#it’s so hard to trust God while not understanding His ways sometimes

[sassyandclassy94]

I’m feeling… very despondent😔 And have been on the verge of tears all day…

[hxltic]

Choso remembers you saying something about it. In fact, you had asked him incredulously, “Cho, you have never touched yourself?”

And you said it so confused and almost sad, like you were genuinely upset for him. “That’s why you’re so pent up all the time,” you added. “It’s not something you should feel bad about.”

The memory crowded his brain when he returned to his apartment one night, slightly angry and plagued by what he doesn’t yet recognize as overstimulation, just thinking maybe his ponytails are too tight and adding to his headache. His muscles were sore as well, which didn’t help.

So he leisurely showers and lays in bed, trying his best to fall asleep and end his emotional torture, but it’s to no avail. He lays there on his back with his eyes closed. Contemplating. He has a hard time going to bed with the whole curse thing anyway.

Thinking back, you implied that the action was some type of release of frustration or stress. Choso understands that his head is constantly wracking about familial stuff, staying alive, his rent; it never truly stops. But what if it could?

The thought is crude, like it should be forbidden to indulge in himself that way. But you said there was nothing to be ashamed of, and above all else, he trusts you the most.

You. It all started with you. You were always helping him out, being his best friend and patiently teaching him things that nobody else could bring themselves to say. You were there for him and he owes you the world.

In fact, sometimes he would ask questions or pretend to be uninformed just so you could explain random, usually unimportant, stuff. He couldn’t understand why, but your puffy lips as you speak and your pretty eyes glistening—on the verge of full laughter at his confusion—makes the air thick around him. He’s only half human, but it’s like he carries the desire equivalent to a full one. He has barely been able to control himself.

In the darkness of his room, under the covers, Choso doesn’t even notice his hand trailing down his abdomen and over the cloth of his loose pants. It was so natural how he began to lazily dig the heart of his palm through the fabric, gently at first.

You had shown him the different pleasures of the world around him, most of which you liked to do. Mall shopping, for example. He thought it only made sense to carry your bags while you hopped from store to store, and in return, he got some say on what you left the store with. You couldn’t care less about the male opinion on how short your skirt was, but Choso was different. You knew it would be unfeigned.

“How’s this one?”

You step out of the dressing room in a pair of high heels that laced up to your calf and twirl in the skin-tight dress. The color fell on your complexion perfectly, it cinched your waist in just right, and covered just enough of what it needed to. The fabric hugged your thighs and the intended sheerness of the dress left just a faint shadow of the red set you were wearing underneath. But there was no point in waiting for his answer; it was all over his face.

He was speechless. He sat with his mouth slightly agape, holding his gaze to you up and down. You clear your throat, finally drawing his eyes up to yours, and he somewhat comes to his senses.

“Y-You look great.” He mutters.

Of course it’s in your nature to tease him, rolling your eyes jokingly: “Just great? God, Cho, I see how much you hate me now.” But you didn’t expect the immediate response after.

“No, no—more than that. There’s not a word for it.”

Now you were speechless, staring at him with the astonishment he had on his face previously.

Choso’s large hand wasn’t as gentle now, driving deep into himself in search for friction. His breathing slightly picked up from the movements since the room was becoming hotter around him, stifling even, so he throws the covers off his wanting body. With a deep sigh and furrowed brows, he tries to relax back into his pillow, welcoming the small hums and the newfound rush of cool air against his open chest.

Every now and then he’d also think about the time you took him swimming. He already knew how as a survival instinct, but that wasn’t the point. You were showing him around. Popsicles, hot summer days, and glowy laughs.

After the both of you sat on your beach chairs while munching on your matching snowcones, you agreed to get in the water if he did. That’s how you found yourselves at the steps of the pool, Choso trying his damndest to be respectful when you remove your cover up, but he somehow can’t peel his eyes away no matter how hard he tries. You’re too busy thinking if you should revoke your statement while glancing at your reflection. Unfortunately for you though, you hadn’t thought that he would have no reaction at all to the water temperature and step right in without hesitation.

“You are insane,” you declare, your eyes hopefully showing the fear through your shades. Choso chuckles and stands at his full height in the three feet, and instead of trying to figure out if you were staring at his dripping figure, he glides towards you in the water.

He reaches out for you, still stuck with only your feet in the pool.

“Here, give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, you do. He walks backwards into the water.

In an escape from the cold, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close, linking your ankles behind his hips. He tries his best to keep his breathing steady as you stay hooked to him. “I’m going to sink in, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah okay,” you breathe.

Everywhere you connected was hot despite the coolness of the water nipping at you, and yet it didn’t make the journey down any easier. His hands hooked under your thighs as comfortably as possible, but the main burn in your heart stemmed from the words. It was truly an endeavor not to think about them out of context because surely he didn’t even notice the accidental innuendo.

Choso held his breath during the slow, controlled descent while you clung onto him. It isn’t until you get to the bottom that the real fight emerges.

“Oh, it’s not that bad!”

And even though he’s squatting, leaving both of you completely surrounded in the pool, when you pull away with a fat smile on your face and the shades pushed up, Choso could barely even think.

His hand finally pushes past the waistband. It wasn’t hard to find his length that was already standing up as far as it was allowed in his pants.

His eyes tighten when he feels the pressure of his own grip, and how relieving it was. Slowly, his hand moves up against the taut skin, only to be hit with a substance he feels blindly at the tip. He kicks his pants off with an easy motion in order to see himself.

He was flushed but too aroused to be embarrassed. Already gathering sweat and heart beating fast, he recognizes he has two options. Stop, or keep going without full knowledge of how to do it. Usually he’d ask you, but he’s smart, and some things he has to figure out on his own. Plus, he’s sure it all comes to the same outcome.

He swipes the substance from the top, and without a second thought, spreads it around so it eases the journey his hand slowly takes up and down his shaft. It proves not to be enough, so he rolls over to the cocoa butter you got him. You said his skin looked lifeless, like it needed some moisture.

When you looked at him that day, you glistened with a happiness he’d never seen before in his arms. Holding onto him even when you no longer needed to. He might as well have been looking at the fucking sun because he would do anything to see you like that again: staring at him like he was the only person in the world, your breasts close to spilling from your bikini top, hair tossing in your face from the wind, and only inches away from where he now recognized he wanted your lips most. His.

He could spot every freckle and dimple in your skin.

But that wasn’t even the best part. Your fingertips rested on his jaw and your palms on his neck, slowly caressing him while you dipped further on top of him underwater. You told him there shouldn’t be anything under his swim shorts. Of course he listened, but now he’s trying to determine if it’s a blessing or a curse. Intentional or not, every time you moved, the touch of your bare skin and the hold he had on where your thighs meet your ass was electrifying and downright addictive. He can still feel it to this day.

Choso’s heart rate was skyrocketing. He lacked some understanding, but he wasn’t stupid. He may not necessarily know what love should feel like, or reciprocated feelings, but he knows what he’s feeling now isn’t to be ignored. If it was, it wouldn’t be so goddamn suffocating.

His free hand brushes the hair over his forehead back at the epiphany. His other one is controlled, sliding up and down his cock continuously. There was so much precum leaking at his sensitivity, making his eyes flutter and his words unstable. At first it was just groans and soft moans falling from his lips. Now, he needs the words for what he’s about to do next.

Somehow he finds his hand hovering atop his bedside table, ripping his phone off the charger and dialing your number.

A few rings later, he hears your faint air conditioning in the background. “Cho?”

Instead of a response, a heavy, elongated sigh sounds on the line. Your voice was so refreshing to hear that it actually startled him. He thought he was ready to talk about whatever his feelings were, or ask about them, but maybe he got intentions of the choice to call you slightly wrong. His thumb slips just under his pink head, flinching his hips and ejecting whimper from his mouth.

He stares into the darkness, not even attempting to hide. “H-Hello,” he mumbles.

“Are you okay? It’s pretty late.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Choso swallows, putting the phone beside his ear. He looks down at what he’s doing. Calves straining, cock throbbing, and muscles tensing. Had he always been this reactive? You both rest in silence, his as an occupied one, but a silence nonetheless before he interrupts it.

“I wanted to—” His grip became a little too hard and a low groan slips into the mic. He was trying to communicate without notifying you of what he’s doing, but you had brought it up unprompted that day so he doubts you would mind if it came to that. “—hear your voice.”

“Well, I’m here now. Hey, are you sure you’re completely fine?”

“I-I… fuck,” Choso curses, which is a rarity in all honesty, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He hears you shuffle. He assumes you sat up, intrigued. “Oh yeah?”

It’s like you were put on this earth just for him—to guide him, to trouble him, but it’s all a side of the same coin. And he loves every second of it. Your voice was so fulfilling even with its mocking tone, and maybe it’s just the arousal coursing through him, but he recognizes it as what it is. Flirting. With this fact, the world slows, leaving the intensity of the moment and the growing feeling in his lower half. His speech is impaired by his own breathing.

“Yeah,” he replies. Breathless and hot.

Once again, there’s another moment of silence. A squelch sound bounces off his length as he increases speed, still shimmering with wetness in the dark, and he’s thinking maybe you fell asleep. His balls tighten every now and then and he thanks the universe for the signal because when he touches them, his eyes almost roll to the back of his head.

The sound he releases is mostly air. It was frantic and choppy and loud, as well as completely received on your end.

“Where are your hands?”

He processes your voice, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Huh?”

“Where are your hands, Choso.”

He tips his chin down, glancing at the stickiness between his fingers and his dick standing tall, itching for more. It’s weird, he thinks, but he admires his work and how he doesn’t feel dirty or the least bit uncomfortable with it. He watches the clearish-white seep from the peak when his fingers clamp around his base and squeeze; he hums satisfactorily.

“Busy.”

Incredulously, you parrot, “Busy?” A smile inches onto your face and he only knows because he can hear it in your voice. “Are they stroking anything, by any chance?”

On that note, he begins undulating again, tipping his head back to the pillow. It was burning desire, for multiple things. He didn’t know what, but you’re for sure one of them.

He grins softly but cockily, “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Because I’m so ‘pent up’ all the time?” He turns his head to the phone as if it were you lying beside him.

You both laugh in a daze, the feeling surreal. It then goes quiet.

“I’m feeling a little pent up right now, actually,” you coo.

Choso copies, “Oh yeah?” And he understands what you mean, because his cock tightens and warms. His speed enhances once more, sloshing somewhere in the back of the call and making the “h” sounds of his words lengthy.

“Yeah,” you moan on the other line. It was light; lighter than his. But his are the very reason why.

On top of the pleasant surprise of him taking your advice, he called you to experience it, and his voice is deep with fatigue but serene with arousal. It didn’t take a genius to guess what you were doing in response. “How does it feel Choso?”

“Keep talking and I’ll see.”

That instant he twitches again, his hips now thrusting up into his fist for some type of release. It was growing with every word you spoke. He bites his lip and keeps his eyes closed to relish in the moment because it is ten times more exhilarating in someone else’s presence. Yours.

“Are you close?” You question. Your breath was more contained than his, but he could hear the movement of the covers.

Another grunt, “Yes.” In fact, he was so close, there isn’t anything else that he’d want. It practically overtook him.

He could barely hear you, or understand you, rather. And if he did, it took him repeating your words over again.

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

It was snappy but his voice gave it away. “I called, didn’t I?”

“I bet you’re imagining it’s my hand, right? Or when you come it’s my face you’re spilling on?”

He curses under his breath, jolting his hips up and gripping his cock harder. Rougher. No, he actually wasn’t imagining that, but now that you brought it to life, there’s no going back.

What you said after was unfortunately heard loud and clear.

“Slow down for me.”

And it should have been embarrassing how instantly he took his hand away, because if he didn’t, cum would be painted on his chest by now. He groans strongly and hisses as if in pain at your denial, breaths thick and weighty. “H-Holy shit.”

Choso never got angry at really anything, but here he was, brows low in irritation. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice over the calming way he spoke either, but that doesn’t matter now. Had he gone slow he still would have came.

He speaks as confidently as you do laying on his back, dry hand flipped onto his forehead while his breathing regulates. “Why won’t you let me come?”

You had your own reasons, one of which being you took it as the perfect opportunity to pleasure yourself. “Because I said so.”

Choso opens his eyes to his cock as possibly erect as it could get, bobbing with every time he moved. It was an angry red instead of its usual pink now. “I’m so close,” he placates himself a bit, “just…let me.”

You don’t respond, just release small whimpers of your own—but he knows you’re still listening. He sighs deeply, “Please.”

It was so breathless it might as well have been a moan in its own. “What’d you say?”

“What?”

“I didn’t hear you.” You heard him.

“…Please let me come.”

He was shaking, his hand already wandering closer to his dick in pure anticipation you would say yes. Thank God you did after a few quiet seconds that were anything but tranquil—he actually thought that he was about to pop.

It’s swift when he cups his hand and runs from the base to the tip, squeezes there, and uses a few of the fingers to drag over the wet skin of his balls. The sounds he made previously come back tenfold.

His hips jerk and his abdomen follows. His back lifts from the bed, causing him to rise onto an elbow as he strokes himself through his climax. His engorged cock throbs in his hand and he shudders. He shuts his eyes just as milky white cum flies out in spurts around his waist and stomach.

Meanwhile, your own peak was near, and when Choso huffs through his, yours hits like a train. His vision was black and spotty, but he could hear you cry his name somewhere in the distance. This only made it worse. You carry him even farther into his orgasm since he thinks about what they’ll sound like in person. His name rolls off your tongue so beautifully already; when you’re under him, it’ll put him on his deathbed.

He blinks his eyes open to the mess that he can’t bring himself to care about in the moment. He flops backward onto his bed sheets while trying to keep his lungs in order.

It seems to be that for you as well because a few much-needed minutes pass.

“Cho?”

He hums back tiredly.

You ask, soft and sweet. “Can I come over?”

“See you in ten,” he sits up.

©️hxltic

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (23/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, nightmares, speaking about trauma ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night he slept vigilantly – he was awakened by her every movement, her uneven breath, the creak of the bed beneath her body. He held her close and did not let her out of his embrace fearing that again, led by some dark, cruel dream, she would try to do what he had witnessed.

It was only when he saw her standing over the edge of the precipice that he understood what her disappearance would mean: that with her he would lose the part of himself that she had managed to reawaken.

He tried, he made an effort, he changed for her, because he knew that she would see it, that she would appreciate it, that she would tell him, as she always did, that she understood him.

She was the first person to praise him out loud – there was something humbling about how much he craved it, whether from his mother's, his father's, Aegon's, Sylvi's or Criston's lips.

Everyone he had somehow allowed to cross the line and know some part of himself.

However, it was only she who was able to do it in the way he needed �� not pitying him, not treating him like a child, but simply trying to comprehend what he was facing, why some things were difficult for him while others were groundbreaking.

He realised that she never demanded anything of him: she never asked him to marry her, she never asked him to send her home, she never asked him to become more open.

She always waited patiently, with a strange, partly incomprehensible understanding, showing him that it was simply his nature.

With her, he stopped being ashamed of himself: of who he was and who he wasn't, what he lacked, what he had lost, what mistakes he had made.

Because of her, he forgave himself.

He had found peace.

And now, that peace was about to disappear with her.

He swallowed hard at the mere memory and snuggled her tighter into him, embracing her more firmly in his arms. He heard her quiet mutter, her fingers tightening on the material of his shirt, her cheek pressed against his chest.

His thoughts fled to what she had said, to what she had seen in her dream – him with another woman, his betrayal, the greatest humiliation she could have experienced on his part as his wife.

He could not comprehend why she thought he could fail her trust in this way, break the oath he had taken before the gods themselves, hurt her while she was helping him heal his wounds.

Even if she were only his lover, he wouldn't want another – he would not be able to open himself up again, to allow someone into his heart and mind, much less at the cost of losing her.

You are my only friend.

And you are mine, he thought, stroking her hair slowly, exactly as she had asked him to do.

She combined everything he wanted, allowing him to take care of herself so that he could feel like a man, while at the same time caring for him, giving him space, so that sometimes, but only sometimes, when he felt weak, he could become a little boy in her arms.

There was something liberating in that thought – in the conviction that his grandfather was right, and that his affection for her could slowly blossom, giving him more strength every day.

He wanted her to be sure of his fidelity and devotion, just as he was sure of hers.

He knew that this alone would give her peace of mind.

To his satisfaction, she stopped pretending not to see him – when she asked him early in the morning if he would help her with her bath and be by her side, he immediately agreed.

He would never have thought he would so willingly step into the role of a servant of sorts – while she sat in the bath in her nightgown, sunk up to her chin in warm water full of fragrant oils, he gently rubbed her arms and hands with a damp cloth.

There was something intimate about this moment, some attempt of reconciliation, of staying together despite all that had happened.

He didn't tell her about what went on behind closed doors – he didn't tell her that his grandfather was delighted with what she had accomplished, that he, Criston and Gwayne were planning to conquer the Eyrie before Rhaenyra could recover from another loss and move on them.

Deprived of Daemon and Rhaenys, she was like a lion without fangs and claws – even new dragon riders could not replace the experience and bond they had with Caraxes and Meleys.

Otto felt, and he agreed, that the kingdom should hear that it was he, not his wife, who had killed Daemon – this was not to give him credit for it, although it certainly helped him as Prince Regent, but above all – in his eyes – it was to protect her from accusations that would be damaging to her.

Namely, that she was a kinslayer.

Word that she had killed her father, committing, like him, a sin unkind to the gods would spread like the wind, preventing her from getting rid of the remorse that was already overwhelming her.

He preferred everyone to think it was he who had killed his uncle.

He was already cursed in the eyes of others anyway, so what he had done would no longer matter.

Daemon's death raised the morale of the army: his soldiers celebrated all the next day after he announced the news. He guessed that his wife heard them, grieving, but he could not forbid them from doing so; he stood between the hammer and the anvil.

To his satisfaction, it turned out that both Cole and Gwayne were men showing enough sensitivity to understand his wife's condition: her help was still needed by them, but it was clear that forcing her to do anything would turn against them.

They had to wait patiently for her to return to balance, in the meantime planning every next step.

The fact that she was carrying his child pleased him, but it also made things even more complicated.

No one but him, Maester and her knew about it.

"I remember more and more. From the time I was a child." Her voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He looked at her, her face flushed from the warm steam that floated around them, her long, dark hair tied back to keep it from getting wet.

He sighed quietly, his thumb running over the moist skin of her wrist.

"And what do you see?" He asked, though he guessed what her answer would be.

"My father. The way my mother spoke to him and about him. She told me once…" she muttered and fell silent, lowering her gaze as if ashamed and heartbroken, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"… she said something that I think was the source of my age-old resentment towards your lineage. She said that the Targaryens have strange customs. That fathers take their daughters to their bed. I think that's why I repressed all my memories of my father embracing me, touching me, kissing me on the forehead. The thought that he wasn't doing it out of fatherly love, but out of sick, disgusting lust, terrified me. She destroyed his image in my eyes because she hated him herself. But now that I think about it, he never touched me in a wrong way. He never even tried."

She whispered, finally looking up at him, as if begging him to confirm her words, to tell her that she was right even though he had not witnessed the events.

He swallowed hard, realising that he often forgot that what his family had been doing for generations was ordinary only for them, but not for people from the outside.

"Marriages in our family happen between relatives, but never between parents and children or grandparents and grandchildren. That would be unacceptable." He replied calmly.

Her fingers clenched on his hand, as if she was wordlessly trying to convey to him that she needed him now more than ever.

"But after all, there were rumours of my father taking Rhaenyra, his niece, to a brothel long before she became his wife. She was still a little girl then." She muttered in a breaking voice.

He lowered his gaze, not knowing what he should reply to these words.

"I've heard about it too, but as you say, it's gossip. I didn't hold any love for him, but I can't say with certainty if or what he did to her at the time. I'm no saint myself." He confessed, finally looking up at her.

She blinked, staring at him with surprise bordering on horror, as if his confession frightened her.

"What do you mean?"

He felt his jaw clench in an unpleasant shudder of discomfort at the thought of what he had done to her.

"I have used you. I did it deliberately for months."

He fell silent, unable to look into her eyes – it was only when he said the words aloud that it occurred to him what he had actually done to her.

"You didn't force me. I agreed to it." She whispered.

"Did you?" He asked, looking at her finally. "Do you think my pride would have endured your refusal, your rejection? That I wouldn't do anything to you?"

She swallowed loudly, looking at him with some kind of worry – her lips pursed into a thin line as she took his hand in hers.

"And you? Do you think I really had any desire to lose my maidenhood with some servant? That I didn't want you to take his place? I didn't know you, nor did you know me. For a long time it was a game, yours and mine. But at some point I no longer knew what was a lie and what was the truth. I began to miss you by day and looked forward to falling asleep in your arms at night. The more I got to know you, the more I longed to stay by your side."

He didn't know why his lower lip was quivering, why he felt a burning wetness under his eyelid, why his throat was squeezed with emotion.

What he couldn't comprehend was the ease with which she was able to understand him and his decisions, as if it didn't require any effort on her part – the knowledge that she never resented him, that she was partially aware of what he was doing and consented to it made him think that perhaps it had to be that way.

That it was somehow their joint decision.

A shared effort to understand who they were, what they craved and why they kept returning to each other.

"I ask you to forgive me." He whispered, clasping his fingers over hers, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

Forgive me for who I was when you met me.

Who I still am when you are not by my side.

"I too ask for your forgiveness." She replied softly, making him feel a pleasant warmth spread across his chest.

The reciprocation.

"I forgive you." He said.

"I forgive you too." She replied and smiled lightly, sincerely, for the first time since those events.

She shifted towards him with a quiet splash of water, and he did the same – he sighed with some kind of relief when her face pressed against his cheek, when her scent filled his lungs, when her full lips placed a warm, wet, tender kiss on his hot skin.

He closed his eye, focusing on that pleasurable touch, his fingers involuntarily stroking her hair, her neck, her jaw, his words against her ear like a whisper.

"I regret that I didn't meet you sooner. That it wasn't the warmth of your body, the moisture of your lips that I experienced for the first time as a young boy. That our fathers did not betroth us the day you came into this world." He spoke quietly, tracing the tip of his nose over the soft, smooth structure of her plump, pink cheek.

He felt her hands tighten on his tunic, her breath caught in her throat as her thighs involuntarily clenched under the water.

His erection pulsed hard in his breeches.

It seemed to him that ages passed before her face slowly turned towards him, before her lips found his, teasing him merely, not giving him full kisses, but only a foreshadowing, an encouragement, a promise of what he wanted so badly.

He pressed her against his body, unable to contain himself, sinking greedily into her soft, wet flesh – his hand clenched in her hair, preventing her from escaping his slick tongue as it burst deep into her throat.

She moaned into his mouth and it was one of the sweetest sounds she'd ever made – he involuntarily smiled, feeling lighter as her arms embraced his neck, as her lips parted, allowing him to continue.

They had never kissed like this before – so slowly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world. They concentrated on making their lips unite completely, the quiet clicks of their saliva accompanying their every flick. His fingers stroked the skin of her face, her neck and her hair more gently than ever before, as if any sudden movement on his part might suddenly startle her.

"– I miss you – in every way –" He breathed out between one kiss and the next, embarrassed by his desperate confession, which he would not have dared to make in the presence of any other woman.

He knew, however, that she would not mock him.

That she would understand him.

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his, her knuckles running over the line of his jaw.

"– I miss you too –"

Her body beneath him was wet and warm. It seemed to him that they were two parts of one whole – before he did what he so desperately craved, he simply admired the way she looked.

He marvelled at how her breasts had begun to change – through the baby in her womb they had become fuller, plumper, like a ripe fruit.

He leaned over her bare skin, placing wet, lazy kisses around her nipple, finally closing his lips around it. She moaned as he began to tease it with the tip of his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive spot – he knew she loved it when he did that – her hands always pressed him closer to her chest, exactly like now, asking for more.

His hand slid slowly down her waist, to her hip, finally finding its way between her thighs. The tips of his fingers ran over her silky womanhood, collecting the moisture that had managed to leak out of her, merely brushing her hot skin. He felt her body shudder as her legs involuntarily spread wider, consenting to whatever he wanted to give her.

For some reason, he felt as if this was their first time – perhaps because they were completely different people than when he had taken her to his bed.

She remained his prisoner, and he had complete power over her, treating her body as something that belonged to him for the sake of a strict, eternal law, the essence of a woman as one who could not oppose a man.

This time, however, feeling the skin of her soft breasts melt under his lips, sinking his fingers into her sticky, fleshy folds, running them around her little bud, he felt like a young boy exploring a woman's body for the first time.

There was something reassuring about the way she just let him do it, combing through his long, white hair with her fingers, breathing softly, clearly taking pleasure in how slow and precise his caresses were.

Now, lying beneath him, she was truly his little sister, his future wife, betrothed to him from the day she was born, created to be only his.

There was something beautiful about this vision, he thought as his middle finger pushed against her tight, throbbing entrance – she gasped, clenching her fingers against his naked back, but neither she nor her body offered him any resistance.

"– lēkia – I want you inside me –" She mumbled with difficulty, as if ashamed and bitter that she wanted this so badly, that, although she wanted to prolong this state of sweet tension, she was unable to hold out any longer.

His long-fully hard manhood twitched and pressed against her thigh, expressing his irresistible desire to do exactly what she asked.

He released her nipple from between his lips with a quiet click, lifting his face higher, placing a warm, loud kiss on her cheek – he felt her fingers run over his jaw, neck and chest as he grasped his erection in his palm and directed it to her slit. They both sighed when they felt the closeness of their bodies as, with a slow, patient movement of his hips, he opened her for himself and froze in this position.

Her insides were moist and warm, exactly as he remembered – his forehead pressed against hers as they embraced each other tightly, her breasts clinging to his torso in sudden need of closeness.

For a moment he simply looked at her, breathing loudly along with her.

They both sighed with a low, surprised moan as he involuntarily stretched her fleshy walls wider on his erection, sinking deeper into her – her hands slid down from his bare back to his buttocks, stroking them in some comforting, tender gesture.

I love you, he thought, placing a hot, moist kisses on her plump lips, letting his entire manhood deep inside her body – the experience was a kind of epiphany, something from which there was no turning back.

She sighed softly into his throat, reciprocating the lazy, sweet caresses of his lips as he began to sink into her with tentative, light thrusts, again and again disappearing into the familiar, the good, the safe.

They embraced tighter, looking directly into each other's eyes and it was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced – he usually avoided a woman's gaze, even hers, afraid of what he would see in it.

Sadness as in his mother's eyes, compassion as in Sylvi's, sorrow as in Helaena's.

However, his hāedar's eyes told him something different – in her gaze he saw pain, loss, longing, pleading, all that he felt deep inside himself.

They both moaned, panting louder and louder as her hips began to sway to the rhythm of his thrusts, reaching out to join him again.

"– you're so warm –" He exhaled wearily, ashamed to hear his voice break.

He wasn't sure why he'd said it – he wanted to say so many other things right now, but he couldn't.

These words seemed natural to him, sincere, coming from the depths of his heart – the outside world was cruel, vicious, cold, and her body was full of warmth, softness, smooth as silk.

They embraced closer and snuggled into each other, stroking each other's hair and faces, kissing slowly and unhurriedly, deeply, tenderly, in a way that deep down he had dreamed of.

He wasn't sure if he was usually a rough, sometimes even harsh lover because he wanted to, or because it gave him confidence, allowing him to keep his face and dignity.

There's more dignity in this, he thought, speeding up his movements, letting their bodies slam against each other loud and fast with sticky splats of their naked skin, listening to their grunts and sighs filled with pleasure.

For some reason he felt more like a human, more like a man, more like himself than he ever had, with his long hair loose falling over her face, without an eye patch covering his eye, completely bare not only with his body, but also with his mind.

He showed her what he hadn't even shown Sylvi.

He showed her that he was capable of affection, capable of longing, capable of suffering because of another person.

He was weak.

But by her side it didn't matter.

Her nails dug into the skin of his back as she inevitably neared her peak, tears of relief ran down her face, a quiet, girlish cry of delight broke from her lips as the sweet convulsion of fulfilment shook her body.

She was beautiful in her vulnerability.

"– hāedar –" He gasped out – his fingers clamped down on the sheet as he groaned low, clenching his eyelids, finally coming inside her, feeling the sudden, wonderful shivers surging through his body, the sweet pulsing in his erection, which at last experienced release.

He sighed loudly as he simply lay on top of her, careful, however, not to crush her with the weight of his body – they embraced with their arms and continued like this, breathing heavily in the silence of the chamber.

He closed his eyes when he felt her lips place a warm, tender kiss on the top of his head and involuntarily smiled, feeling like a little boy again.

At last, after so many years of anguish, he was truly loved by someone.

[spyder-junkie]

Hobie Brown/Spiderpunk NSFW alphabet

____________________________________________

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

Hobie does the usual after sex has calmed down (wiping you off, getting you to bed, running you a bath, getting you a water)

It makes him feel manly to be able to take care of you when your brain is all mushy.

BUT

He would absolutely melt if once and a while you took care of him after sex. Dab his brow with a towel, place kisses on his face as you assure him he can stay in bed, bring him water and cuddle up to him as he sleeps.

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

Hobie loves his hands, it’s something about being able to abolish the system, beat bad guys, play great music with his fingers AND being able to make you cum all over his hands that gets him excited.

Hobie also loves your hips, no matter what they look like. He’ll pull you to his side by your hip in public, or draw patterns on them with his fingers while giving you backshots. Sometimes he’ll lay his head on your lower stomach and press little kisses to your hips.

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

He strongly prefers to cum IN you rather than ON you.

He’s the type to cum in you, then take his fingers and push the cum back in as it leaks out.

But if thats not an option, he’ll gladly cum on your face. Just seeing your cheeks and lips slick with his cum gets him hard again immediately.

“God your beautiful, open your mouth for me sweetheart.”

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

Touch his nipples!!!

He got them pierced a while back and they’re sooooo sensitive. When hes stroking his dick for you one of his hands will trail up his chest and slowly circle one of his nipples. His eyebrows will get all furrowed, his hips bucking into his hand. Thats just a good way to get him to cum quick.

Maybe one day he’s got you pinned up against a wall, drilling you. And instead of latching onto his neck, you wrap your lips around his nipple and suck lightly. His hips will immediately go still, his eyes screwing shut as a loud groan crawls out of his throat. He’ll cum right there, hunched over your body with you in his arms. And now he’s embarrassed because he didn’t get you off first, but how could you be upset when he looked and sounded so nice?

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

Hobie understands the body, period.

He’s had several hookups, male and female, before you, just nothing romantic.

He’s a hands on learner and he’s had a lot of hands on experience, so trust he will make your first time with him worth while.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything where he can get as deep as possible and you cant run. (consensually of course)

Mating press has him in a chokehold. He likes that he can get his dick as far into you as he can while also holding you down with his own body so you cant do anything but take it. (yes he does like overstimulation.)

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

He’s never too serious about anything, he’s a spiderman. With that being said he’s pretty humorous in bed. He likes making jokes to tease you, he especially loves mimicking your moans inna high-pitched shrill voice then laughing at your unamused face.

Dont mock him though, he’ll stuff your mouth with his fingers (or his dick) so you cant crack anymore jokes.

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

He shaves himself carefully so the hair is low around his actual dick. He has a very neat happy trail that he loves. He also shaves his balls, not by anyone’s request, he just likes it.

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

His eyes are almost heart shaped when he looks at you during sex. He’s never enjoyed it more with any other person.

He’ll rub your body affectionately, whisper sweet things to you. Especially if he’s about to cum. If you tell him you love him while he’s in it, he’ll cum on the spot.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesnt do it often at all, finds it a waste of his time to touch himself if you’re not touching him.

But he will do it upon request. Maybe he’s out being spiderman and cant come see you that night, he will absolutely duck into an alley way and pull his suit and pants down to send his partner a video of him stroking it.

“I miss you baby.” He mumbled under his breath, running his thumb over the slit of his tip. His other hand is holding the phone, Hobie trying his best not to shake.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Orgasm denial

Sit him down and stroke him. Promise him you’re gonna let him cum and talk all this big shit until his dick starts twitching in your hands, then pull away at the last minute. Then start the process all over again. He’ll get so desperate that he will BEG you to let him cum. Bonus points if you tie his hands up. Bonus bonus if you use his webs.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Hobie feels pride in fucking you in the most inappropriate places possible. Top of a building, backstage at a concert, on a balcony, he’ll do it all. And if you’re a spider person too, he’s definitely successfully fucked you on Miguel’s moving platform thing.

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

Seeing his parter show no regard for rules (within reason) is one of his biggest turn-on, its the anarchist in him. Pirating movies, keeping pets in your apartment when you shouldn’t, or stealing little things from franchises he knows are corrupt. One time he bent you over in the back of a Hobby lobby because you pocketed a couple items.

Also seeing you in his clothes gets him going really fast. Seeing his partner in a alternative sub cultures in general gets him going.

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

He wont hit you. He might slap your ass or something similar, but he wont hit you near the face. He’s against choking too, it just makes him feel weird. If he’s drilling you particularly hard, he might grab your face, like his hand holding your cheek/chin, but never your neck.

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

Hobie is a giver!!! I firmly believe he gets his tongue pierced JUST so he can give you head with more efficiency. He’ll hold you down and go to town for hours.

But he does love receiving too. He likes his bj’s real slow and attentive. He likes when you run your tongue up and down the shaft slowly, taking him in your mouth with care. Really take your time with him and he’ll cum hard.

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

That depends on the mood he’s in. Usually he’s more focused on getting deep then going fast, unless you tell him to speed up. If he’s had a particularly rough day, He might pick up the pace.

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

He’s a spiderman, and he likes having his cake and eating it too, meaning he’ll fuck you whenever and however he can. He gets especially turned on when he has to keep his hand clasped over your mouth while he’s fucking you.

“Sh sh sh, you’re doing so good, stay quiet for me.”

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

Like I said before he loves the risk of trying not to get caught, more so because he likes seeing the fear in your eyes, his spidey senses keep him on top of when people are walking by, but you dont have that.

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

He can go 4 or 5 before his dick starts to get too sensitive. He’ll get a little whoozy and whiney after that. If you keep pushing him to overstimulation he’ll get really loud and shaky.

The question then becomes whether you can actually get him to cum again. He quite possibly might start shooting blanks or pass out all together.

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

He doesn’t own a single toy. He doesn’t see the need to before or after he meets you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He LOVES to tease you. He’ll make you ask for what you want, crack jokes, mimic your moans. He loves the reactions he gets from you.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” He asked, curling his fingers inside of you.

“Yeah yeah yes~“ you moan, eyes shut and jaw slack.

“Yeah? Yeah?” He mimics, horribly recreating your tone. He smiles as the way you open your eyes in a glare.

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

He groans a lot, like deep in his chest guttural groans right in your ear. He isn’t super loud unless your overstimulating or edging him.

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

He loves to talk. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing sexually, Hobie will talk during it. The only reason why you wont mind it is because he does it well.

“Y’ look so pretty taking my dick like that.”

“Louder, I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, you keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna cum~”

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

Comic book Hobie isnt that tall, but Spiderverse Hobie is huge. I hc his dick is longer than it is thick, maybe 7.5 inches.

He’s a shower not a grower, one of the reasons why his spiderpunk suit has pants.

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

He’s on go at almost any time of the day. Give him some time in between to recuperate and he’ll fuck you a couple times a day if you’re up to it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Hobie gets up immediately after sex to take care of you because if he doesn’t, he’ll fall straight asleep. He falls asleep so quickly after sex that he’s almost embarrassed about it.

One time he was hitting it in missionary and the two of you had cum together. He pressed his face in the crook of your neck as he came and the two of you sat together in silence for a while after. At least thats what you thought. Once you pushed on his shoulder to get him to pull out, you realized he was fast asleep.

[cece693]

Stupid Crush (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

This was something that suddenly came to mind and I couldn't help myself :) Hope you enjoy it.

Summary: It wasn't just the fact that Nico had to reveal his crush on Percy in front of Cupid, but when your boyfriend, the twin brother of said boy, was also in attendance, Nico's life was destroyed.

tags: Nico confesses his crush on Percy, however he's dating you, reader is Percy's twin brother, things get angsty 😈

Nico’s heart pounded in his chest as Cupid’s mocking voice echoed around them, his magic coiling around Nico's soul like a noose. Jason stood on one side, his blue eyes wide with concern, while you—Percy’s twin brother and Nico’s boyfriend—were on the other. Cupid’s voice dripped with cruel amusement, cutting through the silence like a knife. "The truth, Nico di Angelo. Tell them who once held your heart."

Nico’s throat closed up, his worst nightmare unraveling before his eyes. This was the moment he had fought so hard to avoid—the truth he had buried deep within himself, even from you. But there was no escape now. Cupid’s magic tightened, pulling the confession from his lips like a venomous secret. "I…" Nico’s voice cracked, his fists trembling as he clenched them at his sides. "Percy Jackson."

The air in the room shifted. Your breath hitched, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He knew what he would see—shock, hurt, betrayal, the crumbling of the trust you'd built together. The pain he’d been dreading. "What?" Your voice came out in a cold, broken whisper.

Nico swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "It was before I met you, before Percy got with Annabeth. I thought—" He stopped, the words turning to ash in his mouth.

But you could read between the lines. Now everything made sense, how Nico easily allowed you to befriend him; you weren't special, just a boy who shared the same face as someone Nico loved. Loves. "So, let me get this straight. You're only with me because my brother didn't return your feelings? Am I just your consolation prize?"

Nico’s head snapped up, panic swelling in his chest. "No! No, it’s not like that!"

Your eyes narrowed, fury replacing the initial shock. "Really?" you spat, taking a step toward him. "Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you settled for me when you couldn’t have Percy."

Nico’s voice wavered as he pleaded, desperate to make you understand. "I didn’t settle! I chose you because I love you. That crush…it was stupid. It doesn’t mean anything anymore!"

But Cupid’s laughter echoed again, cruel and jagged like shattered glass. "Ah, but old feelings never truly die, do they, son of Hades?" The god’s voice teased, his presence hanging over them like a storm. "You can hide it, bury it, but the truth always has a way of surfacing." Nico had never wanted to strike down a god as much as he did now. "Now that the truth is out," Cupid continued, his mocking tone fading as his presence disappeared, "I'll leave you to deal with the consequences."

Silence fell, but the weight of Cupid’s words lingered like a blade pressed against Nico’s throat.

"You played me." Your voice, thick with unshed tears, barely above a whisper but laced with so much pain that it felt like a physical blow. "You say you love me, but if Percy hadn't chosen Annabeth…if he had even shown the slightest interest in you, would you still have ended up with me?"

Nico froze, the question like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to deny it, to say that nothing would have changed the way he felt about you. Perhaps your friendship did arise from some misguided crush on Percy, but as time progressed, Nico fell in love with you. You. But even then it took time for him to distance who you and Percy were, sometimes it even stunned him how much you were alike, so if Percy did magically return his feelings, would Nico fall for you? His silence seemed to confirm your suspicions as your expression hardened.

"That’s what I thought."

Jason stepped forward, trying to break the tension. "Guys, come on. Maybe we should—"

"Stay out of it!" You snapped, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. Jason took a step back, helplessly looking between you both, understanding that this was something beyond his control.

Nico reached out, desperate to grab your hand, to stop you from slipping further away, but you recoiled. "Don’t." Your voice was quiet but firm, the finality in that one word shattering the last bit of hope Nico had. "Just…don’t."

Nico could only watch as you turned away, disappearing into the shadows. Jason hesitated for a moment before following after you, leaving Nico alone in the cold, empty chamber, the weight of what he had just lost settling deep in his bones.

When the three of you returned to the Argo II, the change in atmosphere was immediate. Gone was your usual bright demeanor, replaced by hollow eyes and the kind of blank expression that spoke of barely contained pain. Nico, too, was different. His usual quiet presence had shifted into something darker—his shoulders slumped under the weight of regret, his face pale as if he were just moments away from breaking.

The others exchanged worried glances but said nothing as you silently headed toward your cabin. The slam of the door reverberated through the ship, causing everyone to flinch, even Nico, whose eyes lingered on the door as if willing it to open and for everything to go back to how it had been. But it wouldn’t.

Hazel was the first to break the silence. "What happened?" she asked, her voice soft, her gaze fixed on Nico. When he didn’t respond, avoiding her eyes, she looked to Jason, who merely shook his head, pity etched across his features. "Nico," Hazel pressed gently, her worry growing. "You can talk to us."

But Nico didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, letting the shadows around him rise, and within moments, he was gone—leaving the others standing in silence.

Days had passed, but to Nico, each one felt like an eternity. Every hour that dragged on without your voice, without your gaze meeting his, was a torment he hadn’t anticipated. The coldness that had settled between you was suffocating. Whenever Nico approached, even just to be in the same room, you’d find some excuse to leave. He could sense it, the way you tensed whenever he was nearby, the way you averted your gaze, as if looking at him was too painful. And that hurt more than anything—knowing he was the cause of it.

The others noticed the growing distance between you two. The worried glances exchanged over meals, the whispers behind his back. Jason and Hazel, in particular, kept trying to reach out, but Nico had shut himself off. What could he say? How could he explain the rift when the mere thought of it made his chest ache? Even Leo, who usually cracked jokes at the dinner table, had grown more subdued, as if the tension in the air had smothered his usual cheer.

Nico couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to fix this—he had to at least try. He couldn’t stand the silence, the void that had replaced the closeness they once shared. So, one night, when the Argo II drifted quietly through the sky and everyone had retreated to their cabins, Nico ventured out onto the deck. The night was cool, the stars twinkling above like distant, indifferent observers to his misery. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

You were there—alone, standing at the edge of the ship, staring out into the horizon. For a moment, Nico just watched you, his heart aching at how much he missed simply being near you. He could almost imagine everything was fine—that you were waiting for him, that you’d smile when he approached, kiss his forehead, and mention how he needed to take better care of himself.

Gathering his courage, Nico stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the deck. "Can we talk?"

You stiffened at his voice, but didn’t turn around. For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a sigh, you spoke, your voice devoid of the warmth Nico so desperately missed. "I don’t know what there is left to say."

Nico’s heart sank, but he pressed on. "Please, just let me explain."

At that, you turned to face him, and Nico saw the exhaustion in your eyes. The sleepless nights, the weight of betrayal, all of it etched into your features. "Explain what, Nico?" Your voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a coldness that made his chest tighten. "That you were in love with my brother? That you settled for me? That I wasn't your first choice? Do you think words are going to fix this?"

"No," Nico whispered, stepping closer, his voice strained with the weight of everything he wanted to say. "No, I don’t think words can fix it. But I never meant to hurt you. I—" He paused, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words. "It was a crush. A stupid, meaningless crush. I didn’t choose you because of Percy. I chose you because of you."

Your eyes flickered with something—anger, hurt, betrayal—but you didn’t waver. "Then why didn’t you deny it when I asked you? Why didn’t you just say that nothing could have changed how you felt about me? Why did you hesitate?"

Nico opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t known what to say back then, and even now, he was at a loss. How could he explain that moment of doubt without sounding like the worst kind of person?

"You see?" You shook your head, your expression hardening. "You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t just second best. But, do you know what hurts the most? It’s not just that you had feelings for Percy. It’s that a god had to force you to tell the truth. If Cupid hadn’t intervened…how long would you have strung me along? How long would I have been in the dark while you carried this secret? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I—" Nico started, his voice faltering. "I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. It was just a crush. Something stupid. And I thought I’d gotten over it, I swear." He took a step closer, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I grew a crush on Percy when we were younger—when I first came to camp. He was the hero. Brave, kind...everything I wasn’t. And I thought, maybe if I could be near him, maybe I’d feel like I belonged."

Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he remembered those days, the confusion, the hope, and the loneliness that had followed. "But it wasn’t real. Not like what I feel for you. Percy was this…this idea in my head, someone I admired from afar. But you—" His voice broke, his eyes locking onto yours with desperation. "You were real. You saw me for who I am, all the broken parts, and still cared. What I feel for you isn’t some crush or fantasy. It’s love. I love you."

You shook your head, your face twisted with both anger and pain. "But how am I supposed to believe that, Nico? After everything? How do I know you aren’t still lying to yourself or to me? You say it’s love, but how do I trust that?"

Nico felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He couldn’t lose you—he couldn’t. "I’m not lying," he insisted. "I swear it. On the River Styx, on my mother, on Bianca—on everything I hold dear—I love you. I don’t care about Percy anymore. What I had for him was nothing compared to what I feel for you."

The solemn weight of Nico’s oath filled the air, the magic of the River Styx sealing his words, making them unbreakable. The sky seemed to darken for a moment, a rumble of thunder far in the distance, confirming the binding nature of his vow.

But you didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Your eyes, once filled with love, now only reflected the deep wounds left behind. "Maybe you believe that, Nico," you said softly, but the coldness in your voice made it clear that something between you had shifted, something that could never be undone. "But I can’t anymore. I can’t keep going, wondering if I’ll ever fully have your heart. Because that shadow—the one you said lingered over you—it’ll always be there, won’t it?"

Nico’s breath hitched, the weight of your words crushing him. He wanted to scream, to beg, to prove that you were wrong. That there was no shadow, no lingering doubt in his heart. But his silence, that hesitation back in Cupid’s lair, had already broken something vital between you. And now, no matter what he swore on, no matter how much he begged, you didn’t believe him anymore.

Tears pricked at Nico’s eyes as he realized that he was losing you, that you had already made up your mind. "Please…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please don’t go."

You looked at him for a long, painful moment, and Nico thought—hoped—that maybe there was still a chance. But then, you shook your head, and turned away, leaving him standing there, the solemn weight of his oath ringing hollow in the night air. Nico felt the cold wind biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that had settled deep within him as he watched you walk away. Alone, once again.

[httpscomexe]

Runaway

Summary: You’re a mutant, a hybrid actually, and hybrids are big in the market. So when the x-men find you, you’re considered a priority.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: Mutant trafficking, violence, descriptions of gore, kidnapping, death, blood, language, alcohol, some drug mention. (Individual warnings per chapter)

Word Count: 4125 (Find all chapters here) CH2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

“Hey. Come on out.”

You’ll never understand why everyone hated mutants. Everyone found them disgusting, revolting, a descendant of satan. It was bad, the way the world was turning out. They wanted mutants either murdered or locked up, as if you didn’t all have emotions just like every other being. You had them stronger, but we’ll get to that later.

You were scared to go into public, your trust for humankind growing thinner as every day passed by. You really thought they were all horrible. That was until you met the best human on the planet.

Matthew.

He was into the whole “you’re created the way you are for a reason,” and “All lives matter, even the mutants.” He even had a whole hippie van, a Volkswagen to be specific. Painted a sky blue with a little rainbow design on the front bumper to show he meant peace.

You occasionally go out with your friends, and they’d smoke week and drink whiskey while you stared into the fire. Only joining them when they “meditate to lift their spirits and become one with God.” Whatever that meant. But he didn’t want you to let them know you were a mutant. Apparently he didn’t want to cause a scene or make a big deal out of it. You found it sweet at first, but after a few months of it happening, you wanted it to stop. You wanted his friends to just accept you for the way you were. A mutant.

You weren’t a vicious mutant. You’d never hurt anybody in your life. Well. You have. On accident.

But he didn’t know about that. He knew you were an introverted mutant that wanted nothing to do with the world. Sometimes you’d want to just end your pain and misery, but that would only boost every human's ego, and kill the mutants.

You’ve thought about leaving without a word also, maybe even going to the ‘X Mansion’ at some point, but you weren’t sure that they would accept you.

You were more than a mutant, you’ve been told that enough times before.

You’re a freak.

You were born wrong.

Your parents knew you were going to be born a mutant. The tail and large ears on your scan showed that, but they still had you, even knowing you would be tortured the rest of your life.

You’ve been in and out of rings, forced to fight other mutants, but you’re always immediately bought by another rich fuck. Apparently your cute little deer tail and big ears were sexually arousing for them.

But you’ve gotten lucky, always being bought out by another rich old white dude who offered more money to the last.

You also got lucky when the last guy had a heart attack, old age got to him. So you got away, and you met Matthew.

Matthew.

He spoiled you. Buying everything you loved, and everything you showed him. He loved you. Adored you for who you are. You were happy. You really believed that not every human was bad, that maybe there were some good people in the world.

Money was more important to him in the end though.

When you told him you weren’t ready to have sex with him, he was more than just angry…

“You fucking bitch!” You scream as his hand collided with your cheek, the force sending you to the floor, landing hard on your ass, bending your little tuff of a tail. “After everything I’ve fucking done for you, you can’t even just fuck me once!?” He shouts down at you before grabbing your fluffy ear, pulling you back up to your feet. “Fuck it, you little fucking freak, I’m calling mutant control.” Tears were already streaming down your face, and you didn’t have it in you to bother crying for him not to call them, the line was already ringing on his phone, the sound was distant but yet it felt so loud in your ears as he explained that a mutant with a tail and large ears was in his apartment. Then you heard it.

“Oh good, someone finally found my doe…”

You’d recognise the voice from anywhere.

“I’ll offer you 32 million.”

Of course, he never got the money. Instead, he received a bullet to the head, and he got to be meat for some dogs. Part of you felt bad, but whatever.

That brought you to now though. Curled up in the back of a dog kennel, a red collar around your neck with a little taser on it if you didn’t behave.

“Hey, come on out.” The voice tells you. The man dressed in black had a large gun on him, the same one every other guy was wearing. “I said come out!” He raises his voice, and it startles you, making you basically lunge out of the cage and he quickly pulls you to your feet and shoves you forward.

It was feeding time. And of course, they made fun of you by throwing a large bowl of freshly picked greens in front of you on the table. AKA, grass from the front yard.

How funny.

So no, you haven’t eaten since you got there, about 5 days ago. But you weren’t the only mutant who was in the warehouse. There were about 15 others, each of them with unique abilities or as the humans would call them, “Deformations.”

There was a guy you got along with, his name was Peter. Or that was the name you gave him. His skin was scaly like a lizard, and his tongue was naturally split, his pupils horizontal. He was an animal mutant, just like you.

Alongside him were a few other mutants, one that spat fire, his tongue always taped shut. A girl that could see into people's minds, a blindfold on her eyes.

Everything that you were all born to do was restricted, your powers all held back.

“Eat you fucking animal.” The man nudges you with his gun, but you continue to slouch over, ignoring him. “I said fucking eat!” He smacks the side of your head, and tears threaten to fall. “Fuck it.” He mumbles, grabbing a handful of the grass, little pebbles of dirt still attached to it before attempting to shove it into your face, trying to force you to eat the fucking earth.

“Let, GO!” You shout, pushing him as hard as you could, then picking up the bowl and slamming it over his head. But just before he could knee you in the stomach…

“You fucking-“

“Hey, don’t hurt that one.” The Russian voice comes to the fucking rescue. Again.

He’s wearing the same robe, basically a KKK onesie with a red line down the middle, along with his stupid fucking hat that made him look like a pedophilic blinged out pastor. You were sure he wasn’t allowed near schools.

“This one is my prized possession.” He stops in front of you, and you swear he’s gained a few inches in height. You wouldn’t doubt he wore heels. “Isn’t she just adorable, so feisty for a little deer.” He chuckles, and you want to punch him, but you instead clench your fists at your sides. His hand reaches up to stroke your ear, something you’ve grown to hate. And after a moment, he tugs it, forcing you to your knees, ignoring your pained cry as he continues to hold your fluff tight in his fist. “Okay little girl, I’ve had just about enough of you… if you want to starve, then fucking starve…!” He growls, throwing you to the side, and not a moment passes before two large hands from different men are gripping your arms and taking you back to your room, quickly tossing you in your cage.

“What’s in here?” The voice sounded young, a woman. Not a voice you’ve ever heard before. But it startles you awake. “I don’t see anything.”

“Wait what’s that?” You sit up, pressing your back against the metal of the cage.

“Take the cover off.” Some footsteps approach your confinement, and your ears pin to the back of your head. If you were a dog, your tail would surely be tucked between your legs as a hang grips the plastic sheet covering your cage, and they move the cover away from the front of the kennel, slowly so as not to scare whatever was inside.

“Is there anything?” You scoot further to the back of the cage, not wanting anything to do with whoever it was, you couldn’t see any of their faces. The bright light behind them was only casting a silhouette in front of you. The one who opened the cage, a man, was huge. He was at least 6 feet, and his hair seemed to peek in two places like kitty ears.

“Yea, a hybrid.”

“A vicious kind?”

“I have no idea, you look.” He steps aside, and another person steps forward, a woman with red hair. “Hey there, we're not gonna hurt you.” She tells you, using a key to unlock your cage. But you still don’t trust it, moving further against the back of the cage, you were sure there would be lines on your back from the pattern of the cold metal. “Hey, hey, hey…” She speaks softly, trying to calm you, but you weren’t going to give in. Not again. “We’re here to help you…” She opens the cage door slowly, and gets onto her knees to appear smaller. But you don’t move, you only seem to compress yourself further against the grate, and you see her sigh. “Hey can you dim the lights so she can see us better Ororo?” She turns around, asking another woman about the lights, which she swiftly moves to adjust the lights. Now you could see all four of them clearly.

The girl in front of you had red hair, she was pretty, and she was wearing a blue and green suit. Ororo had white hair, along with a matching white suit. Then there was a man standing near her, also wearing some tight spandex looking suit, but he also had goggles on his eyes, it stood out at his other features. But then there was the larger man. His little cat ears were just his hair, combed to sit like ears.

“We’re mutants too…” She tells you, staring into your eyes. Your ears are still pinned to the back of your head, you didn’t care that they were mutants, you’ve been betrayed enough. “Sweetie, we need you to come out…” She holds her hand out, and you flinch, making her flinch also. She was scared of you too. “Logan, we’re gonna have to grab her.” What? You look around frantically, but of course, you didn’t have anything to use as a weapon.

The man you assume named Logan walks up to the cage as the orange haired girl backs away, then the other man with the goggles speaks.

“Wait.” Logan stops, turning around to look at him.

“What?”

“Maybe just back away from the cage, she might feel more comfortable that way.” He tells Logan, and you all watch as he slowly backs away, all of them creating some distance between the cage and their bodies, Ororo blocking the door in case you try running.

You hesitate at first, but you slowly move to all four, cautiously crawling out and your ears twitch slightly, listening for any sound of movement as your eyes dart back and forth between the group. As soon as you’re out of the cage, you begin to stand to your feet. You were smaller than them. Much smaller. But you’re smaller than everyone, you were an animal hybrid after all.

And you weren’t just a deer, you’re a fawn.

You look between them, and they can tell you’re still scared. Your ears weren’t as low as before, but your body still stood stiff.

“So you’re a deer hybrid?” The voice comes from your right, Ororo. She crosses her arms to appear less threatening before she takes two steps towards you. But you don’t back away, you only tilt your head curiously. “Are you able to speak? Can you understand us?” She stops about a foot from you, and you nod your head slightly, still not sure about them, but your trust was growing for Ororo. “What’s your name?”

“Who are you guys?” You finally whisper, your throat sore from not talking for too long.

“We’re X-men. We’re here to save you, and the other mutants in this warehouse. Have you heard of the X-Mansion?” You nod, and cross your arms over your chest. You’ve never bothered with the X-Mansion, always figured it was some sort of trap for mutants. Hell, the four people standing around you didn’t look like mutants.

You look around the room again, your eyes only stopping when they land on Logan. You recognize him now. He’s the Wolverine. And you weren’t sure why, but you seemed to be… attracted to him. Not romantically, but just attracted. You suddenly felt safe as you looked up at him, not even realising it when you took a few steps closer to him, your tail wagging just once, a natural indication that you were at ease, something of course that only deer do.

Apparently, you made it obvious that you felt safer around him. It wasn’t the tag wag, the ears coming up, or the way your pupils filled the entire shape of your eye when you were excited. It was clinging onto him suddenly. Throwing your arms around his waist and holding onto him like your life depended on it. Which honestly, I probably did.

He wasn’t excited for the mission, he wasn’t nervous for the mission. He just wanted to get the mission over with. Obviously, he cares about the people he saves, the mutants. He’s gone on hundreds of missions before, considering his age. So another rescue mission, only 15 mutants, was nothing big to him.

He got into his suit, pulling the yellow costume over his body until it settled nicely before working on his boots, lacing and tying them tight.

“Are you excited for the mission? I heard these mutants are a bit more unique.” Ororo asked him, crossing her arms and staring at him from the doorway as she leaned against the wall, watching as a puff of smoke leaves Logan's lips, the thick cig in his mouth about halfway done.

“You’re saying that like we're opening a pack of pokemon cards, Ororo.” His voice is gruffy. He had just woken up, being told he was replacing another person who wasn’t feeling well. He wasn’t up for it, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

“We basically are.” She shrugs, taking a step into his room, putting the pad of her index finger on one of the knife's Logan had displayed on his desk. “I mean we don’t know what kind of mutants were getting, but if we get one powerful enough, we use them in battle. One smart enough we use them in the mansion, one special enough…” She pauses, sighing slightly. “We don’t let them go.” She finishes with a smile, pulling her finger back, a spot of dust now lying on her dark skin. “So yea, we’re basically opening a card pack.”

“Well, hopefully the enemy doesn’t have a Mewtwo wrapped around their fingers.” He groans as he picks up a bag on his ground, tossing it into his bed before zipping it open and looking for his favourite dagger.

“You know Pokemon characters?”

“I’ve been alive for 200 years, of course I know a few.” He tells her, it felt like more of an admission though as he finds his favourite dagger. A silver one, adorned with yellow diamonds, an engraving of a Wolverine on one side of the blade, on the other side was a girl's name next to his, right after it the word ‘forever’ was carved into the silver. The sight made him sick, not out of disgust or anger, but out of sadness as he remembered the girl.

The love of his life.

She was gone. Another person he loved, that he let down that day…

“Hey, are you still there?” Ororo knocks on his skull like a door. “Where’d you- oh-” He shoves past her, not bothering to engage in conversation with her just yet.

The jet lands with a jolt, everyones body rocking slightly with the impact on the ground.

“We’re here!” Scotts voice announces from the front, shortly after, Jane is walking ahead of him and to the door of the jet where she puts in a code on the wall's keypad, unlocking the door which hums as it opens.

The smell wasn’t exactly what Logan had expected when the door opened to vast woods, some night animals scurrying away at the sight of the four mutants. He expected the smell of wood, leaves, maybe even some animal scat or death. But that’s not what he picks up at all, he finds something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He can tell none of the others could smell it.

Animals. And not just any animals. There were lizards, birds and a few others. Most hybrids were reptiles or birds, the normal. Then there was something different. Some sort of… mammal. He’s never met another mammal.

They find the warehouse door, two men with large weapons standing at the entrance, cameras at every angle. He knew some of the cameras were props, only set up to scare people. Only one of the outside cameras actually worked, which made sneaking into the front entrance incredibly easy, the only obstacle being the two men.

Once they were in, the four of them searched the building.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!” A group of the men, all dressed in tactical gear we’re lined up with their guns pointed at the four of them.

“Give us the mutants, and we won’t have to kill you all.” Jean steps forward, Logan's claws extracted slightly, Scott begins reaching up, and Ororos fingers twitch. The mens guns lift slightly.

“This is your last warning, leave the building, or we will be forced to shoot!” He puts his hand up, fingers out and flat, telling his men not to shoot yet.

“Okay, you asked for this.” Was the only warning they receive before Jean throws all of them against the walls, some of the dropping their guns.

Scott lasers a few of them, taking his time as a few of them get punches to the throat, and Ororo creates a fog that blankets the entire room, hiding the real weapon.

Logan moves through the fog, slitting throats and cutting legs to make men fall to the ground. One of the men, a little harder to kill, manages to block one of Logan's punches, his claws becoming lodged inside of the man's forearms, emitting a loud scream from his throat as Logan attempts to pry his claws out of the man's arms, he keeps moving, also trying to pull away, which only made his pain worse. As the flesh in his arms turns to a thick jelly continues to move back and forth with the six claws, the metal begins sawing through the man's arms, the sound could only be described as a dull knife cutting through an orange with bones, blood splattering everywhere everytime the man would move, his vitality soaking the worn tactical jacket like a wet sponge, dripping down onto the floor and covering Logans white shirt with a crimson pulp, and it soaks into the concrete below them like rain. Then the man's limbs seem to disconnect, only held on by the thin of his skin and some severed flesh. The man screams with tormented pain, the fog seeming to move to his breath leaving his mouth as it swirls to the sound, to Logan's annoyance, he ends the man's screams with another claw to the throat, his body falling to the ground with a loud thump before Logans moves onto the next man, killing them all off until there was no one left.

“Are they all dead?” Ororo shouts as she dissipates the fog, leaving a humid scent to the air.

“I think so?” Logan answers, checking his shirt and grunting when he realises its soaked in blood, making the rotten liquid stick to his skin.

“Fuck Logan, think you over did it a little?” Scott motions his hands toward the floor, another man is sitting on his knees, seemingly attempting to scoop up his organs, intestines spilling out of his stomach like an overfilled spaghetti bowl.

“He’s fine.”

“He’s not gonna be fine.” The man continues to try holding in his organs and intestines, eventually falling onto his side, curling up and hugging his large intestine into his belly, as if it would help.

“Well now he’s not fine.” Logan growls, motioning his hand towards the man as his mouth drops open, allowing more blood to pool onto the floor, reddening the cold stone under him.

“Scott, you come with me, Ororo you search under those covers, Logan, you get the rooms.” Jean orders, even though Logan was in charge, but they all listen.

Logan goes from room to room, but has no luck in finding anything other than some classified papers that he puts his lighter to and some porno magazines in one office which he flips through a little before burning that too, watching as a models tits turn black before completely burning away, and he sighs heavily, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thick cigar.

“Not in here Logan.” Ororo whispers, but speaks normally when she turns on the light in the room, and then she points to the back of the room where a large cage was placed in a corner. “What’s in here?” She asks him, wondering about the room a little.

“I don’t see anything.” He grunts as he stretches slightly, then the other two enter the room.

“Wait what’s that?” Ororo points to the corner of the room, and some movement could be heard from under the covers.

“Take the cover off.” Jean nods towards the cage. Logan walks towards it, his heavy boots thumping on the floor. His hand reaches for the cover, and he takes a big portion of it into his fist before slowly tearing it away, careful as not to scare whatever might be inside.

“Is there anything?” Scott takes a few steps towards him, Logan's eyes are trained on you. Just a girl, sitting in the cage, back pressed against the cold metal confinement. There’s more conversation, but you don’t listen to it. You were more focused on watching them, ready to fight if any of them lunged forward.

“Yea, a hybrid.” Logan speaks, looking down at the creature.

“A vicious kind?”

“I have no idea, you look.” He steps aside, letting Jean step in front of him to get a good look at it.

“Hey, hey, hey…” She reaches into her pocket, taking out a blood covered key that he assumes she found on a body. “We’re here to help you…” She tells the hybrid, her voice soft so she doesn’t startle it. “Hey can you dim the lights so she can see us better Ororo?” Ororo listens immediately, dimming the lights in the room, and Logan notices the way you squish yourself against the back of the cage. “Were mutants too sweetie, we need you to come out.” She held her hand out, hoping you would grab it, and as you flinched, Logan’s claws extract just slightly. “Logan, we’re gonna have to grab her.”

“Wait…” Scott warns.

“What?”

"Maybe just back away from the cage, she might feel more comfortable that way." They all exchange looks, but they listen, Logan backing away, but he’s ready to run if the girl starting running.

He watches as you crawl out, your large ears pinned back, your little tail tucked. A deer hybrid. He realises, his head tilting slightly.

He doesn’t listen to the rest of the conversation, only staring at you, scared, small. But he does notice the way you seem to only grow against him, occasionally taking a step back towards him, he could tell you were only comfortable because you recognized him.

And he loved it.

“Let’s get her out of here.” He tells the team, stopping whatever conversation they were having. “Before the enemy backup comes.” He huffs, then his arm gently wraps around you, but he leads you, letting the rest of the team walk ahead of the two of you while he holds onto you.

“You’ll be alright…”

[invaderzia1]

You want to talk about Astarion? Well ask and you shall receive😏

This one is a little NSFW so just a warning. But I think Astarion has a thing for necks. Of course, yes he is a vampire and all that, but feeling his partner tenderly brush the sides of his neck or planting kisses on it? He's putty.

Not that it even needs to be sexual or during sex. It could just be while cuddling and he feels soft kisses going up his neck just filled with unconditional love and support. Maybe it's because his partner is a bit shorter than him, so they kiss his neck when they can't reach his face. It reminds him that someone loves him no matter what.

However, he is absolutely a big fan of it in bed. Deep thrusts and moans that are from deep within the soul and he starts to feel them kiss and lick at his neck. It starts off so soft, clearly kisses made of love. Then it starts to evolving into sucking, leaving light hickeys that weren't thought about too much in the heat of the moment. Some of them are deep and more visible, sometimes of accident and other times on purpose. It doesn't really matter to him other than you're marking him in a way he's okay with receiving.

He can't see the hickeys left on him, so he doesn't bother to cover them up. He enjoys it even more of his partner is embarrassed by it.

Not to forget, but he loves doing the same to his partner. We all know this man bites and the bite marks are hot. He could leave them in other places (and he does) but his partner's neck is his favorite. Getting to mark his love as his, AND getting a little snack out of it? What's not to love?

When relearning intimacy, he definitely tries choking. It's not his favourite, but he does enjoy it from time to time. This one took quite a while till he was comfortable in experimenting with, but he ended up liking it. He doesn't need to breath, being a vampire and all, but it's mostly the principle of it to him. Watching his partner above him move their hands from his shoulders to his neck for a comfortable position gets him going pretty hard. Not to forget the fact his neck is just a little bit more sensitive than other's, so it's definitely an erroneous zone for him. He likes giving it to his partner, but only for brief amounts of time. He doesn't exactly remember how long a person can hold their breath for and he'd rather not find out the hard way.

Aftercare is as always, caring, soft and adoring. He takes extra time checking his partner, especially around their neck. He usually just takes a moment afterwards to stare at it, seeing the marks he left, it gives him a wonderful new look on life. It tells him, "I own this, this belongs to me and I wouldn't want it any other way."

MDNI

About his own neck, he’s so cautious about it. Both because it’s sensitive but also it’s where he was bit, so he needs to deeply trust you to let you near it. I would say it takes a few years for him to allow you anywhere near it.

Your neck, is another story. Loves to leave marks and nip at it, especially if yours is also sensitive. God, if you make cute sounds when he kisses at your neck it gives him such an ego boost. It isn’t even completely sexual either. There’s something about seeing his teeth marks in your neck that gets him as well, seeing you not cover them up completely and walk around town with them fuels him.

Literally loves aftercare and it’s one of his big rules for being intimate again is aftercare! I stand by this!!!! But anyways, he’s always making sure you are alright. Especially if things were more intense, so he keeps an eye on your neck if he had been feeding on you. He probably reads so much on how much air a person needs and throat muscles and tries to get super technical so he can better understand.

God, could you imagine giving him neck kisses, it would have to be soft at first. Can’t overwhelm him and have to go at his pace, but the first one. How breathless (I know vampires don’t NEED to breath but) he gets and so soft. It just feels so good to feel your lips there AND to trust you won’t hurt him. He would be putty in your hands, all that attitude he has melts away and he can’t form a sentence for a bit.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Headcanons for Finnick Odair in the bedroom...

Finnick holds a lot of trauma, repressed shame, anxiety, fear and worry around sex. Due to him being forced into prostitution by Snow after he won the games, sex became quite traumatic for him. He was trafficked and every day, the effects still haunt him.

He trusts you so he opens up to you about this, about these issues and my god, your heart breaks into one thousand little pieces.

He's open about it and has learned to talk about it and he tells you awful, horrid stories about his experiences. You cry with him, reaching out with kind hands to wipe his tears away and kiss him on the forehead.

"We don't have to, Finn... Not until you're ready and if you're never ready then that's okay. I want you to be comfortable and if you never want to have sex, that's okay but please just let me know. Tell me how you're feeling and what you're comfortable with."

He can't tell you how much he appreciates you saying that. The love, awe and admiration he has for you in that moment is overpowering.

He likes to kiss you and for a while, that's as far as he'll take things. He wants to go further, god, he wants you so bad but he's just not ready. You understand and you don't push.

When he is finally ready, my god... it's the best night of your life.

He's tentative at first, slow hands relearning skills he hadn't used in a long time but muscle memory exists and soon, he's confident and smirking.

He kisses you everywhere, head between your thighs with a skilled tongue. He grips your thighs as you lose control under his touch.

When he raises his head, he's smirking big and wide.

"You taste divine, gorgeous. Absolutely intoxicating."

He could spend hours between your thighs. He gets off on getting you off; he loves knowing how good he makes you feel, loves knowing that it's him that makes you feel this way.

He's a perfect mix of rough and gentle.

He doesn't overstep, if you're not comfortable with rougher sex, he'll keep it passionate but if you are comfortable with rough sex then get ready to wear his hand like a necklace.

He'll push your head into the pillows as he fucks you from behind, moans getting trapped in the sheets of the bed as he leaves red handprints on your ass.

He likes he tease you so denies you of orgasms until you're a screaming, sensitive, quivering mess.

He likes tying your hands up, using them to hold onto as he fucks you from behind, likes leaving you defenceless so that he can ravage you.

He'll leave love bites everywhere, he's possessive; he likes when other people know that you're his.

Breeding kink one hundred percent. He likes filling you with his cum, likes pushing it back inside you with his fingers and his tongue if it dribbles out of you.

He likes risky sex in public places; likes the excitement of the risk of someone seeing.

He gets jealous sometimes which results in hard, fast, possessive sex anywhere; against a wall, over a table, in a bathroom... anywhere.

[goosita]

no no billy taking you out on his horse and showing you the reigns but it’s a bit hard to concentrate with him and his wandering hands pushed up behind you

oh my god you don't understand this is peak romantic fantasy for me on GOD

riding around out in the fields with billy because he has a day to himself, and he wants to spend it with you.

and we all know billy loves his horse, and he's so good at riding the animal and taming it. he asks if you wanna go out with him for a ride and you're reluctant at first. of course, this is the wild west. lots of people know how to ride horses, it's a huge mode of transportation. but...you had never spent that much time around them. you lived in town and didn't tend to stray from there, and your interactions with the animals were mostly limited to carriage rides where someone else was in control.

"c'mon angel, it'll be fun. promise," he says, giving you those imploring blue eyes all round and wide. you agreed, knowing that billy would never let anything happen to you. not that you were scared. just a little uneasy, is all.

but then the afternoon comes and he's got you sat comfortably right in front of him in the saddle. his chest is warm and solid against your back, your bum is settled nicely in the cradle of his hips and his thighs, keeping you right there against him. your hands rest on the saddle horn while his arms are resting around your waist, holding the reins.

lady, his horse, wanders around where he guides her. she's a pretty horse, white with speckles and she's very calm. you can tell that her and billy have a quiet kind of trust between them.

"see?" he grins, leaning his head down to peck your cheek. "not so bad, is it?"

and it's not. it's not bad at all, really. you can tell your thighs might be a little sore later from the unconscious way you're clenching them to feel balanced, but this is actually kinda nice. the sun is perched in the middle of the sky, warming the fields and your skin. bugs and wildlife are buzzing around you as you ride, and billy seems so relaxed and content behind you.

"you wanna take the reins for a bit?" he asks, patting your thigh and giving it an affectionate squeeze. he likes to do that, give you these little pets and caresses sometimes. just because he can.

"oh...um....i don't really know-"

"nonsense, it's easy. here." he cuts you off gently, placing the leather reins in your hands. he explains to you what actions the horse will take as cues, and you don't dare do anything but encourage the animal to keep on moseying forward like she had been. billy chuckles softly at your hesitance, but he doesn't make fun. he lets you do what you're comfortable with.

you try to focus on directing lady where you want her to go, but it starts to get harder when billy's hands slide up and down your outer thighs slowly. you know he's probably not trying to distract you or rile you up, but you can't help the way your body and mind react to his touch.

billy rests his chin on your shoulder and hums, some silly little folk tune he must have stuck in his head. you can feel the vibrations of his voice against your back and it makes your tummy flutter with butterflies. no matter how long you and billy have been together, even little things like this make your heart stutter like a lovesick teen with a crush.

"you're doin' great, honey," he murmurs, and you can feel his smile against your cheek where he still rests over your shoulder. it makes you feel better, the praise. you like it when he praises you, even for little things like this.

his hands begin to wander, though, and you're not sure you can stay focused on controlling lady. billy brings his hands up to your hips, his fingers dipping into the waistband of the pants he'd loaned you to ride in. it's not inherently sexual, the way he's touching you. a little intimate to be touched out in the open like this, a little against decorum, but you're alone out here anyway. he strokes your skin softly, adoringly, like he just wants to feel you under his fingertips. as much as you like it, it's too distracting.

"here," you blurt, handing him the reins back. "can't think straight with you around." it comes out more playful than scolding, though, and billy chuckles.

"alright. whatever you want, angel," he tells you, pressing another kiss to your cheek before taking over again.

let's talk about billy, baby!

[roolette]

Smoke NSFW alphabet

You guys don't understand how much I need this man.

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

He holds you in his arms and does not let go (unless you want to, but seriously, who would want to?). He's probably taller than you, and let's be real, he's a big teddy bear. He'll worry if he was too much, and you run your hands through his hair, comforting him. It's safe with him.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

He likes his arms. They're strong, and can easily lift you up. As for you, he likes your eyes. Yes, he knows that's cheesy, but let him be a romantic. He can get lost in your eyes, just staring as he realizes that this is real, and you're his.

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

He wants to cum in you, if you'll let him. He likes the way it drips out of you after you're done, and it just feels good to cum in you. If you don't want to, no worries, his pull-out game is strong. He'll cum on your chest and guide your finger through it, leading your finger to your mouth.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants you to take control. As much as he likes being in charge, he'll easily turn into putty in your hands if you let him. Hold him by the jaw and make him look into your eyes, praise him while he eats you out, and tell him exactly where to put it. Trust me, he'll love it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's fairly experienced, but not with something as loving as you two. Navigating this relationship is a new, exciting thing for him, and he wants to give you the best he can.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Missionary, and no it's NOT boring. He likes being able to look at you while he's inside you, and he likes the closeness the position lets him have. He'll run his hands up and down your body, kissing you and holding you, whispering praise into your ear.

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

He'll accidentally be goofy while trying to be serious, which turns into a lot of laughter and love.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Happy trail happy trail happy trail happy (I am forcibly dragged off stage)

Anyway, he has a happy trail and I'm barking at the walls rn, so let's move on.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Oh, my God. He is so loving and romantic. Constantly praising you, kissing you everywhere. Also, he usually gets you off first before he focuses on himself. He wants to see you come apart in his arms, it's the best for him.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He doesn't jack off much. He's a grown man, and besides, he has you. Save the semen and all. Still, sometimes you're busy, and his mind and hand can't help but wander. He whines, by the way.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise. He'll praise you all the time, but PLEASE, praise him in return. Tell him how good he's being for you, and he'll melt for you. Call him a good boy. Tell him he's yours.

Biting. Mark THE FUCK out of his neck, thighs, chest, wherever. He'll wear the marks with pride, no matter how many sideways glances he gets.

Breeding. Look, he may not be ready to be a father, but he's going to fill you up with his cum and tell you how he's going to knock you up, make you his.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In your bed. He wants sex to be something special between the two of you, and he feels the most comfortable there. Sometimes he can be persuaded to fuck you against the wall during training, which is fast and rough. What can he say, seeing you fight is hot.

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

Sit. In. His. Lap. Do it, just do it, trust me. Give it two seconds, and he'll be hard. Running your hand through his hair will also do it.

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

He does not like to be called "daddy". It feels weird to him, especially if he happens to be older than you. Besides, he prefers more... submissive pet names.

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

This man is a MUNCH. He especially likes it when you sit on his face, and he will hold your thighs down to make sure you don't squirm or move off of him. All or nothing. He'll tongue fuck you and kiss your clit, swallowing every drop. As far as receiving, he's hesitant. He wants to fuck your face, but he worries he'll hurt you, so it takes some persuasion. Once you get into it, though, he's gripping your hair, moaning above you and telling you how good you feel.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow most of the time, he likes to take his time making you feel good. Except after training or fighting. Get him while he's sweaty and excited, and you'll have him bending you over and fucking you on the nearest surface.

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

Not the biggest fan, as he prefers to take it slow. Still, sometimes he needs you, and he'll take you quick and hard.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He worries about hurting you, but there are a lot of things he wants to try. Just talk to him first. Explicit consent is sexy!

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

He can LAST. He loves overstimulating you, and will go until you're gasping and gripping the sheets. If you have the time, you can go for a couple rounds.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He'll hold a vibrator to your clit while he tongue fucks you. He sees toys not as a competition, but as an assistant.

Strap on. He takes you so well.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He tries to tease, but he just wants to give you whatever you desire, so being a brat with him will probably lead to some confusion. What do you mean, "make me"? How is he supposed to make you?

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

Man is VOCAL. He whines and moans, and he is talkative, babbling to you about how good you feel. Tell him to shut up, though, and he's quiet.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Can lift you up easily, and will pick you up and throw you on the bed. In a non-sexual way, he'll sometimes just pick you up and carry you on his back.

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

He's thicker than he is long, and uncut. The first time you had sex, there were some worries you couldn't take it, but don't worry, you took it well.

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

He thought it wasn't that high, really. Then he met you. He wants you as much as he can have you. This sort of hunger is new to him, but you're happy to satiate it for him.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He wants to stay up talking to you, and he tries, but it doesn't take long for him to doze off with you in his arms. You press your ear against his chest, feeling his heartbeat as he falls asleep.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Games Played

As children, we learn to play the Quite Game.

It's rather simple. You scrunch down real small, ball yourself real tight, and find the bestest most hard to reach hiding spot you can! Then? Oh THEN, children, we all get really, REALLY quite. Until mummy or daddy find you. And no matter what, no matter WHO, you Do Not Move, until THEY come and find you.

Not for treats. Not for hugs. Not for threats or scary noises.

No. Matter. What.

To the others, it was a game. But to me? Born just a bit... different? I looked my parents in the eyes, saw the fear that lived there. That hunted them and haunted their dreams. I watched the way they acted. Guarding me. Never letting me wander. Keeping me between them as they slept. Holding me, shielding me. Both whispering their lessons, their love, each moment they could.

And I knew it was no game.

I was an obedient child. Perhaps that is why I lived, where others did not.

Or perhaps? It was my vague, half remembered, knowledge of this world. To be more exact, the chronological series of Otome games, set in this world. Endless streams of political and social clusterfucks, that cast the map into conflict after conflict, all for the selfish romances of a few. Pseudo-historical straight to pseudo-modern magical realism.

Clans of mages. Elves, werewolves, the whole shebang. All trapped in an endless cycle of conflict. Sometimes silent, sometimes open. Always, soaked in blood.

But hey... at least the Protagonist is happy! Right?

We should be furious. We should HATE them.

Our Clan? Did shadow magic. Unfortunately. Because unsurprisingly, Otome troupes ran true, and we? Have a complete Edgy Little Fuckboi as our Clan Heir. Worse still, I RECOGNIZE that Edgy Little Fuckboi! The fucking chuunibyou is a romance target!

I'm sorry, I was under the impression the Clan Heir's job was to KEEP US ALL ALIVE! Not get your DICK WET! But, my bad! My fucking MISTAKE! How COULD I have BEEN so foolish! You go on, then! Just piss RIGHT off, and leave the rest of us to suffer, while you chase SOMEONE ELSE'S GIRLFRIEND!

Fuckwit!

Ha ha.... oh god. We're all gonna die. Aren't we?

We should trust Alphard. No one else understands us.

Everyone? Absolutely fucking EVERYONE? Waves it off. 'Just a phase' and 'he's young, he'll get it out of his system'. As though the problems doesn't run deeper. As though the Clan Head isn't an old man, barely holding us together. As though he isn't planning to hand it all over to a chuunibyou who refuses to sit still and LEARN ANYTHING. Who picks fights he expects US to win for him. Expects US to die for him.

So he can look 'cool'.

Alphard is basicly running this place. But does the Clan Head care? No. Because Alphard is a 'half-breed'. Because ALPHARD has the audacity to be, what? Fire Mage?! Oh dear god! Not ANOTHER GROUP OF HUMANS!? Gasp! Shock! Someone call the fantasy church! Fuckers.

Ooooh but their TEMPER! Everyone knows how UNSTABLE they are!

We should show them 'Unstable'. Make them regret what they've done.

'Bout to see up close and in person MY 'temper' and 'unstable' fuckin BOOT, old man!

No, I don't care if that made sense! Shut up! Fuck you! I get to be upset, okay!? This is nepotism and it's dangerous! And... and NO ONE LISTENS TO ME! It's like they're merrily marching towards a cliff and calling ME paranoid for pointing it out! Telling me to calm down. To stop exaggerating. It's a CLIFF!

The only one who listens? Is Alphard.

Alphard is our friend. Alphard listens to us. We should Trust Alphard.

Storming towards his office, shadows writhing in my wake, I seriously wonder. Would I have gone completely apeshit by now with out him? Left the clan? I don't know how he can bear it. The weight of their stubbornness. Their wilful blindness, which IS going to get people hurt. Killed. Probably already fuckin has.

How many more clansmen do we have to LOSE?

They'd tucked him away in some side wing, like some dirty little family secret. I'd always hated it. Big whoop! He gets two powers instead of one! Jealous ass little shits. It was fear and politics. I KNEW it was! He refused to say so, but I KNEW. And no amount of pained smiles and changing the subject would make me drop it!

It wasn't RIGHT.

God, the more time went on? The angrier I felt about it. The more it burned me. Ate me up inside. It's like my temper just...? Gah! Fuck this and fuck THEM! We don't need them! We should leave! Just the two of us. Go and never com-!

.....wait a second... that's not... right....

My head pounds with the worst sort of migraine. Shadows hissing like angry cats, as they crawled viciously around my head. Chasing whisps of something they can't seem to catch. I stopped between hallways. In one of our Clan's many, MANY shady areas. Leaning more into the darkness... helped. Made my head hurt less.

God, I've got to talk to talk to Alphard about this. It's starting to really worry me. The anger, the snarling flare ups, the dark moods. Not to mention the obsessive thoughts. It wasn't like me. Might be a curse? Maybe. Could be fire magic or related, so he would know. And if not? Well, nothing beats Fire for burning curses away.

....actually, Light, might. But we are A PROUDLY BIASED household here, thank you. So like? Not gonna SAY Shadow magic is BEST magic... BUT it absolutely, totally IS. And Alphard? OBVIOUSLY the greatest Fire Mage alive! No I will not be taking questions, thank you and goodnight.

We should see Alphard, we miss him.

Yeah... yeah I do really miss him, dont I? Where is he?

My head throbs viciously. Ow. It's been getting worse. My control too. My shadows fighting me at every turn. Which? Scares me more. Because YEAH, others? Have been big on the 'beat them into submission' tract of Shadow Mastery. But ME? No, no. I know for a FACT. You can not rule through fear. Not for long.

Bribery and alliances work wonders. Friendships and love. My shadows get FED. They get CUDDLES. I take my shadows for enrichment walkies and give them interesting puzzle boxes to play with. They fuckin LOVE me. Would meat thresher through CITIES if I asked.

So to suddenly Stop Listening?

It means they think I'm... I'm not myself. They are making the executive decision to act on my behalf, to protect me, even if they have to do so FROM me. And... and I don't know what's causing it. Don't know what's wrong or how to fix it. I'm getting scared.

Because something is very wrong.

Everything is fine.

Another wave of vicious hissing, of throbbing pain in my head. This time though... THIS time? I think I felt that. The discordant thoughts. The contradiction. That isn't me. There's something in me head that DEFINITELY isn't me! No there isn't. No WONDER my Shadows are so pissed! Fuck!

I stick to the darker hallways. It helps with concentration, the pain. Whatever is in my head? Is like sticky, burning, spiderwebs. Like trying to grab at thin lines of super heated metal, covered in tar. How... how LONG has it all BEEN there?

You should leave it. You don't know what you're doing. You could get hurt.

Oh fuuuuck YOU. Get out of my HEAD! Where is Alphard?

I stumble down the final hallway to his so called 'office'. It was a guest room once. As a kid, I helped him convert it. Back when the old fuck refused to step down, despite his son and heir, the next clan head, being DEAD. And? AND!? That Heir's fuckin chuunibyou kid being a tiny, insufferable, brat.

We get it! You're hurting! EVERYBODY'S hurting! Your fuckwit parents got HALF THE WARRIORS KILLED! We STILL haven't recovered from that. And Edgy pants goes on and ON about the 'glory of his ancestors' as though? He's not talking about his PARENTS. One generation fucking BACK!

That family ORPHANED me. But do you see ME starting shit? No!

Yet? God forbid the Old Bastard do what's RIGHT for the Clan! No, no! Between a literal infant, a FUCKING ZYGOTE, and a fully grown adult? Better pick the baby! Who CARES that Alphard was the better choice!? Chuunibyou brat is BLOOD! And we CAN'T have the 'half-breed' nephew in charge!

Better connections? More accomplishments? Fully trained and, once again, AN ADULT? All irrelevant. He's too fucking well liked! Too TRUSTED! Too much a THREAT to your precious little legacy and hold on power. So hey, fuck the rest of the Clan! Right? Why would WE need competent leadership!? You can just shove all the work you can no longer DO, on to Alphard.

Force him to rule in all but name. All but honor and title. Spit in his face then tell him to thank you.

Bastard!

He isn't there, in his over crowded office. Piles of paperwork. Empty tea cups, long cold. Mismatched pillows I'd stolen from around the compound, to make it feel less depressing. His classy art pieces mixing with my cheap, shitty ones. The souvenirs I'd brought back, again and again, because I do not forget my friends.

My head hurts so bad. How long has it been building?

Another wave of pain, as my Shadows hissing and growl in outrage, writhing like electric snakes around me. Safe and stronger, here in the unlit office of a friend. They want 'it' out. Hunt and hunt, but can not catch hold. How strong must the caster be? Older then me, probably. Far more experienced. I've been pretty diligent.

They'll stand no chance, though, against Alphard.

He's the best curse breaker I know. Honestly? He's the best at a lot of things. It's been great to learn from him. And he's? Gonna lose his SHIT. He already worries when I go out without him. But to find out somebody slipped a curse on me? Ooooh, shit. I'd almost laugh, if my head didn't feel like it was in a VICE.

Man's gonna feed them their KNEES.

As a PASTE.

.......I wonder, now that I think about it? Looking around the crowded office space? If Alphard has any pain meds? He SHOULD. There's no way in hell, he deals with chronic stupid all day without headaches. He should? Definitely have something for this. Probably. Might not actually FIX it, since it's magic based, but it can't HURT.

Decided, I get up. Slowly. Spread my shadows out. They love doing simple, achievable, tasks. Like 'find the box!' Or 'open this puzzle!', usually for treat rewards. (Cup time, usually. Or bits of my food. But honestly? They LOVE cup time. They like to hide under it and push it around the floor. Each group of them have favorite cups.)

Nothing but paper, cups, snacks, a couple piles of pillows, and a coat I had forgotten. Huh. Maybe his desk? Would make the most sense I suppose. It'd be on hand. Head and neck, one big regret, I stiffly shambled over. Organized chaos. More nonsense and damages caused by chuunibyou and his sycophants, in the name of luuuuuv~. God damn it.

At least no one died... this time.

I tear my eyes away from the top page. The one next to it? Shouting reports. Elves: pissed, werewolves: pissed, everybody: pissed. Guess who's fault? Oh fantastic! So THAT'S why he's not in his office. Probably trying to keep us all from dying. Another report after that. Protagonist-chan.... wow that's unflattering. Word it a little harsher, why don't you?

My eyes absent-mindedly keep scanning, as I look for a med box. Some sort of pill bottle. Something that might hold headache medication. Nothing on top of the desk. Drawer? Should be top right one, right? Since he's right handed? Easiest to reach. Let's see... pens, pens, spellwork paper, brushes, mints, bottle! AaaHAH! I hold it up to what little light there is and squint.

Wow. That's pretty strong. And not just for headaches.

.....should I have a talk with Alphard? Probably. Maybe? Definitely keep an eye on this. Don't wanna be jumping to conclusions, here. Still! Helpful. Down the hatch!

I pop back one of his pills, stealing one of his fancy tea in a can. He may complain, but we both know he won't stop me. Nor does he even mean it when he does. I'm like this sorta needy, demanding, housecat. I wander in, eat his food, tell him to pay attention to me, then wander off. Should have known better then to feed me, that first time~! He got stuck with me ever since.

Briefly a burning wire escape my grip. We should-Stop THAT! I beat it back down. Violently. It's taking a lot more concentration, more pain, then I'd like to admit, to fight it. Damn near wack a mole in my brain. There's no-CEASE! Desist! You are NOT welcome! Get! GET!

The pain meds are definitely helping. A LOT.

In fact...? Huh. Looking around? Without the pain to distract me? Those... aren't my shitty art works. Not the meme-y ones I bought, that I thought he'd like, nor the pieces I made in various art classes. They're just...? Random cheap art.

What the fuck?

Was Alphard ROBBED? Also? Where are HIS pieces? That one with the lady and the clearing? The couple dancing near the lake? That little statue? It's all random snobby fake art. Like someone wanted to give the IMPRESSION that nothing had changed, but had cleared out everything personal...

Alarmed. I looked down at the can I grabbed. It was the kind he offered to guests. Kept for me. Because... because he couldn't STAND it. Too sweet. Tearing the mini fridge back open? Nothing but cheap tea cans and teas he hated remained.

I slammed it closed. Urgently reached for the tea cubbies. Fancy LOOKING teas. The kind Alphard always makes fun of. Quality is in the tea, not the pretty pictures on the box, he says. His tea is GONE. Worse? MY drinks are gone! Why are MY drink-? The coat!

My hand snaps out. The coat flung into it by my shadows. The instant it touchs my palm, I know it is wrong. Too rough and too new. Some modified mimicry that my shadows could tell apart from the original. It's not their fault. They don't have senses like mine. I stare at it, feeling a building sense of panic, before look back up at the room around me.

Is... is ANYTHING where it should be?

Gaze snapping from place to place, shaking as the panic starts to swallow me whole, I realize... No. Not a single thing. It's all staged. Made to LOOK like nothing's wrong. When... when everything IS. Oh god. Where is Alphard? What the FUCK have they DONE to him?!

I drop the coat. The drink. Adrenaline slamming into me like a truck. Slamming the door open, I flood the hallway beyond with writhing, furious night. I AM Shadow and it IS Me. We run. Hunting, hurting, FURIOUS. If they have hurt our friend? If they DARE have-!

A howling whistle splits the night, closer, Closer, BANG. The compound rocks with the force of the explosion. The wards hiss to life like great titans of black sand. Ink dark, they nerely block out all light. Casting eerie spell light over the buildings below, as lights flip on. More whistling. Booms.

We are under attack.

For an instant, I am torn in two. Half of me? Demands I find my friend. They other half? Knows that I must protect the Clan. We stand together or we DIE together. Loyalty wins out. My parents, Alphard, the people I care about, they would never forgive me, if I abandoned my post now.

I turn from my hunt. Race towards the ward stones out front. I'll have to help the others reinforce them. Lend the Clan my strength. As long as they can't get in? We should be-

The wards SHUT OFF.

Even as I run, fast as I can, I watch with horrified eyes... as they slide back away. No. No no NO! They should do that! That CAN'T DO THAT! That's IMPOSSIBLE! Those are SEIGE Wards! Built over generations! Hundreds of mages poured power into them! Went over them with pin prick combs! They don't 'malfunction'!

Oh god. Please, God, NO!

Did someone SHUT THEM DOWN?!

Ahead, the sounds of violence and chaos draw near. Above, I can finally see what's raining down on us. It's war magic. FIRE war magic. Thrown from air ships, who's spotlights bathe the compound in a terrible, all consuming light. All the better, to prevent our Shadows from reaching even a single one of them.

Someone told. They didn't know about that limitation to our powers before. Our front gate! Open! Traitor, traitor, TRAITOR! WHO!?

Across the chaos, the bloodshed and death, familiar color catches my eye. Explosions and spotlights light him from above. The airships blades, kicking up leaves and dust. That familiar, familiar color. From his Father.... the fire mage.

Alphard stands so calmly, one hand still resting on the command stone for the wards. As chaos reigns around him. The pleased little smile on his face, the one he wears, when all his plans come together, ever so nicely. No. Please. No.

His eyes are so cold. So flat.

He feels nothing as they die. Doesn't even glance, at the kinsmen desperately calling his name. Dying at his feet. He... he doesn't look away. Just raises one hand, one finger, and...

"Shhhhhh~ Be. Good." He says, utterly silent in his betrayal.

My world shatters.

I run.

Slamming my palm against the evacuation alarm, sirens begin to blare. It's over. It's all... all fucking over. How could he? H-How COULD-? Grief wants to choke me, blind me, but I don't have the TIME. I have to get out. Survive. I.. I can cry later. Mourn for the friend I THOUGHT I had, later. I trusted him. FUCK, I TRUSTED him!

I skid around the corner, heading towards the closest exit. Gotta grab my bug out b-!

Shadows in the darkened hallway surge, up and over, like a heavy hand slamming down. I barely drag myself out of the way. Lose my footing as I do. Go crashing to the floor. Scrambling, I turn as my shadows hiss, only to be met with deeper rumbling thunder. Shit. No!

I try to get up. Fling my self up into a run. Only to meet a shadow formed backhand. Smashed, thrown. Finding myself slammed back, onto the floor, wheezing. The air knocked out of me. Lightly, dark shapes takes form. Alphard stepping through blank and barren wall, using the Shadows under his control as a medium.

Not a hair out of place.

Just the two of us.

Alone.

"Why the rush, mischief?" He teased lightly, as though my world was not collapsing, all around us. As though my best friend had not betrayed me, betrayed US, to our doom. Up and down the hall, sirens blared. "You look upset."

I snarled. Grief and betrayal twisting into something ugly in my chest. Hand whipping out, I aimed for his fucking throat.

"Ah~, you're mad. Is this because I didn't consult with you first? Mischief, there was so much to do! You know you hate all those boring political meetings. Alliance work and archival research. Sweetie, there were stake outs! You hate those."

Effortlessly, he leaned out of the way of my attacks, looking amused and unbothered as he continued to speak. I RAGED. Screamed. Taking chunks of the wall behind me, to use as projectiles. Anything. Anything, anything, ANYTHING! Just HURT, damn you! TRAITOR! How COULD YOU!?

In the distance... the haunting, damning, final cries of my kin, as the died.

I Trusted You!

"I know~" he laughed, as though nothing had changed. As though this were a fucking GAME! "It was so easy, too."

His voice became two toned in a way that could only be magic. One that was heard, one that was felt. One that... that I had...! Realization did not crash. It seeped, like the cold and fatal poison it was. His betrayal was not NEW... was it? Not SUDDEN.

I... I had been betrayed long, long ago.

No you weren't. Alphard loves you~

How long had he been in my head? He was my magical instructor. I had hated the Clan's main teachers. Right? DID I? Could I even know? H..How much? For HOW LONG?! I was a CHILD! Had no defenses against the manipulations of my mind! Would you really stoop so LOW?! Was ANYTHING real!? ANY part of out friendship-!?

I choked, on the sob I refused to let him have. He... he didn't have the RIGHT.

"Oh, Mischief." He said, sounding mournful as he strolled easily through the ruins I had created around us. "Don't cry. Shhh, shhhh. It's okay, dear. You're upset. This is upsetting, I understand that. But we will preserver, overcome, and together? We will get through this."

We? There was no 'WE'. N-Not anymore. Not after THIS.

"Oh but that's where you're wrong, Mischief." He breathes out, like the confession of the truely insane, his voice soft. Yet, somehow? Bonechilling in how loud it seemed.

"I get you."

"That's the first thing I demanded, after all! No more idiots. No more dead weight. No insults, fools, or brats I can't break! Ha ha! Just me and my Mischief! Free at last! And all it cost me? Was my chains. Best of all? All the idiot Fire brat wanted for it all? Was his 'competition' out of the way! Ha ha ha! Gods bless, usefull fools!"

He stood before me now. Head thrown back, hand over his eyes in disbelief, as he laughed and laughed. Unhinged with his euphoria. With the machinations, that had lead to his victory. And... and I could not recognize him. This... this monster wearing the face of my best friend. I felt numb. Cold and far away. I... I just... I wanted to go away... please, God. Far, far away.

Stop it. Please, Alphard... Stop it...

P-please...

My shadows curled around me. Battered, torn, but ever loyal. They would not leave me. Not even now. Not even to save themselves. Weakly hissing. Thrashing, trying, in their own small ways, to appear bigger and stronger threats then they were. In... in the vain hope that... that the thing that was hurting us? Might believe them.

Might leave me alone.

I had never felt so unsafe, surrounded by the shadows sworn to my once friend. How many times? How many times? Had I fed and played with these very Magics? Snuck them charcoal? Interesting toys to burn? Creatures of fire and shadow. Massive and rumbling, the very Shadows that once played with my own... now tore them apart.

It burned. Hurt. Who...? WHO was this man? This monster? That wore my best friends face? I couldn't... I can't... please! God, please! Don't make me do this anymore...

My mind, somewhere between delirious and screaming, for some god forsaken reason? Reminded me of the Quite Game. I... I wondered, terrified and full of grief, if the children would know to run. Not to wait, for parents that... that would not be coming. Not this time. Not ever again. All because of this man.

The smoke on the breeze terrified me. Everything terrified me. How? How could I possibly hold so much fear? How could there possibly be MORE? Just as I think I can not feel it anymore deeply. Once again, Alphard teaches me I am wrong. This... this is not how he, is... is supposed to be... how WE are...!

"Oh sweetheart, mischief, darling..." He again attempted to sooth, hand slipping away from his face as he rolled his head down to peer at me. Kneeling with almost boneless fluidity. "None of that. No more tears. Alphy's here, okay? I know change is scary. And you're upset and confused. But Alphy loves you just like always, and nothings gonna happen to you, alright?"

"Remember how you wanted to travel before? See those festivals? Go abroad? We get to do that now! Alphy can take CARE of you, now. Properly. Get you all the things you deserve. It'll be great, Mischief. No more stress or tears. Cuddles for days. You'll love it, I promise."

From beneath his feet, spreading like a terrible rot, black fire spread. It didn't touch me. Couldn't, as it seemed to reach, with greedy hands, down the halls. Consuming the only home I'd ever known in this life. Consuming everyone it touched, if the distant sounds of panic, were any indication. He was killing them all. Friend, foe, what difference was there?

Everything burned.

Numb, I could only sit there, before the stranger I thought I'd known.

"Our love story's been a long time coming, sweetness. My perfect, beautiful, Mischief~♡. Once we're free? We'll never look back. Have the happily ever after we deserve. Let the rest of the burn."

"I'm so glad I found you, Mischief. So glad I made you mine. It's going to be beautiful, darling. I promise. You'll thank me."

"Now come here, to Alphy. We're gonna play a game~♡"

[iguessitsjustme]

I don't think Diew is getting enough credit for how good of a communicator he has been this entire show. I know God is upset right now because he thinks Diew is just going along with him and isn't saying when he doesn't want to do something, but we have been shown time and time again that Diew does not do things that he does not want to do.

From the very beginning, Diew has had no problem establishing firm boundaries. It's the main reason that we all call God a giant green flag. Because some of Diew's boundaries could have been ignored and called ridiculous, but they never were. God went out of his way to make sure he did not see Diew face to face because he knew Diew was not ready for that. And he knew Diew was not ready for that because Diew had clearly communicated and established his comfort level.

We even see it outside of their relationship when Diew tells Jane no. Even after being pressured by her. Even after she bullies him. He tells her no. He also tells her that he does not view friendship the same way she does and he's perfectly happy with the few close friends he has.

Diew and God had a wonderful conversation last episode when God was making Diew uncomfortable with how he was treating him while on their vacation. Diew waited until an appropriate moment when they were alone to bring it up and God sat and listened. Even if he felt a little defensive because no one wants to be the reason their loved one is uncomfortable, he listened, he apologized and he fixed it.

Which is why it was so painful to see Diew incapable of communicating to God when it came to Dr. Pee. We all watched those flashbacks and know how poorly Diew was treated by that man. But I think the most telling thing for how badly it affected Diew and how much he still struggles with it is that he did not tell God. Not because he didn't want to, but because that hurt is still so deep that he could not.

God has every right to be upset. Not only does he have Pee telling him falsehoods about Diew and how Diew just goes along with whatever which tugs and one of God's insecurities, but God also does know that Diew lied about how Pee was to him. That one little lie that Pee was just a senior opened the door for God to believe what Pee told him. Despite all of the communication that those two have had, one little worm of doubt found it's way into God's brain and now he doesn't know if he can trust Diew's feelings for him. God still fully trusts Diew, but he doesn't know if Diew truly loves him or loves Pee. We all know, but God does not. And when God gave Diew the opportunity to say anything and Diew did not, the worm buried itself deeper. Then buried itself deeper still when God called out Diew on his lie and made assumptions about the bracelet and instead of telling him anything, Diew left.

What I love about this conflict is there is no right or wrong person. They are both flawed human beings that are hurting because they love each other but they don't know how to approach this issue yet. Because Diew is traumatized by Pee and is shutting down whenever he has to be vulnerable because of Pee but God has no way to know that. So it just seems like Diew is shutting him down and shutting him out. Were there ways that both of them could have avoided this conflict? Absolutely. Diew could have said "This is a hard topic for me to talk about. I want to tell you but I need time to be ready." God could have not made assumptions about the bracelet being given to Diew by an ex. But that's not who they are. They are both flawed and beautiful and in love and sometimes being in love makes things certain things harder and makes people behave irrationally.

But I fully believe that these two can get through this. Please don't break up. And once they make it through this conflict, they will have a better understanding of each other and will know exactly how to handle similar conflicts going forward. Because that's the thing about this conflict. They need to work through it as a team. As partners. And if any couple can do that, God and Diew can.

[lilislegacy]

So a lot of people talk about Percy becoming darker and crossing lines in Tartarus but I think a less talked about moment is when Percy got Bob to “kill” Hyperion. One of the reasons this moment is so startling is not just because we don’t view it from Percy’s perspective but because of how much a similar path Percy has been taking to Luke recently.

One of the reasons I think Percy really hates Luke for most of the first series despite I think mostly agree with him is that from his perspective Luke was the type of person to use his relationships with people as leverage. Annabeth, Thalia, Silena, even Percy. He was willing to use people’s trust and affection as a tool to further his goals. And Percy who values loyalty above all else, finds that to be a evil trait of his.

I don’t think in the end Percy hated Luke but that was the aspect that he may have unconsciously drew between them.

Then in Tartarus we have Percy using his friendship with Bob to manipulate him to “killing” a relative while hiding info from him.

It’s a really dark turn that I sure wish was addressed or followed up on!

The poison control is whatever, but this is the real moral tightrope.

this is really interesting

and i agree! i’ve always thought the reason percy hates luke so much, and hates being compared to him, is because luke betrays and manipulates people who trust him. percy himself, who’s defining trait is loyalty, thought luke was the first person in the demigod world to be his true friend. and then found out luke’s generous “gift” to him was meant to drag him down to the darkest pits of hell. that’s… pretty extreme betrayal. then to find out luke willingly poisoned the entire camp - his former home, his family’s home - is beyond percy’s understanding. then not to mention everything he did to annabeth, and thalia, and grover… luke is a traitor, which is the exact opposite of percy’s moral structure. hence percy never wanting to be compared to him.

but like you said, percy is a lot like luke in many ways, whether he likes it or not. however, i will say that when luke asks others to do things for him, it’s for his own personal agenda. but percy asking bob to kill hyperion was so that way percy and annabeth could make it out alive and save the world. so i have to give credit where credit is due. percy had overall good intentions.

BUT, as much as people don’t like to admit it, percy can be a real asshole. the fandom likes to make percy into this sensitive, emotional, defenseless little girly pop who’s favorite activity is braiding hair. (they also make him dumb). and as much as i do love sensitive guys like that, it’s not canon percy at all. percy is usually a sweetheart, it’s true. he’s a gentleman; very kind, funny, and reliable. but percy is also a tough ass dude. he’s rough around the edges. that was the whole point of seeing him from other POVs in HoO: percy’s view of himself is NOT how anyone else sees him. he grew up in freaking new york city. he skateboards and gets into fights and cusses like a sailor. he has an unpredictable temper, sarcastic humor, and doesn’t put up with anyone’s shit. he’s the reckless, quick-to-anger, super powerful half-god son of poseidon, and he’s done some really harsh things. there’s a reason people find him intimidating as hell. and as loyal and kind as he is, and as much of a mama’s boy that he is, he can also be really insensitive to other people’s emotions. remember how he treated upset annabeth in BotL? remember how he treated nico… many times? remember how he was an asshole to leo? and to jason? it’s just that sometimes when others are going through hard things, percy kinda seems to have a “ok and? we all go through unfair shit” mindset, or just doesn’t even think about it. he does realize this about himself in tartarus, which is why he feels so bad for using Bob in the past, and being unappreciative of Nico. as percy grows, he becomes a better man. but he’s still not the sensitive and emotional type, and can be really damn ignorant.

so i definitely think you’re onto something when you talk about how he used bob. and while i don’t think it’s the same as luke, percy has done things - harsh and insensitive things - similar to luke. a realization that would probably send percy into a dark place.

[leeknow-thoughts]

sfw and nsfw with minho, seungmin and jeongin?

i love your brain!! I wrote this as poly!menaceracha I hope you don't mind!!

SFW ! :

they're so silly oh my God, you never get a moment of peace >:3

they always bicker with each other, roast battles are constant background noise

they love each other tho, trust !!

cuddling is hard with four people on one bed so normally you cuddle one of them while the other two cuddle in a different room

minho is the clingiest

but he will always deny it

they're all pretty independent and relatively introverted so sometimes they just need to be alone, which is understandable

they're all teases, always teasing you and trying to make you blush

jeongin likes buying gifts for you and his hyungs

seungmin and Minho are much more into quality time tho

so the 4 of you going shopping and going out to eat is the perfect date (Jeongin is INSISTING on paying for both, but the others never let him)

oh oh oh princess treatment is reallllllllllllllll with these 3

they honestly don't even realize they're treating you that way ???? They are literally just being themselves istg

like Seungmin is always cleaning up your house bc he HATES messes, like he CANNOT peacefully exist in an unclean space

Jeongin is always handing you his black card?? oh oh oh especially if you're getting your nails done, he will genuinely be upset if you DON'T spend his money (he also does this with Minho and Seungmin!!)

oh oh oh and Minho just takes care of you in small ways?? carrying you if your feet get tired, tying your shoes, making you drink water, and giving you massages after you have long days

yeah they're all so lovable <3

NSFW ! :

i call em meandom!Racha too (and for a reason)

they're so cruel???

always throwing you around when you make them mad???

also also also face and pussy slapping!! :3 yum yum yum

i can't talk about Minho without calling him mommy, sorry guys every time Minho gets mentioned with NSFW I HAVE to call him mommy it's in my blood istfg

but yeah, Minho is mommy <33

believe it or not he's the nicest, which is a relative term in this situation, but you get what i'm saying !!

don't get me wrong, he's def gonna spank you and make you choke on his cock,,, but he's also gonna finger you on the couch while you lay your head in his lap, praising you and being soft

the other two tho???? good luck babe!!

ofc the other two can be nice in the bedroom

but most of the time they aren't and that's ok bc you like them that way

Jeongin = daddy

he is the youngest of the guys but he fucks like he's the oldest :33

chat this may not make sense but HEAR ME OUT minho is a service dom, he just loves serving you and making you feel good

jeongin and seung are the opposite, they just treat you like a fleshlight

oh oh oh and seung is the cruelest :c will literally end a session without letting you cum :33

[raayllum]

Sometimes I think about the gap between the thematic perception of a theme/character versus how they themselves perceive the same thing. There's not too many gaps routinely like this in TDP except for antagonists — Karim comes to mind most notably, in how he earnestly believes he's doing the right thing with no pretense while becoming increasingly hypocritical — nor are all these gaps negative, per se.

But I think about it in regards to Rayllum a lot.

For example, in their actual relationship, they're pretty healthy. Rayla in particular has struggled with open and honest communication, but they're getting there, and we see that Callum has given her an unconditional, rather than an ultimatum base, upon which for her and both of them to build upon. They can teach really good lessons about taking time for yourself so you don't yell at your partner, that you have to work on yourself and a relationship won't fix your problems, that approaching things together is good and that you should support one another, etc etc.

However, thematically — identity wise — they are codependent to a super intense degree, wrapped up and incredibly dependent on the other person's construction of their sense of self (Rayla struggling to be a good person when she's reeling in the S4 fallout, because what does she have to show for it? Callum trying in 4x07 to push them both into their worst roles if the worst comes for him). And this codependency as well as intense desire to protect one another can cause them to make dangerous or self destructive choices in the name of love (or both), like Rayla leaving to protect him and luring Sol Regem away, or Callum doing dark magic and jumping off the Pinnacle.

Thereby, playing with this push and pull, how they exist and perceive themselves vs how they exist in the narrative (and may be seen as other characters) is well, a lot of fun.

This is also true for the "Rayla as Callum's method of destruction and salvation" theme that's been running through every season of the show, with Rayla being the lynchpin to burn down his old life / understandings of self and trust, and usher in new ones.

Callum doesn't see his relationship with Rayla as anything negative, ultimately; she's loving and brave and she saves people, she saved him, and he saves her right back. He'd do anything not to lose her, because that's the Right Thing to do to him, even if it's not automatically 'the right thing' for the rest of the world's safety.

But we know, thanks to their pattern (1x03, 1x04, 2x07, 3x09, general S4, 4x07, general S5, 5x04, 5x08) that it's something that can and has routinely gotten him into trouble in the past, particularly in S2 and S5.

We also know that Rayla fundamentally doesn't see anything wrong with Callum, either. "It doesn't matter" that he did dark magic before (2x07) and it likely won't ultimately matter to her again. She has so much faith and trust in him and his ability to do the impossible that the idea of Aaravos possessing him again in an awful way is downright hard for her to fathom. To her / in her mind, Callum is sweet and nice (even on the rare instances he yells at her), caring and loving and compassionate. And he is all those things, but even when one another's worst traits come out, both have a tendency to forgive and accept.

Now, part of this is because they have a mutual basis, for lack of a better word, of lines the other would never cross that are all conveniently the lines the other could never forgive (Rayla putting Ez at risk on a whim, Callum killing Stella for dark magic ingredients) which just perpetuates this cycle of support, forgiveness, and unconditionality.

Because unconditional love is great — until it's not.

And I think this blend of "they are actively healthy and actively working on being healthier" mixed with the "oh God quarantine them and their codependent shit together elsewhere for the good of society" is why they 1) have the range that they do and 2) the subsequent appeal that they do.

[cl-0v3r]

remember the days when you didn't like ambessa? what changed your mind about her?

HI ANONN , THATS A GOOD QUESTION!

Since the beginning I've always found it hard to trust Ambessa, it's not that I don't believe her experiences, she's one of the smartest characters in the whole show. But It's more about her relationship with Mel, I've always been so unsure about what her true feelings towards Mel are, she is a wolf, but undoubtedly a fox as well. Manipulation is like smooth sailing for her, and finding genuinity in her expressions always came with a little bit of doubt on the side, "Does she actually care? Is she manipulating the people around her -including Mel- JUST to get her way? Is she trustworthy with her intentions and feelings towards Mel?" And etc.

Only a little while ago did I realize that Ambessa is just extremely complex, she has so many layers, to the point where I didn't really have to time to clear my glasses about her character. I hated her for her morals, and i let that affect my interest towards this character as a whole, which is a huge mistake in my book. I also did take her a little personally sometimes, shes really realistic and it scared me a lot.

But ever since riot released the few beggining s2 trailers, I slowly started getting excited to see her. We did not get much screentime with Ambessa in s1, hence why I never felt a close attachment to her, and Mel was another reason on why I didn't like Ambessa because I'm attached to HER the most. Which reflects on my opinions on certain others, sort of like seeing things from her perspective. Mel is basically the base of my opinions on other characters if that makes sense?

Family, especially motherhood tropes are such a weakness for me, seeing her league voicelines and that music video they recently released (blood, sweat & tears) is what tipped the jar completely for me. We never got a clear indication on what Ambessas true perspective was, so finally seeing things from her eyes, hearing what she had to say, seeing how rough her past is made me understand why she became who she is in the current timeline.

And now I feel like I do not need to doubt everything she says, she does indeed love Mel as much as she does kino, she was not telling Mel in episode 9 all those things to weaken her for an open road, no. She'd went through hell and back just to keep her family safe despite how nuanced her actions are. seeing her lore simply made me do an entire 180⁰ turn.

She was going to accept her and her childs death and give in, but instead she chose to fight for her and their lives instead.

Kindred has the Lamb and the wolf. The lamb takes the lives of the dying peacefully, the wolf on the other hand, takes the lives of those who fight for their lives until they're dead.

And I find that interesting, gut wrenching and sickening mentally, thanks riot, good to know Ambessa is locked to the wolf in every single way <333

Thing is, what pains me is that she had no choice, she had to choose to die and leave everyone behind including the unborn child, or become the Medardas dictator, with the expense of her child's inevitable death. (Or perhaps I've taken this wrong)

From my understanding, the MV was more about Kino than it is about Mel, her letting go of the lamb was like handing the lamb for slaughter, a sacrifice, sort of like a "contract". Which lead to Kinos death despite how unrelated it was from kindred (like he didn't die by kindreds hands directly) . Hence why she was crying over the child figure/statue holding the lamb.

And later with the visual presentation of her pain too, someone please take the medardas pains and give it triple the amount to the actual worst fucking person to exist oh my god 😭 😭 😭

To summarize, I just never understood her character properly, I never got myself to do so. and that is a mistake from my side, I am a really visual person and the reason I really love arcane is because they don't really need words to express and show who their characters really are. Theres so many visual secrets and easterggs, expressionism, movements, colors, every single thing matters. And with Ambessa only appearing on the last 2 episodes?? Yeah I never felt like learning about her. But now im slowly starting to do that! She made it from my least character ever to like TOP 5 😭 😭

All of this will not change how horrible she is, she is a painted villain, ambiguous yes, but leaning on the darker sides. But that's what makes her Ambessa and no one else, I will forever hate her morals, I won't defend her actions. but her true intentions are meaningful nonetheless, with all the other characters too.