#once these pieces have all been sanded some...

[angeart]

Some days, Scar has the most clearest memory, down to the slight shift of Grian's face or how the air taste around them. Some days he doesn't remember at all, he smells waffles or pancakes and feels like crying.

Some days he moves his body as if hes anticipating someone, a sense of deja vu, a sense of heartache. Everyone thinks that Scar is a hopeless romantic and is daydreaming his perfect partner. Scar thinks something is wrong with him. But thats ok

Because the animals are always so soft and mischievous with him, a lot of animals bring him joy like he did

Because the wind always gives him the perfect breeze and the weather is always warm like a hug

Because nature always sides with him, watches him, and takes care of him. At least he thinks so, he hopes so. Why else would it quiet down when he is overwhelmed?

Because everyone says... everyone says.. he doesn't like what anyone says. Too condescending, too patronizing.

Everyone says that he has the happiest life.

Despite his heartache and misguided longing..

He knows he is loved

Because the universe loves him

And he is loved

wahhh your words are so pretty 🥺

have this:

scar isn't sure why he's here. time feels elusive, fog crawling over every scar's decision today, as if he was lured, coaxed, beckoned. led towards... what? towards who?

no one is here. scar's standing on the beach, waves lapping up the shore in soft rhythm that tries to reach him and calm his aching heart. his feet are bare, sinking into sun-heated sand, a sensation that simultaneously makes scar dizzy and supplies oxygen to his depleted lungs.

he was making breakfast. just for himself, just for—

he was making far too many pancakes for one person. two plates set out on the counter, accusing him of something he's forgetting. unknown but not unfamiliar loss hovered over him with razor sharpness, ready to bite, waiting for a moment when things click.

things weren't clicking.

but all of a sudden, scar couldn't breathe. thoughts falling apart, dissipating into the tiniest pieces as small as grains of sand, slipping out of his grasp. the air was filled with the scent of sweetness, sugar and milk, cut strawberries and chocolate and— flowers.

an overpowering aroma of lilacs in bloom.

he barely remembers turning off the stove and leaving everything unfinished. walking out, chest too tight. searching. searching for...

everything felt so wrong.

he's standing on the beach, feet submerged in sand. he curls his toes into it, begs for the gently shushing feeling that everything's okay, everything's going to be okay now, to set in. to make it past his skin and burrow into his bones, slice into his bloodstream and run through him whole. lodge into his soul like the grains of sand underneath his toenails.

he's okay.

he's okay, just standing out on the shore. sand, and sun, and endless sky, and—

waves reach for him like soothing hands, cool water reaching his toes, foaming up around them. soaking up into the sand.

dismally and deliriously, scar thinks that this sand should never have been wet. it was meant to be dry. warm, endlessly warm, coarse and as dry as kindling, stretching up to the horizon instead of the glittering blueness of the sea.

the sand is wet, and so is his skin, and somewhere overhead, a bird caws.

scar chokes up on an emotion he keeps failing to identify, mind full of the sound of bird wings rustling and flapping, a faint memory of feathers brushing his fingertips. reds and yellows and blues, and sandy coloured hair, all just softness and heat.

heart tearing apart behind his ribs, he wants to chase it like a mirage. like it is the only thing capable of keeping him whole. of making this horrid pain go away for once, just please, please make it go away.

the day is shaped nothing like sorrow and grief: it's bright, languid, unhurried. so gentle with him, calm. loving.

the warm touch of sun on his cheek feels like kisses. like soft lips, a brush of wind instead of laughter pressed into his skin.

the pain in his chest turns worse.

he can't make it stop.

he misses him.

he misses him misses him misses him.

misses—

who?

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 25

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

Doflamingo

This is a fun little new trick, Fukaboshi. Did Daddy teach it to you? What say you show it off next time we have another dinner party, hmm?

Fukaboshi

Don't change the topic. And don't force my hand, brother. You wouldn't want to do this the hard way.

Doflamingo snarls at him angrily and lunges forwards but is only able to nudge his head and shoulders. Fukaboshi's water abilities remain strong. The ever swirling vortex that holds the Warlord constricts his body in place.

Doflamingo

Don't you dare call me that, fish scum. I never have thought of you as one.

Fukaboshi

You're right. I shouldn't. Especially after everything you've done.

It's a shame…. You had every potential to do good and look at you now.

Doflamingo

Tch. You don't know me at all. 

Fukaboshi narrows his eyes and hovers himself away, pulling the trident from the Warlord's face to slam its base onto the sandy floor.

Fukaboshi

No…. Something's changed.

Doflamingo

Nothing has changed. I've always been like this.

The mermaid king hesitates and carefully observes the state of the man in front of him. Seeing that the Warlord is too maddened, he judges that he will have no chance to change his heart by appealing to him at this point. He presses on back to the original matter at hand.

Fukaboshi

Tell me where Sanji is, Doflamingo.

At that, the tall blonde remains quiet. Through the cracked lenses of his sunglasses, the mermaid king sees his eyes move ever so subtly to the side, towards the shore where he'd emerged from. When he follows his gaze, he sees a dark shape half buried in the sand. He approaches it.

Doflamingo

Don't!

Fukaboshi pauses on his tracks and glances at him with an intrigued brow. He continues his careful approach. As he gets closer, Doflamingo’s rage worsens.

Doflamingo

I SWEAR, IF AS MUCH AS LAY A SINGLE FINGER ON HIM–!!!

Fukaboshi 

Sanji?

The mermaid king's eyes widen in surprise when he recognises the stranger's familiar blonde hair and curled brows. He doesn't question his new form but instead, he gently scoops him up and carries him in one of his large arms.

Doflamingo

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY?! When I get out of here, I will gut you and the rest of your family!

Fukaboshi ignores him and quietly floats inland, never taking his concerned gaze off the unconscious young man.

Fukaboshi

Heart Pirates, I need your assistance.

From behind a large boulder near one of Jaya’s forests, Bepo, Penguin and Shachi come out of hiding and run towards him.

Bepo

Did you find them, King Fukaboshi?!

Fukaboshi 

Keep Sanji safe. I think he was knocked out cold.

Bepo

Ahh!! Chore Boy! Give– uh…

As soon as the mermaid king passes the young man into the arms of the polar bear mink, the three Heart Pirates stare at the stranger in confusion. After a short moment, Penguin breaks the silence.

Penguin

We've been doing this for a very long time but not once have I seen this as a symptom for getting “knocked out cold”.

Shachi

Are you sure it's him, Mr. Fish King?

Fukaboshi

I am certain.

Bepo

He looks so…different. Younger! How can you be so sure?

Fukaboshi

Just a gut feeling.

And…Doffy there isn't too happy.

They all turn their attention to the still writhing and raging Warlord in Fukaboshi's water hold.

Bepo

You did it…. You really did it! You captured him! Captain will be so happy!

Shachi

I'll get a dry towel for Chore Boy.

Penguin

Right! Let's get to work!

Bepo

Right!

The Heart Pirates hurriedly make their way towards a nearby treeline and settle the younger Sanji on the soft grass to nurse him.

Doflamingo

I will kill. Every. Single. One of you.

DO YOU HEAR ME?!

Fukaboshi glares at the Warlord and returns to stand in front of him. He holds his trident aloft and slams the blunt end onto the ground. From the impact, a loud gong-like tune emanates from the weapon and reverberates through to its very tips. The sand shifts like a wave of water and the force travels out to the open sea. Doflamingo makes a growling sound at the back of his throat but stops struggling about.

Reiju

Fukaboshi!!

A familiar shape appears from above. With Law on her back, the pink commander descends and takes a run towards the mermaid king. When she gets closer, they notice her bulging heart-shaped eyes and legs spinning about, moving around left and right like a toy top.

Reiju

FUKABOSHI, MY BEAUTIFUL PRINCE!!! Your long wavy locks and bedazzling scales never fail to brighten my day!

Please, PLEASE ignore the ugly man hanging off me! My heart only belongs to you!

Law

QUIT IT!! You’re making me dizzy! Put me down!

Reiju

Psh.

When Reiju finally settles, Law spots the water-bound Warlord and gawks at him in bewilderment. He hops down from the commander's back and approaches Doflamingo cautiously.

Law

You…. How is this possible?

Fukaboshi

You must be Trafalgar Law. I heard so many good things about you.

Law

A pleasure, Your Highness. I assume this is your handiwork?

Fukaboshi

Please, just “Fukaboshi” will do. Any friend of the Pirate King is a friend to Fish-Man Island. And yes. A mutual friend of ours insisted I get more creative with my combative skills so… here we are.

Doflamingo

Well, well…what lovely new friends we’re all making today. Don't think this is all over, Law. You're the reason why this all started in the first place.

Reiju

I think it very much is the end for you, Doflamingo.

Great job, Fukaboshi! You really did it this time!

Fukaboshi half bows to her with an appreciative smile.

Reiju

Have you seen Sanji and Roronoa Zoro by any chance? He and this one had thrown themselves off Skypiea and fought midair. We couldn't catch up in time and lost sight of him.

Fukaboshi doesn’t look too impressed at the sound of the Demon Warlord’s name but as he’s in the audience of one of his favourite Vinsmokes, he keeps his composure.

Fukaboshi

I'm afraid I haven't seen Roronoa Zoro. I've just called for my forces to return. Hopefully they will have better news for you. As for Sanji–

The tide rapidly drops and all eyes turn towards the body of water. When it rises, a large form emerges from the depths, accompanied by two gigantic seakings tailing it closely. The creatures remain partly submerged and stop just before the shallower side. Shirahoshi floats with her own bubble over the land to join the crowd, looking tired and emotional.

Shirahoshi

Big sister Reiju! I'm so glad to see you safe! Did you find Sanji?!

Reiju

Erm…

Fukaboshi

The Heart Pirates are tending to the Pirate King as we speak.

Reiju

Oh, Fukaboshi, you're the best!!

Reiju jumps to kiss Fukaboshi on the cheek then immediately runs inland to join the Heart Pirates by the treeline.

Shirahoshi

This is great news about Sanji! But uhm…big brother, my seakings found a uh… sky seaking, I guess?

Fukaboshi

A…what?

They look towards the seakings in the water. When Shirahoshi waves at them, they shift their long tails apart to reveal a giant snake partly wrapped over their long bodies for support.

Law

NOLA?!?

The two giant creatures assist Nola towards the shore, curling and stretching their long tails to carefully carry her through. Thanks to them, her head stays above the surface but the rest of her body falls limp in the waters. They can tell that she's in no shape to move. Her body is riddled with scorch marks and cuts which Law deduces were from the fires and the raiders’ attacks. He quickly trudges through the shallow end and places a gentle affectionate hand on her massive nose.

Law

What are you doing all the way down here? How did you even get here? Is Skypiea gone for good?

The creature coos softly at recognising his voice. She weakly opens her eyes and looks straight at him. To Law’s surprise, she winks. With a groan, she slowly opens her mouth widely and everyone on the island gasps in shock.

Inside her gaping maw, the entire population of Skypiea stood. They cover and squint their eyes until they adjust to the light. At which point, Wyper, Gan Fall and Conis carefully make their way down from Nola's tongue then through between her fangs.

Wyper

So this is the blue sea…. The air is… different–ah.

As soon as the three Skypieans jump onto the shallow waters, their legs quiver at the odd sensation.

Conis

Why are the clouds like this? So weird…. It's all water.

When they walk further and onto the sandy ground, they are met by the mermaid king and his sister. They stare at each other curiously, eyeing the different features on their bodies in amazement having never seen species of their kinds before. 

Conis

You… you have a tail! And gills! And you can fly? So cool!!

Shirahoshi

And you have wings and…those pointy things on your head! That’s so fascinating! Oh…this is just a coral bubble. We need it to float around on land.

Fukaboshi smiles warmly at them.

Fukaboshi

You must be the sky people. I welcome you. I wish your arrival was in better circumstances. It’s not normally this…

He glances behind him towards Doflamingo.

Fukaboshi

…unpleasant.

Wyper

You don’t say…

Wyper marches angrily at the bound Warlord.

Wyper

This must be the Doflamingo we've heard so much about. I should kill you right here, right now for burning down our home.

Voice

Wait!

Red and green blazing auras descend from the sky. When they land, Yonji  approaches Fukaboshi and the crowd surrounding him while Ichiji hurriedly makes his way towards the Heart Pirates with the unconscious Niji in his arms.

Reiju

Oh, Niji…. Lay him here, brother. Gently now.

Ichiji

You got Sanji, then? Wait…

Reiju

It’s a long story….

Gan Fall

It’s you! Wyper, Conis–look! It's the green Northy!

Yonji

God and Skypieans… I… I took part in the destruction of your home and I will take full responsibility for my actions.

Wyper’s face turns red from fury.

Wyper

You… WHAT?!

Reiju

Hold on!

Before Wyper could lunge at Yonji, Reiju runs and puts herself between them. She holds her brother's hand behind her protectively.

Reiju

Doflamingo controlled him against his will. He couldn't fight it!

Wyper

I don't care about your excuses! He deserves to be punished!

Reiju

I agree. But not here. Not like this.

Gan Fall steps forward from behind and lays a gentle hand on Wyper’s shoulder.

Gan Fall

The girl is right, Wyper. We can’t rush into these things. Just remember, this young man rescued us from those pirates and somehow helped us find our way down here. 

Having left Niji in the Heart Pirate’s care, Ichiji joins them to chime in.

Ichiji

Yonji did well, sister. He did exactly what God said and single handedly flew the snake down with his winches to save everyone from the fires. It wasn't easy. We’re lucky we ran into Shirahoshi.

Gan Fall

See, Wyper? Level your head. He deserves a fair trial. You’re not going to run away, are you, young man?

Yonji

No, sir. I meant what I said. I will accept the consequences of my actions.

Gan Fall

A brave and honourable decision. We will certainly attend your hearing and we will take that into account. I suppose we’ll just have to trust you to come along.

Reiju

And what of Doflamingo’s crew?

Yonji hesitates to speak. He shifts his legs and rubs the back of his arm uncomfortably. When Reiju sees them, she notices that his sleeves are covered in dried blood.

Yonji

They’re taken care of.

Ichiji

Under my direct order, Reiju. They didn’t give us much of a choice. They were relentless.

Reiju

Oh…

Wyper

Tch.

Wyper crosses his arms and averts his gaze, unsatisfied with the whole situation and Gan Fall’s decision to not take immediate action.

Yonji

I’m sorry. I know my apology isn’t enough and it will never be. I don’t expect you to forgive me at all.

Wyper

You bet we wo–!

When the warrior glares at the commander, he freezes. He sees a mirage of Zoro and Sanji’s faces circle around his green-haired head. When they merge into one, the illusion pops, revealing Yonji's face behind it. Blood suddenly bursts out of Wyper’s nose. His eyes roll to the back of his skull as he faints but Yonji catches him by an arm and around his waist in time before he hits the ground.

Yonji

Woah, woah! Are you okay? What happened? I swear, I didn’t do anything.

Wyper groans, his eyes spinning in circles.

Conis

OH! It’s because you look like… erm… I’ll explain later. Come on, Wyper. Sit down and have a second.

Conis leads them under the treeline with the rest of the injured. Yonji sets down the dizzy warrior to recover in the shade. Back on the shore, Law rolls his eyes after realising exactly what the Skypiean was talking about.

Law

Now then…

The doctor approaches Doflamingo until he's just outside the vortex of water that binds him. He taps his own shoulder a couple of times with his sheathed sword, glaring at the man. Doflamingo simply returns his gaze with a menacing smile.

Doflamingo

I hope you’re happy, Trafalgar. This is a very heartwarming reunion…seeing old friends and making new ones. Quite touching.

Law

You have something that belongs to me.

Doflamingo

You would think so.

Law

Fukaboshi, I need to search him.

Fukaboshi

You’re welcome to. He’s too weak in the water to resist. Though I must recommend a non-Devil Fruit user to assist you. If you so much as touch those waters, you’ll find that your energy will drain in an instant.

Law

I see. In that case–

Doflamingo

You can search me all you want, Law. But you’ll find that I have nothing in my possession that’s of interest to you.

Rosinante is lost. Again. Thanks to you.

Law narrows his eyes at him and grits his teeth angrily, resisting every urge to beat the living shit out of him.

Voice

Big bro! We found the swordsman!

All eyes turn back to the sea and watch Fukaboshi’s brothers emerge from the blue waters. With their own bubbles, they float their way up to the island. In front, Ryuboshi leads the way with a weakened and bloodied Zoro on his back. Manboshi follows closely behind them, carrying all three of his swords in his arms.

Law

Zoro-ya!

Zoro struggles to lift his head over the mermaid prince's shoulder. As soon as he sees Law, he raises his arm, showing off the Heart of Skypiea in his hand. The doctor feels a great amount of relief wash over him.

Doflamingo

Tch.

Reiju

MY PRINCES!!!

Shirahoshi

Wait, big sister! Close your eyes!!!

Clasping her hands under her chin, Reiju spins and circles around all three mermaid brothers. Lecherous hearts pop out of her eyes.

Reiju

My three favourite royal mermen…all in one place?! I have…to resist…. BUT I COULDN'T BE ANY HAPPIER! MY GORGEOUS HANDSOME BEAUTIES! PLEASE ALLOW ME TO EXPRESS MY UNDYING LOVE!!

Before she can, Reiju suddenly turns into stone. Her stunned body falls onto the sand with a heavy thump and they all stare at her awkwardly.

Shirahoshi

I’m so, so, sorry Reiju!

Big brothers! I told you to wear shirts!

Manboshi

Oh no… not again.

Ichiji sighs in exasperation and drags Reiju’s petrified body by her foot though the sand and up on the grassy terrain where the Heart Pirates are currently tending to the injured–some more than others.

Ichiji

Here. Another one.

Heart Pirates

WHAT?!

Bepo

What's with everyone just suddenly fainting?! We’re not even under attack!

Penguin

Captain!! We are severely understaffed right now.

Shachi

I don’t even know how to help this one!

Ichiji

Trust me, she's pretty helpless. Just give her time and make sure nothing breaks off.

Bepo

…Oops…

Ichiji

…Like that. Yeah…. It’s probably best that you don't tell her that you snapped some of her hair.

Back on the sandy shores where the friends gathered, Ryuboshi approaches the mermaid king.

Ryuboshi

Big brother, what do we do with the Demon Warlord, do-re-mi-fa~?

Zoro attempts to push himself to look up but his head flumps back onto the mermaid prince’s shoulder. When the crystal heart slips from his grasp, Law catches it on time.

Fukaboshi snarls at the sight of the swordsman and crosses his arms.

Fukaboshi

This one you can throw back into the sea.

Neptune Siblings

WHAT?!

Doflamingo laughs out loud.

Doflamingo

For once, we are in agreement, King Fukaboshi.

Fukaboshi

Hmph.

Shirahoshi

That’s so cruel, big brother! No! I must insist that we help him!

Fukaboshi

Do what you want. He can drown or bleed to death for all I care. Both, if we're lucky.

Shirahoshi

Stop talking like that!

Zoro

Let…let me down.

Ryuboshi

A–are you sure, swordsman? You look badly hurt, re-mi-so~

Law approaches and assists Zoro off the mermaid prince. He hooks his arm around his shoulder to keep him up.

Zoro

Traffy… I failed him. I couldn't…

Law

He's here. Come on. I’ll take you to him.

Relieved to hear the news, Zoro lets the doctor drag his feet. Fukaboshi’s unhappy eyes follow them as they make their way inland. The rest of the crowd tails them, eager to hear the exact events that unfolded in Skypiea, and to check on Sanji and the rest of the injured. Now alone with the mermaid king, Doflamingo speaks.

Doflamingo

I can die happy if you promise to kill him.

They watch quietly as Law sets the swordsman down onto the grass where young Sanji lay. Weakly, Zoro crawls towards him and sits next to his body while Law and the Heart Pirates start their preparations to attend to his injuries. With a hushed low voice, Fukaboshi responds to the Warlord.

Fukaboshi

I’m not making such promises.

Doffy…

Doflamingo’s eyes drop down to the ground and expression on his face turns sour, fully expecting the lecture that comes next. Fukaboshi finally turns to look at him directly.

Fukaboshi

Can’t you talk to me? I thought we used to be friends… good friends. I trusted you with my life. If it’s about the Demon Warlord, I don’t like him either. Sanji was insistent that he fight him head on but from what I was told, that was back then. How could you do this to him?

The Warlord’s head droops lower.

Fukaboshi

Is there… something else? What changed, Doffy? The three of us made a pact for life. I find it hard to believe that–

Doflamingo

Fukaboshi…

Doflamingo raises his head slightly, watching the group fuss over the injured ones. The remaining Skypieans finally build up the courage to set foot onto the island to allow Nola to rest her jaws. They flood inland to explore.

Doflamingo

Have you ever had something in your life that you’d do anything for? Something you’d give up everything for.

Fukaboshi takes a moment to process his words. He watches his own siblings reunite with their extended Vinsmoke family, shaking hands, lightly wrestling with each other and assisting the Heart Pirates in caring for Sanji, Reiju and Niji. He wonders what could possibly have occurred to Doflamingo to have him change so unexpectedly and so drastically. Afraid that the Warlord would clam up if questioned too quickly, Fukaboshi resists the urge to bombard him with questions and instead chooses to answer him directly.

Fukaboshi

Yes.

Doflamingo

I used to think everyone and everything was disposable. Replaceable.

Doflamingo bears his gaze at the unconscious blonde in the distance.

Doflamingo

This is all new to me. It disgusts me. I find myself vile and weak.

Fukaboshi

It’s not a weakness, Doffy. What you’re feeling is–

Doflamingo

Fukaboshi, I’m cashing in.

Fukaboshi

Wh–what?

Doflamingo tilts his head and locks eyes with the horrified mermaid king.

Doflamingo

To make it easier for you, I will leave. You won't have to see me again. But I can't get stuck here or anywhere.

You’ve always said that you owe me for taking part in giving your people a place in the Levely. Here's your chance to free yourself of that debt.

Fukaboshi

You’re mad. You can't be serious! You're asking for too much, Doffy! People want to see you face justice. And so do I. Especially for what you did to Sanji and his brothers. However, the reason why I’m going to insist on taking you into our custody is so you don’t get killed or worse–locked up to be mistreated by the Marines. Understand that I'm already doing this for you.

Doflamingo

Come now, viejo amigo. I know you’re a man of your word.

…What do you think Sanji would do in your place?

Fukaboshi’s eyes widen at the question. His hand grips the trident tighter, suddenly so unsure about the situation at hand.

Fukaboshi

…He would honour the deal.

----------

Bonus: Combined Portraits

(Really, I just wanted to upload them here so I can embed it in AO3. Don't mind me)

[isa-ah]

skinned the fuck out of my knuckle sanding these kau hooves aughgh

[acorviart]

everyone should attempt an artisan craft at some point in their life because it would cut down the number of comments questioning why handmade goods like ceramics or textile craft or woodworking are so expensive

and this is an unrealistic expectation, but I think the attempt should include seeing through to the end at least one "finished" item, no matter how clumsy or lumpy your first attempts might be. like to me, there's a huge difference in perspective between attempting to learn how to crochet or throw a pot for a few days, acknowledging that it's harder than it looks and giving up, versus committing to finishing that scarf or clay pot you started and working on it for weeks while you painstakingly learn from your mistakes and grow attached to your project while also simultaneously hating it.

once you finish the latter, your perspective changes from "why does this crocheted blanket cost $200" to "holy shit I can't believe they're charging $200 for this crocheted blanket instead of $2000" because you may have known crocheting is hard, you may have easily agreed with the idea that "handmade goods take time and effort" even before attempting a craft, but now you know firsthand the absolute time sink it takes to make things. like yeah dude, that one item took you 2 months to make and probably wasn't even an ultra complex item if it was the first thing you made, now imagine attaching an hourly wage to that time to calculate the cost (and this is ignoring every nuance of the artistic element and master crafters being able to work faster/charge higher because of their years and years of experience)

anyway this rant has been motivated by a comment I saw on someone else's ceramic post asking why a mug was $60 and they understand it's handmade but $60 just seems overpriced, and bro do you know how long ceramics take to make. that mug probably took at minimum 3 weeks between how long it takes to throw the mug, dry partially, trim the mug, dry fully, bisque fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, sand and paint and glaze, glaze fire, wait a day for the kiln to cool, take product photography of the mug, write description and list the mug online for sale, im not even including the skill needed to complete all these steps without the mug literally exploding or collapsing while also making it an appealing piece of art, aaaaaaaaaaaaa

[quarterlifekitty]

Thinking about Simon’s girl who sniffed his neglected, insecure, traumatized ass out like a bloodhound and dug in

You remind him a lot of price. Always trying to take in strays, always stubbornly trying to succeed in the jobs where others failed. It just took one look at his apartment when he opened the door— you’d brought a misdelivered package to him— and you locked in.

Suddenly all your meals somehow had doubled portions. Must’ve misread the recipe. You’re accidentally buying little things, not realizing you already had one squirreled away. Any god— once he steps foot in your apartment?

Call that man Sam Puckett the way he’s always at your place and almost forgetting he has his own place he could go to. He can’t help it— you have a full couch with lots of pillows and a knit blanket. The place always smells of something— fresh baking, stir fry, candles, fresh farmer’s market produce. He puts on a little more weight. Stop buying caloriemate. Hair is a little shinier (he’s using your products in the shower, let’s be real). He hasn’t been burned in ages (you always keep sunscreen with you and insist on applying it to his pale skin).

As a child, he knew the burden that he was. Even as his mother loved him, she couldn’t hide every sigh and slump of the shoulders as she damned near went hungry some nights trying to keep him alive while his father’s pay went straight to his tab. It never left him. But you ignore any and all of his attempts to be low maintainence, to take up less resources— you want every rich taste and pleasure of the world that you know to be his as well. And you’re so happy when he lets you give.

It’s never forceful. Just kind. “Try this, honey— I think you’ll like it,” holding a forkful towards him. He forgets to even start asking you out— your relationship blurs so quickly from all the domesticity. You can only ply someone deprived with love for so long before they want to kiss you every day forever. Before he knows it he’s about to meet your fucking parents, palms sweating as he tries to remember how this all came to be— this whirlwind you’ve swept him up in.

But where he expects a shovel talk, he finds none. They reveal, amused, that it’s always been this way with you. Your childhood home was like a clubhouse. None of your friends had stable lives growing up— you just gravitated towards them and wanted them to have everything that you had. Suddenly the way you so speedily co-opted him makes sense. And they’re not the least bit wary of the man with the dark, leering gaze that’s covered in scars and built like a brick shithouse. Because they know your eyes are better than a jewelers lens when it comes to evaluating quality.

That night he keeps excusing himself to the bathroom to try to hold back the tears and collect himself because all of the sudden he knows what a home and a family are supposed to look like, and you all want him to be a part of it. You didn’t take him to meet your parents because you wanted to see that they approved of him— you took him because you wanted to show off how proud you were of your latest find. A fleck of gold among grains of sand. A piece of sea glass, once a sharp, discarded thing now tumbled smooth and kept in your pocket.

Simon likes feeling kept.

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[hanasnx]

“ I CAN FEEL IT, CAN YOU FEEL IT, THERE MUST BE SOMETHING IN THE AIR ” — rafe cameron.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: kinktober; takes place in obx s4 e1 but there’s a slight change; also happy birthday @princessbrunette :) i wrote this for you in mind; and based off of the scene in f&f where dom picks letty up calling her his trophy. WARNINGS: spoiler warning for obx season 4 episode 1 ノ non canon compliant: i made rafe win the race ノ size difference ノ established relationship ノ objectification ノ impact play: ass smack ノ mild exhibitionism bcos of pda ノ praise ノ sexual content: p in v stuff ノ dirty talk.

Your feet sink into the sand as you traipse alongside RAFE CAMERON to his station in the race. His large hand envelopes yours, keeping you balanced as he leads you to his bike. The roar of revving fills your ears, loud enough for your boyfriend to have to lean down to your level to speak to you, walking you through the process and your role here. You’ve never been a flag girl before, but he told you she needs to be a “hot piece of ass” and he wants these boys heads still spinning when he wins the race. As a distraction, you were the only girl he wanted for the job.

“… and all you gotta do, baby, is make sure those guys are lookin’ at you. Show off a little something—just this once, I don’t care.” he explains, and you nod your head while brushing your hair out of your face from the wind. The two of you stand aside his bike and he mounts it, swinging a long leg over it. It creaks from his weight, and you roll your tongue between your lips. Without sunglasses, his gaze is narrowed, meeting yours in the light as he tugs you closer to him. “You look good. Prettiest girl on Figure Eight.” he assures you, the corner of his lips quirked as he checks you out. The tiniest booty shorts you could find and a stringy bikini top, you looked good enough to eat. If Rafe wasn’t so concerned with crossing the finish line while these cucks were still drooling over you, he’d be a little jealous they get such a treat. “Man, you are eye candy. Give me a twirl, c’mon.”

It eases your nerves, grinning bashfully to yourself as he raises your hand over your head, twisting on your toes to show him your outfit. He bites his lower lip hard at the sight of the underside of your ass hanging out of your shorts, and he can’t help but give you a tap. You whirl around from the swat, and catch his eyes flash up.

“Mm, baby.” he exclaims, talking about you like you’re dessert and he’s got a sweet tooth. He doesn’t give you a chance to scold him for smacking your ass around all these people, “C’mere,” he murmurs, yanking you to him until your body is draped over him on his bike. Your manicured nails brace on his chest while he steals a kiss, humming in surprise at him when he tilts his head to deepen it. Takes advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue along yours in a proper good-luck-kiss, which only makes for a string of spit to connect the two of you when you part. You breathe hard, chest rising and falling from thrill as you search his expression. There’s a glow of love-sickness in his eyes.

You try to milk more attention. “I don’t know if I can…” you begin, alluding to how shy you’re gonna be in front of all these people.

“Oh, don’t start that shit, you’re gonna be fine.” he dismisses, seeing right through you and shrugging you off him so you get it’s time to stop being clingy. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” He plucks his helmet up, and rounds his body to place it on his head while you reluctantly leave him.

When it’s time to start the race, you hold up two bandanas—donated by some guys trying to buy you drinks—and Rafe scoffs to himself, patting himself on the back for being such a genius. “Who wouldn’t be lookin’ at you?” he thinks, while he revs his bike. You even give the crowd a little shake, your girls strapped in your bikini top swinging teasingly right before you set them off with the bow of your bandanas and the low dip of your arch. Rafe could’ve sworn one guy glanced over his shoulder to check out your ass bent over because he lost control of his steering for a second after. The race was on, and you did your job exactly how your boyfriend wanted you to.

Some kook with too much time on his hands made his way through the crowd to invite himself into your atmosphere, watching you as you eagerly await Rafe’s return and your signal to drop the flags for the winner.

A voice too close to your ear alerts you, resulting in a minute jolt of your body when he speaks. “What are you doing after this?”

Brows furrow as you glance over your shoulder at him, “Oh, uh, I dunno right now.” you reply, but you’re not showing interest. It would depend on Rafe’s victory. You refocus, keeping an eye on the horizon and the roaring metal of competitive bikes. Rejoining the crowd’s enthusiasm, you react with them when someone wipes out.

“Me and the boys were gonna head to a kegger in the boneyard. You should come.” he tells you. Again, too close for your liking. He’s not particularly bad-looking, or grabby, but you don’t like how he’s standing right next to you and stooping to speak in your ear.

You face him again to respond, but the race takes your attention away, shutting your mouth to whirl around just in time to see Rafe drive back into view, sand kicking up behind his wheel.

After a close call, he wins, and when it’s safe, the adoring crowd cheers as it floods the scene to congratulate the riders. You’re one of them, beelining to Rafe without a second thought. He’s discarded his helmet, tossing it haphazardly to the sand as he meets you.

“Ah, there’s my trophy.” he says, hands clamping onto your waist to lift you from the ground. You squeal with delight, bracing on his shoulders and kicking your feet up. Slowly he lowers you until you can wrap your arms around his neck. He’s hot and sweaty, and smells like it too, inhaling his scent deeply as you embrace him and he spins you around. You’ve completely forgotten about that kook you left behind.

“Did so good, precious, did exactly what I told you to.” Rafe murmurs against your lips, whipping his bike jacket off behind him while you lead him by his jaw deeper into his place.

“Mhm, had to give them a show. Like you said.” you exhale, nodding fervently as you press yourself to him, desperate for some friction.

“Didn’t I say you’d be fine? Huh? What’d I say?” he goads, and stoops, signaling you to jump into his arms. He catches your legs, securing them around his waist before his hand cups your backside and his other pins you to him by the back of your neck.

“I did so good!” you reply, a little perkier than you’d meant to. It breaks him out into a grin against you, and he snickers through his nose. Bringing you to his bedroom, he settles your back onto the bed.

Lips locked, and bodies tangling together, he struggles to find a spare second to keep talking, “Gonna give me my prize? You gonna put out for the winner?” His hips surge, and a familiar hard outline sweeps across the crotch of your denim.

You nod, poking your tongue out in concentration as you help him to undress fully, and you wiggle out of your booty shorts. The peek of your tongue doesn’t go unnoticed, and Rafe’s lips overlays yours, sucking on the pink tip there toyingly. You relax into it, untensing them to melt into a real kiss as the tip of something else nudges against your sex. Already wet and aching from all the teasing today, you go limp at the promise of what’s to come. Bulging mushroom head lazily thumbing in and out of your slit makes your head throw back and jerk. “Rafe…” you whine. Sodden lips mouth at your cheek and jaw, working their way down to make out with your neck as his hips shallowly rut.

Ringed fingers clutch your face, tucking your chin in the web of his index and thumb. It faces you to him, and you look up at him with doe eyes and pretty brows in an upturn. He wants to watch your reactions as he pushes in deeper and deeper, finally sheathing as you cry out. It’s a stingy stretch, and he can see your want for it in the roll of your eyes and the flinch of your delicate expression. “Yeah, baby, gimme that trophy. That’s right.”

[burreauxwrites]

“TIGER” - (joe burrow x reader)

description: while taking a bath with joe, you made an important discovery. he has stretch marks! (i wrote this after discovering that joe has stretch marks 🥹 he’s so lovely)

word count: 708

warnings: fluff, sharing a bath, joe is kind of touched deprived.

it had been a busy day for both you and joe. you had some work you had to get done, and joe had practice. there really wasn’t anything the both of you wanted more than to enjoy a relaxing bath and chat about your day together.

the both of you liked to call it your “nightly debriefing”. joe would talk about how practice went and any funny moments, while you shared some gossip and what your day was like at work.

joe started the water, running his hands beneath the rapid stream to check it’s temperature for the both of you. one the temperature was what you both desired, he put in the stopper, letting you add the body soap. you opted for a warm vanilla scent, compared to lavender.

the both of you stepped into the tub once the water finished filling it up, sinking into the warm, soapy water. joe looked at you fondly, shuffling over to you a bit.

“y/n, babe,” he asks, looking at you with a slight pleading look, “could you massage my back, please?”

“of course, joey.” you answered, nodding and beckoning joe to come closer and turn around.

when he does, your delicate hands run over his frame, kneading and working out any knots. a soft grin formed onto your lips as you heard him relax; he was always one of the most hardest working people you’ve ever known, and he deserved to have time to be calm and not feel stressed.

as you continue massaging him, you stop, a faint gasp escaping your lips.

joe had stretch marks. the most beautiful ones you’d ever seen, really. all of the lines on his back and shoulders stood out against his skin, soft and uneven, like ripples in sand after a wave. you figured they were from him working out a lot and bulking up quickly.

“what…?” joe questioned, noticing your gasp and the pause in your movement.

“you…you have stretch marks…” you murmured fondly.

joe chuckled, the sound rumbling his body a bit underneath your hands. “yeah, i do. it’s no biggie,” he shrugs, relaxing as you begin massaging him again, “when you gain muscle really quickly, that kind of thing tends to happen.”

you smiled, nodding as a soft hum came from you. your hands drew gentle circles around the scars as you stared at them lovingly. they’re so beautiful. he’s beautiful. you loved every single inch of joe, and the fact that he had stretch marks made him imperfectly perfect.

“they’re cute,” you cooed softly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss onto his shoulder where the marks were, “they’re like…tiger stripes,” you giggled as you traced over the marks with your finger softly.

“tiger stripes, huh?” joe laughed, partially due to the ticklish sensation of your finger, and your words, “what, so i’m a tiger now?”

“mhm,” you agreed, continuing to pepper his shoulders and back in kisses. you pulled back for a moment, taking a warm look at his skin and making it your mission to commit it to memory, “you’re big, strong, kind of intimidating, and beautiful.”

joe shook his head at your words, sighing as you continued massaging his body. you always praised joe, both for his skills and physical traits. he found it sweet; he could have the most mundane mole or scar, and you treated it like a piece of art.

he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a small moment in relaxation. with a smile, leans back, putting a decent bit of weight on you, but not too much; he didn’t want to crush you.

you could tell he was feeling a bit touch deprived, but you didn’t mind. it was easy for you to tell that he was having a moment where he just wanted to be held. so, you leaned back against the tub, wrapping your arms around him with a smile.

“y/n?” joe asked, opening his eyes as he felt you rest your head onto his shoulder.

you perk up a little, “mhm?” you ask, looking at him warmly.

“i love you.” he sighed.

with a softened gaze, you run a thumb against his scarred skin with admiration and profound care.

“i love you too, tiger.”

[yandere-wishes]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮! 𝓣𝓲𝓶 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔁 𝓡𝓸𝓫𝓸𝓽!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻˚ 𐙚 .⋆

✮⋆˙𝓗𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓽˙⋆✮

I believe the reason I decided to study robotics in the first place is that I have always loved romanticizing machinery. There's something endlessly enthralling about robots and how much they both mirror and reveal about us humans. And don't even get me started on the intersection of the two. When biology and mechanics combine…

──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

Out of all the Batboys Tim is the one I can see falling for a robot reader the easiest. There is a reference to Pygmalion and Galatea in all of this. A futuristic parody.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake who falls in love with one of his creations. It had been an experiment, a distraction really, something to fidget with during the long hours of the day when neither Tim nor Bruce could bear the suffocation of either life. Insomnia has a habit of running in the veins of the mansion's residents. Haunting them like feral phantoms. Bruce was the one to suggest it. Came up with the idea between screenings of Blade Runner and Her. What if there was someone else, something else. Who could pick up the slack whenever neither of them could. Someone to cover for both Batman AND Bruce Wayne. Red Robin AND Tim Drake…

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who has always found it easier to fall in love with machinery, with the motors that whirl and the computers that speak in tongues of one and zero. It's always easier to love that which you've programmed with your own hands. He glides his fingers over your smooth icy face, pinching your steel cheek with a boyish giggle. He's painstakingly meticulous with how he manipulates the wires of your exposed stomach. Smoothing out the solder, making sure the heat shrinks are snug. There isn't a resistor within you that's been placed carelessly.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who is the first person, the first thing you see when your optics come online. The first person to utter words that float and register within your processor. You are his precious creations, his darling marvel, he built you with pieces of his heart, built you to be perfection. Weeks later you're sitting between his legs as he helps you choose a silicon faceplate. Superficial details really, Tim assures you, just something to help you blend in. He finds the particular shade you chose for your eyes cute. You aren't sure why that makes your processor buzz so quickly and your cooling fans to kick in.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who steals kisses whenever his father and Alfred aren't looking. Who thinks that every human pales in the gleam of your beauty. Finit metal, that knows everything and nothing at the same time. Little robot girl who holds his hand as she asks and researches every enigma within minutes. Some nights Tim can't help but peel away the faux skin. To kiss your wires and your circuits. To make little tweaks to perfection. He whispers a name, your name, while he pecks your frigid iron lips…

But what about Tim with a cyborg reader? What about someone who is the best of both worlds? Indiffenitly entwined.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who spends countless nights slaving away on the perfect imitations of the limbs you have lost. You were once a hero like him, another one of Gotham's beckons whose light was snuffed out by the the evil that roams within this city. You survived a fate much like his brother's only in this story Tim was there to rescue you from death's embrace.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who intwines your nerve ends with wires, at first it feels like sand crawling beneath your skin, gliding through your veins. The phantom pain rings inside your head, a macabre symphony. You close your eyes and command movement, command a thing you thought impossible to miss. Your new fingers twitch your wrist moves. You fall into Tim's chest sobbing as he tries to comfort you. Still, you don't miss the satisfied smile he tries to hide.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who insists on bettering your new body. On adding weapons and gadgets and lavish accessories. Who makes you stand in the lab for hours on end as he tweaks and plays with your cybernetics, who cuts and adds without permission. Who talks and talks about what he's doing and how much he adores you. Despite the pure love lacing each word you can't help but break out in a cold sweat.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who's changed so much of your body. Who's made you forget where the cybernetics end and you begin. Yandere Tim Drake who kisses across the sacred borders of skin and iron. Yandere Tim Drake whose eyes gleam so terrifyingly and joyously when he looks at you. Who dubs you his perfect creation and kisses you so passionately, while you fight the urge to gag.

[xenteaart]

you are not difficult

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) word count: no idea but it's short genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression, implied history of SH. also implied shitty ex. so PLS keep that in mind before you read. also, it's all good in the end. author's note: it's a self comfort thing y'all but i hope you like it too.

it was yet another night where everything felt too much and you kinda hated yourself for it. bad day, maybe some hormonal imbalance due to a certain time in your cycle, history of mental illness — it's hard to put a finger on the exact cause. you're sick of trying, anyways.

chris was, of course, right there for you, and as you were falling apart in his arms, your entire soul was aching so bad that it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. it's usually like that, everywhere in your body like some sort of extreme inflammation, except physically you're perfectly fine.

"'m sorry…" you blurt out somewhere between your sobs and cries, still unable to hold eye contact with him.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," chan shakes his head and keeps rubbing circles into your back, just between the shoulder blades where the ache feels the most excruciating.

"kiss me?" you squeak. almost pathetic, honestly, but it's always been your way of checking, whether he still wants you. whether he still loves you and desires you, even at your lowest, even with your mascara all smudged over your cheeks, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly irritated and swollen. even when there's a gaping black hole where the heart is supposed to be.

chris doesn't even question it, really. he simply leans in and gives you a long sweet kiss full of both a partner's tenderness and a lover's lust, so, so willing to do whatever it takes to calm the thunderstorm inside your mind and ease your struggle.

the kiss doesn't really satisfy you, the feeling is still there.

"sorry," you whisper again as you breathe out into chan's lips but the intimate contact doesn't last long. chris frowns and makes some distance between you two to look into your eyes.

"why? baby, why do you keep apologizing?" he sounds gentle but still slightly frustrated.

"i dunno? cos 'm difficult? for bein' difficult?"

there's a silence as he blinks a few times, processing and putting two and two together.

"just because it was difficult for them to love you and take care of you, doesn’t make you difficult. you are not difficult. like, at all," he puts on his serious tone, the one he uses for you when you can't see the obvious and he has to remind you.

you don't really know what to say to that, so you keep playing with the tissue paper in your hands, ripping it apart piece by piece just to keep yourself busy and focused on something other than the burning ache in your chest.

"dealing with mental health isn't easy, that one is true, baby, but it's so easy to love you. you are easy to love. even now, looking so small and in pain but it's still you, and my duty as your boyfriend is to take care of you when you can't. and, hell, you're one of the most capable people i know, so please just let me hold your hand through it once in a while, yeah?" chan speaks slowly and quietly, as if to make every single word sink in, tenderly forcing it into your stupid lovely brain that refuses to cooperate sometimes.

chris feels safe. he feels like lighting up a cookie scented candle after a long day at work. he's the feeling of the ocean timidly licking at your feet and burying them deeper into warm wet sand. chris is the first sip of coffee in the morning and the cold side of the pillow at night. he's everything worth living and trying for.

"thank you," is the only thing you manage to say, but in the way you lean back into his embrace he's able to read a lot more.

"do you want a nice mug o' hot chocolate and some fairy bread, baby?"

this question makes you hiccup and sob once again. you nod and nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

[kupidachillea]

Hello, I really like your yandere Olympians with a reader. You can make a yandere Poseidon with a reader separately, if it’s not difficult for you, of course Sorry if there are mistakes here, I’m just making mistakes with the translator😅 I just recently found out about Tumbl and you are the first one I write to and ask for something.

Poseidon x Reader (Hcs or imagines)

Author note: Eeeee Poseidon requests! I actually had some fun with this. Also thank you for requesting.

TW (Trigger Warning): Mentions of kidnapping, light stalking, mainly fluff.

CW (Content warning): I had this imagine set in the modern day because I wanted to explore more of how the gods would handle modern day lovers. Again- this isn’t accurate to the actual lore but some pieces are taken from it and inspired some of the things I put in here.

🌊- You had just moved to the seaside, wanting to get away from the busy city and just relax for a while.

🔱- You had found a nice home to purchase by the beach and took full advantage of it, collecting shells and sea glass, playing in the water and just sitting and enjoying the Greek sun.

🌊- Though, at times you can’t help but feel watched, however you can never tell where it’s coming from. At first you thought you were being paranoid since there were some people that occasionally came to the beach too but over time, the longer you lived by the water you felt eyes on you.

🔱- Turns out you weren’t being paranoid. A certain sea god was watching you, ever since you moved in. You had caught his eye..

🌊- He just couldn’t take his eyes off of you, it’s been quite some time since he’s had a mortal lover..it’s been a bit difficult as times have changed. You can’t simply kidnap someone without it being noticed.

🔱- “How bothersome..” He would think to himself. He was seriously considering snatching you up every time you came to the beach, after all- who wouldn’t want to spend the night with the god of the sea? So he thought you wouldn’t mind…

🌊- However, something held him back. He wanted to do things differently, believe it or not. He looked back on his memories and most times he acted rashly he ended up almost always chasing his ‘lovers’…he didn’t want to repeat history..maybe he should try human courtship for once.

🔱- And so- with that thought in mind he assumed a human form and decided to meet you on the beach.

🌊- Today was one such day, you were relaxing as usual, sorting out some shells before you felt the presence of another being looming over you. You looked up and your brows rose as you caught glimpse of the handsome man before you.

🔱- A smile tugged on Poseidon’s lips..he could already tell that his human form impressed you, however he can sense your suspicion. He pushed back a few strands of his long dark hair and greeted you.

🌊- Introducing himself by a different name to hid his identity and you answered back, greeting him and telling him about yourself.

🔱- At first you had a weird feeling about this strange man but you ended up brushing it off. Mentally telling yourself that you were just being paranoid.

🌊- Eventually you warm up to the stranger as days go by. You both kept meeting at the beach and somehow he always knew when you were there. You decided to jokingly bring that up in your next conversation with him.

🔱- “Hey, you know it’s kinda odd, right? How you know exactly when and where I’m going to be on the beach.” You chuckled softly as sat on the sand next to the dark haired man. Poseidon in human disguise hummed in acknowledgment.

🌊- “Oh is it?” He would ask in response. If only you knew that he was somewhat stalking you..waiting and watching for when you’d be out here. He was honestly getting very antsy waiting so long to have you but he somehow managed to mentally will himself to be more patient.

🔱- You nodded before continuing. “Yeah..you wouldn’t happen to be stalking me, would you?” You would laugh. Clearly joking about the entire thing though Poseidon just cocked a brow at you and smirked which in turn made your smile drop and your brows furrow.

🌊- “Wait..I was joking..I’m not serious..” You said quickly, hoping he’d take the hint and admit to not stalking you but of course that’s not how things went.

🔱- “I know you were joking, dear…but I have to be honest..I have been ‘stalking’ you..only a little.” Poseidon admitted and you pressed your lips into a thin line. Should you excuse yourself and leave? Or just stay put..you don’t know why but you felt oddly compelled to stay seated for a moment longer and hear him out. “Why..?”

🌊- “Why?” Poseidon replied back, his brows raising curiously before he smiled. “Why not? You interest me, little mortal. After you appeared on my beach I just had to have a closer look.” After he said that you felt your confusion only grow. ‘Little mortal’?… ‘His beach’?. Something wasn’t adding up.

🔱- “Wait- who are you…?” You finally spoke and it was as if you were seeing who he truly was for the first time. Because you were. You watched as his smirk formed into a grin and his appearance shifted. Causing you to backpedal away on instinct.

🌊- Now with his human form dropped he could finally be at ease. Poseidon let out a deep sigh. “Oh how I was waiting for this moment, for me to reveal my true self to you..I am Poseidon..god of the sea.” He would utter, his gaze falling back to you as he knelt down and took your hand. “Come now..don’t be afraid of me, dear one…” he cooed.

🔱- You weren’t sure what was happening anymore. You would’ve laughed at him and assumed he was joking if it weren’t for the fact he was kneeling in front of you after a short transformation. You took a deep breath before answering.

🌊- “Okay..um..Poseidon..what do you want with me?” You would ask as his thumb gently glided over your knuckles. A soothing gesture on his part, probably trying to get you to relax. The lord of the sea smiled softly.

🔱- “What I want with you? Isn’t it obvious? I want you to be my partner..my lover.” He would say, his voice as calm and as comforting as the soft sounds of the sea.

🌊- You looked at him in slight surprise and disbelief. Lover? You weren’t too sure how to take this. On one hand it was sweet and you were curious to see where this relationship would go- but on the other hand you were still skeptical of the god. Poseidon noticed your hesitancy and smiled a little as he moved his hands to caress your cheek. “We can go slow if you want…I’ve been patient and waited this long..so I think I can handle it if we take things one step at a time..” The sea god uttered with a slight sigh.

🔱-You relaxed at his words and nodded a bit. You supposed you could give this relationship a shot. Who knows, maybe having a deity as a boyfriend won’t be so bad. “I-…Okay..I accept your offer Poseidon.”

🌊- He would grin as the words left your mouth. This was perfect- exactly what he wanted. He was about to speak but you cut him off. “But! But- we go slow, like you promised. No rushing into anything serious at the moment…please?” You would spoke softly, your browns furrowed as you waited to hear the sea god’s response.

🔱- Poseidon would chuckle and nod. “Of course, my dear..We go slow.” He answered before placing a small kiss on the back of your hand. Finally he had you’re in his grasp, it was just a matter of time before he’d have you completely falling for him..and he intended to make that happen. You were his darling mortal after all..

Author note: Oof- this took way too long for me to do. I apologise for that. A lot of things were happening in November and I’m still sick lol. But on another note- I might do a part 2 to this if someone asks but all in all thank you for the request, Anon. I’m still working to finish the others too.

[just-some-user-hunny]

I'm in a whimsical mood rn so please indulge my idea of former stable boy turned knight Simon Riley and princess reader who were once childhood friends...

Ok but princess reader throwing her handkerchief to the mysterious new knight who just won the joust out of playful spirit- this brute of a man bound with a fortress of blackened armour and a fierceness akin to a grizzly bear. His stead was a strong and sturdy stallion- fur black as mahogany and sheening with sweat. Kicking at the sand clumped with blood and petals.

The crowd roared with delight and excitement as he lingered beneath your canopy, watching with glee as the opposing gentleman was wheeled away by a few fretful healers, left in a heap of broken flesh and splintered wood.

Your handkerchief falls, and he catches it in his gauntlet- glinting with silver and blood, imposing and mean. It was certainly mean to his opponent having been bludgeoned into his face. Some lord you couldn't recall the name of- proclaiming for your hand if he were to win. He hadn't even drawn his blade that rested at his hip- his jagged gauntlet fists were enough.

You didn't question the mysterious knights aggression to the lords proposal. A banter amongst men, You think. Smiling sweetly as your knight presses the delicate piece of cloth to his helmet- steel kisses silk, and he keeps it there. A Brutish steel paw keeping it cradled against the thin slits of his helmet, as if he was breathing it in. He was.

You can't help but be keen and lean over to capture a glance of this man's face as he slips his helmet down- just enough to capture a small glimpse of his eyes and the bridge of his nose.

Wispy blonde lashes. Stern Earthy brown eyes. Charcoal smudged skin... His gaze softens at you, and it stirs something in your chest. He seems so familiar...

It is too bad that you can't remember the wide-eyed stable boy who was once your companion in the hazy sunlit memory of your childhood. A boy with stern Earthy eyes and soft gold hair. The disposition of a fawn with gnarling teeth- trembling knees yet a fierceness to his gaze as he threw rocks at your tormentors of cruel ladies in waiting. You had only wanted to see the baby horses...

Simon. Simon the stable boy.

But look how far he's come now. A man filled out with muscle and brawn and hardened skin- a shell of gleaming armour and chainmail. Tall and poised and unshakeable.

The moment your father proclaims him your new protector, it makes it all worth it. The grueling years of hardship and training. The beating and suffering. The scuffed knees and bleeding knuckles.

You may not remember him, princess, but there's no worry for that.

He's now someone you can't forget.

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter I

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 7.267 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

Likes, asks, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. This is my first wip in a while, so its a little janky, but I hope you like it! Thank you in advance for reading <3

He’d been gone for almost a year now.

You and your father were never really close. Truthfully, the two of you were never much of anything to each other.

Since you could remember, he’d treated you like some pet his ex had left at his house after a break-up: no warmth, no harshness, just this mild yet persistent annoyance that came from having to be responsible for something he neither wanted nor cared for. He could look down at you, throw a ball for you to catch, or pat your head half-heartedly while he talked to some random stranger that complimented you on the street, but whatever it was that you did right never granted you enough favor to avoid his ever-present disappointment.

That relationship alone was depressing enough as it was, but it would’ve been at least tolerable were it not for his much more obvious and paternal love for your older brother.

You could never really pin-point why it was that your father loved John so much while simultaneously only barely acknowledging your existence. You were both his children, after all. Yes, you were born to different mothers, but John’s mother had abandoned your father just as much as John’s did, and he only ever said good things about her, the same way he only ever said good things about John.

Maybe it was that John looked more like him, or that they thought just like each other, or that they only ever spoke about the same things.

Maybe this weird and cruel dynamic could be boiled down to you just being the odd one out. And though that didn’t make you resent it — resent them — any less, you’d made enough of a peace with it that once he was gone, you actually mourned him.

So why was it that it suddenly felt like he was right there, willingly ignoring you, all over again?

You sat alone on the railing at the Chateau, his ‘Chateau’, drinking budweiser, his favorite beer, wearing an old shirt that most definitely had belonged to him at some point, staring out into the river bank where he’d last been seen, and feeling rejected, exactly the same way he always made you feel.

The man was haunting you.

JJ and Kie lounged together on the sand over some old beach towel.The soft wind blowing her curls against his face. She smiles as she looks back at him, tucking that piece of hair behind her ear, and their eyes remain locked for a moment, gazes drifting back and forth between the eyes and the lips in that indecisive little lover’s dance you and him had been caught up in so many times.

It was excruciating: Sitting there and watching him play the same tricks he’d played on you on someone else, someone you knew he’d had his eye on for a while, like you were some sort of pathetic test subject he took up with the single intention of serving as the canvas on which he practiced his bullshitting skills.

You shouldn’t be surprised that he threw you away as soon as his actual target showed the slightest bit of interest in him, and you weren’t. That’s the worst part: in more ways than one, you knew this would happen. But as if locked in this realm of meta-self-consciousness, the more aware you were of JJ’s general scummyness, the more you convinced yourself you’d never fall for his lines, and the more comfortable you became in rolling over and letting him bullshit you.

You felt John’s approach before you heard him; Those unmistakably careless steps you’d heard just outside of your door all your life suddenly bounding towards you. Ten whole months of his obsessive and undivided attention hadn’t been able to erase the weirdness of him suddenly acknowledging you after seventeen years of pretending you weren’t there, so every time his eyes landed on you, your mind sent up a “something bad is about to happen” signal to the rest of your body.

He smiled awkwardly as you turned around to meet his eye.

– You okay? – The railing creaked as he sat down beside you, a half-drunk beer in his own hand. Your father’s disappearance had taken a lot out of John. At night, he paced. In the morning, he stared at the locked study. In the evening, he bit his nails and scratched his arms. And all throughout, you could see he was thinking of him. Whereas before, your brother had been the poster-child of teenage carelessness, now he could barely hide just how much his sanity had been going down the drain.

It was bad. Bad enough that he’d actually started worrying about losing you, of all people.

It was freaky.

The old John B couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you without cracking jokes at your expense or silently loathing at the burden of your existence. Now he could barely let you out of his sight.

You stayed quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you shrugged, taking another sip of beer before muttering, – Peachy.

John let out a hollow chuckle, shaking his head. – You suck at lying, you know.

–Thanks, – you said dryly, setting the bottle down on the railing beside you. – I’ll make sure to add that to my list of things I suck at.

He didn’t laugh this time. You could feel his gaze on you, weighing heavier with every second you refused to look at him. Finally, you turned to meet his eyes—green, sharp, and so annoyingly sincere they made your chest tighten.

–You’re not okay, – He said softly, his voice breaking the kind of silence that felt like it had been years in the making.

– That bad at hiding it, huh? Have to add that to the list too.

– Why do you wanna hide things from me?

You stopped yourself from scoffing before you could hurt his feelings. But the answer was obvious to anyone with eyes: The two of you didn’t know each other.

No matter how much he tried to make you a part of his friend group or make up for the time you two wasted pretending the other didn’t exist, a couple months of effort couldn’t fix what over a decade had set into stone.

Maybe doing things behind his back wasn’t helping.

But you didn’t do it to hurt him. You didn’t plan for things with JJ to go as far as they did, they just did. And you knew it would hurt him if you told him what you had been doing, because JJ was John’s family more than you had ever been, and he’d see it as a betrayal.

For a moment, you wanted to tell him the truth. The real truth, not the sarcastic, deflective shit you’d been feeding everyone since the day you learned to speak.

But you didn’t. Because you’d had seventeen years of practice in swallowing everything you felt until it became a lump in your throat you’d learned to ignore.

– I don’t. I’m not. And I… I don’t want to. – you said instead, your voice as steady as you could make it. – Life’s just been kicking me hard right now.

He studied you for a moment longer, his brow furrowing slightly, before he nodded. – It's okay. I get it.

– Thanks.

You expected him to leave after that, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed right there, his shoulder brushing yours as you sat in silence.

It was awkward. It's always been with the two of you. But eventually, he spoke again.

– Look, I… um, how can I say this? – He laughed, dragging his fingers through his hair. – I need your help with something.

You chuckled, a little more light-hearted now, and patted his back softly. – Go ahead.

– So, JJ's been acting weird. – You froze. It was over. He knew. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he knew enough that this whole thing between JJ and you had to be completely restructured. Your eyes drifted back to where Kie and the blonde were sitting, trying to keep your panic under wraps. – I was talking to Pope about it, but it's not like he cares enough to know what's going on. And Kie, who is the one that should care, told me I was just acting crazy. But I'm not crazy! He is weird! He's acting very weird!

You wanted to comfort him, and tell him that he wasn’t crazy, that he was right. There was something going on with JJ. But how were you supposed to say that without blowing your cover completely? You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to say the most basic thing you could:

– How so? – Was all you managed, still looking outwards, at JJ and Kie, in an attempt to avoid your brother’s gaze. It turned out to be just as bad a choice as the previous one. Your stomach turned as you saw him whisper something in her ear, earning a giggle from the girl, one that almost grated at your nerves. You took a deep breath, re-claiming the bottle you'd given up on, and taking a swig.

– Like… um, I don’t know. He’s always brushing me off about the most random things. Like, I can ask him a stupid question about surfing, or beer, or I don’t know, whatever! And he acts completely normal, but if I ask him if he slept over he’ll just feed me a bunch of senseless shit that doesn’t even answer the question!

– That’s... really weird.

– Right?! – He looked so relieved as you reassured him. So trusting. Yet here you were, lying to his face, knowing damn well that you were the reason JJ’s moronic ass couldn’t just tell your brother he slept on the couch. – And he keeps making these weird comments.

You were afraid to ask.

– What sort of comments?

– Like, the other day- He stopped himself short, suddenly looking into your eyes and then away again, his whole face suddenly red. – No, no. Um, forget about it. It’s weird.

– Weird? – He hummed and nodded. Eyes still glued to the floor. – Weirder than your ‘That’s so Raven’ phase? C’mon, tell me.

– No, it’s just..

– Just what?

– It’s like… – He gesticulated exaggeratedly with his hands. – graphic. We were... talking about, this site and when Pope made this joke about half siblings he just-

– Okay! –You breathed in, looking away as well. – Okay. So don’t tell me that. Is there anything else?

– Like, look at that! Look at his back. That looks really gnarly, doesn’t it? – You followed his gaze back to the thing you’d just been mulling over, and noticed, for the first time, the thing that had probably been freaking John out all day long: JJ’s back was streaked with nail marks. From beneath the ends of his dirty-blonde hair a couple hickeys poked out. And right there clear as day on his left shoulder, a bite.

You swallowed.

– Damn, I hadn’t seen that. – It wasn’t a lie. You’d never taken pride in the marks you left on people, mostly because after JJ, you often did your best to compartmentalize whatever intimacy you partook in. – Why is that weird, though?

– At first I thought he’d gotten into some catfight or something, that was ashamed to say it, but JJ’s been bitten all over these days, and he makes SUCH a big deal about saying it's nothing. Like, he'll ramble for hours. – He sighed. – I don’t know, but isn’t it weird?

– Yeah, it’s weird.

– Maybe he found some vampire chick to hook up with. – He laughed, though it was clear he didn't find any of it funny. – I don't know, but it's like his head's in the clouds or whatever.

You laughed, speaking before you could stop yourself: – Vampire? – You huffed, taking a swig from your bottle. – I don’t know. Kie doesn’t strike me as the type that only comes out at night. – Your conscience dawned upon you as you put the beer down. Drinking made you reckless, and as soon as you said it, you knew you'd be regretting it for a long time.

– What?! You- You don’t think they’d- No. No. No way.

– Uhm, I… I don’t. I don’t know. It was just like a hunch.

– Did she say something to you?!

She had, as a matter of fact, said something to you two days ago, and it had been burning in your mind even since: You’d been in the kitchen, staring into the empty fridge and trying to think of something you could possibly do with nothing but ketchup and mustard, when someone suddenly kicked the back of your shoe.

Kie had looked back at you with a mischievous smile. “JJ’s been staring at you all day.”

There was something conspiratorial in the way she giggled, poking at your sides like you were both children again, and you couldn’t help but laugh along: “Oh, please. He’d stare at a tree all day if it had tits.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” She looked around again, squeezing your arm. “I think he likes you. Like, like-likes you.”

You didn’t want to tell her that you and JJ had been sneaking around for a while, paranoid that John or Pope might walk past and hear you, so you just laughed. “How much beer did you drink today?”

“Fine, then, don’t tell me. Just know that I’m watching you!” She said it in sing-song, opened the door, and left you there, grinning alone, sure that it had been a completely harmless interaction.

Despite your endless tries, you hadn’t had many girl friends growing up. So when he was gone and John was suddenly forcing you to hang out with him and his friends, you’d been glad to spend time with Kie.

She’d always been nice to you, regardless of the fact she was older and a kook, so of course, you’d always been a little star-struck when she treated you like a friend.

Only a friend wouldn’t say what she said, not at least, when she was planning to spend the whole day after that flirting with JJ.

You wish you could’ve been charmingly aloof to her giggling and preening, and that, despite your definite lack of kook-ness, you would’ve had the grace and etiquette to brush it off as easily as she brushed off your feelings. But you’d never been the sort of person that can deal gracefully with their own negative emotions. So you sulked, and you drank, and you smoked.

The night fell slower than you had wanted that day, but as soon as your brother’s snoring could be heard through the house, your door creaked open, and in came JJ, with his stupid smile, bounding over to you.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t bother to address it until both of you were half-naked.

JJ had this habit of introducing serious topics of conversation just as you were getting comfortable with him. So he’d been beneath you, calloused hands tearing your shirt off of your body, head thrown back as you kissed his neck, when, between a groan and a plea, he asked “What’s gotten you so angry, huh?”

You brushed it off as playful teasing. No one liked to dirty talk better than JJ, and given his talent to make people angry, you wouldn’t be surprised this was some scheme he’d worked out to rile you up. You tangled your hands in his hair, and pulled his head back, kissing him quiet as his fingers sunk into your waist. “What is it, huh?” He thrust into you, once and again, and again, his eyes squeezed shut as his mouth fell open, groaning and moaning against the crook of your neck. “You- ah- You don’t like me talking to Kie? Is that- OH GOD- Is that- is that it?”

You slammed your hips against his and laughed bitterly as you felt a shiver tear through him. JJ babbled for a moment, opening his eyes just for you to see them rolling into his head. Your nails scraped against his back in a way that had him arching into you. And though you were enjoying yourself, a part of you wanted to torture him more than anything.

He’d begged you to slow down, breathless and starry-eyed, his own nails digging into the meat of your thighs as he pulled you in, over and over again, despite his contradicting protests.

When you were finally done, JJ was red in the face as he fell back on your bed, and it took him a while to formulate a sentence. “I should make you jealous more often.” Was what he came up with at the end, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage, enough that you could feel it against your skin.

His breath was as warm as his hands, and just as shaky. The patterns he drew against your back shifted from adoring to exhausted, and you remained there, weaving your fingers through his blonde strands.

“What you should do is cash a reality check.” You hummed, and he barked out a laugh at that, curling up into your arms as you shifted to your side.

“Keep lying to yourself, babe. You know you love me.”

From beneath your lashes, you could see the smile on his face as he watched his hands move against you, hypnotized by steady movement his palms made down the curve of your hips.

You were satisfied by the interaction when it happened. It felt so playful, so soft, you didn’t even have the heart to wake him up as you felt his breath grow deeper against you.

JJ would wake you up hours later, just as the sun broke the horizon, whispering something about leaving before John B came to check on you, and you’d only barely registered his words, still stuck in that void between consciousness and sleep, but you remembered smiling as he kissed up your neck and told you he’d see you later.

He was right about that. But you weren’t glad you saw him again.

You woke up, opened the door, and just between stumbling to the bathroom and wondering if there was anything to eat, you saw him, shirtless on the couch, with Kie on top of him. You turned back around as if the sight had blinded you, trying to force the sound of their kissing out of your mind.

All day long, he’d been attached to her hip. They’d spent the morning whispering and giggling on the couch, the evening eating off each other’s plate, and now there they were, cuddled up on your beach towel, watching the sun go down.

John was still looking at you expectantly. – So? Did she say something?

You sighed.

– Not explicitly. She did ask me if I liked him very suspiciously, though.

– Why didn’t you say anything?!

- Because! – Because you had no idea she would bait and switch you like that. The moment sat heavy on your chest, a constant, gnawing reminder that whatever semblance of camaraderie you thought you had with Kie had only been another cruel thing in your ongoing circus of disappointments. And of course you couldn’t share that with John. The last thing you needed was to light another fire beneath his already manic suspicions. So you shrugged and avoided his gaze, taking another sip of beer. – It was weird, but not weird enough that it merited an intervention.

He’s shaking his head as you speak, unconsciously, almost in denial.

He clearly wasn’t buying that there was nothing going on, and the frown on his face deepened, turning into something like disgust. – Kie wouldn’t… She wouldn’t do that. She’s not dumb, right? She knows what JJ is like, doesn’t she?

You soaked in that unintended insult for a second, wishing you had never opened your mouth. – I don’t know. Maybe they’re not. – But they were, though. –You’ve all had a thing for Kie at some point, right? JJ’s probably just going through a phase.

– Yeah, but she’s entertaining it! She never did that before! – You couldn’t argue against him anymore. You knew he was right, and he, unconsciously or not, did too. But the guilt was eroding at you from the inside out. Despite the decade and some you two had spent trying to ignore one another, you knew him well enough to know that what was bothering him was not that his friends could be in a relationship, but what would happen to his friend group when they inevitably broke up. – I can’t believe JJ would do that.

– He might not be doing anything, John! – You tried to give him some comfort at least, janky though were at expressing sympathy. – I mean, it’s JJ we’re talking about, he’ll flirt with any girl that has a pulse.

– What part of “She’s entertaining it” didn’t you get?! – He turned to you like a coiled viper, eyes dark with an anger you couldn’t really comprehend. The moment his voice sharpens it’s like the temperature in the room has dropped. Suddenly, you’re on your feet, struggling to process how this seemingly normal conversation had turned into a fight.

You try to keep your cool, though you feel that guilt pushing into confusion:

– Hey, you don’t need to raise your voice at me. I’m just trying to make you see the nuance here.

– What nuance?! It’s obviously happening! You were the one who brought up the problem and now you’re just gonna brush it off?

– I wasn’t the one that brought it up, and that’s not what I’m doing!

– Yes it is! And you always do! You bring up these random things about other people, stirring shit up, and when I try to talk about it, you’re suddenly above it? You’re such a hypocrite!

– Why are you mad, John? We were just talking about this like grown-ups and suddenly you wanna argue? Let’s just- Let’s calm down for a second, okay? – You both looked down for a moment, interrupted by your ringtone. Barry’s name flashed on your screen for the third time that day. Yet another one of your bad habits catching up to you. – Uh, hey, Bee. I’m kind of in the mi- Hey! Hey! What the fuck are you doing? – John wrestled the phone out of your hand, turning it off before you could do anything. – WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!

– We’re talking here! I don’t know if you realized.

– Fuck you, John! Are fucking kidding me?! Give me back my phone!

– WE’RE TALKING RIGHT NOW!

– I’m not fucking talking to you after this bullshit! Give me back my fucking phone!

He held it out of your reach, looking at you with spite. – I hate Barry. You know I hate him, why the hell do you keep talking to him?!

There wasn’t much else you could do but stare up in disbelief. – Why are you bringing this shit up now?! He’s my friend, you know that! And you don’t own me! I’ll talk to whoever I want!

You hear the steps coming towards the two of you as John scoffs, pushing you off of him. – Barry’s a drug dealer, for God’s sake! When are you gonna realize this guy is bad news?!

– Oh, sure! Because JJ is such a model citizen!

– Don’t bring him into this!

– You were the one that brought him into this! It’s none of your goddamn business who I choose to hang out with, John! I’m your sister, not your fucking pet!

He raises his hands, laughing bitterly. – Pet? Really? That’s fucking rich coming from you! – That stings more than you want to admit it. The way he throws his words at you like knives. The way he says it, it tells you it’s not just the frustration talking. He means it. – Up until a couple months ago you treated us all like lepers, wouldn’t even look us in the eye! But you want me to believe that the crackhead down the street is somehow more worthy of your time than I am?!

Your composure had gone down the drain now, and the guilt went with it. You could have lied. You should have lied. But because you didn't, now you were punished. – You are so fucking full of yourself, John! I swear to God!

– I’M FULL OF MYSELF?! Really?! I am?!

– Yes, you are! You’re so fucking spoilt! You think the world just revolves around you! You can do whatever you want, you fuck up, you commit literal fucking felonies out there with your friends, and I’m the problem because I’m friends with the guy that YOU BUY WEED FROM?!

He laughs. Not to himself, at you. Just the way he used to do before: – You’ve gotta be really fucking stupid to think Barry, of all people, is your friend. It’s fucking pathetic, really!

– Says the guy who hasn’t made a friend since the third grade!

– Whoa! Whoa! Chill out, you two, what the hell is going on?! – JJ comes rushing in, already pulling John away from you like some sort of white knight, but your brother just pushes him out of the way, still tearing into you:

– Barry’s not your friend. You’re too smart not to see that– Or you know, at least I thought you were.

– Guys, c’mon- JJ can barely get a word in:

– You don’t know what you’re talking about! The people I hang out with are none of your business, and you know damn well you have no room to talk!

– What do you even mean by that?!

You laugh sarcastically. – And you think I’m the one who is fucking stupid?

You feel a hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you back. Kie stands behind you, her dark eyes full of pity, a concern that is more judging than kind. – Guys, Guys, please. Just stop it. You two are not thinking straight.

– We’re talking here, Kie, stay out of it! – You can see the lack of patience in your brother’s eyes as he speaks. And you take the opportunity to try and grab your phone again, but JJ grabs you before you can get to him. – Get off of me, JJ! None of this shit concerns you! Can you fuck off?!

– JJ’s just trying to help. – Kie says. She pushes JJ off of you, trying to stand in between. –Look, let’s calm down.

– We don’t want your help!

– Don’t talk to my friends like that!

– Like what? Like the way you and dad talk to me?

– You’re not putting dad into this fucking conversation right now! Jesus, you are so fucking pathetic! – He’s always thought that about you. In all the time you’ve known John, which is all the time you’ve been alive, that’s the word he most commonly attached to you: pathetic. And it echoes in your head as you look at him. The edge in his eyes repeating that word again and again. – You’re literally a child! You’re trying to butt into my friends lives because you don’t have any, and dad’s supposed to be at blame because you had no fucking life until I tried to include you?!

– Oh, oh sorry! Sorry! I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a Saint! I thought I was talking to the guy who bullied me in middle school at the same time he had me help him with his High School homework! My mistake! GO FUCK YOURSELF, JOHN! It took dad disappearing for you to acknowledge the fact I wasn’t some fucking plaything for you to kick around when you’re bored! Get off your fucking high horse!

You see the rage forming on his face again.

– You’re rich! You’re really fucking rich, you know that?!

– I don’t give a fuck what you think of me, John! I don’t care! I can take a humbling from a lot of fucking people, okay, but I don’t wanna hear shit from you! You’re a spoiled brat! Dad never had the guts to tell you no on anything, so you think you’re entitled to everyone’s shit! You think you can control your friends lives, you think you can boss me around and use the money THAT I’M FUCKING MAKING to fund your little parties and make yourself feel better about the fact Dad walked out! Well I’ve got fucking news for you, bro! You’re the fucking child here! YOUR ASS CAN’T EVEN GET A JOB!

– You’re really gonna make this about money again? Is that the problem?!

– Oh my fucking God! TAKE A FUCKING HINT, JOHN! LOOK AROUND YOU!

JJ calls your name again, holding your brother back as Kie begs you to stop. You hadn’t even realized they were talking. – Please! That’s not who either of you are! You’re angry! You’re saying things you don’t mean.

– Oh he means it, Kie. John might be stupid but he’s damn sure not crazy, and he knows what he says! That's what he thinks of me! He thinks I'm some dumb little kid who can't make friends! That I'm some loser who doesn't have a life! He thinks EXACTLY WHAT HE SAID! He thinks I'm fucking pathetic!

– AND HOW EXACTLY ARE YOU PROVING ME WRONG RIGHT NOW?!

– Fucking stop this already! Just GIVE IT BACK! – You were livid now, pushing past Kie and reaching for it, but John yanks it back like it’s some kind of trophy just so he can see you rage.

– You’re not even listening to me! All this shit you’re doing, the screaming, the shouting, the running off to Barry or whoever the hell else— That’s exactly the shit you’d pull when we were kids! It’s like you haven’t grown up at all! You’re fucking doing this or attention!

– Fuck you. Just fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!

JJ’s the only thing standing between the two of you now, a wall in the middle over which the two of you scream. Kie holds you by the shoulders, pleading.

You’re glad for them at that moment, because you can’t be sure you wouldn’t scratch your brother’s eyes out if he came too close.

Your head is spinning. You wanna tear your hair out of your head. And as if what was going on right then wasn’t bad enough, JJ has the gall to open his mouth and tell you to step back: – He’s right. You’re being childish. Just let this go.

You were about to, until he said it.

– I need to let it go?! He was the one that started this shit in the first place! HE took my phone! HE started screaming! HE’S the one calling me fucking names and talking to me like a fucking child! And I’m the one that needs to let this go?! NO! FUCK YOU JJ! THIS SHIT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU! FUCK OFF!

– STOP TALKING TO HIM LIKE THAT, HE’S MY BEST FRIEND!

– Yeah?! And you’re doing such a great job of showing it right now, huh? Freaking out over some scratches on his back and trying to make it into some great betrayal! You’re out of your fucking mind!

– FUCK YOU!

– You’re obsessed! You’re losing your mind over some stupid shit that doesn’t even matter! You can’t fucking handle it when people do things without telling you because you think you know better about their lives than them! Guess what John: Maybe people don’t owe you shit!

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head and pointing at you as if he was some great detective: – You’re going really hard on this aren’t you? You’re hiding something! I know you are!

– What?! Are you seriously accusing me of–? God, you’re insane! GET OVER YOURSELF JOHN! The world doesn’t revolve around you and your little posse!

You can hear a rumble in the distance, the roar of an engine you couldn’t quite place, and you look away, the rage within you giving way to exhaustion. You want this to end, but John keeps going:

– Stop tearing into my friends just because you don’t have any of your own, okay?! This jealousy, this envy shit, it isn’t even funny. It’s just pathetic! IT JUST IS! The fact that nobody gives a fuck about you is not anybody else’s fault! – The words came out like venom, sharp and deliberate, but they struck true.

You kept your eyes on him for a moment, jaw clenched, face still. You could see JJ and Kie looking between themselves in the tension, sort of hesitating, completely clueless as to what to do.

Your brother’s face fell, slowly, as if he was reliving every word that had just come out of his lips in a play-by-play. The emotions flitted through his face like seasons, first it was confusion, then shock, then regret, and finally guilt.

You wished you could’ve said something, something cold, and cruel. Something that he’d be thinking about for a long time. But you couldn’t. Just the effort that it took for you to be able to breathe without crying had frozen the words within your throat. So you were kept silent, took the beer from the railing, and pushed past him.

– Wait- – John reached for you, but you shrugged him off before he could get the attention he needed to formulate his next words. You didn’t want to hear him, be near him, you didn’t want him to exist.

Instead, you look out into the lawn.

– Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just- John falters mid-word, the rumble of the engine cut through the tension like a knife, low and guttural, growing louder as it approached. Both of you froze, your argument abruptly suspended as the sleek black Range Rover pulled into view. You frown for a moment, trying to piece together the fragments of memory you have of seeing this car, but JJ scoffs from behind you on the porch, and when you see Kiara’s expression twist into one of contempt, you know exactly who it belongs to.

The driver stays put, engine still running as if the car itself was too impatient to linger. And for a moment no one gets out.

You approach carefully.

You’ve never spoken much to Rafe Cameron, you only saw him whenever he came to see Barry, and even then, it was always quick. A glance, a smile, a double entendre he says while he eyed you, without ever addressing you directly.

You look over your shoulder again to see if maybe he’s come for Sarah. But she’s been laying in John’s room all evening, and the doorway is empty, no sign of her.

John’s face twists back into anger. He wraps a hand around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. His jaw is clenched as he looks at the Rover, and he seems eager, like a cat ready to pounce.

The passenger door swings open right then, and you see him. Not Rafe, not Topper, or any of his Kook friends, but Barry — A grin splits his face as he steps out, the light catching his golden tooth as his smile widens, a cigarette dangling from his lips. – Well, look who’s got the whole neighborhood in an uproar! – He drawls, voice teasing but warm. – What’s going on, darlin’? You look ready to throw hands.

Despite yourself, you feel your shoulders relax, the weight of the argument easing slightly. – Barry! – You’re surprised by how light your voice sounds as you run to meet him, standing arms open before Rafe’s car, he wraps you up and spins you around quickly, his laughter blowing against your hair. – What’s going on?What’re you doing here?

– Phone call got cut short. – He winks as you pull away, glancing over your shoulder at John. His smirk widens, deliberately provoking. – Figured I’d swing by and see what the fuss was about. Looks like I walked into a family reunion.

– It’s none of your business. – John snaps.

Barry raises his hand in mock surrender, his grin never faltering. – Touchy, touchy. Don’t worry, man. I’m not here to stir the pot. Looks like y’all already took care of that.

– Sorry about the call. – You whisper. – Things are kinda weird around here.

– Not your fault, sweetheart, – He taps your arm with his pointer finger, fixing you a smile as he dragged a hand through his hair and threw the cigarette on the ground. – Some people just don’t know how to let things go.

– I’ll tell you what’s letting go, Barry. You’re gonna let go of my sister and fuck off back to your rat’s nest!

– Ignore him. – You beg, no less worried as you hear your friend whisper an “always do”. – So. What is it?

– What? I can’t just be here for the pleasure of your company? – He pats your back softly, feet swaying as he speaks. – You wound me, sweetheart.

– You’re a peach, Bee. A real charm. But I’m guessing this favour you’re about to ask me isn’t a work-from-home sorta thing. You’ll have my company regardless.

Barry leans against the open car door, his smile fading. He breathes in deep. – You’re not gonna like it.

– Well, I hate you already, – You teased. – can’t see how things could get worse.

– I was gonna tell you on the phone, but the troglodyte over there wouldn’t let me. – He looks over his shoulder, and back at you. – There’s a party, over at figure eight. Boss’ gonna be there. You remember him, right?

A shiver tore through you just at the thought. – How could I forget?

Barry chuckles, shaking his head. – Yeah, well. He kinda likes you, y’know. Thought maybe you’d tag along, help me keep things smooth. – You felt your chest tighten. He pauses, eyes glinting with something unreadable. – Missed you, too. Thought maybe your boy over there was keeping you on house arrest again.

– I can hear you, Barry. – John said coldly, stepping forward.

– Oh good. – He didn't miss a beat. – Thought maybe I’d have to file a request just to get five minutes with her. What’s next, man? A sign-in sheet? You running this place like a damn prison, now?

– Shut up! – Your brother snapped again, his fists clenching. JJ came up behind him, eyes fixed on the arm Barry held over your shoulder.

– Relax, big guy. Nobody’s stealing anything from you, we can’t all break into people’s houses and take their money while they’re gone.

You cringe at the memory. – Barry, please. Don’t.

– Me? I’m not doing anything, sweetheart. We’re just playing around, right, boys? – He chuckled, squeezing you closer as he looked at them.

JJ was the one to speak then: – Get off of her, man.

– Shit, what am I now? A cradle robber? – Barry looks at you with a pointed smile, but he’s not talking to you, he’s just riling them up. – You don’t even like me like that, do you, sweetheart? Unless you do, and then, well…

JJ grabs him by the shirt, but Barry just keeps laughing. – I’m telling you to get the fuck off of her, man!

– JJ, chill the fuck out, what are you doing? – You push him back, away from your friend. There’s something in his eyes you can’t quite read as he meets your gaze. Anger, frustration, sadness. His hands rest on your shoulders, and he opens his mouth, as if to tell you something, but Barry’s laughter cuts in again, and suddenly all you see in his face is anger.

– He’s pushing it! – The blonde retorts, almost childishly.

– Ooh, down pitbull! – He’s almost cackling now, and you can hear a second laugh, something shorter, softer, coming from the car. Rafe’s looking at you too, you can feel his eyes on you. – I’d watch out if I were you, John B! Looks like your buddy here is looking to catch some friendly fire.

– Barry, for fuck’s sakes!

He just laughs at your words, resting his hand on the car door again. – Sorry, sweetheart. But it’s just too easy! – You hesitate, looking back at your brother, whose scowl has deepened. – C’mon, let’s just go.

– She’s not going anywhere with you, – John spits the words out like poison, stepping in to stand next to JJ. – Not with you, and sure as hell not with that psychopath! – You can hear a scoff from within the Range Rover, Rafe seems to be enjoying himself. Enough that he just sits back and grins, waiting for your brother to keep talking.

Barry lets out a whistle. – Ooh, now we bringing Rafe into it? You’re scared of a little country club action, huh? What’s the problem, John B? Brother-in-law not good enough for you?

– What the fuck did you just say to me?!

– Oh, for fuck’s sakes. Stop it. Just stop this shit, I’m tired of it.

– Not my fault your brother’s got a stick up his ass.

– Barry! – You sigh, feeling the limit of your patience encroaching as you turn around. – Give me back my phone, John.

– No. – He swiped it out of your reach again. – You’re not fucking going, and you're gonna thank me for it later. Barry is bad news, as it is. But Rafe? – His eyes darken. You can hear that same chuckle again, and you can tell they're looking at each other. – Rafe’s even worse. You’re not going anywhere near that nut job if I can help it.

– You hear that, Country Club? Surfer boy’s scared of you!

– I swear to God, man. If you don’t shut up–

You pushed him back, long past your wit’s end:

– Quit it. I’m getting really fucking tired of your shit, John. I’m not joking, give it back.

He looks at you for a moment. He'd managed to keep his face smooth for the duration of this talk, though he never could hide his temper, but now he looks as if he could kill you:

– Come and get it, if you want it. It’s right here. – He held it out over his head, smiling without a hint of joy on his face.

– Are we really doing this, right now?

– You said you wanted it. Well, do you?

You look over your shoulder, pondering the options.

Barry’s eyes meet yours as he climbs back into the car, smirking. – Door’s open, sweetheart. Tick tock.

John’s voice cut through your thoughts, sharp and angry. – She’s not going! – He tried to grab you again, but you didn’t think, you just moved.

You ducked under his grasp, twisting away before he could get a hold of your arm. The sudden motion made your heart race, adrenaline flooding your veins as you bolted toward the car. John cursed behind you, his footsteps heavy on your heels, but he was too slow to catch you.

Barry already held his hand out, his golden grin flashing into laughter as you dove inside. You barely registered the hand that steadied you before you landed ungracefully in his lap, your momentum knocking the breath out of both of you.

– Damn, sweetheart. – Barry drawled, his hands catching your waist steady, where Rafe’s had just been, and the door closes behind the two of you with a bang. – Didn’t know you missed me that much.

– Drive! – You snapped, ignoring the heat rushing to your face.

Rafe’s laughter erupts from beside you, loud and mocking, as the car lurches forward. You glance up just in time to see him smirking at you, his hand casually draped against the steering wheel. The engine revs beneath you as the Range Rover moves, kicking up a cloud of dirt.

You turn around to look at the window, catching sight of JJ and John as they stumbled to a halt. Your brother shouts something – Your name, maybe, or a string of curses – But the roar of the engine drowns him out.

Barry chuckles against you, leaning back on the seat with his arm around your middle. – Remind me to do that again sometime.

– I will man, don’t worry. – Rafe laughs.

– The two of you are sick. – You can feel Barry nodding, his laughing lips pressed against your shoulder, the road before you suddenly becoming clear. They say something else, something you don’t quite catch, as the situation finally dawns on you:

You’re in a car with Rafe Cameron. And it's too late to go back.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

hi there! would you be up to writing smut

Dark!Aemond? something for example with age difference, daddy kink, corruption kink, degradation and breeding? If you are comfortable then Reader could be a Targaryen what would be great but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is perfect too

Twisted, Beautiful Minds.

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Niece!Reader

WORDS: 2,677.

WARNINGS: mentions of warfare/murder, mentions of death-threats, swearing, degradation kink, choking, Daddy kink, corruption kink, breeding kink, manipulation, narcissistic tendencies, male oral receiving [cock sucking], mentions of p in v sexual intercourse.

A/N - you know I'm always down for some dark!Aemond... I want to also dedicate this piece, as a small bday gift to my wonderful friend Mar @aemondsmoon you have been an absolute light for me on this hellsite, and one of my dearest friends... thank you for always being there for me, and thank you for being you. you are an absolute gem, don't ever change. ilysm! 🤍

The turmoil and toils of war had finally come to an end, when Aegon the Elder, your Uncle, had commanded Sunfyre to set your beloved mother, Rhaenyra, and younger brother, Aegon III, to death by dragonfire. Your heart shattered, and mind numb, you were certain your own death was imminent in the moments after: at the very least, your Uncle would punish you with a dragonrider's death... Yet that would not be the case at all.

It seemed other plans had been set in stone. Chained and escorted by the Kingsguard to return to King's Landing once more, where you had only days previous, fled in fear, were you welcomed by the cold stares of the "Green" Council. Your chains removed, as neither the King nor his Mother, had seen you as a threat, you felt no purpose to resist nor to fight back... Your family dead, your will had died along with them.

"Fetch for Aemond. Tell my younger brother that his betrothed has returned."

His stern words felt incomprehensible in your thoughtless mind, lagging to understand the notion. You felt a cool, chill course through your weak body, rigid as though you had turned to stone, and yet, you were still breathing, still ever so present. No one had consulted you on such plans or schemes. And you were certain that Aemond himself would definitively refuse to marry the daughter of a traitor [as you presumed he would justify]. Your Uncle, Aemond, was a formidable man, fought against your late father, and had emerged the victor... And as the war, and the recent imprisoned days had taken its toll on you, your eyes darkened with the lack of sleep, unable to eat a crumb of bread, you did not look as you once had in your frivolous court, as he had once remembered you.

Although, as he sauntered into the room with such poise and stature, a certain charisma of that of a victor oozing about him, with not a single word exchanged, other than a devious smirk supplanted across his once serious face...It seemed there was more to the union than meets the eye.

Since your captive return to King's Landing, a place in which you had once considered your home, felt nothing more foreign. The stone sand walls that you had walked and run through as a child, now looked strange, the unfamiliar symbols of the Seven proudly hung around every available wall and space, gave an ominous feel. The halls seemed less brighter, even during the break of day, with the sunlight blatant in the sky, you instinctively felt as though a shadow lurked around every corner, attentive to your every move.

Dragonless, and defenceless, you were less of a threat than the younger Princess, Jahaera. The King and his Council had deemed you stable enough to roam the castle grounds freely, with a close knight in pursuit, only to ensure your own "protection" [as Aegon would admit that Aemond insisted], although you saw it more as means to deter you from being tempted to run away.

Regardless, Aemond had not spoken a word to you since hearing of the betrothal. He attended dinners with you in sight, although you rarely spoke yourself, mostly pleading and bickering with Alicent to remain in the desolate confines of your chambers. She was incessant about you joining the family, as the union was to be set in a moon's turn.

He dared not even to sit beside you: constantly at opposing ends. Although, there were rare occasions you had caught the younger Prince, brazenly staring at you with his one good eye. Unapologetically, his full attention spanned towards you, even if he had noticed you had become aware, he did not cease gawking.

Something about his looming gaze made you feel uneasy, very much on edge: a dark tinge to his violet eye, his pupils darkened as they seemed dilated. It inevitably made your stomach churn, only forcing you to resign in defeat, often excusing yourself to bed.

And often you were left undisturbed to recluse in your chambers... Although tonight, it seemed you were not alone in your ventures.

Retracing the exact steps you would take most nights, often on your lonesome return to your quarters: this time there was an accompanying sound in the distance, echoing down the hallway behind you. Heavy footsteps that caught your immediate attention. Slowly panning around, the shimmer of his lengthy, silver hair against the pale moonlight that peaked through the open crescents of the corridor, was alluring to your eye. Halting in your tracks, your breath hitched against your throat, all in trepidation, as Aemond effortlessly caught up with you in a few short strides. This was the closest he had ever truly come up to you, his towering height against you, made him even more daunting face to face.

"Running off to bed again, I see. And why is that?"

The sudden eruption of his deep, low voice breaking the stillness of the castle passage, startled you uneasily. You had exchanged many words and conversations with your elder Uncle before, during an ancient time long before the Dance had spurred. Although, the dynamics had inevitably changed, blood had been shed viciously and cruel words spat. Despite the same Valyrian blood coursing through your veins as of your betrothed, you felt solitary in their surrounding presence.

"I-I lost my appetite, U-Uncle. I wish to retire for the night," You aimlessly stutter, too weak to hold eye contact with Aemond, whose gaze remained fixated on you. His vibrant lilac orb luring over every inch of your timid body.

"Do you think it wise to roam the castle your lonesome self? Has the war not taught you otherwise? Is my niece still that same stupid, little whore I have known?"

His harsh remarks shadowed by that familiar, sly grin struck across his slim face, was plenty to furnace an incoming reaction from you, your blood boiling beneath your tender skin.

"Ah- tongue tied now, princess? Have I struck a chord with you, hmm? Mayhaps you are as weak as your father was... Now, how would he feel knowing you are to marry me? That I'll fuck his little girl, like the common whores he saw."

Your mind had no correlation to your hand, and yet the simmering rage that blistered through your body sent your mind to abyss. The small palm of your hand, strikingly latched across Aemond's face furiously. And yet, although a sharp stinging sensation poured across your hand, Aemond remained unfazed and sturdy. It seemed you had smacked the grin across his face, and in its stead, that familiar, unnerving dark tinge in his eyes scorned across at you.

Before you knew it, Aemond gripped your sides firmly, forcing your body forward, as he harshly shoved you against the cold, stone wall.

"You think that wise, whore? After the mercy I fucking showed you. I could have your fucking hand for that, or worse your head. My pretty wife's head on a spike, I'll have it right outside my window."

The cruelty that oozed from his precise lips was relentless. You wanted to burst into tears or more, burst into flames there and then...

"Do you know how long I have waited to have you under my very touch? All the sacrifices I made, the arguments I fought against my own Council to keep you alive? Ungrateful fucking bitch. Did your Daddy not teach you to be a good, obedient girl?"

One of Aemond's calloused, rough hands reached up hastily, his long fingers wrapping just so lightly around your throat, as his thumb gently stroked at your lips. His viable eye ogling tentatively over your mouth, smacking his lips innately.

"I'm your fucking Daddy now. Teach you how to be a proper lady, and a good fucking wife. I'm going to fuck that pretty pussy of yours, till you are dripping of me. I'll have you begging like a pathetic, stupid whore. I'll fuck you till I have heirs of my own, till I see fit that you have disgraced your extinct, traitorous bloodline."

"A-Aem, U-Uncle-" You breathlessly whimper in fear: freshly, swelled tears glaze your vision, as they begin to clear with each shedding streak.

"What did I just fucking say? I'm not your Uncle anymore, bitch. I'm your fucking Daddy. You would be helpless without me. Probably dead without my doing. You fucking owe me."

"Y-Yes-" Another breathless whimper, although Aemond's grip loosened, his other hand began to slowly move its way over towards your breast. His uninjured eye moving in motion with his hand, eagerly wandering over your bust. That same, very hand, began to keenly grope at your plush side, kneading at your breast tenderly, it felt foreign and sensitive under his strange touch.

"All fucking mine... Finally. Did you really think, I would let some insolent lord have you to himself? I'd start a war for you, I won the war for you. And now you're going to repay me, just so-"

A mindless moan flew out of your wet lips, catching you abruptly by surprise, and by the looks of it Aemond, as his blackened pupil dilated with a ravenous hunger, his ears pricking and leaning forward in delight.

"I'll have you moaning for more, precious. Now on your fucking knees-"

Even with the hatred that roared deep within your belly, you felt reluctant to retaliate, as you knew Aemond would effortlessly overpower you. As he had in your youth, when you were caught in a brawl with him, often ending with him wrestling you to the ground. And after his detailed spill of such vile threats, you dared not to risk the second chance of life, you had been granted.

Your knees hit the concrete floor with some brutality, although you regained from the ache. As you steadied your propped position, your hands gripping tightly at Aemond's slim waist, he began to undo his grey, washed out trousers.

The sheer sight of his cock, was intense enough to have you questioning whether you could even take him. Although slim in girth, his length was extraordinary. A reddened tip just oozing lusciously with a white, clear film glistening over the crown.

"Suck Daddy real good, bitch. Show me that, that mouth has other good uses than for talking back."

Your attention lurking from below, dropping from Aemond's face to his cock and back up once more to his face: the sudden change in his mood shifting was palpable. The momentary, light-hearted look of ecstasy dismantled as a cold, unsettling gaze resumed across his handsome face, lingering over your kneeled state.

"Make me fucking repeat myself one more time, whore and I'll treat you worse than a whore. I'll have you forget that you are a Targaryen princess."

Aemond's large hands found their way at the base of your skull, teasingly stroking your loose strands away from your face, within a few seconds the sudden shove towards him, left you physically speechless. Your mouth slightly agape, was enough for Aemond's stiffened, pulsating tip to propel its way into your tight mouth. The friction of his hard cock against your silky, warm flesh inside, was enough to set Aemond's breathing into a speedy pace. Lean chest heaving, the mindless groaning on his behalf was somewhat alluring. You had never seen nor heard such sounds or vulnerability in Aemond before.

"F-Fuck, that feels so fucking good- Just as I prayed to the Gods. I'm going to make your mouth so numb, so fucking filthy of me, you'll be tasting me still in the months to come."

No coherent words exchanged from below his waist, only muffled moans and breath hitches, as you sulked with crave. As much as it infuriated you, pained you to admit, the feeling of Aemond's rigid, throbbing cock in your mouth, was elevating. You had to admit, in your youth, previous to the blood that had been shed, you had a childhood feverish crush on your elder Uncle, although thought it unlikely that anything would flourish from it.

"Seven Hells. Such a pretty whore, with a pretty mouth. J-Just the p-prettiest whore in the Seven Kingdoms."

With each plunge, rhythmically bobbing backwards and forwards, the raw taste of Aemond's cum, tastefully filling your mouth to capacity, as a mixture of his reside and your own saliva oozed from your crevices. The dreading thought of being caught in such a contentiously vulnerable position, especially before being wedded, was disturbing enough, for you were not yet widely favoured by the Council...

"Ughh- Swallow and get up, whore."

Self-disgust stirred nauseatingly in the pit of your gut, as you reluctantly devoured small mouthfuls of Aemond's load, almost convincing yourself you would retch it all up in a matter of seconds. Much to your relief, you remained poised, meekly wiping away the mess across your lips, shying away from Aemond's unmoving regard. As you regained your normal pace of breathing, Aemond lent a hand over, grasping your undivided attention. With such ease, Aemond aided you, lifting you up to stand, before confining you closely between the wall and his heated body once more, closing whatever space was made between.

"Now let's see what that cunt has to offer."

His skilful hands hiking your layered gown up, making way for his arms to snake around your bare thighs, lifting you idly off the ground.

"Can't wait till the wedding to tarnish you, I've waited long enough."

A sudden bolt of lightening pain shot from within your inner thighs, as your tight walls stretched out ceaselessly to accommodate, as Aemond shoved his rigid cock inside. Your back flattened against the sandstone wall, its texture rough against the delicate silk of your gown. Burying his length deeper and deeper with each harsh thrust, his heavy balls collided with your silky folds as he vigorously pumped himself back and forth. His pace, although rough, remained steady. His raw, sensitive tip pummelling at your cervix, felt scorching inside your lower belly.

"And if I fuck you so good, that you begin to swell with my child... What would your dead family think of their precious daughter then, huh? These tits belong to me now, and the mother's milk that comes with it. Your entire being belongs to me now. That babe in your belly will be all because of me, and you'll fucking love every bit of it."

"I-I owe you my l-life, D-Daddy-"

The words mindlessly slipped from you lips, and yet it felt instinctual to say. As Aemond's mouth lapped at the sensitive crook of your neck, you felt the smirk of his grin against your skin, his sharp teeth faintly biting at your soft flesh.

"That's right, baby. That's so right my needy, little slut. You have a Daddy now that can really take care of you, protect you... Love you."

The epitome of his words, the calm depth in his voice, had reached its glorifying peak, as Aemond's hot load shot up directly into you, reverently coating your insides. Like some royal orchestra in unison to his final thrust, did a growling moan escape his lips, followed by an whisper of a swear. Leaning his exhausted, heavier mass over you, as he safely guided your legs back down to the surface, his breath densely hot against your ear, his outstretched palms cladded against the wall for support.

"Clean yourself up, Y/N... Wouldn't want anyone else to see you as the whore that you are, and get any ideas-"

His heavy breathing made his voice less formidable and more husky. Eyeing over your form, as you once more scoured and polished up the mess he made between your thighs, with the inner layer of your gown. You simply nodded in response to his demand, before hastily attempting to rush back to the confines of your quarters.

Yet, a firm pull tugged at your elbow, causing you to halt in your tracks, unavoidably.

"I will seek you out again tonight... Be ready for me."

general taglist - @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @aegonslawyer

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for divider - @/itbmojojoejo

[yeokii]

SAND CASTLES AND FIRST LOVES — PARK SUNGHOON

synopsis . a day at the beach was for relaxing and also apparently for meeting your first love?

psh : new kid! sunghoon x fmr O.8K — fluff, crack ❨ warnings ❩ 🫧 teeth rotting fluff I PUKED. 𓍼 note — chat can u tell im tweakinh┆(bookshelf)

The sun iced your hands as you squinted your eyes under the hot weather. It was perfect. All you could do was sit down and relax and just babysit your sister? Right? It couldn't be that hard to watch over a five year old.

But one small thing you quite forgot was how hyper that little brat could be. Now you were stuck in being the little devil's assistant in help make her numerous sandcastles.

"Y/n! Don't you think that one is a bit crooked?" Your little sister pointed at the sand castle that you just made.

You dramatically sighed at your sister's remarks, "Jeez, wouldn't hurt for a compliment."

"Crooked towers don't get compliments!" Your sister huffed, "Now get to work." She said and continued making more sand castles, filling the mold with the damp sand sitting on the land.

You oughta throw her into the ocean if you could, but you stayed calm and followed the boss's orders.

Just as it started to get calm with no more snarky remarks from your little sister and calm waves crashing the sand near you, you were towered by a tall, slim figure.

Before you could even let out a warning, one of your precious sandcastles were toppled down by the boy's feet. Your sister didn't seem to care as she continued to make more sand figures to compliment her sandy mansion, but that was the one that you were most proud of so you knew you had to give him a piece of your mind.

"Hey! Watch it!" You stood up to face the rude boy, your hands on resting at your hips.

The boy turned around and you realised that it was the new kid in your school. Sunghoon looked youthful and charming as ever, his dark hair was slightly tousled from the breeze.

But the thing that caught your attention the most was the genuine look in his eyes, "I'm really sorry about that." He said, looking at the destroyed sandcastle.

"Oh— no it's fine!" You awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of your head after resizing you just screamed at the cutest boy you met.

"No really," He smiled sincerely. "Let me fix it." He knelt down, ready to fix the structure of the sandcastle.

"You don't have to do that you know," You giggled, kneeling down to his level. "I've seen you around..."

He furrowed his eyebrows and shot his eyes at you.

"Oh no! Not like that." You laughed once again. "I meant at school. New kid, yeah?"

He chuckled with you, nodding his head. "How come I've never seen your pretty face around?"

Oh jeez.

You blushed at his flirty remark, shrugging your shoulders not really knowing what to say.

"Hey! Stop flirting and get back to making the sandcastles. New kid, quick!" The little devil sassed, making your eyes widened.

"Shut up!" You whisper-screamed at her and looked back at Sunghoon with a sheepish smile, "Sorry about her. She gets a bit bossy sometimes."

"No she's right." He laughed, "Sorry miss, I'll get straight onto it." He said, trying to fix the sandcastle as quick as possible which made a snicker escape from you.

Sunghoon looked back up at you, finding your giggles really cute. The way your hair ever so slightly brushed against your face due to the light breeze and the sun slightly reflecting in your eyes, making it twinkle just might've been the cherry onto to make his heart skip a beat.

Gosh, you looked really pretty.

He was in a daze watching you make some sandcastles, craving out the minute details onto it with a slight smile fixed onto your face. He slowly panned it to your little sister staring dead straight at him.

Sunghoon went right back to the sandcastle he was fixing, clearing his throat hoping your little sister would be a little less intimidating.

"There, all done." He smiled, while getting back up.

"Hmm, good job new kid." Your little sister crossed her arms together. "It's better than Y/n's" She giggled, making you glare at her.

"Thank you though," You thanked him once again.

"No it's my fault." He brushed it off, "How about I make it up to you? What about some ice cream?"

You smiled at the request, "Of course, I'd love to."

"Me too." Your sister butted in as she walking closer to Sunghoon making him giggle.

"Sure princess." Sunghoon said, ruffled her hair and looked back at you. His warm brown eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

As you three walked away to head to an ice cream stand, Sunghoon stayed close by your side. He knew he didn't need to say nothing more; the look in his eyes said it all. And as your arm gently brushed against his, you suddenly became aware of how close you were.

And that today might be the day you would never forget, the summer leaving a fresh stain in your mind—the summer where you met your first love.

tags . @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @redm4ri @hanniluvi @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss @naespas @isoobie @dimplewonie @jennaissantes @aishigrey

[thesummerstorms]

Okay, but what if Lucanis does buy Rook de Riva an important (mage)knife.

He gets knives, he has a good weaponsmith, but mages don't use their knives as much for stabbing/slashing directly as channeling elemental magic to stab with, so he goes to Emmrich and asks for the simplest, most paired down explanation of crafting materials' effect on magical frequencies that is humanly possible, specifically as it applies to knives.

Emmrich reminds Lucanis that he is in fact a stave user, but Rook would be a good person to ask.

Lucanis grits his teeth because he can tell from the older man's smile that Emmrich is having some fun at his expense. Of course Emmrich knows it's for Arsinoë. Lucanis hadn't wanted to be that obvious, but he can admit that it is.

Unfortunately, even when sincere, Emmrich is incapable of simple. Poor Lucanis knew this going in, of course and decided on Emmrich anyway because Neve would catch on too quickly and spoil her own gift and Bellara was equally incapable of simple and more prone to distracted tangents. It doesn't mean he's any more prepared to make sense of all this, and in the end he has to take Emmrich to meet his weaponsmith directly.

(The resulting "collaborative brainstorming session" almost scared Lucanis, put his favorite weaponsmith in a mind to possible shift specialties entirely, and cost House Dellamorte the price of a fully functional forge. It's still worth it.)

The end result is a beautiful piece of everite that feels vividly like the air in a storm in Rook's hands yet looks deceptively crystalline and fragile. It immediately becomes her favorite, unlike the vanished knife he gave Viago all those years ago, and from her shy smiles, he likes to think this time he's been understood.

Altogether, things are going well for once. If he feels more pride than maybe is reasonable every time he sees the everite blade in her hands alive with magic that cuts through a Venatori, then that's between him and Spite.

And Arsinoë. And Neve. And honestly everyone else because he's so terrible at hiding it.

All is going well, for once.

Until Tearstone Island, when he wakes up to Neve's anguished face, purple shards like crystal that cut through his gloves as he reaches for the snapped blade and severed hilt, his blood mixing with the sand, and-

and no Rook.