growls with impatience. He picks you up and easily speeds towards your destination. 

Daisy is at the entrance across from the draw bridge, hand-drawn over her mouth. One of the servants that you had seen around the castle is crucified in front, a paper nailed to his chest with the message ‘nightfall.’ Your blood runs cold. 

“H-He just went out to get food and…” Daisy was hiccuping breaths. You rushed towards her and gathered her in your arms. She collapsed. You looked towards Klaus. All warmth from earlier was gone. The Beast was in its place. 

“It’s my fault,” you said. Klaus looked at you, confusion in his eyes. “The village has been split forever on what to do with you…me being here has given them enough reason. It’s a mob.”

“It’s not your fault,” Klaus murmurs. His fists are clenched. “They would have found some other reason, and I am the one who kept you are. I am the one who got Henry killed.”

A different King wouldn’t have known his servant's names. 

“You didn’t keep me here; I chose to stay,” you exclaimed. Klaus didn’t respond, jaw clenched as he looked at the body. The image was seared in your mind. You expected nightmares for the rest of your life. 

“Take her inside,” Klaus commanded. You dragged Daisy inside, back to the kitchens. You found Dahlia and told her what happened. Her face blanched as she took her sister out of your hands. You expected Klaus to search for blood tonight. You worried about your sister being caught in his wrath. 

When night fell, you wrapped your cloak tight around yourself and sneaked out the front of the castle. It was a dim memory of the last time you were on the draw bridge, and it felt strange to be returning to a place you hadn’t called home for a while. You made it back home, going through the backdoor of your house. 

Your sister was sitting by the fire, immediately sitting up as you entered. Emotions crashed through you as every feeling came rushing back. You didn’t realize how much you missed her. You both embraced each other, the tears coming naturally. 

“I thought you’d be dead,” she cried, pulling back. Your hands cupped your face, brushing over her hair, down to her shoulders. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine; you need to tell me everything.”

Your previous theory of the village finally having reason to attack was correct. It was all spearheaded by the town priest, who thought that the Beast was unnatural and had now taken one of their own. Apparently, they had found a way to kill him. Ice chilled your blood. 

“I need to go,” you murmured, grabbing your cloak to head to the door. 

“Are you serious?”

“I will be back for you, I promise,” you ran over and kissed her forehead. “I promise, just…trust me.”

Your sister had always known you to have strong judgment. She didn’t question you as you snuck out, breaking into a run towards the castle. You could see the fires already moving steadily closer, and you picked up pace. 

You ran smack into Klaus. 

“What are you doing out here?” he hissed, grabbing your shoulders. 

“I needed answers; they want to kill you,” you gulped air. 

“I guessed that.”

“I’m being serious,” you growled. He tilted his head, smiling slightly. 

“I know that, darling. Go back to the castle; I’ll take care of it.”

You flushed at the word ‘darling.’

“You can’t kill them, Klaus.”

“Whatever the hell not?”

“Because you’d be proving to them once again that you are the Beast they pretend you are.”

Klaus glowered at that, but he didn’t bite your head off. He knew you were right. His brows furrowed as he heard something, turning in the direction of the town. You wondered if he possessed super hearing in addition to speed. 

“They’re almost here. You need to go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving you.” You could hear the mob through the trees now. 

“Bloody hell,” he cursed. He dragged you after him, heading towards the castle. You were still worried he might kill all of them. Even if you weren’t terribly happy with your village at the moment. 

You ran through the snow, Klaus keeping a bruising grip on your arm. An arrow skidded past your ear, and Klaus pulled you down before you got skewered. 

“Kill her! She’s in league with the Beast!” a voice called out from the crowd. You wanted to scream at them, but their words set Klaus on edge. He picked up speed, basically carrying you back to the castle. He was slowed down, though, and you realized that when he saved you from the arrow, he was hit in the process. Blood ran down a cut on his arm. You had no time to yell at him about it or ask why he saved you before more arrows came flying after you two. 

Klaus had you both swerve, and you struggled to keep up his pace to the draw bridge. When you made it there, he pushed you across. You ran all the way across before realizing he wasn’t with you. He was making a stand at the front of the bridge. 

The mob was bigger than anticipated, but you didn’t care. You were hyperfocused on the fact that he was about to get himself killed. You ran back across, screaming at the mob. You jumped in front of Klaus. 

“He didn’t hurt me! You can’t kill him!” you screamed, arms out wide. Some of the townspeople stopped to listen to you. 

“He kills our kind,” one of the men in your town said. You recognized him as the butcher. Typical. 

“He hasn’t killed any of us. You killed one of his.”

That got some of them to shut up. You were happy to learn that critical thought wasn’t completely lost. 

“He will kill us as long as we allow him to live,” the priest said. Father Marcus stepped out of the crowd, a malevolent look in his eyes. You knew instantly that Klaus was just an excuse for his larger agenda. Nothing you’d say would convince him. He pulled out a dagger coated in a silver ash. You felt Klaus stiffen behind him. “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost…I condemn you, Beast.”

You screamed as he threw the dagger, attempting to block Klaus’ body with your own. He pushed you out of the way, rolling back onto the bridge. You hit the wood on your shoulder, crying out at the sharp pain as Klaus dragged you across. With no sword, he ripped the ropes of the bridge at the end so it went plummeting down. You were stuck on the side of the castle with the mob staring at you. 

Klaus collapsed in front of the doors, a hand holding his chest. You let out a shriek as you saw the dagger sticking out of it. You rushed over, grabbing him before he fell. The doors to the castle open, and the servants inside look out in worry. You motioned at them to help you, and they assisted you in carrying him inside the front doors and away from the cold. 

The blood dragged behind him, tinting the snow. You collapsed in exhaustion when you finally got him inside. 

“Klaus? Stay with me. We’re going to help you,” you muttered, covering the wound on his chest. Several servants ran off to find medical supplies, while some stayed put in shock. 

“It’s no use, love,” he murmured. His skin was clammy, even in the freezing cold. 

“I won’t let you die for me,” you cried, tears mixing in with the blood. He laughed, devoid of emotion. 

“Dying for you will be the first good thing I’ve done.” He tilts his head towards you. You notice that his eyes are gold, not red. “Please allow me this.”

“I can’t watch you die,” you whisper. “Not when I’ve just gotten to know you.”

He envelops your hand with his own. His touch is warm. 

“You are worth living,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Live for me.”

You felt him grow still. Your breath caught in your throat as you attempted to hold back tears you knew would fall. You hit his chest as hard as you could, your voice raw in your throat as you screamed at him. You heard sobs from several of the castle staff, but it didn’t register to you. It didn’t matter. You didn’t realize how much he mattered until he wasn’t there. 

You pressed your forehead to his, breath hot against his cold skin. You leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. If it was the only kiss you ever received from him, you would cherish it in your heart for eternity. 

You sat back on your heels, wiping at your eyes. You saw his hand twitch, and you wiped your eyes again to get rid of the hallucination. A gasp from nearby lets you know it wasn’t a hallucination. 

Your eyes became as wide as saucers as you saw a soft gold hue take over his body. The dagger melted into gold dust, seeping into his skin. You watched in awe as the veins under his eyes faded into nothing, his fangs turning into normal teeth. A warmth returned to his skin. The gold continued out from his body, shimmering across the gray tiles. 

The castle transformed before your eyes. You couldn’t believe the transformation occurring before you as the pillars returned to white, cracks disappearing, colors as bright as what they once were. You watched in shock as the servants changed as well, their animal features melting into human ones. You saw Dahlia and Daisy, having arrived from the kitchens, softening into two young girls. 

Klaus groaned, the act of returning to life exhausting him. You helped him sit up, and he looked at the castle with the same awe you did. When he looked at you, his eyes were blue. 

“How…?” you asked, jaw dropped. Klaus didn’t answer you. He grasped the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and kissing you with the fervor of a reborn man. Your second kiss was better than your first, this time with the warmth that was missing from before. When you parted, he was grinning. It was the biggest grin you’d ever seen from him. 

“My curse was contingent on finding true love,” he answered matter of factedly. 

“So, you’re…”

“Alive.”

“And my…”

“If you need to take it slow, I understand,” Klaus joked. He joked. You were still processing everything as he helped you to your feet. Dahlia rushed towards you, thanking you for saving her. She hugged you, almost knocking you over. Daisy joined soon after her. The rest of the servants came in a second later until you were suffocating. 

“If I knew that just kissing a man would earn this much praise, I would’ve done it sooner,” you laughed. Klaus growled, seeming more like his previous self. 

“The only man you can kiss will be me, love.”

“Territorial much?”

“Only for things that are mine,” he purred. He pulled you away from the group into his arms. They didn’t seem to care; they were too excited about being themselves again. You were excited for them. 

Klaus was warm, and his skin was no longer at the same temperature as the outdoors. You loved his eyes before, and you loved them even more now. For a second, as he held you, he looked unsure. 

“Are you…” he trailed off. You smiled, kissing him again. You knew what he was asking.

“I’m yours,” you laughed. “As long as you’ll have me.”

“You?” Klaus smirked. “I’ll have forever.”

[bloopinggenius]

✰𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝✰| Yautja x 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 |M/M/M/M/M x Reader

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

A throbbing head was the first thing Ryia felt when she woke up. Her vision, blurred at first, cleared up to reveal to her a room. Smooth pristine coal coloured walls surrounded her as well as the floor.

The room was decorated with medical looking devices some similar to human ones. Getting up into a sitting position, Ryia saw she was laid upon a metal slab covered with a some type of animal pelt. Head still throbbing, she decided to find a way out of the room. All the walls had no sign of a door or a way out but she did find a keypad that could open the door. The keys had weird symbols that she couldn't understand. However, when she stood near the keypad, the wall to the left shifted like a slide door.

Stunned, she stood for a moment before stepping out, making sure to keep her steps light, looking back in time to see the wall seamlessly slide back into place. She decided on which direction to go in given that she wanted to go home, so after a little innie miny moe game, she went left down the hall.

The hall curved, still the same coal coloured look, into an open area that looked like an alien kitchen and dining area. As she entered the area, she spotted, on one side of it, a large window that spanned the whole wall. She ran to it while still being aware of how much noise she made. She looked out noticing how high the unknown object was from the ground and she was still able to see her house.

She let out a quiet sigh in relief that she was still on Earth. Now that she thought about it, what if those creatures weren't re-

Soft clicking noises could be heard behind Ryia and she felt like she could pass out.

Slowly, she turned around, and came face to face with three of the things she saw a couple hours ago.

"Three? Where are the other two?" She thought. But before that thought could be answered, the biggest of the three growled at her so ferociously she could feel it in her bones. The sound made goosebumps crawl onto her skin and she shrunk into the window behind her. The smallest of the males went in front of his kin and gave a him a shove.

"Calm down Vikap, you're scaring her." An'tui said to him while trying to calm him. "I have no reason to care about her feelings. She is prey. Her smell invades my senses and it makes me want to rip out her head from her body. I want her out!" He growls out. "Calm 𝒎𝒆𝒊'𝒉𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒊. That is a decision for Ra'kar to make."

Ryia was stood- more like plastered against the window in fear but also in bewilderment as she watched the interaction. It seemed the smaller one was attempting to calm "Hulk" as she called him, but she wasn't sure if that was the case because it just seemed like they were arguing from her point of view.

Just then, the other two appeared. The one that grabbed her so hard she swears her mother turned in her grave. Now that it was light out, she could see the dread-like appendages from his head, from all their heads, however his were lengthy; from his lower back and just past his waist and were greying at the ends. And then there was the one that stares at her with an odd look. Like he is constantly observing her, not judging, just staring.

'Grey', she called him, walked with such confidence that it brought Ryia's already low self-esteem lower. She shrunk into herself; the degrading thoughts making themselves known in her head. 'Grey' began clicking at his brothers before looking at her with a gentle look.

A growled out voice could be heard when she heard him spoke," Ooman......you...are aboard...our...ship." The sentence was garbled almost like it was generated. "You collapsed due to your fall after I grabbed....you. I sincerely apologize for that." First of all, Ryia wasn't detered by anything that had just happened, she just wanted to know why she could understand them.

"Y-you..guys...can speak..English?" She whispered out. "No, T'edqah implanted a translator behind your ear," as he said that she felt behind both ears at the same time and behind her right ear, there was a small bump that stung just a little. She dropped her arms and felt rather small in that moment as they were all intensely looking at her, well except Hulk, he just kinda looked like he was glaring at her.

"Who is 𝑇𝑒-𝑔𝑘-𝑎?" Mr Grey gestured towards the leanest one of all five. However that word should be taken very lightly because even though he was lean for the obvious fact that he worked in medical, he was still a hunking mass built with broad shoulders, strong legs and not to mention a sculptured torso. At this point, Ryia realised that she was ogling because the room had gone silent with all of them watching her.

"Its 𝑇𝑒𝑑-𝑘𝑎. He is our health aide or as you humans call it, a medic." "And who are you?" She asked.

"Shit, I shouldn't have said that. It sounded rude." She thought. Hulk growled louder this time and stomped his way over to her and aggressively grabbed her throat adding enough pressure to almost deem her unconcious. Va'tha was alarmed as he was worried for the human's life but he didn't let it show in his expression. They all were alarmed but looked to Ra'kar for direction.

"Brother..." Va'tha's voice fades. "Vikap, let her go." Vikap's anger threatened to overweigh his loyalty to his leader. "But she spoke out of tone." At this point Ryia was shedding tears. The skin on her upper torso was sensitive as it is but her neck was very delicate as the skin there was thin from her abuse, so she was in the most pain she had been in since she left home.

"Just put her down." Ra'kar was stern this time and Vikap didn't want to anger him, so with the slightest hesitation, he let her go without a care. Ryia fell onto her kness before laying on her side gasping for air. Shockingly to the brothers, it didn't take long for her to recover as she was used to such behaviour. She got up to her feet and looked at Rakar.

"C-can I l-leave?" The question came out shakily and whispered but not in fear but because her throat was bruised. "We need to do a vital scan of-"

"I'll be fine. I'm a doctor."

".......ok. An'tui will show you out." The smallest one started walking and it took a minutes before she followed. She walked a couple steps behind him. Even if he was the smallest, Ryia couldn't help but ogle him. All 7' something inches of him. One itty bitty question bottled her though. She just hoped he wouldn't react as violently as Hulk.

Back in the dining room, Vikap felt better now that the human was gone. "Vikap, why do you always have to go crazy?" T'edqah asked with a shove. "I will do what I wanted to do to her to you." "And I will shove a needle up your-"

"Enough! Vikap, this has happened one to many times. Go and cool off." Vikap left without a sound leaving the two together.

"'Should I ask or not? I mean I think I should but I don't want to die. What if he does worse? And 'Grey' isn't here to intervene. What if the answer is obvious? I could just try and find out on my own. I mean-'

"Are you guys dating?" The words flew right out of her mouth. Silence filled the empty hall. An'tui stopped walking. 'Oh no.' He spun in shock and looked straight at her. Slowly, he shook his head. "....No."

"....hm." He turned again and continued walking. Soon enough, they arrived at a wall just like the one she came across before and saw how seamless the door was. An'tui opened the door using some gauntlet on his wrist and gestured towards the ramp once the door was raised.

"Uh....thanks." "Now from what i've seen in horror movies, never turn your back towards the enemy. But walking backwards is a bad omen. So I'll walk out the doorway forwards, spin back towards him, check for any signs of an attack then run...no sprint home." All this she thought as she slowly walked to the doorway. When she got there, she put it into action and did as thought.

Once she got to the back door she entered, locked the door and rested against it. Then she crawled to a window to peep out of it to see if they were watching and to her embarassment, they were.

"I need to get out of here." She thought. She made sure to keep away from any windows and made her way upstairs and into her room. The trek upstairs was fairly easy. She ran into her bedroom and got her phone out. There was only one person she could talk to in the moment to fetch her and that was Louis. She wouldn't consider him as her best friend as she wasn't close to people like that and when she was close to someone, they hurt her. Crouched and on her knees in front of her bed, she rung him up and as always, he answered on her third attempt of trying to reach him.

"Ryia! Baby! How are you? It's been a while. I've been waiting for your call. It's like you forget about me when you leave work. How's life? Any hotties wanna party? Any daddies wanna smashie. Two bodies doing the naughty-"

"Shut up will you?", she whisper yelled. "Sorry. I'm kinda sorta in a situation right now and I would like it if you would get over her right now. I need a ride." She rushed out.

"Well excuse you honey, if you forgot, I'm kinda uhm....a DOCTOR. I got people to help here. You do know that you can still drive your OWN car to the store. You're not handicapped just because you're on your period."

"Firstly, ewww. Secondly this situation is serious. I don't know how to tell you this but," as she says this she doesn't notice An'tui approaching from behind her silently and appearing in her doorway. "There are aliens in my backyard."

"Are you ok? Are you high? Did you hit your head really hard? Cause like I'm confused."

"Please just get here." She adds on.

"I'll see later, Ryia. BAAYYE."

"Did I mention they're hot...?"

"....I'll be right there." He ends the call abruptly before she can even say bye.

A hefty sigh of relief leaves a lips as she sat down fully with her leg supporting her arm.

'Ok now I need to-"AAAHHHH!" Her screech was so high pitched, it startled the male into a defensive stance. She reached for her throw pillows and flung them with all her might at him which caused him to straighten back up but they had no effect on his rock solid muscled body. "What are you doing here! Get out! Get out!"

An'tui could sense the stress of the female and purred lowly. "Calm down. I followed you to keep an eye on you."

"Why!" At this point she was slowly hyperventilating and couldn't breathe properly. An'tui saw this and approached her with slow and measured steps. "Calm down. My scans show that you overbreathing also know as hyperventilating. Listen to me. Breathe in, breathe out."

Ryia didn't know why but for some reason she listened and soon enough her breathing had returned to normal.

"Why should you be keeping an eye on me? I don't have anything you guys need or want and I didn't steal anything."

"You may have not done anything but you jave seen us and know we exist. We cannot risk you telling anyone about us and this was the better choice."

"W-what was the other choice?"

"To kill you."

She took a tentative step backwards, you know just in case, with a scared look on her face.

"I'm sure t-that was Hulk's idea."

"What is a Hulk?"

"Nevermind-"

The conversation was interrupted by loud honking from outside. An'tui's head snapped towards the window whilst a set of blades extended from his wrist. The 2 foot blades were sharpened to perfection and glistened in the light of the room.

"Stay here. There is a threat outside that needs to be terminated."

He turned on his heels and headed for the door. Ryia realized that it was her crazy friend and followed behind him.

"Wait! Wait! He's not a threat! He's just a friend! An accomplice! A companion!"

≻───── ⋆ ⋆ ─────≺

Hey guys! Geenius here. Here's part two of the series. Hope you guys enjoy it. 💋💋

Taglist: @maxismp1

[wordy-little-witch]

ODA!!!!!! GIVE ME A GHOST POV OF ROGER AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!!

Fr tho, Ghost Roger being a lil shit is a treat.

I can fuxking see Roger give Buggy the wiggly eyebrows on day when Crocodile and Mihawk are in the same room. (Maybe it was the first day those two subconsciously nicer to Buggy)

Coff coff ((They started to love the clown)) coff coff

Hell, Perona coming in with a letter to Mihawk from one of the spirits that asked for him specifically.

Mihawk: clown?

Buggy: hmn?

Mihawk: who is 'Ms.Rouge'?

Buggy : -choke-

Afterlife be dammed, she may have not raised Buggy, but Rouge loves him like her kin!

LITERALLY YES YOU GET ME

Also Roger just "eyy?? Eyyyy???????" Is fucking hysterical to me.

Buggy is blindsided when Crocodile drops off an extra cup of coffee at his desk, when Mihawk deposits a few snacks. He's pointedly not looking into Roger's Corner, something he has been doing for ages and will continue to do. It all comes to a head when someone offers Buggy a candy at a negotiation dinner and he's partway through unwrapping it when he hears three voices tell him to stop. Mihawk reaches out, Crocodile's sand whisks the little treat from his fingers to the other.

A quick glance reveals Roger still partially glaring at the other group but also giving considering glances to the quote unquote lieutenants.

Buggy is just confused.

"This brand is rather popular in the north blue," Mihawk remarks casually, turning the candy in his hand. He never once looks up from the wrapper - Buggy wonders what he's looking at or looking for. "They've been in business for decades now, despite the uproar some thirty one years ago."

The dealers avert their eyes, hesitant and stuttering timid agreements.

Mihawk continues. "Rather odd that they'd only list a partial ingredient list on their wares, wouldn't you think? They are marketed as a dynamic company, but their synthetic flavors are but mere facsimiles of the real deal - fakes built upon, more disgustingly, the lies they print on such foils." He flips the candy, dropping the little morsel onto a napkin so he can straighten the wrapping. "See, it even boasts to be free of common allergenic ingredients: peanut oil, dairy, fruit juices. That's the real ingenuity however."

Sharp golden eyes cut into the opposition.

"So long as a company is favored by those on high, they can skirt certain rules. They barely toe the line in the world government's book as is, but they are an infamous vendor in Marie Geoise. No peanut oil but still peanuts. No dairy, but traces of lactose. No fruit juices but concentrated extracts are certainly abundant. And all of their tropical lines contain a key ingredient. Did you know?"

Buggy very adamantly stomps down on the urge and need to blush and swoon as he watches Mihawk and Crocodile tear these people a new asshole over pineapple extract. Roger's approving nod and bouncing brows do NOT help the situation. Nor does Rouge's fond head pats and succinct "I approve, they're good for little bug."

Buggy is suffering.

<><><><><><><><><>

On the topic of Rouge, YEAH!!! She may have met Buggy after death, but she already loved him so much. She knew loving Roger meant stepping into an established family and she was very much okay with that! She knew Ace would have brothers and she would have step sons and not once did she hesitate. Roger was big, bold and loud - he loved with all he had and then some, even to disastrous results. She adored him. And she trusted him. He has a good sense of taste, after all.

So when she met Buggy the first time, she absolutely went into Mom Mode immediately. It was awkward and strange for a deal of time, and Buggy took a while to come around to her but Ms Rouge is his mom as much as Captain is his dad - it's a fact of life and he's long since lost the self consciousness of it all.

But hearing your boyfriend mention receiving a letter from your shared daughter who wrote it on behalf of your long dead mother, well.... weirder shit has happened but Buggy is a dramatic boy - it's his bit and he's committed to it.

Rouge's shovel talks are lowkey terrifying. She isn't as directly threatening as Roger. She's subtle, and observative, and she plots before springing her track. On that front, she may even be scarier than her husband.

And while she and Mihawk would absolutely get along well for their love of plants and gardening, they're equally likely to cross breed and make a lethal poison just because it "seemed interesting at the time".

((Bonus points of a semi related topic, sometimes Rouge sees so much of Roger in Buggy that she aches with it.

And sometimes Roger sees his wife in the movements and glint of his blue haired son's eyes.

Buggy's a product of both, for better or worse, and it's somehow incredible and horrible in equal measure))

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love party 5

Teaser Imp

When it came to the natural born native demons of hell, the variety of species was akin to snowflakes with many looking plenty unique and diverse between each other and among themselves especially when it came to the social pecking order. With the figurative bottom rung of course being occupied by imps and hellhounds to name a few though the latter were often valued for their heightened senses and their natural strength and speed but of course Hell wasn't without its own share of distinct hell-beast folk, key among them in this case being Hell-Horses. Unlike the more primal quadrupedal flaming horses, these mares and stallions consist of centaurs and those that can walk on two feet like most, with both breeds highly valued for their natural gifts of good looks and amazing speed which makes them highly valued for fashion show pageants and racing respectively ensuring that Hell-horses as a result prospered very well in terms of financial care of wealthy patrons among Hell's social elite. Now of course being as equine as they were, this lead to the aforementioned clients often engaging in a common practice used especially with race horses in the living world wherein some owners would arrange for their best high quality mares and stallions to mate and breed together, thus ensuring children that would have the best qualities of both parents making for very bright futures for them BUT there was a small wrinkle to the matter.

Hell Stallions you see, like their primal kin in the living world, had very narcissistic, obnoxious personalities being borderline sex pest perverts who in spite of their physiques and endowments were also absolute failures when it came to sexual performance. In other words, "wham, bam thank you ma'am, may I have another?" so of course Hell Mares naturally hated their partners on sight and thus were in need of a means by which they could be coaxed into estrus hence many notable researchers looked into it and found that the equine beauts responded well to the presence and company of other demons who were more pleasant in terms of personality and of course more easier on the eyes than the brawny meathead frat boys that were their own kind. Particularly and especially demons who were the rare few within in Hell that didn't have their general mindset set to the default of being an overall shitty person, the diamonds in the rough as it were, who of course would spend sometime charming the mares to a point that as soon as they were in the mood? The stallions could pounce and do their job and thus this leads to the situation a certain sweet possum of ours finds himself in at this very moment.

Moxxie much to his chagrin and confusion had found a local blueblood had sent an escort entourage to pick him up and bring him on over for a task he'd been hired for, not that Blitzo had bothered to argue or ask questions, soon as he saw the fancypants was loaded, he had Moxxie haul ass and go do what he had to for that fat paycheck!! Of course soon as he arrived at the sort of fancy digs a rich demon outside of an Ars Goetia could enjoy, he was informed of why he'd been brought here which was to be a teaser for the guy's Hell Mares to whom he was introduced to of as they were in the midst of their daily spa treatment and even among Hell Mares, it could be well said that they were absolute beauties. Going by the names of Elaine and Mojita, they were quite the pair of stunners with the former an exotic blue eyed blonde mare with milk chocolate fur and the latter silver haired and having a colour pattern common with red and Snow White fur and lucky little Moxxie had the task of getting them into just the right mood for a couple of Hell stallions’ enjoyment. All Moxxie could think at this moment was two simp,e words to best sum up this predicament. “Ooh crumbs……”

But of course nerves aside, Moxxie managed to muster up a little well, moxxie as he took to doing what he’d been hired for, work his charm on the horse woman duo as much as necessary to get them in the mood for their potential baby daddies. A few rounds of audio relaxation therapy playing guitar or violin here, an hour or so of massaging their firm, strong thicc furry bodies there and a bit of wine and dine with a candlelit dinner and the mares we’re finding their moods improving exceptionally well. To say nothing of how drawn they were feeling towards the little imp but of course their owners figured that was no problem, that was part of his job as the teaser after all. If just having them in the room for him to lay their eyes on could get them good and wet then their designated stallions of choice would be good and ready to do the deed.

But of course their pending breeding date with their designated stallions was the furthest thing from Elaine and Mojita’s minds as they found themselves becoming quite enamoured with their sweetheart of a teaser. Such a poetic romantic and to say nothing of how he made them feel like royalty, it just made them envy his wife for getting so lucky in love, hell why couldn’t he be the baby daddy instead? But of course as if thinking as one as they knew they each bith had the exact same idea, the hellmare duo shared a look as they began to make a simple but effective plan. Ooh they’d see to it their owners would get their money’s worth in their best races having skme optimal future champions, just that it’d be more on their terms and their terms alone, thank you and fuck you so very much!!

When the time had finally arrived, Moxxie found himself sitting shirtless on what was unofficially the cuckold couch in the private love room, awaiting Elaine and Mojita who were no doubt getting prettied up. After all just because they were about to have some obnoxious blowhard stallions go jackrabbit on them didn’t mean they couldn’t look a little fabulous and sexy. Speaking of the stallions, whose names Moxxie didn’t really care enough to learn, they came into the room like overgrown jock frat boys they were, wearing needlessly shameless things designed to highlight and show off those ridiculous dicks of theirs. They reminded him way too much of his ex as they posed and flexed in a way that even Johnny Bravo would think they were being obnoxious, no doubt prepping to show off for the ladies whose worlds they were to set to rock, how these chumps were considered baby daddy material for some champion racing hellmares was beyond him.

But before the dumbasses could even get around to ditching their things and whipping out their worthless dicks, the doors shut and locked behind them. Revealing Elaine and Mojita much to Moxxie’s surprise as they proceed to bash the jock brained stallions over the head with lead pipes, causing them to pass out. Looking at them like they were trash beneath their feet before they looked the imp’s way, their expressions suddenly sensual and seductive as they made their way over to him. Giving him quite an eyeful as their furry, thicc, toned forms were in full display in their sexy, Lacey lingerie before they removed their bras to flash their bare tits to him.

Giggling at the sweet nervous look on his blushing face before they took To picking him him up off of that couch and setting him in the king sized love bed. Sitting in either side of him as they cupped and caressed his cute freckled face, taking turns kissing him deeply and passionately. Hands running along his quite built and toned little shortstack torso and moaning with delight at feeling his crotch up, mesmerised by the length and girth contained within as they removed them to free his cock. Stroking it to get her as the desire and arousal Moxxie built up in them had reached its fever pitch, their bodies yearning to mate and breed and they knew who whose babies they wanted.

Yes Elaine and Mojita had indeed been unable to help themselves from falling in love with Moxxie and really who could blame them? So they agreed to unofficially 86 the wastes of dna and have the imo fuck them and knock them up with his sure to be adorable little babies after all he deserved to be more than just their teaser. After how he made them feel like much more than just a sexy racers who deserved a better class of gentleman, all that romance and suave charm like their own personal love Story hero here to sweep them off their feet, it was small wonder they were now giving him a double team blowjob. Their tandem fellatio coaxing such cute little groans from their chosen baby daddy as they sucked and blew on that cock that clearly put Hell Stallions to shame, even kissing and massaging his balls for good measure as if to encourage the batter within to be plentiful and bountiful.

But the mare duo knew as amazing as the taste and scent of Moxxie’s cock was nothing compared to every inch of that length and girth penetrating them. Their wombs becoming hammered as he thrust and pumped in order to meet their desire to have his buns in their ovens, the private love room filled with sounds of sweet porno music. The slapping of crimson skin on furry skin as Moxxie took to taking Elaine and Mojita one on one whenever one of the mares needed to recover before tag teaming him two on one. No surprise they Especially took to riding him cowgirl style, his little but toned imp form taking their intense figures snd the impact like a champ.

To say nothing of how sexually impressive his stamina and staying power as his cock, much to the mares’ delight, barely ever stopped being stiff and hard and still raring to go. And ooh he knew how to use it, taking them any and every which way possible as their snatches practically moulded to his dick, ensuring they’d never think of wanting or needing another man and they’d damn well like it that way. Doggy style, prone none, missionary, spread eagle, their cute teaser was a walking kama sutra machine and frankly it’d be some cruel joke if they didn’t wind up pregnant after this was over. All the while the stallion pair was still comatose unaware they were getting full on cuckolded.

by the time the morons finally woke up, the mares were freshly showered in bathrobes telling them thanks for stopping by and thst they could leave now with the deed done. Gaslighting the nitwits into thinking they’d actually done it when in fact they’d blown their load within seconds of getting knocked out, go figure typical minute horsemen but Hey ignorance was bliss. Leaving Elaine and Mojita with their sweetheart teaser to kiss him farewell and thank him for a wonderful time, sending him in his way after exchanging contact details of course, missing him already. And you can bet soon as the 9 months had passed, they were going to want to do it all over again.

And yes their owners were none the wiser , thinking the horse studs had done their job as Elaine and Mojita later gave birth to a healthy set of twins, never taking time to notice the distinct hybrid features. With was helped especially by Mojita having the same hair and fur colour pattern that resembled Moxxie’s own, leaving their little teaser in the clearer and those same pair of twins going on to grow up and become record making race champions. This would of course result in Moxxie becoming a very highly recommended and in demand demand HellMare tease which saw quite a population boom and a new generation of racing champions. And yes that would be a story for another time…and how sweet it is…..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Casting Couch

Moxxie was still having quite a time processing his current situation, to think that was he really here at Skullfuck Productions of all places, on Mr.Sketch’s personal invitation to boot after having taken the plunge and called the number on that business card. But he was here all the same, walking side by side with the flaming skullheaded enigma himself as they both rocked some Hugh Heffner style robe wear ensembles which the imp hsd to admit made him feel classy as all fuck. The studio head honcho talking with Moxxie casually like he was an old friend while giving him a personal tour of the grounds, including his personal living pad attached to it and what it had on offer to provide should he imp consider coming on board. The sweet possum had to say that for a porn studio, it was quite a sophisticated professional operation they were running here as he continued to follow Mr.Sketch along.

Mr.Sketch:*Bubble pipe in hand as he made chitchat with the imp like he was a longtime old friend rather than potential future employee.*"A lot of people know about the grotto and the game room but few know about the laboratory, the biosphere, the alternative research centre..."*He monologued, gesturing to Moxxie as he showed off the aforementioned lab, demon girls in labcaots worn over playboy bunny and catgirl outfits as the imp nodded in fascination albeit blushing. Really who could blame him when all throughout since he got here, he'd been seeing a lot of naked female skin.*"But anyway where was I? Oh yeah so let me just say again I'm really glad you decided to consider giving this gig a tryout, Moxxie, I can say with certainty that you've got potential...."*The skullheaded enigma remarked as he and the imp paused in their stride, taking a puff of his pipe as he gave Moxxie time to gather his thoughts.*

Moxxie:*Really now the imp had to wonder what he could even say, far as he knew, he felt he was crazy to have ever even called that number in the first place. But Millie had naturally persuaded him as only she could and far as he knew, the potential pay from taking up a sidejob as a porn star would seriously be able to cover some of IMP's debts.*"Listen, Mr.Sketch, Sir? I'm uh certainly flattered you think so highly of me and all but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some reservations about this. Not like the sex or doing it on camera with other women i mean!! I mean well you're....aware of what my wife is into and....admittedly, she's always been a fan of your work so this is like a big deal for her but...I have to ask. Why me? What makes you think anyone would even pay to see me in anything like this?"*Okay sure yes Moxxie had quite a few women in his life especially thanks to Millie's peculiar little kink of course. But surely he wasn't really leading man material for porno now was he?!*

Mr.Sketch:"Moxxie, Moxxie, Moxxie...First off just Sketch is fine, save the sirs, misters and boss for when we work on the Sets. Secondly let me ask you...."*The resident enigma of Hell quipped as he leaned his broad frame to wrap a friendly casual arm around the sweet possum as they resumed their treck, taking him along to an important destination.*"What do you think it is that makes my material sell as well as it does? Who do you think my biggest fanbase is? Now the obvious answers would be the sex because after all, sex sells? Now you might figure maybe it’s the hot sexy guys and girls on the covers and posters but nah nah. See Mox, what makes my work sell is I know my audience and a big chunk of them happen to be women and what those women want is guys like you…..”*The duo paused as they came to a door, greeted by Mr.Sketch’s cute little gofer, the Robo-Fizz Kitty who stood there waiting with that distinct smile of hers and tray of drinks. The flaming skullheaded smut maker picking uo a glass as he had a sip, idly swishing the glass in hand as he resumed his monologue.* “To me, Moxxie, porn is too riddled with cliches, porn down here in Hell more so. You know all the usual cliches, BBC and blacked, netorare, cuckolding, obnoxious humpers and douchebags who think all they needs plot wise is to flash their big dicks and bang some bitches. I tell you the number of hell stallions I’ve had to turn away. But a guy like you Moxxie? That’s where it’s at, that’s what women want, genuine nice guys and sweethearts who’re not only packing but know to really treat a woman in bed…and from what I’ve seen and heard, you’re just that kind of guy….”*Nodding to Kitty as the robo-fizz opened the or, leading him and the imp inside to what Moxxie came to recognise as Skullfuck Productions’ infamous casting couch room and sitting there waiting was a violet furred horned fox girl looking demon, who a Moxxie couldn’t help but feel major vibes off of her that reminded him of Loona.*”But of course formalities are formalities so I just need to see you in action for myself. So what do you say buddy?”

Moxxie would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous as he looked at the fox girl who was really burning a figurative hole in him with that deadpan stare, seriously total Loona vibes there. And to do it in the open like this but really with all his experience, he figured he’d be used to a bit of public exhibitionism but he already in deep enough as was. Especially as he reminded him how the money would really help out and the idea of Millie, as well as few of the other notable ladies in his life, watching him in porn was a bit of a turn on. Nodding to Mr.Sketch who rubbed his hands with glee as his likely future employer went over to a tripod mounted camcorder, Kitty standing by his dutiful as ever as the red light blinked indicating recording had started so it was time for the imp to go make some sensual magic….

Getting the hint of course and figuring he might as well get to making a good first impression compared to the second hand accounts and evidence Sketch had been getting as he ditched his robe, now standing clad in just his boxers. The demon fox girl still wearing her deadpan expression yet if one were to look real close, they’d see the small blush on her face or how sensually and eagerly her tail wagged which hinted how aroused she was becoming. But as soon as Moxxie pressed his lips to her muzzle and began to make out with her, she soon found herself giving off soft, deep moans as her bidy began to become quite personally well acquainted with Moxxie and his sensual approach in the art of love making. And oh she was loving every goddamn fucking second of it!!

But if she thought kissing Moxxie was arousing if not borderline orgasmic, ooh soon as he went down on her? She wasn’t so much seeing stars as rather it as like she was seeing god as Moxxie kissed his way down her violet furred torso and removed her thong to begin an oral assault on her pussy. His hot breath and that warm, wet tongue of his working some major sexual magic on her as she felt a surge of orgasmic energy rush through her nerves and along her spine, flooding her brain with sweet ecstasy. Toes curling as she grasped those horns of his snd wrapped her thick furry thighs around his sweet little head, wanting to feel him deeper inside her.

Sketch of course made sure to the camera was getting just the right details at the best angles as he felt any expectations he had about a Moxxie being surpassed. He knew that fox girl he poached from that louse Valentino would be a good measuring bar, so to speak so seeing her cumming just from the imp eating her out was more than a good sign. Soon as he had the sweet little possum signed on, hopefully, this casting couch video would be handy to show off on documenting the rise of his career in Hell’s adult entertainment industry. But for the time being, it was best to be an in the now sort of guy and right now he was witnessing some sexual magic.

Especially once Ms.Foxxxy got the imp’s boxers off and laid eyes on that goddamn slab of meat he somehow managed to keep contained within them. Leading to things starting off intense with her hanging head upside down off the edge of the seat as she had that big imp cock face-fucking her, using her mouth and throat as an oral pussy with those heavy red balls smacking her forehead to being in her hands and knees as she screamed her head off in primal sexual abandon. Taking it doggy style from Moxxie deep and hard as he pounded her like a jackhammer, his gifted little hands grasping her waist for deer park life as he felt her pussy’s embrace around his shaft. Before he shuddered at feeling a hand grasp and squeeze his swaying balls and a set of kiss kiss and lick them, t looking over his shoulder surprised to see Kitty was the one responsible.

Seems the robo-Fizz was getting so turned in watching Foxxxy and the imp go at it that her pleasure circuits went into overdrive, urging and compelling her to join in. Her red eyes twinkling in lust delight as she flashed that pretty grin of hers before soon finding herself pulled into the sexual embrace. The imp now the filling of a threesome sandwich as mr.Sketch found this casting couch become more fun than expected, seems his potential new star had a natural charisma which escalated situations like this, that was something that would make for some fun projects down the line. Grinning in mischief as he continued to film the ongoing scene before him with Kitty riding Moxxie cowgirl style while Foxxxy sat on his face, wanting to enjoy that magic mouth of his again while she and Kitty kissed and out with one another.

A couple of rounds and orgasm later, Foxxy was sleeping on the couch, spooning an equally blissed out Kitty as the pair basked in the afterglow of a heavy assault of orgasms from the imp. As their boss and the imp stood outside the door to talk in private after Moxxie had finished showering, a soda can in hand as he drank to recover some energy and fluids from that wild little casting couch session. The imp was still a little unsure about his choices, on the one hand there was no doubt the money would be great and Millie was sure to approve and yet could he really do such a line of work? Before Mr.Sketch went in for the kill as he handed Moxxie a script, one for a project down the line he knew for sure the imp would be perfect for as he watched him flip through it.

Moxxie had to say, he was certainly impressed by what he was reading, this script was well thought out and there was enough plot snd story but not too much to keep viewer waiting for the sexy scenes. It did remind him that Millie was a huge fan of Skullfuck Production’s works for good reason, the stash she had d stockpiled and collected was proof of that. And as thespian at heart, this did speak to his sense of art and creativity, sure it wasn’t a musical like the phantom or les miserable but all the same. Closing the script shut as he looked at the skullheaded enigma with determination and nervousness, classic Moxxie, got to love him….

Moxxie:”So where do I sign and how soon you want me to start?” *If joy could be harnessed as a power source, Mr.Skech was giving off enough to power all of Canada and the states for eternity. Looking at the imp with pride like the sun he’d never had just fine and told him he was going to run for president of Hell and win as he shook and his hand and began leading the imp back to his office so they could sign his contract. The demon enigma knee for sure, this imp was going to be a real fan favourite, the sooner he got him performing on camera the better. This was going to be the beginning of a very beautiful friendship……*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Margot Ménage

Margot Mallard wasn’t happy, no sir she wasn’t happy at all, if anything she was downright fucking pissed off as all Hell and it was all her ex’s damn fault!! Normally she’d be all for shaking what her mama gave her on the dance floor alike right now at this little party being held by one of Perfecto Prep University’s resident frat houses but not tonight. No right now she was busy in her dorm room shredding, burning up and deleting any and all pictures of Danforth Drake, aka the aforementioned ex of this past week. Now you’d likely be wondering what went down to make this quite easy in the eyes duck girl so livid and vindictive?

Well she had been looking to surprise him with a little make out at the football team’s hot tub, only to find Drake gong at it with the goddamn donkey girl from the cheer squad, the cheating bastard!! And he even tried to deny it while he was still balls deep in that whore mule but basically just dug himself deeper, spilling the beans due to the shock and nerves of being caught in the act with details like the fact this wasn’t even the first time and that’d it’d been going on behind her bad for weeks, if not months! So small wonder she slapped him and kicked him in his pissant needle dick and brake it off with him then and there. It’d been a week since of course and she still felt like she had so much spite to vent but what could she do to really stick to Danforth?

Well what was good for the goose wa good for the gander but it wasn’t like any of the other guys on the team were an improvement, hell Perfecto Prep was seriously lacking in the looks department, maybe that duck from Acme Looniversity?! Maybe a little cam session killing herself off in her own personal hot tub on her new OnlyFans page would suffice enough, nothing would be sweeter revenge than posting naughty videos and pics of herself wet and naked for others to see…well, it’d be a start. Only to pause her train if thought as she heard a knock on her door, curious as to who it was though if it was Drake come crawling back to her back together, ooh she would castrate him. Opening the door to find quite the curious little sight before her, blinking a few times as she was wondering if this was for real.

Standing there before her was what seemed to be, she had to say, a quite cute, little red skinned and horned, freckled possum in a pizza deliver boy uniform. Those of us in the know of course know it was none other than our favourite little resident thespian Imp Moxxie, who of course was going a little incognito in the living worldon his first real job as a porn star for Skullfuck productions. Mr.Sketch had given him quite a particular task, a little amateur porno take on that Punk’d show, in this case the flaming skullheaded enigma would have Moxxie go to the living world and have him go to some random hottie posing as one of the most common porn based occupations (delivery guy, pool cleaner, Gardener/custodian, repairman, etc) and if they showed interest, well then go ahead and rock their world like only he could with that big imp cock of his. The sweet possum sneaking a nervous glance to is newfound side gif employer snd the camera girl peeking around the corner, human disguises on as they flashed him a thumbs up to reassure him.

Moxxie:*A stealth roll of his eyes and silent sigh as Moxxie hit the acceptance stage in his mental process and knew it was best he get in with and get it over with. A nervous smile as held uop the pizza box and began to recite his line as it came to him from memory, personally he’d have actually felt nervous doing a more scripted sort of shoot rather than one of these stealth method amateur acts…but Mr.Sketch loved put his newbies through the ringer when he saw potential.*”G-good evening Miss, Helluva slice at your service…Uhm, You happen to order the Uhm…”*The little sweetheart checked his secret post it chests note on the box to check his next line, in any porno with this sort of set up, it would be cliche as all fuck.*”Meat lovers special?”*His shaken smile was rather endearing and bless him, he was really trying as now he had to wait and see how Margot would react and if she would take the bait, hook, line and sinker….

A few moments later, the frat party below found a sudden interruption to their rowdy keg emptying bachanal as the scene suddenly went from the usual wild frenzy like out of teen movies to sudden silence besides the music from the dj as everyone just paused and stopped, why you might ask? Well might because many suddenly found their phone screens all get the same notification the music found a little something extra added to it in the form of some very deep throated leered moans and cries of pleasure. Because a this moment everyone was catching a livestream of Margot Mallard, the cheer squad captain of Perfecto Prep herself, in the throes of passion as she went at it like a porn star with Moxxie in the hot tub. And from the angle of the camera you could see a good shot of that big red imp dick as she bounced her violet feathered booty on it, her bombshell figured fully naked as her favourite swimsuit laid away discarded off to the side, fully exposing herself and being very vocal about how much she was enjoying her new lover compared to her ex.

Danforth Drake as well as the rest of the football team happened to be among the party crowd and he didn’t even have to look at his phone as it seemed that Margot went and hit a little snafu when setting up the stream. What was intended to be a broadcast to just her onlyfans subscribers had also accidentally been set up to every available device connected to the campus Wi-Fi which meant every one among student and faculty alike was getting a free show. The pencil dick canard looking on with shock and horror akin to witnessing a car crash as some nobody little possum was basically cuckolding him and Margot’s dirty talk was adding more blows to his ego. It certainly wasn’t going to help the fact that a few among the party started sharing this with friends, ensuring this amateur porn show was gojnf to be quite the talk of the town.

Margot:”Aaahn ooh god fuck me harder daddy!, you’re so much bigger and better than my ex!! He’s a little eunuch compared to you!! Fuck me like you want to own me baby!!”*But of course that was all the furthest thing from Margot’s mind because quite frankly her mind was busy drowning in an overdose of ectasy. Raw, pure sexual bliss flooding her brain with every pounding of her womb by that red hot length and girth which relentlessly jackhammered away into her slit. She’d just been expecting a decent lay if not just a quick blowjob to tip this unexpected but oh so cute delivery boy but the second Moxxie’s cock came out rested ion her face with a heavy, meaty thud on her face? Her libido proceeded to flip every switch possible to bitch in heat mode and that was how we came to current events.*

Mr.Sketch and the camera girl of course were still around, literally peeking around the corner as the latter filmed and recorded more intimately and closely to get just the right angles her boss needed. Shots of Margot’s face shifting through a range of expressions that showed how horny and orgasmic she was to the intimate connection of her feathered bouncing on that big Imp cock all to ensure the pleasure was genuine. Voyeuristic as it was, like hell the flaming skullheaded porn baron was going to pass up a chance to see his rookie star in action but hit damn who knew the delivery boy disguise would reel in such a hottie?! And Moxxie was really putting her through the ringer, from the looks of it whoever this limpdick ex was, there was no way she’d give him the time of day ever again once Moxxie was done with her.

The sweet possum of course, as overwhelmed at first as he was by Margot’s intense libido, was soon taking the momentum well as he mustered up his skill and experience to rock her world. From pounding and pumping her pussy with his white hot seed to facefucking her and pounding that feathered booty like she owed him money, thinking if Millie, Loona or Verosika were here, what would they love to see him do? Much to Margot’s delight as pink hearts glowed in her eyes, feeling like she could die happy just from the pleasure alone. But alas all things come to an end one way or another as the stream was cut off, leaving a stunned crowd and Drake feeling like an inadequate eunuch while Margot’s wet,naked body was tucked snug in her bed leaving her to bask in the afterglow and sweet sexy dreams of her mystery lover boy….

About a week after what Acme Acres came to know as One Night in Margot, the duck girl found herself getting e-mail from Skullfuck productions offering her a contract to become one of their stars, with the promise naturally of getting to see her random delivery boy once more, to which she couldn’t have typed a reply fast enough. While the porn company’s new video on their website was making record view numbers from the first it uploaded to hype and tease their new Rookie, known only as Mysterious M. Comments on the video vadied, some from a few female fans who could tell that big imp cock was going to be giving them some very sweet dreams tonight. While in the office of the Hesse honcho of SFP himself, he was on his cellphone speaking to his sure to be favourite little talent..

Sketch:”I’m telling you, haven’t seen views this fact since the first time our streaming site went public in the living world. Just a clip e more of these amateur bits and we can start you off on some legit scripted shoots. Hope you enjoy the present I sent you by the way, little dude….”*The enigma sat in his desk, checking his pc desktop screen while for Moxxie it was a different story, for you see at his and Millie’s love nest apartment, his wife and Verosika were currently sandwiching his sweet little snowball head between their demonic booties. Suffocating him with pleasure as they expressed their opinion of one of his first real pornos as his little amateur style short with Margot played on the tv screen. As a thanks for his above and beyond performance, in addition to his first paycheck Moxxie had been gifted with a dvd of the full uncut shoot compared to the streaming version which was a condensed highlight reel. One that was sure to sell like hot cakes once it saw distribution.*

Moxxie could only squeak out a thanks as Mr.Sketch finished the call wishing him luck as he promised to email and text him their next schedule of event shoots. Leaving him to continue suffering the sweet blissful agony of a boot sandwich which was of course just a preview of what Millie and Verosika had in store for him. How could they not after having watched him in action like that, the raw ahegao Margot made as she had the biggest cock in existence ensure she’d never think of any other men. And this would be just the beginning of what was yet to come in his new career in adult entertainment…..pray for him….

[sarascamander]

Ten Duel Commandment from Hamilton but the lyrics low-key fit the tua characters with their number. (I noticed this out of nowhere)

Number one!: The challenge: demand satisfaction / If they apologize, no need for further action

This is Luther's behaviour, no? Peaceful until it's time to fight.

Number Two!: If they don't, grab a friend, that's your second / Your Lieutenant, when there's reckoning to be reckoned

Diego was basically the lieutenant for years of his life.

Number Three!: Have your seconds meet face to face / Negotiate a peace / Or negotiate a time and place

Negotiating is basically Allison's job most of the time bc she can probably just use her rumour.

Number Four!: (...) You pay him in advance, you treat him with civility / You have him turn around, so he can have deniability

This is harder to relate but Klaus is often the lookout. So...

Number Five!: Duel before the sun is in the sky / Pick a place to die where it's high and dry

Fighting/Dueling is absolutely Five's thing. The second line can also meant the apocalypse

Number Six!: Leave a note for your next of kin / Tell 'em where you been / Pray that Hell or Heaven lets you in

Do I need to explain this?

Seven!: Confess your sins / Ready for the moment of adrenaline / When you finally face your opponent

Viktor before blowing up the moon.

[xerith-42]

@diagoodness I CAN FUCKIN TALK ABOUT EIN

I've. Been thinking about him. Largely about an Ein who learns that he's being abused. An Ein who's able to take some control of his life and get better. Like. He deserves a chance to be better. I think Ein is a frail broken child who made a very poor very desperate cry for help. He doesn't have like. Any. Good social skills. Zach kept him isolated. He didn't have anything until freshman year.

And his attempt to connect went... Badly. [looks at Zach] I'm not blaming all of Ein's bad actions on you, but I am blaming you for what happened in High School. We didn't get anything about what happened after. Because the show doesn't care about it. But me? I care. I care a lot.

I think Elizabeth is Ein's bio mom and Zach is his bio dad, this is canon to me there's nothing you can say to change this. And after she found out about Ein's high school antics, she probably made a case to take custody back from Zach, won, and raised Ein on her own without his influence. And Elizabeth was no saint either, but she was a lot less controlling. Let Ein explore like... Being a person a little.

And if he's lucky enough (i.e. if I'm writing him) he manages to get away from her too. Ein right after all of this is a very fragile and very hostile person. I dunno if you guys have ever met someone fresh out of an abusive environment, but they aren't often pleasant to be around. There's a lot of bad behaviors and mentalities to unlearn, and Ein isn't exactly known for handling emotional vulnerability well. Ein has a lot of issues he's never even had the chance to consider working out, and maybe a genuine desire to be better, but no knowledge on how to do it.

He's a kicked wet puppy with a mean glare.

I firmly believe that Ein just needs one person to be sincerely and unapologetically kind to him. In spite of what he's done. Someone who knows what he did and is able to look past it to the person Ein wants to be, always has been even if he couldn't express it. If someone could know who he was, and still express honest love for him, maybe he isn't beyond saving. Maybe he can get better.

He just needs one person to believe in him.

Anyways totally unrelated to him being my favorite character or me high-key kinning Ein, I like making that person Blaze because Blaze loves being sincere and caring in simple but effective ways.

[targcrazies]

Moonless, Dark Night. Pt. 1

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC!Strong (half Targaryen) Words: 3.2k+ Warnings: Violence and Graphic Descriptions, Emotional Distress, Mature (ish) themes, Mentions of Self-Harm and Su*cide, Adult Language, Incest.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

NOTE: I have written parts of this story before. However, I faced difficulty with linear storytelling. So, I'm trying something different. It will be shorter than I had originally planned, but better, perhaps. Hope you enjoy this. Let me know of any criticism you may or may not have, and I will surely appreciate knowing if you enjoy it. My Master's degree starts in less than a month, so I'd love to be done with this before that, lmao.

Have fun reading and thanks if you are!!

"Drip, drop, drip, drop.

Sansa listened carefully to ensure that no one had been following her. Her limbs trembled beneath her cape, her fingers frantic in the gloves. She knew well that her hair posed no threat, for it was not the silver of her husband’s. Yet, she had picked up the habit from her cousins, who shielded their silver manes whenever they desired concealment. In her eighteen years, she had never felt more like a Targaryen than she did then.

Drip, drip, drop, drip, drip, drop.

Part of her was relieved that only the droplets of water made the noises. She knew that Aemond kept her under relative scrutiny, especially since she refused him intimacy following the death of Lucerys Velaryon. “If you won’t let me near you, one of my white knights shall be here at all times.” However, he had forgotten her skills with crushed herbs and sedatives. Criston Cole had fallen gently to the ground beneath him. He was curled into a peaceful slumber, his chest heaved against the white that shielded him.

Verasys, her dragon, was kind. He was not impulsive, hot-blooded, or rash. He fed on what was given to him and only blew fire only on command. The beautiful dragon, with scales as violet as Sansa's eyes, breathed heavily in sleep when Sansa found him. Her lip trembled as she took out the keys to his steel chains. When she was done unlocking the beast, quite large for his age of only fifty-nine, she cooed him awake. He put his beak-like mouth under her chin, nuzzling gently.

“Verasys, my dear, you have to leave me behind,” she muttered in High Valyrian, tears making their way down her face like sweat. The dragon roared gently, but she shushed him. “If you stay back, they will make us commit the most heinous of crimes. They will make us kill our kin, our blood.” The dragon breathed out in anger through his nose, turning his face away, refusing to look at her. She walked to the other side, holding his face to hers. “You were born from the same clutch of eggs Syrax had sprouted from. Do you really want to fight your own sister, my dear?”

The dragon groaned in exasperation as Sansa began to weep. She used to rarely weep. “They killed my nephew,” she cried, uttering the word in relation to Lucerys- for what could have been well recognized- for the first time since the boy was born. She and Rhaenyra had made insinuations; her older half-brother, Harwin, would beam in glee whenever she played with Jace, looked after Luke, and tried to lull Joffrey to sleep.

She remembered the one time Jace addressed the abominable rumors of their bastardy to his mother, “I am a Targaryen through and through, like Sansa. Sansa also has black hair; no one calls her a bastard!” Rhaenyra laughed as she realized the concept of illegitimacy was lost on her young sons. She had explained eloquently that the black hair of the brothers was due to their grandmother, Rhaenys, whose mother was a Baratheon. “Sansa,” she gently pulled the girl closer to her, gripping her shoulders, “Has the black hair of the Strongs. She, just like the three of you, did not inherit the silver hair of the Targaryens from her mother.” Sansa’s heart leaped with joy. Many refused to acknowledge her mother’s Targaryen status due to her being a mere accident, something Prince Baelon regretted until his passing. Her grandmother, Viserra Targaryen, had intoxicated the Prince and done her deed when prancing around naked in his bedchamber did not work. Soon enough, she gave birth to their bastard, a pale-haired little girl she affectionately named Visenya as she passed. Visenya grew up in court, her older half-brothers being her only company.

When little Visenya turned seventeen, Widower Lyonel Strong joined the Red Keep with his sons. The man was fifteen years her senior, yet she was besotted by him. On her eighteenth birthday, she threw herself at her brother, the King’s feet, begging him to allow their union. Lord Strong, despite much hesitation, acquiesced, and the two were wed in a homely ceremony. Sansa was born after a stillborn, in 110 AD, a day after the birth of her husband, Aemond. It is said that Lady Strong had held onto her belly with one hand and supported the then Queen with the other as her Grace screamed and cried during her third labor. The moment the little boy’s cries were heard and he was laid onto his mother’s bosom, Lady Strong’s water gave way, and Sansa was born after a long, strenuous labor herself.

Lyonel was overjoyed, to say the least. His dear wife had named the child Sansa, a true name taken from the First Men. The King’s joy, however, was only second to his Hand’s. He held both the children in his arms. “They have the same eyes; it is uncanny,” he mused. “Aemond and Sansa. Must we betroth them, Lyonel?”

“If you insist, your Grace.” If it were some other time, Lyonel would have argued the futility of the said betrothal, how it built no new connections and produced no allies. However, at that moment, he was overcome with joy.

“They will make me kill my dearest Jace and my loveliest Joff, too, if we do not part. One day, perhaps, you will find your way to me again. Only when this has been dealt with. Until then, Verasys, you must be away. Fly, my boy, fly away.”

Verasys was not only her dragon; he also belonged to her mother. Her mother had passed shortly after the burning of Harrenhal, her frail health unable to bear the loss of her stepson, who was a dear friend, and her husband. Verasys was also one of the few belongings of her mother that had found their way to her.

She walked backward from the dragon. “Leave, my boy, fly away. This is your chance. Aegon has lost Riverlands entirely. What will follow next is the dance of the dragons. I want no part in it, and neither do you.”

The dragon looked at Sansa, his eyes glossing over her form. She shushed him again as he walked toward her, his mouth against her cheek. Verasys wiped away her tears, backed away from her, and gently flapped his wings. He was so gentle, so quiet, so sweet. Sansa knew that there would never be a dragon so calm, so very docile. Verasys isn’t one for war anyway, she told herself as she broke the chains with the dragonbone dagger that she received as a present on her wedding day from Aemond, despite knowing that Verasys could be resourceful upon need, could decimate anyone who could pose a threat to him or his Sansa. His protectiveness of even Aemond drew short, fluttered fires from Vhagar. It was Sansa who was not built for war.

-

THE NEXT MORNING was torturous. Aemond’s voice blasted through the entire Red Keep, his anger having scared away even the faultless birds. She stayed rooted in her chair, refusing to respond to his outburst. She refused to dignify his anger, she had done it enough before and had tired of it then.

“WHERE IS VERASYS? WHERE IS MY WIFE’S DRAGON? WHAT KIND OF TREACHERY IS THIS?” He refused to believe that the dragon left on his own accord, convinced that someone wilfully let him escape. “Why ask me? I am heartbroken by Verasys’s absence. How am I to know where he’s gone without me?” She spoke whenever inquired about the dragon’s absence. The Dowager Queen’s eyes shone like steel as she stared Sansa down. “Sansa, my sweet child, you mustn’t do anything that may put us at grave risk.”

“Your Grace, I do not know what you mean. Rather, I believe that what happened was for the best. Verasys wasn’t one for war. He’d have forfeited the moment Syrax would have flown near him. It is for the best, your Grace, that he left on his own accord.”

Aemond waited for his mother to depart before locking the gate of the chamber from the inside. “I do not know where your loyalties lie, my dear.”

“You accuse me of treason, my dear husband. That is unseemly and harsh of you.” Sansa trained her eyes on his, refusing to yield for fear of showing some weakness.

“I shan’t use that word, for what I assume to be treason is what you might consider loyalty.” He said, “I know of your regular consumption, Sansa. Or, I knew, I suppose.”

She knew what he meant, “I have never made a point for it to be discreet, dear husband. I am not giving birth to a child until this war has been dealt with.”

“War,” he spat, “This isn’t war; this is a defense against treason.” He sat down, facing her, knowing that another debate would ensue.

Her lips lifted in what he often called a “bitter smile.” Her anger and her sardonicism reflected in her gaze at once. “What’s defense and what’s treason here varies on perspective.”

“Aegon is the first-born son of my Father, your own uncle; he is the rightful heir.”

“The boy Uncle never once even mentioned as his heir? I won’t argue with you on who the rightful heir is. I just want you to remember that no “faction” is truly in the right here. None.” She hated herself for the partial lie she told, but she had to stay safe. Rhaenyra was her rightful Queen; she will always be. Her nephews, acknowledged by Laenor Velaryon, are her trueborn sons and her rightful successors. Her heart broke at the memory of Lucerys, at the thought of his beautiful face eaten in half.

“Why must you speak like a…” he lowered his voice and leaned closer to her face, “…a traitor?”

“You accuse me of treason again, my husband.”

“I only note the precarious implication of your rebuttals. This is no game, Sansa; this is-”

“Oh, yes, this is war. What do I, a woman, know of war? What an irony, given it is a woman you all are fighting against!”

Aemond sat back, his lips sealed tight. “I never said that dirty thing; you know it was Cole who said so.”

“And you associate yourself so closely with him, disregarding the harmful notions he poses.” She posited, “Being a freethinker, as you claim to be–”

“Oh dear wife, I believe we both can agree that you and I do not see eye to eye on something this grave. Yet, we choose to stay together, love each other. He is only a servant, as his duty is to serve.” His hand on the table had closed in a tight fist, “Let’s not argue the futility of unmatched opinions when you and I have plenty.” He mentioned 'love' in hopes of seeing her eyes soften, in hopes of irking something in her heart that once held his gaze in utmost adoration. The warmth had gone, the love was nowhere. When he looked into her eyes, he only felt cold, so unloved that it scared him.

“We do not.” Sansa was gritting her teeth by then, “You had once told me that were you to become King, you would want your eldest child to inherit the throne, be it a girl or a boy. That is a belief that could threaten Aegon and his lackeys against your support toward the throne, against me. We were never as shortsighted as our family here.”

“Sansa, my dear, do you not realize that Rhaenyra is not one of us?”

“She was never meant to be the enemy,” Sansa spoke quietly, almost under her breath, her hand covering her mouth coyly, “This is pure conspiracy succeeding over conciliation.”

There was a time, Aemond thought, when debates would lead them to bed and they’d make love. Things had changed. Lucerys’s death had left her incapacitated to feel any love toward him, even though he had emphatically repeated– like a prayer– that he never meant to kill him.

Every time he recalled having, tearfully and apologetically, informed her of the accident at the Rook's Nest; his body broke down to his knees.

“It matters little what you intended. What does matter here is what you have caused. Husband, you have waged war against Rhaenyra, against Uncle Daemon. May the Seven protect us all.” She spoke through venomous, angry tears, spitting all over him, “Uncle will never forgive this.” She had shaken her head with untenable vigour, walking away from him in pure dread, “And why should he? Would YOU have forgiven this? We deserve to burn. Poor Luke, oh poor, poor Luke. My dear ne- my Luke!”

When Aemond stepped closer to her, despite her backing away, wringing his hands, “I did not kill any of his children; they’re untouched, unharmed.” Her laughter echoed as a shriek, “You know him so little, it is dangerous to not know the man you have waged war against. You foolish, foolish man.”

He tried to hold her, fall to her feet, cry his apologies if that could calm her. She refused to even touch him, almost throwing herself out the window to evade him. He had a feeling, an instinctual irk, that she would deal with the news worse than anybody at the Red Keep. The Dowager Queen and the Hand chastised him for having murdered kin; Aegon had little to say but how conflicts such as these- almost always and without fail- produced corpses, and Helaena had blamed Aemond for procuring the most ominous out of thin air. Sansa, however, was ardently, hopelessly, fiercely grieving.

She, unlike her husband, remembered their days during childhood as happier times. Joffrey was too little and Helaena was always consumed in her own interests. The five of them used to play, practice sword-fighting, and have lessons together. After Rhaenyra left for Dragonstone, Sansa visited them on dragonback, every once in a while. She attended tourneys and had been beside Rhaenyra in all her birthings, except for the one where she had lost her little girl, her little Visenya. Sansa had grieved the death of a child not even half alive, crying and praying for the wellbeing of the soul in silence. Luke was so real; he was fourteen, a boy with his own likes and dislikes, his own quirks.

Before he knew it, she had begun to yell out the window, “Verasys, Verasys, come to me, Verasys. Take me away from this warmongering, foolish beast!” Aemond could have ripped his heart open, and it would have hurt less.

“Sansa, my love, what are you doing-” he could hear the dragon flapping his wings hard against the air; the dragon had broken the chains off himself to fly to Sansa, to respond to her cries.

“If you step any closer, I will JUMP from here, I will.” The Dowager Queen and the Hand were banging on their gate, pleading Aemond and Sansa to let them in. “I want to see none of you. I want to apologize to Rhaenyra, if my DEATH shall appease her, I will let her have it. Don’t you dare come closer, for I WILL JUMP!” Aemond did not dare stop her when she mounted the dragon and took off, barely secured in her place. The thought of her jumping to her death at his touch made his skin crawl, he found himself within he could hurt himself so bad that she'd love him again.

She returned two days later, having calmed down significantly. She handed them a treaty Rhaenyra had sent with her. They had the following demands:

Aemond the Kinslayer shall be excommunicated to Essos. Whether his wife, Lady Sansa Strong, decides to stay at the Red Keep or leave with him is up to her.

Ser Otto Hightower, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, Prince Aegon, and Princess Helaena, alongside Lord Jaehaerys, Lord Maelor, and Lady Jaehaera, shall depart for Oldtown within a fortnight.

The Red Keep, the Crown of Iron and Rubies of Aegon the Conqueror, and Blackfyre should all be returned to the rightful Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

Refusing any of these claims, the scroll dictated, would lead to war. Aegon laughed, instructing that the scroll be thrown in the hearth.

The Dowager Queen had turned red upon reading the clauses, the Hand looked betrayed. “Have they reduced you to a raven?” Aegon asked, staring at his sisters-in-law, his cousin, in sheer disbelief.

“I did what I could for a mother who has lost her son. This is the least I could do. I have not agreed to these clauses, I only brought the scroll here.”

“Were you aware of the content of the scroll?” The Hand enquired, his voice and face both frightfully calm and cold.

“No, I was not. I was merely requested to hand this scroll to the Hand of the King.” Her eyes were transfixed straight ahead, staring nowhere, yet focused.

“How did you spend the last two days on Dragonstone?” Aemond was sitting on one of the steps to the Iron Throne, closer to the ground. Aegon now sat on the throne, Sansa grimaced at the thought of it alone. Aemond, on the other hand, had worried himself to death, having been advised against flying to Dragonstone himself, especially after word arrived right away that she was alright and needed time to sort out the demise of Lucerys Velaryon. That his arrival at Dragonstone will be equivalent to his waging direct warfare. Thus, when he finally spoke, his question sounded more like concern than an interrogation, so unlike the rest.

“We grieved, your Grace.” Her lilac eyes stared dead into his, her face contorting, ever so slightly, in disgust. Anyone who doesn’t know her well would not even notice. He was not one of them, unfortunately. He could have wept; he almost did. He felt like he had lost her forever. However much love, respect, and admiration she once had for him was gone.

It had been a week since, and she had somehow regained normalcy. While she was still cold, biting, uninviting; she was calmer, considerate even. She allowed no intimacy– something he hadn’t let his mother and grandsire know– because if it weren’t for the origin of her birth and her status as his wife, she’d have long been beheaded as a traitor. Her dragon having left did little to acquit her to his family. It was odd that she barely attempted to clear herself of any suspicion. It was almost as if she took the special treatment for granted. He’d have to remind himself every time he felt angry at her indifference that she was only half a Strong. Her grandparents were children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, and she was just as much a Targaryen as he was, if only not for her hair. The futility of such comparison was jarring, for she looked like a Targaryen through and through. She and Rhaenys Targaryen were similar in that sense; both fiery dragonriders with hair as dark as a cloudy, moonless night and eyes startlingly lilac.

He snapped himself out of his derailed trail of thoughts to find his wife by the window, watering the plant that she had brought back with her from Dragonstone. “Will you never admit, out loud, that I accidentally killed your nephew?”

She did not pause, did not look back, “You will not entrap me in your web of deceits, husband.” She could have scratched his other eye out, to avenge her nephew, but she chose not to. Oftentimes, those days, she’d have the urge to tell him that he was a petty, shallow half-man for never having gotten over the loss of an eye. People get through so much worse. But, she stopped herself. Every single time.

[plurality-culture-is]

weed + system culture is not being entirely sure if I split fictives of the OC's from the fanfic I am writing about myself by talking to them / imagining them while I am high so I can write a weed chapter or if they are just my marijuana imaginary friends. I also have been listening to EPIC the musical obsessively, especially while high because drugs make music even more sexy and I am not sure if I kin Odysseus or if he is here as a fictive.

I THINK I low-key am kinning him and Bruce and Bella are not actual fictives but I am not really entirely sure.

.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Yippie! A wild Tokyo Debunker matchup writer! Anyway, hi. 🍊here. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like a romantic matchup pls. And maybe who'd be besties with me for ✨flavour✨

My MBTI + Enneagram: ENFP 9w1

My star sign is Gemini

Appearance: I am South Asian with straight black hair and tan skin. I usually tie into a low braid because I think it looks cute, and I don't like the feeling of hair on the back of my neck. I am 160 cm tall and pretty scrawny

Personality: I like to say I'm a pretty cheerful and upbeat person. I try my best to smile through tough situations, though it can be hard sometimes. I also like to say I'm a family person, and I will do anything to protect them, and my friends. I am perfectionistic, but sadly I am a bit scatterbrained, much to the dismay of my parents and older sister. Hell, I almost burned the eggs I was making for the first time. I have been working on my organizational skills though, and I’m happy to say that I’ve come a pretty long way. I can be quite petty too. If someone wrongs me, I tell them either bad puns or horrifying facts for a period of time as revenge. I'm also good at math, so my friends come to me for help with that. Also, in almost every friend group I'm in, I somehow become a therapist friend. Lemme tell you, THAT really takes a toll on me. I also have a soft spot for unabridged fairytales (they high-key have me in a chokehold).

Some more lil' factoids about me: I wear my hair in a low braid because I don't like the feeling of hair on the back of my neck. My friends and family often told me my hands get pretty animated when I talk. I can also handle spicy food pretty well, which surprises a lot of my friends. I like to learn about my friends' interests so I can connect better with them. Also, I kin Paulina from the Thea Sisters.

Likes: Anime, drawing comics, video games, unabridged fairytales, sweets (my favourite dessert is caramel pudding) and spending time with my older sister and friends

Dislikes: Cruelty, confrontation (I will kick butt if I need to, literally or figuratively), anyone who dares to threaten my friends or family, arrogance when it gets out of hand, black tea or coffee (I cannot drink it unless it is sweetened or if I have it with a LOT of milk), but I do enjoy dark chocolate once in a blue moon.

Hi 🍊Anon! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like your matchups!

In Tokyo Debunker, I match you with...

You and Haru are both very family oriented and I think this is what would initially draw you to each other. You get how important family is to each other and want to be part of each other's families.

I think he would like being around you since you’re so upbeat. He’s pretty cheerful but if surrounded by people who aren’t (like Ren). You’re a nice change of pace.

Please read your favourite unabridged fairy tales to him and Peekabook! He might have to cover the creature’s ears once in a while since those old stories can be a bit graphic at times but they both really love it.

Haru definitely understands your dislike of people who threaten your family and friends. He knows how protective he gets over Peekaboo whenever Taiga comes around. At least now you can fend him off together.

He loves spending time with his family and friends as well and since you definitely fall into that category for him, you’re included in that quality time.

In Tokyo Debunker, I platonically match you with...

I think you and Sho would get along great as friends. Sure, he might tease you for talking with your hands but you can return the favour since I see him as someone who’s quite expressive when talking about something he’s passionate about as well.

He’s also going to tease you for being so scatterbrained but will help you out if you forget things. Just don’t expect him to ever say anything about it or take credit for you having everything you need when you know you forgot something in your room.

I can see you two playing video games together a lot. He doesn’t usually play them himself but is happy to be player two if you need one.

Since you don’t like confrontation, if you ever have a problem with someone, he’s more than willing to stand up and defend you. That’s his best friend they’re talking about! He’s not about to let any nasty comments slide.

Oh, he really can’t get away from spicy food enjoyers can he. As long as you don’t add hot sauce on everything though, he’s fine with it.

[kinkandkreep]

(ɴᴇᴡ) 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

Ari's Stuff

In Search of New Beta Reader

Heads Up

𝐌𝐇𝐀

Oc Related Things

Meet Chike!

Yandere Content

Yanzuku Profile and Headcanons

Yankugou Profile and Headcanons

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AOT Guys and Their Weddings

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

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Yandere!Alucard

Dating Alucard

𝕆𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕄𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕚-ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕚𝕔𝕤

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Bless Me

Coming Soon: Bless Me

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The Kim Clan: Bless Me

Bless Me: Taehyung

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Bless Me Visual (Older Brothers)

Bless Me Visual (Younger Brothers)

You All Belong to Me

You All Belong to Me

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YABTM~ Introducing Eun-Ji

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The Scars We Share

The Scars We Share~ Summary

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Rundown

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Yandere Taehyung when you refuse him sex

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What Type of Yandere: Kim Namjoon

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Yandere!Jin As a Parent

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Desire Has Philophobia

Soft!Yandere Reaction to Desire Being a Former Burlesque Dancer

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Rounds (Yandere Hoseok oneshot)

For Everybody (Songfic; Yandere!Reader oneshot)

Happy (Re)Birthday (Yandere Jimin oneshot)

Teacher’s Pet (Songfic; Yandere!Jimin oneshot)

The Queen and Her Captors (Yandere!BTS x Original Character oneshot) (This may eventually become a series)

Tummy Time! (Father!Hoseok oneshot)

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Soft!Yandere Jimin Collage

Hard!Yandere Jimin Collage

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𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐨'𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

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Good Boi 'Bedo Headcanons

Albedo Drabble

Zhongli Birthday Celebration

Genshin Guys as K-pop Songs

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲

Sephy-kins

Kadaj Headcanons

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ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ/ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ/ʙʟᴜʀʙꜱ/ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴛɪɴɢꜱ 🤪

To The Last Sip- Halloween Special

𝖠𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇'𝗌 𝖢𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽 3

Connor Kenway Mini-Masterlist

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Miguel O'Hara

𝕋𝕠𝕜𝕪𝕠 ℝ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤

Tokyo Revengers Mini Masterlist