#my crackfic

[two-white-butterflies]

me and the devil - o. hightower/r. targaryen

Description: Rhaenyra Targaryen feels alone after the passing of her mother, and the exile of her beloved uncle. Otto lends a helping hand. In which, the Black Princess may finally have a chance in becoming Queen. (a bit of a crack fic) Rating: Mature (Spanking, Daddy Issues/Kink, Fingering [f. recieving], Fucking, Purity Culture, Loss of Virginity, Degradation, Riding [Otto topping from the bottom].) Author's Note: Rhaenyra's age is adjusted and she is in her majority age, because I don't want to be creepy.

Her world was torn in two - hands playing with her rings as her father finished announcing his engagement to her friend. It was all a ploy - she was used to elevate another person's status at court. She takes a step backward, bumping into the chest of Otto Hightower.

"I'm sorry," she squeaks while moving out of his way. She prided herself in knowing nothing about the gossips of her father's court - but she wasn't entirely oblivious. She was aware of a lot of things. She was aware of the feud between Otto and her uncle. She was aware that it was Otto's plot in making his daughter Queen.

He doesn't say anything - he stays in his place, staring at her and searching for a reaction in her eyes. Otto Hightower was aware of everything - every friendship, relationship or death that happened around court. He knew that Rhaenyra was friends with his daughter - he knew that she would feel betrayed and in search of vengeance.

"Congratulations on your daughter's engagement," Rhaenyra broke the thick air of silence around them. His lips formed into a thin line, no emotions were evident in his face. He was stoic and calm, as a king should be. "Thank you, I will be sure to extend this word of gratitude to my daughter." he paused intending for her to stare deep into his eyes. "My princess," he adds like he has forgotten her title.

"This is the perfect time to find a husband. One that can strengthen your family's claim." he was quick to add, knowing that he has already laid the groundwork - and the only thing she has to do is follow it. Her husband shouldn't be too powerful, or too weak. Her husband should be loyal to the Hightowers so that she may not contest her future brother's reign.

"I-I beg your pardon?" she stuttered. He was dominating over her, looking down on her small figure like a lion would do to its prey. He commanded her full attention, the people around them began to drown away. "As your father's heir, it is imperative that you find a dutiful husband and make heirs of your own." he informed, attempting to sound like a dutiful hand providing insight upon his future liege.

Otto continues staring at the Princess. She had a sharp jaw, almond eyes and the brightest blonde hair. She was a striking beauty - he liked that, but he would never act upon it. His plan was already in motion, there was no use in trying to sully the Princess. "After the wedding, the King will be asking you - with no doubt." the man continued staring, soaking in every indention on her face, soaking in her sharp collarbones that he wanted to bury his face in.

"It is none of your concern, lord hand. My future husband will not affect you." she regained her fire, reaching to her full height but not reaching him just quite. He takes a step back, bowing slightly and moving away. He would leave a stain on the Princess' mind. A seed planted in her mind that she wasn't going to be heir for long.

A feast was held in the wedding's favor. Lords from all across the realm began to visit the castle - they were all vying for Rhaenyra's hand, and she having a hard time trying to send them away peacefully. "I would prefer to be sitting down, Lord Lannister - I have been dancing for far too long." she reasoned, staring at the side. Jason Lannister was a leech that couldn't be shaken away. He seemed to adore following her everywhere - talking about his gold and the political benefit that she'd have if they are to be wed.

"Such a shame, my princess. I have been practicing my dances for you." the man tried to plead but was quickly sent away with a glare from the King. She lets out a sigh of relief. She didn't want to dance anyone - she only wanted to dance with Daemon, and he was not there. He was exiled - for the hundredth time.

A servant fills her goblet with wine, and she begins greedily drinking - savoring every drop of the Dornish delicacy. A lord sits beside her, clad in green, he smelled like ale - but in a delicious way. She turns her head to the side, an attempt to look at him. "Lord hand." her lips press into a thin line as she finishes the goblet of wine. "My princess," he answered. She looks away from him, focusing her attention upon the blushing bride - Alicent Hightower, who hasn't spoken to her since the engagement was announced.

She wanted to kill her old friend for stealing her father, and for trying to replace her with the spawns that she would give birth to.

"Queenship suits my daughter, doesn't it?" Otto taunted, allowing the ale to speak his mind. Rhaenyra responds with a chuckle, one that she was sure that he wouldn't be able to remember tomorrow. "As much as pink suits my skin-tone." she remarked sarcastically, motioning for the servant to fill her cup again.

" - and it suits you very well." Otto joked, staring deep at the Princess' face. Her nose has a small bump, and he's only noticed now. "My lord, I am not in the mood for conversation." she tried to dismiss, still staring at her old friend. She wanted her revenge - she wanted Alicent to feel the same way as she did. "Why not?" he questioned, and only then did she look at him.

She has a way for revenge now: steal Alicent's father.

Men were weak creatures according to her uncle. Show a little leg, and they are swooning - reveal your affections, and they grovel beneath your feet. Otto Hightower was going to be an easy prey.

She strides towards the library armed with her favorite dress. It was a beautiful black gown that revealed enough for him to imagine things.

Rhaenyra was beautiful - everyone around her always said that. Her lips were full and red, and her skin was snow white. Every man in the seven kingdoms has thought of becoming her husband.

She opens the door to the library gently, careful to not alert the Maester who was beginning to fall asleep.

She walked - like a siren swimming in water.

She halts in front of the hand.

"Lord Otto," she said, ensuring that her eyes were focusing on his face. Darting back and forth between his eyes and his cherry lips. "Princess?" he questioned, not taking his eyes off the book that he was reading. She walks closer, pushing the book down - revealing his honey-brown eyes.

"I was wondering if you could help me with history?" she paused to ask. A small groan exits his mouth - angered with the slight disruption. In his mind, she was girl sent to annoy him - oblivious of the plans that she had. "Of course." he hummed, not finding it appropriate to disobey the orders of the King's heir.

She finds it as a reason to sit beside him, leaning into his shoulder but not resting her head fully. "I find myself confused with Oldtown's history." she lied, pushing her body closer to his - allowing him to have a full view at her breasts.

"Allow me to explain."

Otto wasn't aware of how teaching turned into fucking.

A few days ago, he was still attending his library lessons with the Princess - and now he was inside her chambers watching as she laid on the bed with her legs open and welcoming him.

It was a lewd sight - his own personal heaven.

He slowly begins to remove his cloak, throwing it over the neat pile of the Princess' jewelry. "Come closer, my lord." she hummed, a siren lulling her prey into the deep waters. He obeys her - not finding the power to fight against her strength.

He begins crawling towards her - staring at her milky white cunt that oozed with wet juice. He could speak - afraid that he'd wake up from the dream and find himself alone on his bed. "Look at me." Rhaenyra commanded, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to stare at her eyes. "This is all for you." she moaned, dipping a finger into her cunt.

"Ahhh," she moaned, pushing her finger in and out of her body. She pushes a second finger inside, and his eyes trail down to her delicious pearl. She reaches for his hand, massaging it down from the valleys of her breast, down to her soft stomach and to her cunt that was oozing with wetness. "Fuck me." she pleaded, a small smile finds itself etched on his face.

If this was a dream - then he never wanted to wake up.

He places two fingers inside her cunt, squeezing the inside with all of his tender strength. He knew how to pleasure a woman - to fuck a lady that was in desperate need of him. "So tight," he mused pumping his finger in and out of her body - tipping her g-spot with ease. "So needy," he teased taking his fingers out of her.

She was bucking and searching for his hand.

"My lord," she moaned, his other hand laid on her chest - controlling her breathing. He was sitting down - her body was now on top of his lap, grinding unto him with renewed vigor. " - please," she cried feeling her pussy twitch with agony.

He licks his fingers clean of her juices. She tasted like metal - like blood that was plastered on her family's motto. He wipes his hand on her stomach, teasing her as it began to trail down the lower part of her waist - playing around her thighs, and dipping back into her. "My good girl." he purred, concentrated on pumping his fingers in and out of her good little cunt. Her eyes closed softly, shuddering around the pleasure she was feeling.

"Qogralbar -" she moaned.

Fuck.

And he ceased his fucking.

He raised his hands again - spanking her cunny.

"Do not curse, princess. I can fuck you very properly without using those words." He scolded, like a father who caught his daughter saying bad things. Her eyes opened, flinching from the sudden pain. " - but you" she tried to reason but he silences her with the touch of his hand. "Will I have to make you, little girl? Do I really have to turn you into my perfect little whore? When you should already know how to be that." he taunted, retreating his hands away from her body.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered trying to chase her high. She had no idea that her simple revenge would turn into something more. "Please keep going," she pleaded - frustrated as he pushed her body out of his lap - out of his bulge that was pressing on her bare ass.

"You will have to apologize in another way, Rhaenyra." he announced darkly, reminding the Princess that he was still fully dressed. He walks out of the bed, standing in front of her as she began to crawl to him. She stares up at him - he smirks seeing the trail of wetness evident on her brown sheets. She unbuckles his belt, allowing his pants to pool around the floor - she unbuttons his shirt, like a dutiful servant undressing her master.

Otto was her master at this moment, but he wouldn't be for long. Slowly and surely, Rhaenyra is sure to switch the tides. To make sure that Otto would be loyal to her - and not to Alicent.

Otto thought the same thing. He was thankful because he didn't have to kill Rhaenyra. It would benefit him more having his son as King rather than his grandson.

And there was only one more thing to do before ensuring that.

Once his shirt was taken off - he lays on the bed, his dick reaching to its full height. He raises his hand, motioning for her to lay on top of him. "Have you ever been fucked, girl?" he interrogated, placing both of his hands around her plush bottom. His fingers almost sank into the girl's skin at the rate of its softness.

"Yes - but not right there," she gazed down at where their organs were about to connect. "Do you want to be fucked there?" he interrogated, staring deep into her purple eyes. He prays that their children have her eyes. "Yes." she hummed and he pressed her down.

Her eyes rolled immediately - finding his cock to be perfect fit. It reached all the places that she wanted to reach. "Fu-" she was about to curse, but she stops - knowing that he wouldn't like that.

He waits for her to settle around him before pressing her body in and out of him. She raises her hands - grabbing unto the bed-frame. "Ahh," she moaned loudly - the entire keep could almost hear. "Keep moaning sweet girl, and your father will know how good I can fuck you." Otto warned - she grinned, gaining enough momentum to be riding him without any guide.

"You are my father now - my kepa. You will guide me, fuck me - everything." she moaned while riding him with all her strength.

Pleasure was beginning to cloud her brain - it filled her with a bright aura - a feeling that she wanted to keep chasing. "Dirty girl," he degraded, his hands firmly wrapped around her waist.

In and out.

In and out.

Otto wanted to close his eyes - but he also wanted to see the Princess moan and roll hers. "My lord," she sang - feeling the deepest delight inside her stomach - a thick and warm feeling permeating though her flesh and bones. "You have to cum?" he asks and she nodded her head. He keeps going, moving her body to the side as he fucks his way through her.

There was silence - only the sound of skin bouncing into skin. "Otto!" the princess yelled and a thick rope of white fluid squirts out of her cunt, staining his abdomen and cock with the juice.

He keeps pumping for a few times - finishing inside of her womb.

An heir was created.

Rhaenyra looks at the floor - still wearing her nightgown. "Skorkydoso gōntan bisa massigon, Rhaenyra? (How did this happen?)" Viserys asks, staring at his daughter - anger pulsing through his veins. Otto was standing beside her, but he chose to ignore him - for now.

"Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon, kepa. (I don't know, kepa.)" she cried, ashamed of her deeds. "Ao ȳdra daor gīmigon? (You don't know?)" he taunted, circling around her - glaring at her. "Tolvys ryptan ao. (Everyone heard you.)" he exaggerated.

"I apologize, my king." Otto breaks his lover's silence, Viserys' fury is transported unto his Hand. "Give me a good reason on why I should not exile you." the King demanded. Rhaenyra often believed that her father wasn't a real dragon - he was dragonless after all. She was born after Balerion died - and perhaps the dragon inside her father died too.

"He did not force me, kepa." she repeated, reminiscent of the time that she called Otto that. "I wanted it too." she kept her eyes casted on the floor. A chuckle escapes the King's mouth. "You do not know what you want, Rhaenyra. You can hardly decide on what gown to wear - how can you be so sure of him?" Viserys questioned, his hands on his waist.

Rhaenyra looks up, hands reaching for Otto's.

"Nyke jorrāelagon zirȳla, kepa. (I love him, father.)" she stated, almost causing the king to have a heart attack.

At that very moment Viserys regretted deciding upon marrying Alicent - he regretted having Otto as hand and most of all, he regretted not wedding his daughter to Daemon.

"Very well." he swallows.

[thebibliosphere]

A friend gifted me Gotham Knights on Steam after I expressed a vague interest in it. I believe my exact words were, "The color of the cover art is very cyberpunk bisexual, and I love that for them."

A lot of key smashing ensued, followed by, "No, wait, you have to play it, you have to. Don't ask why. You'll know when you see it."

After spending a substantial few hours with my new dopamine generator, zipping around Gotham as various different heroes, grappling my way across the skyline, and driving my motorbike into walls (sorry, random Gothamites.) I got to the part of the story where Dick Grayson is seen drinking from a bisexual-themed Bludhaven mug (WE WANTS IT, PRECIOUS, WE NEEDS IT), followed by Babs posting a gossip article in the literal batfam group chat (I have no idea when she actually sent it, I keep forgetting to check the chat lmao) where Dick fully leans into being Bruce's son by being the biggest, sluttiest fuckboy imaginable when the male interviewer asks Dick if he has a "type" then describes the way Dick drops his voice to an "intimate purr, his gaze for me and me alone" followed by the most bisexual response ever which can be summarized as "People are gorgeous. All of them. Why restrict myself to an archetype when the world is full of beauty?"

And can I just say, as a slutty, slutty bisexual *chef kiss* love that for him. That and all the nude photoshoot offers he seems to be getting lmao.

Combine that with the interactions where Tim talks to the batfam about his boyfriend, asking for relationship advice (Babs telling Tim she's hopeless with guys, so to ask Dick instead), Dick suggesting Robin and Nightwing should go to Gotham Pride in costume so people know the batman are firmly in camp LGBTQ+ (followed up by an email between Babs and Jayson where they talk about wanting to go to Pride to support Tim so he'll know they're proud of him), the rainbow flags in the living room, and the trans, bi, pan and I think non-binary flag (need to check, might be demisexual) bike color options, I can honestly say I'm having a lot of fun careering round Gotham like the most terrifyingly competent, backflipping, Solo Pride Parade that's ever swung out of the skyline to dropkick a cop into oncoming traffic.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ The Legend of a Faceless Harbinger

(Imagine Headless Horseman Capitano x reader. No, I won’t elaborate.)

✧ In an unassuming village nestled by a quaint, insignificant hamlet, you lived in a humble farmhouse. A modest living, with but a few sheep and a tightly held community. Everyone knew each other in the village, for its residents were few, fostering familiarity among its inhabitants and their whereabouts. 

The villagers liked tales of premonition and the paranormal – stories of vengeful Hilichurls, weeping Seelies, or berserk Witches who burn everything in their path. However, one of the legends was about a Faceless Knight, bloodstained and brooding, with a mighty steed supporting his towering frame. Legend has it that the Knight’s armor once shone silver and pristine, but after years of bloodshed and gruesome battles, the knight’s body shifted to that of a monster; the same ones he once swore to destroy. Now faceless, monstrous, and donning a void-like helmet - the Knight rides off into the night, galloping between the living and dead. 

✧ You, on the other hand, disregarded such gossip. If the night was scary because a headless knight reigned dominion over it, then why did you always find solace in it, when the sky is clear and the stars are shining? 

You lived by the outskirts and were content taking care of your small flock of chickens and sheep. You had your fresh bread, a small basket of eggs, and homemade dairy. In the early hours of dawn, you took care of your abode, small patches of vegetables sprouting by the sunlight. And in the late hours of dusk, you sat by the windowsill from your bedroom, gazing up at the stars above. 

Yet as you silently watched the night, a hidden figure, merging with the shadows gazed back at you. His horse neighed softly until a clawed hand patted its head. 

✧ One day, a couple of sheep wandered off from your farmhouse and went missing. The weather was cloudy and the gray clouds threatened a heavy pour if you didn't hurry and found your wandering flock. With your trusty shepherd's crook, you hurried off to run into the forest hoping you'd find them somewhere nearby.

Once you reached the wild forest, it didn't take long to spot your wandering sheep, running in the direction of their baaing. They huddled close by the bushes, grazing on the grass leisurely. You smiled in silent relief, reaching closer toward them until suddenly - you halted. Amidst the dense foliage, a figure emerged, and it dawned on you that your sheep were not simply loitering there by chance. They had been intentionally led here, and at the sight of the stranger, you tensed, clutching your trusty crook. A man on horseback drew nearer, his jet-black steed carefully moving. But the figure was even taller. Dark armor and clanking chains were not as imposing as the sight of his featureless, hollow helmet met you head-on.

It was the faceless Knight. He kept his distance, but his helmet directed straight at you, wordless and careful. With a slight incline of his head, he observed your sheep turning towards you, providing you the opportunity to safely guide your flock home. And as for you? You quivered like a lamb, petrified at the sight of a man of his stature, with only the murky depths of his helmet meeting your gaze.

Thus, you fled. Pushing your sheep hastily from the forest, you didn't look back at the mancing knight. Your heart hammered and you swiftly led your animals back to your farm, locking them in their barn and fearing for your own life. 

✧ In the upcoming days, you didn’t dare to exit your house’s safety. You were convinced that you were living your last days, however, nothing amiss occurred. Instead, things got better in your farmhouse. You don’t know why, but The animals scarcely strayed, the howls of wolves seldom pierced the night, and neither hilichurls nor bothersome slimes encroached upon your land.

You felt an air of change in your quaint farmhouse, despite your sense of alarm remaining after meeting the brooding Harbinger. 

Occasionally, at the earliest hours of dawn, when you get up, you are greeted with small flowers on the steps of the house. Sometimes it’s plucked lamp grass, and at other times it’s a wreath of valberry leaves. In a state of befuddlement, you’d blink, looking back and forth around your entrance. 

You had a secret protector, and your heart yearned to thank whoever that was. 

✧ If someone was leaving you small gifts of flora and guarding your house, it was only courteous to thank them. Therefore, you came up with a plan to leave a small assortment of items in a basket as a response. From time to time, by the footsteps of your house, you’d leave a basket with fresh apples. Sometimes, it would be a loaf of bread you baked. These signs of gratitude persisted, and in return, the gifts grew in magnitude. From small bouquets to rare artifacts and even warm pelts. 

The routine of offerings and gifts became a way of silent communication with your generous benefactor.

Until one late afternoon, you heard screaming right outside your farmhouse. You dashed out of the house and noticed that the usual basket was gone. You just had it filled with homegrown fruits and baked goods, yet it was missing entirely. When you turned your attention towards the commotion, you gasped in surprise at the sight.

The same faceless Knight, in his clad black armor, dragging a kicking peasant with a firm grip. The man was kicking and screaming in horror, his wrist already marred by the Harbinger’s grip. However, what surprised you, was that the basket was in his arms.

“Please let me go-! I didn’t know! I didn’t know to whom it belonged,” - the peasant was thrown hard onto the ground right in front of your feet, the basket and its good rolling out. 

“Lies are inexcusable. And stealing deserves its punishment.” 

The Harbinger spoke firmly, marching straight at the man. Overcoming your shock, you understood - this person stole the basket of food you left, but then the receiver who protected your farmhouse all this time is… 

You shook your head, and before the faceless entity could take a step closer to the thief, you stood with your arms out - “Wait!”

The Harbinger stopped in an instant, that faceless mask going silent as the armored hand tightly closed into a fist. The peasant was shaking behind you.

“It’s not worth it, just some homegrown food anyway. P-please, let this man go.” 

“He stole what you worked hard for. That which is not meant to be his.” 

“I know, but it is not a fair punishment to spill blood in return!”

The headless harbinger let out a low rumble, his massive form towering over you and the begging thief. After a prolonged moment of tense silence, he stated his verdict.

“You were lucky to be granted mercy. Heed my words, there won’t be a next time. Go.” 

The words were short but decisive, spoken out of pure malevolence towards the one who took your offerings that were intended for him. Crawling on his knees, the man shook and thanked you both for mercy, scurrying off the ground of your farmhouse and running away. 

✧ You kneeled by the fallen basket, picking up some of the flowers and fruits that rolled to the grassy ground. As you silently picked them up, you almost flinched when an armored hand appeared in front of you, offering you assistance to get up. When you raised your gaze - a hallow, pitch-black helmet looked back at you. 

You placed your hand delicately onto his.

“Excuse me, Mr… uh, Knight. I thank you for catching the thief and my goods. But may I ask: was it you who brought those gifts by the entrance of my house?”

He remains silent for a moment, and you couldn’t tell whether he was contemplating his answer or studying every nuance of your face up close. After a long moment, he slowly nods his head "Yes." 

A sigh of relief escaped you. Partly due to your fear of the frightening figure, but also because of your suspicion about who the unseen protector of your farmhouse was.

“Then it was you who kept my rural home safe from monsters or predators.” - you nodded, remembering how your flock of sheep was huddled close and safe even when they all got lost before. “You won’t hurt me…?”

“I could never. You have my vow.” 

His voice no longer held that firm animosity it did when he spoke to the thief. Now it was low and deep. His form helped you pick up the dropped belongings and walked you back to the farm.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a tranquil stillness enveloped the surroundings as you dutifully trailed behind him. A novel sense of anticipation washed over you, distinct from the usual apprehension. For the Harbinger, it was not his first time remaining close to the soil of your modest abode. In fact, he always remained nearby. However, he felt immense guilt for giving you such fright. 

“...I owe you an apology. I intruded on your ground when I caught the thief. But even less honorably so, I never revealed myself formally to you. I did not wish to see you scared.”  

You listened closely, witnessing the sincerity in his movements. You stood close to the pastors, the grass rustling idly by the night breeze. His ominous figure is a stark contrast to you and your cozy dwelling.

“I understand… I do not blame you. I must also apologize for my startled demeanor. I never expected it would be you who actually helped me all this time.” 

The knight tilts his head to the side, keeping a polite hand with yours as he lets you sit on the grass. Every movement he did for you was cautionary and gentle. The two of you sat on the ground, the night sky illuminating the first stars of the night. 

“I just wish to know… Why such kindness?” - you asked at last, easing up the courage to look him straight into the hollowness of his helmet. 

The anticipated question made the Harbinger go quiet. He couldn't deny it, but he found solace in watching you work. How diligently you took care of your animals, how you watered the vegetation, how you smiled joyously when you’d return with a basket full of fresh eggs. It was a tender sight, even as the harbinger maintained his distance on the forest's periphery, secretly yearning to draw nearer to you.

He wished to tell you so much. About how he finds you to be the loveliest person in all of these lands, the most sincere and hardworking. How he enjoys gazing at you the same way you gaze at the stars. Yet now, being in your proximity, the sight of your beauty up close had rendered his thoughts useless and all he could manage was:

"Perhaps I’m utterly infatuated by you."

[relenafanel]

I am home sick and this happened. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

[X]

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey can I ask for a smutish fluffish matt smith fic where where they are filming their sex scene but she accidentally says Matt instead of Daemon and the directors like “not again 😒 start from the top”

I'm Into It

Matt Smith x Actress!Reader (lowkey Daemon x Reader lol)

Summary: You were finally getting to live out your fantasies of having Matt around you in that pretty blonde wig, but at what cost?

Word Count: >600

Warnings: fem!reader, established relationship, they be filming a sex scene for hotd, crackfic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: Lol this was so much fun to write it's so meta i love it. I hope you like it nonnie <3 and since technically this is daemon related imma tag yallz @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony also im tagging @pearlstiare since this lovely dear seemed to enjoy my matt smith fic lol hehe i made another matt fic lol "Dark Kiss"

I was pressed against the wall, a blade to my neck, an arm pressed by my ribcage, pushing me flush against the wall.

I heaved, "do it," I spoke as the blade was pressed closer to my chin, "slit my throat," I chortled, "and then you'll realize just how foolish that decision was after you've spilt my blood."

"Demented hag," Daemon quips, pressing his arm deeper into me.

I lean into him, the blade on my neck presses deeper. I brush my nose against his, "hush, prince," I lick his lips, "we both know you don't think that."

Daemon throws his blade to the side and flips me over, pressing my chest and face roughly against the wall, one arm pushed behind my back. He breathes jaggedly against my neck, "tell me where you hid it."

"Make me," I huff, "you know how," I chuckle, "you know what I want from you."

I wince when he shoves me. I break into another chuckle, "I'll take it however you want to give it, pretty boy."

"Last chance," he warns, "while I'm being nice."

I hum, "I don't want you to be nice. I want you to ruin me."

I smile when he does not reply. I strain my neck trying to look back at him, "dragon lost his fire?"

All at once, I am released and turn back to deviously eye the prince. I bite my lip when he begins to undo his breeches, "you will regret it if you do not obey me."

My heart jumps to my throat at his words. I fall against the wall as he steps forward. I reach out to him as he bunches my skirt up.

I lean against his forehead and sigh when he places his hands on my hips. I raise my leg up to his side and pull him with me as I shift back. I steal a kiss from him and nip at his lower lip when he evades me. When he takes his hand underneath my thigh, I instinctively call out his name.

That was my mistake.

Instead of calling Daemon, I say Matt.

Matt pulls his head back upon hearing his name. He breaks into an airy chuckle, "baby," he coos, leaning into me, hiding his face in the crook of my neck, pecking the area quickly.

My eyes go wide and I slap my hand on my mouth, looking out to the director and the rest of the crew when I realize my mistake.

Matt pulls away from me, laughing, releasing his hold on my leg to look past the camera. He turns back to me, as I profusely begin to apologize under my breath. He is in a fit of giggles when he seals me into a tight embrace, kissing my shoulder affectionately.

"I am so sorry," I mutter in a guilty tone as I am lifted off my feet by the laughing Matt.

"I'm not," he says, looking out to the camera. He points, "you caught that, right?" He giggles, "I'm going to need a copy of all of these outtakes."

I feel blood rise up my neck, "Matthew, please."

"What?" he turns to me, "my male ego is thriving, lovie. What is this, the tenth time?"

"No!" I call, "... I think only five."

There is a chorus of laughs; someone corrects me by saying it's the seventh.

Matt kisses me cheek, "I'm proud of you, babe."

"Matt, please," the director calls, "stop being distracting."

The entire set breaks into a fit of laughs. I burn with embarrassment, wanting nothing but to be swallowed by the ground, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I turn to Matt and grab his face, "Daemon. Daemon. Daemon."

Matt grins, "Matt. Matt. Matt."

"Stop!" I warn, pulling away from him as I repeat my mantra, "Daemon, Daemon, Daemon."

"Rouge Prince. Dashingly handsome," Matt rubs his nose. He looks at the director, "from the top then?" He chuckles under his breath, "that's what she said."

"Stop!" I whine.

"Oh, alright," he smirks, turning to me, "do me a favor and mess up again. For me?"

"Stop!" I call out the same time as the director.

lol you wanna read another matt smith fic?

[iamnmbr3]

can u imagine if harry had been sorted into slytherin

6th year would've been insane

Draco: *gets up in the night for a drink of water*

Harry: oh. fancy meeting you here by the water jug at 2 o'clock in the morning. :)

Draco would've cracked after a month and been like 'FINE. FINE! Want to see my Dark Mark? HERE! Happy? Can I take a shower by myself in peace now?'

[sevs-corner]

Another one of my wild dreams coming to me, I swear the voices are having too much fun when I’m unconscious, where its the usual Soulmate-Reincarnation trope but the Tf 141 guys always get to meet each other but…you.

Every. Single. Time.

In each new life, they’d always happen to meet, but nearing the end of theirs— a longing always seem to linger in their hearts. Pieces of their memory always missing with a piece of their soul not being fulfilled.

At first, they don’t notice it— it was already rare enough to have 4 soulmates all tied together. So, to think of another partner being somewhere out there? Yeah, that was outrageous.

They were already thankful enough that they had each other, how could they still feel so greedy and longing?

We’re they not enough for each other?

What was lacking? What were they lacking?

When then they hear murmurs of soulmates being together, they all said they’ll feel something snap into place.

They think its the soulmate bond being locked into place, their soul finally complete and fates intertwined.

Yet… they only got to the first couple of steps to that. Seeing that zing in each other’s eyes that recognizes each other as soulmates, the bonding ritual, the return of past life memories…

Every time they get to that point, they’d remember that something was just… missing.

So they try, in each life to the next, to find some way to fix that last piece into place— test out all their theories.

What if there was something wrong that they did? Were they truly partners? What if one wasn’t their mate with the other?

It wasn’t until Price offered the idea that there may be… a fifth person… involved that their tactics changed.

But they never got lucky.

How come it was so easy to find each other but not…you?

They were just about to give up in this timeline, their lives being ran rugged in the military made their hearts weak and souls crushed already— why would they make the extra effort when they already had the partners they wanted right besides them?

But they regret saying that, bringing it up and believing in it when that familiar zing rings across their brains and underneath their skins as they see you— fresh eyed recruit sent right to their team.

It was like their prayers have finally been answered, all the sacrifices their past selves made now coming to fruition—

But you see no zing- you’ve never had one.

That must be another reason why you always happen to miss them- whether it be through an early death, a bad relationship, an unfortunate event, living across the country from them.

But no, you were always right near them. You just couldn’t find them like they did with each other.

It just didn’t click until now for you and they are distraught for you.

They are so happy, souls now complete and their memories as well— but you had nothing.

That feeling of wholeness and unconditional love— you couldn’t feel it.

So they swear, that from then on, they’d always find you next— no matter how many times they’d repeat it, all the struggles and pain, it was incomparable to you who felt nothing from a forced severed soul bond.

My sleepi and awake mind are cooking but im not in the kitchen- send help what the

Masterlist here! Prev dream idea i was talkin about here- its becoming a saga oml

[auspicioustidings]

141 and friends undercover, going to take out this oligarch in the air on a private flight. It's been planned meticulously, his private jet compromised so he has to rent one instead and that plane comes with a crew (the crew of course is them right down to the pilot, the bartender and the private fucking chef). You were not part of the plan.

Unfortunately you are on that plane for entirely stupid reasons. You are a nobody really, but you have been put on this flight last minute with a potential investor for your company as a gesture of goodwill because even though you are a nobody, you are very good at fixing watches. Not even your job, but your parents ran a shop their whole life and you grew up learning watches in and out. The CEO remembered that was the fun fact about you at the company Christmas party so here you are, dropped off at an airport last minute because rich people are fucking crazy and think 'here is someone to fix that issue you were having with your watch that costs more than their yearly salary' is an acceptable party favour.

You've never flown anything above cattle class in your life and you are intensely uncomfortable and out of place. The potential investor is creepy and rude and you are terrified being stuck up here with him given that he keeps mentioning the king sized bed and the full luxury bath tub. Who the hell is going to save you up here if he decides to have you? Was this the CEOs actual offering?

...and why does the beefed up Scottish attendant keep flirting with you so hard?

[onboardsorasora]

Ok, I saw this post and laughed soooo hard, and I couldn't let it go. So here is some crack.

Max glared at Vicky as she sighed long-sufferingly. He didn’t think he understood the words she just told him. By the look on her face he knew this wasn’t a marketing joke– but boy did he wish it was.

“You are not serious.” He deadpanned, blue eyes flat.

“As an engine failure, Max.” She shrugged. “Because Sky took umbrage to what you said, the FIA are penalizing you for breaking the sporting code. So your punishment is to do the grid walk before the race today or get a 10-place grid penalty.” 

“Ten places is just exorbitant.” Max tch’d.

“You said that Sky are a bunch of wankers sucking off the stewards who don’t care about real racing on a hot mic.” It was Vicky’s turn to be deadpan. “I’ve seen no less than ten tiktoks with that audio.”

“Of course, I will just take the grid drop then.” Max shrugged, folding his arms. 

“I already spoke to Hannah and GP and they strongly suggest just doing the grid walk. You only have to talk about the car and four celebs. That's it.” She bartered, Max tch’d again.

“This is ridiculous. I, of course, am still correct about their caring about real racing.” He complained.

“There’s like a bunch of celebs on the grid, just talk to four you don’t know then you can jump in the car and drive.” 

“Fine.”

“And no cursing or calling anyone an idiot.”

“.....fine.”

— - —

Max stood in front of the cameraperson and producer, glaring down the lens with this flat bitchface pout. His racing suit was done up, post anthem, Martin stood beside him grinning gleefully. 

“Hello Max, lovely of you to join us today on the grid walk.” Martin sounded chuffed and Max wanted to bite him.

“Lovely to be here Martin.” Max smiled in the way he did when he was forced to do stupid marketing videos. He saw Vicky biting her manicured thumb out of the corner of his eyes. Martin was rambling on about something and then pointed to Max expectantly. 

Max looked at him for a moment before turning and walking away. He stood in the path of someone trying to take a picture in front of the Ferrari that was lined up beside his RB20.

“Hello, who are you?” Max asked, pressing the mic in their direction. The yet to be named celebrity did a double take before smiling widely in excitement. 

“You are Max! Stellar driving yesterday man!”

“Lovely. Thank you.” Max turned and walked away, the producer and cameraperson rushed to catch up with him. “That is one.” Max muttered before stopping again beside a woman.

“Hello, who are you?” He asked again. The blonde woman smiled.

“Hello Max, my name is Margot Robbie, big fan.”

Max smiled a little, “oh you are Australian? Daniel is also Australian. Lovely.” Max walked away.

“You are supposed to interview them, talk about the cars.” A producer said in his ear, Max shook his head– no one said anything about interviews. 

“That is two.” Max said instead. He walked towards his car and pointed to it. “This is my car. It is lovely, we are of course on pole today.” He turned and pointed to the gleaming red Ferrari. “Charles is p2.” He turned around again and waved to the cars behind them. “Of course, all of the other cars are there. I, of course, cannot go all the way back there because it is almost race time and this is st– Daniel qualified p5, lovely for him. Hello Daniel.” Max grinned when Daniel stopped beside him and tugged his headphones off his ears.

“Hello Maximus, have they finally recruited you for Sky?” Daniel joked and Max laughed.

“You know they are always trying.” 

“Don’t stay too long on this side gig yeah, can’t have you doing all these side quests and still winning everything.” Daniel winked and patted Max’s shoulder before walking off. Max watched him go with a blushy head tilt, touching where Daniel touched him.

The producer cleared their throat in Max’s ear, his bitchpout returned. “That is three.” Max muttered.

“That doesn’t count, he’s a driver.”

“Daniel, of course, is also a celebrity.” Max pointed out before stopping infront of someone else. “Hello, who are you?”

“Good afternoon Max, Barack Obama here–”

“Lovely. That is four.” Max turned to the camera and raised a brow. Martin popped up beside him, melting out of the crowd. The cameraperson turned to him just as Vicky and three other RedBull personnel came to stand beside Max. 

Max yanked the headphones off of his ears and turned away, he nodded at Barack Obama and walked over to his car to complain to GP. 

Max won the race by 40 seconds and ignored all Sky Sports questions in the pressers.

[crazy-ache]

WIP Snippet - Elucien Body Swap

Thank you @olenvasynyt for making this graphic for me! ₊₊₊₊ Lucien’s mechanical eye whirred more frantically and erratically at the emerald jeweled necklace than he could ever recall in his long, immortal lifespan. It was thrumming and covered in a spiderweb of spells, though through his russet eye, he could see it sit plainly as any other piece of jewelry would in Elain’s small hand. 

“Who could throw such a thing away?” 

He wasn’t used to her asking questions of him. He wasn’t used to the pleasantry of conversations with his mate. Yet it wasn’t nerves churning in his stomach. 

“Lady, you really shouldn’t touch that,” Lucien cleared his throat, nervously stepping toward her. “I have a bad feeling about—“

He watched as Elain looked into the hallway mirror and held the strange necklace up in the air as if to place it upon her perfect neck. 

“No!” He couldn’t restrain himself. It reeked of curses and ancient spells. To hell with manners and their long-standing history of stilted, distant propriety.

Instinct had him lurch forward, reaching for her shoulder to prevent her from putting it on. 

When his hand found her skin, the last thing he saw was her reflection in the mirror—wide, surprised brown eyes staring right at him and her gaping mouth parted as if to shout his name. 

He never did hear her shout it. 

The buzz of unfamiliar, tingling magic encapsulated them both, starting from the necklace itself, then traveled up her delicate arm to the place his fingertips joined her shoulder. A gold dusting spread all along their bodies. As it happened, it seemed to grip them both in place from where they stood and breathed—not a single hair on their heads even moved. A single heartbeat later and the magic released them. 

Lucien went tumbling back, careening into a coatrack. From the loud crash he heard, the force must have also sent Elain falling backward. The necklace clattered on the spot where they had just stood, its magic no longer emanating, leaving it seemingly ordinary and lifeless. 

“What just happened?” 

Lucien heard his shaky voice ask. 

Only he had not spoken. He had not even opened his mouth. 

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he snapped his head up. Wide, mismatched orbs met his gaze from across the floor. His eyes met him. That was his molten red hair spilling on the floor as his body pushed itself up to a sitting position. Panic surged through him, extinguishing his inner fire like a bucket of ice cold water. Lucien nearly broke his neck to look down at himself because what the actual fuck—

Those were definitely Elain’s breasts where his chest was supposed to be located. He wasn’t proud to admit he did in fact know what they looked like even if they barely made eye contact in the past few years. Her long locks of curled hair came into his view and her thin hands trembled as he tried to breathe. 

He clumsily jumped to his feet, not used to the lightness of her petite frame. Elain followed and they both peered into the hanging mirror at the same time. His mate’s face was staring back at him. He touched her smooth face with the hesitant pad of his fingertips. Next to him, Elain did the same, her now large, broad hands slapping his cheeks, like this was just a bad dream and she simply needed to wake up.

He was inside Elain’s body. 

And not in a good way. 

Which meant Elain was inside him—

He cringed as the loudest, most blood-curdling scream pierced the hallway. Lucien had never heard himself sound so terrified before, and he certainly hadn’t known his voice could reach such a high octave in range. Which meant Elain had figured it out as well.

Elain held his hair in her hands as if it were the most offensive creature to ever touch her. His own heart was thundering in his chest. Well, technically it was Elain’s chest. It felt as if he couldn’t find the air because these lungs did not belong to him. The unsettling realization made the room spin. 

Oh, Cauldron boil him.

They had switched bodies. 

[mycatismyeditor]

Supercorp idea #222

Lena had some thoughts she just wanted to express to someone. Some very gay thoughts. Some very gay thoughts about Supergirl.

So she did what any rational public figure would do. She made an anonymous social media account on a burner phone and vented all her feelings there. Feelings that were apparently appreciated and echoed by approximately 20 thousand other people on a regular basis.

She did not anticipate ever having to explain those posts as herself. She in fact went to great lengths to make sure no one would ever connect her to it.

But even with all her efforts to remain anonymous after three years with the account, posting multiple times a day, she was bound to slip up once. And what a slip up it was.

Now she was sitting in a DEO conference room getting a briefing on her own post about Supergirl and the various ways that highly sensitive information could have gotten leaked.

Which left her with a choice. She could either confess she was behind it, or she could keep her mouth shut and let 46 government agents be interrogated about their social media history and possible interest in being railed by Supergirl over their desks.

She glanced to her left and saw the shocked face of Supergirl as she read more of her posts.

Lena kept her mouth shut.

[nakaremfarlei]

Was just thinking about the amount of animals Obi-Wan interacts with compared to literally everyone else and in the Clone Wars episode where Kamino gets attacked he literally gets saved twice by the same ray-like animal and just...

The growth from judging Qui-Gon for the 'pathetic lifeforms' he picks up to whatever he has going on during the Clone Wars era. He must have gotten that from Qui-Gon though, right?

And because it's my brain and it's rotting with all the star wars stuff I am consuming I was thinking of Obi-Wan saving all these creatures and the 212th having to deal with that. Surely they made one of the rooms pet proof in case one of them needs a new home. There also have to be clones who love that because of course Obi-Wan can't really take care of rescues on top of all his duties.

After the first few times this happens Cody learns to order animal food and other necessities. And if the Republic doesn't fulfill these requests or asks too many questions he'll just have to make sure to organize them on planet during the campaigns.

[thebibliosphere]

I think I’ve been playing too much Garden Life/reading too many Nightwing comics.

The two merged last night into an absolutely surreal dream where I’d been kidnapped by Deathstroke the Terminator to work in a flower shop as some nefarious plan to lure Nightwing into rescuing me. All the while he’s monologuing about how there’s no escaping so don’t even try.

And I remember looking at the beautiful garden outside the window and the rose cuttings scattered across the workbench in front of me like and being like, “Oh deary me, what a conundrum. How will I ever survive this hellscape? Hey, Mister The Terminator, sir? Do you want me to make these roses into a bouquet for the twink you’re trying too hard to get the attention of, or nah?”

(I did not get a response. I made them into a bouquet anyway.)

And then at some point Nightwing showed up while I was planting black and orange roses in the garden (subtle), and he was all like, “I’m here to rescue you!” and I once again looked around my surroundings, looked down at the cat sleeping in the pouch of my garden apron, and replied, “No thanks. I’m good...”

Assigned NPC/hostage in the Sladick Flower Shop Au by my own brain. Fucksake 😂

[sufferu]

if Anastasia knew about rbd would she be willing to take advantage of it to make money like say via gambling ( where she just kills him if she makes the wrong choice

Absolutely not, lol. Anastasia is a cutthroat businesswoman, but she’s not a monster.

Now, as for who would:

Priscilla (she canonically already does this with Aldebaran whenever he does something she doesn’t like, who’s power she’s at least heavily implied to have figured out a while ago)

Roswaal (unless he’s revealed to have a problem with necromancy, which would be VERY funny, so I kind of hope that ends up happening)

Echidna (Arc 4 and also Kasaneru)

Cecilus (if thought it would be entertaining enough) (apex of the Vollachian Empire and the definition a fucking monster) (“Subaru’s just like me!” <- will never get over this)

Natchuki Subawu (no elaboration needed)

Louis Arneb (pre-Arc 6)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Of all the canon characters, who you ship Tom with the most?

The unnamed girl from the line in #6 "He [Tom] had joined The Sharing for a simple, silly reason. A pretty girl he liked was a member." And if you're like, that's not really an Animorphs character, Sol, then

You're absolutely correct, and

How dare you, now we're on a slippery slope to acknowledging that Tom is also not really an Animorphs character, he's a 98% hypothetical brother that Jake used to have before the series started, but

Point taken.

If I had to choose someone with an actual personality... Man, I don't know. AniTV ships him with Melissa, and I had fun writing that one time. I toyed with pairing him with Collette in my fics, but decided I'd rather make Pretty Girl ("Bonnie"; I'm hilarious) the love interest instead.

Other than that — Emily the Trekkie? Taylor? Jeremy Jason McCole? — there aren't a ton of options his age. That said, I'm a pluripotent shipper, always one good fic away from believing in a new romance. So if tomorrow I click on an absolute banger of an Ax/Tom fic, then my answer could change.

[jello-sparkbomb]

My contribution to the hyuluka nation.

(This is so them frfr.)