#she uses dance moves as fighting moves anyways

[epickiya722]

I just think Ashido's fight song would be "Evacuate the Dancefloor".

[swordmaid]

thinking about hag romance sparring 🤭 which I think is a very rare event bc god forbid astarion breaks a nail but in the off chances they do it becomes a matter of who fights more dirty bc shri’iia overpowers him in strength but he has faster reflexes and he’s very inclined to cheat. so then it becomes this fun little spar where it’s his dual daggers vs her one polearm, astarion always trying to disarm her by doing funky moves and distracting her vs shri’iia going for his shin and ankles so he trips over. then they forego the weapons and end up just rolling around the floor like kittens trying to pin each other down - which astarion does bc he has a secret third knife that he whips out and holds over her that forces her to yield and shri’iia’s like oh noooo u caught meeee. che..! whatever should I dooooo 🤭🤭😏😏 very quickly becomes foreplay and whoever was watching them spar is just like brother eughhhhh 😟😟😒😒🤢🚫🚫

[monster-disaster]

maybe a short story on a human reader being taken by an orc army/camp and just absolutely used as their personal toy???

When I read your request, I couldn't help but hear, "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" from Lotr.

But let's be serious: I hope you will enjoy it. :)

Orcs x Reader Warnings: filth, nothing but filth

The air is thick with smoke, mingling with the musky odor of sweat and leather. The scent of blood and violence still hangs heavy, fueling the heat and tension around the tents made of rough animal hides. The crackling flames of the campfire cast dancing shadows across the rugged faces of the warriors. Feral hunger glints in their eyes as they come closer. It feels like the ground rumbles and shakes under their steps. Their muscular, battle-scarred bodies pulsate with anticipation. The sounds of their gruff voices fill your ears, making you deaf to everything else. Your gaze jumps from orc to orc. The chieftain's large hand is heavy and warm on your shoulder as he pushes you deeper into the center of the camp.

The bounds around your legs and wrists make it hard for you to move, but it doesn't stop the warriors from closing around you. Their heat and raw desire surround you, making you shake and sweat under their primal gazes. Adrenalin fuels the fire in your bloodstream and thrums through your body until you almost buckle because of the throb between your legs.

The chieftain behind you reaches for the clasps and buckles that hold your armor together. The metal piece is dirty and beaten. His calloused fingers trace the edges of your armor before letting it fall to the ground. In other circumstances, you would feel relieved without its weight. Your undershirt sticks to your chest because of the sweat that still glistens in your heated skin, revealing the curve of your breasts. Another orc steps closer, barely smaller than his leader behind you. You remember him. One of his eyes is milky-white with a long scar from his eyebrow to his nose. He rips off your shirt, dropping the useless fabric before reaching for the buckles of your pants. You can't even feel the cold night air between the orcs towering over you.

The warriors move in sync. Their hands work in unison to strip away the layers covering your body. They reveal the soft swells of your curves and the hard cords of your muscles. Your skin is decorated with old and fresh scars, injuries, and bruises. The others get louder and louder with each glimpse they get of your naked body. The clear signs that you are a warrior, a fierce opponent, fuel their desire.

Soon, you stand exposed among the orcs, ready to be ravaged by them. Your limbs are not tied together anymore, but it changes nothing. You can't make yourself to move. It would be futile anyway. You can't fight against them, and they would enjoy chasing after you too much.

The orc in front of you wastes no time. His rough hands eagerly reach out to grope and caress every inch of your body. His dark green fingers dig into the flesh of your breast, squeezing and kneading, pinching your nipple until you mewl and try to get away from him, falling into the arms of the chieftain behind you. The leader grabs your hip, making you grind down on his leather-covered erection. His unyielding grip leaves red imprints on your skin. The cold of his rings digs into the flesh of your hips.

One hand slips between your legs. Rough fingers slide over your slickness and prod at your entrance. Your stomach jumps with fear and excitement. "Look at this juicy cunt, boys! She's all wet and ready for us!" The orc in front of you announces loudly to everyone around you to hear. The camp gets even louder with feral growls and words that make your heart beat faster in your ribcage. Whatever you want to say, to tell him to stop or to go deeper, dies on your tongue. The only thing keeping you standing is the chieftain behind you, still grinding his cock against your ass while his man explores your wetness. He smears it all over your mound and inner thighs before turning his attention back to your entrance. "I knew the moment I saw her on the battlefield that she would be a good prize to fight for," he grunts, forcing each digit of his thick finger into your pussy. Your walls clench down around him, to keep him out or to force him deeper, you don't know. "You like that, don't you?" The chief grunts next to your ear. His question fans over the curve of your neck. "I can smell your pussy, girl." "We all smell her." Someone says from the circle of orcs surrounding you. Their eyes are heavy on your body as they watch you. You steal a few glances at them. A lot of them are already naked, tugging at their cocks hanging heavy between their thick thighs.

The male in front of you continues to bully your cunt with his finger, going deeper and deeper while his other hand reaches up to grip your hair. He pulls back your head, making you arch your body. "You're ours now, human," he snarles. "But do not fret. I saw you fighting, I'm sure you can handle a few orc cocks too." A rumble of laughter waves through the air, and your pussy tightens at the thought. "Oh, look at that!" He laughs, pushing another finger into your wet hole. A groan gets stuck in your throat at the feeling of your walls stretching around him. "She likes the thought." "She does," the chief grunts, pulling his own cock out of his pants to force your hand around it. Your fingers curl around his thick rod automatically. If you could focus on anything, you would be surprised at its weight on your palm. "She doesn't look like someone who backs out of a challenge." His words are followed by laughter again while you bend and turn the way they want you.

Before you know it, you are on your knees with their leader still behind you, shoving his cock into your pussy while his warrior is busy with your mouth. He taps the head of his erection against your lips, and you open without a second thought. At this point, your mind is too hazy, and your senses are full of their musky scent to do or think anything. You feel like a raw nerve under their pushes and pulls. They thrust in and out of you with a relentless rhythm while you moan and drool around their cocks. You slip in and out of your orgasms, getting more and more drunk on their relentless assault. They push your boundaries, both physically and mentally, until you are nothing but a warm body they can use as they want.

You don't even notice when they come inside you. Their warm seed seeps out of your abused holes, and you almost choke on the orc's cock when he pushes himself deeper into your throat.

The ground is dirty and hard under your weak body as you let yourself collapse. Your muscles shake and twitch while your pussy clenches around nothing. Your chest heaves with every breath you take as you try to clear your mind.

But they are not done yet.

"It's your turn, boys," one of them says, stepping away from you to give enough space for the others. "Keep those sweet holes full tonight."

The air crackles with anticipation and feral need. One by one, the orc warriors step forward, their rough hands exploring every inch of your body. Their calloused fingers trace the swell of your breasts, teasing and pinching your nipples until you cry and wiggle. Your pussy pulsates between your legs while their fingers explore your folds and both of your holes. They feast upon your bare curves, their desires ignited by the sight of your vulnerable state.

The first orc doesn't waste his time. His massive frame towers over you, keeping his body up with his trunk-like arms next to your head while taking you fiercely, his thick length plunges deep into your wet and eager pussy. His heavy balls slap against your skin. Your walls grip him tightly even though you are sensitive, and the feeling of him pounding into you makes you tear up. A thumb smears your tears all over your face before pushing into your mouth. Your tongue laps at the digit.

When the orc between your legs reaches his peak, fucking you full of his cum, another one steps forward, hungry and ready for his turn. He turns you onto your stomach easily, positioning himself behind you when you force your knees to not give up under your weight. His hands are gripping your hips as he shoves his cock into your cunt. Ecstasy trembles through your body while someone else grabs a good chunk of your hair and forces your mouth down his hard length. More tears escape from the corner of your eyes as you gulp and suck around the orc's cock.

The orcs continue to take turns, their primal instincts driving them deeper and deeper into you. You become a mess of drool and cum until there is no part on your heated, sweaty skin that they didn't touch or use. They ravage your body with a ferocity that matches the intensity of the battle they had just fought while you scream and moan underneath them.

[tunatoge]

pairing: teen!s. gojo x fem!reader (use of "mom")

contents: gojo fucks up tsumiki's talent show (whoopsies!), mention of smoking and swear words, slight slut shaming

“my parents are really cool—uh, hi mom… hi, satoru,” tsumiki announces to the group of students and parents during her talent show. you glance at gojo who holds his phone up like a proud dad, recording the entire thing as he gives tsumiki a thumbs up. “and they helped me with this,” she adds as she wrings her hands. “this is for you guys… and megumi.” 

you giggle as megumi shifts in his seat, his cheeks a soft pink. you stop laughing when an explicit song starts playing from the auditorium’s stereo system, tsumiki awkwardly dancing on stage to the music. you snap your head towards gojo, your mouth agape. gojo stands up as he whoops and hollers, still recording tsumiki. 

“that’s my daughter!” he shouts as parents rush to cover their kids’ ears. “yeah, tsumiki! you’re doing great!” 

you cover megumi’s ears as you step down on gojo’s right foot. “satoru,” you hiss angrily, watching from the corner of your eye as the school staff struggle to pause the music. “what the fuck is this?” 

he looks at you, his blue eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit room. “what? it’s a good song!” he insists. 

“yeah,” you say as the music pauses and tsumiki bows before skipping away. “for people our age while we’re out clubbing and drinking! that was so inappropriate for kids!” 

satoru sits down next to you, ignoring the way the other parents glare at him and curse him out under their breath. “she told me she wanted to stick out so i told her i knew what to do!” 

you frown and you uncup your hands from megumi’s ears. he glares at gojo with you, easily knowing gojo fucked up. 

“i thought we agreed you’d stop helping the kids with their talent shows after you told megumi that using jujutsu for a magic show was a good idea,” you hiss, briefly turning around and apologizing to the angry mom behind you who kicks at your feet. 

“god,” the mom hisses after seeing your face, “of course it’s some stupid teen parents.” 

you frown at her words, keeping megumi from jumping up and attempting to fight the lady. you excuse yourself, squeezing past knees as they look at you and glare. 

“did you hear what that little girl said?” someone whispers to their partner as you walk by. “she said mom and satoru, not dad. that’s gotta be one messed up family.” they snicker. 

you grit your teeth as you move towards the exit, quietly squeezing out the door and pulling a pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket. you always knew you and gojo were going to face backlash for raising tsumiki and megumi while being kids yourselves, but you never thought you’d be facing it yourself after the kids had taken to calling you mom and refused to call satoru dad. you sigh and move away from the school building, taking a cigarette between your lips. you dig around for your zippo, frowning when you can’t find it. 

“i thought we agreed you’d stop smoking,” gojo says behind you. you look up at him, tsumiki in his arms and megumi next to him. 

you swallow as you place the cigarette back in its box. “not like i could’ve smoked it anyway,” you say as you take megumi’s hand in yours and walk towards the car. “i lost my lighter, the one suguru gave me.” 

“i have it.” you look at gojo as he digs around in his pocket and pulls out your tarnished silver zippo lighter. he flips it around and around in his hands, index finger gently running over the engraving on its side. “hand me your cigarettes and i’ll give it back to you.” 

you sigh as you unlock the car door and situate megumi into his car seat. “i don’t need it if i’m not smoking.” you buckle megumi in and gently ruffle his hair before shutting the door. 

gojo sighs as he sets tsumiki in the car and shuts the door. “what’s wrong?” he asks, rounding the car and taking your elbows into his overly large palms. he smooths them up your triceps, touch airy and light. “you only ever feel the need to smoke when something’s bothering you.” 

you sigh as you lean into his touch. “i’m just tired of people assuming i’m some whore who spreads their legs for anyone. it really hurts when parents look at me with so much disgust when tsumiki or megumi call me mom.” you lean forward and press your forehead into gojo’s firm chest. 

“y’know,” gojo starts as he rests his chin in your hair, “those parents probably would have never stepped up like you did. you gave up the rest of your childhood for theirs and those stupid adults will never know that.” he pulls away and carefully looks you in the eye. “they can assume as much as they want, pretty, because the four of us know the truth and the truth is much stronger.” 

you let out a choked laugh as you press your head back into his chest. “yeah, you’re right. they’re just some stupid old people.” 

gojo laughs as he fully wraps his arms around you, rocking you back and forth in the parking lot of tsumiki’s school. 

megumi swings his door open. “can we go home now?” he calls. “tsumiki’s tired.” 

you laugh as you pull away from gojo and wipe at your eyes. “yes, we can,” you respond, digging in your pockets and handing gojo your cigarettes. he smiles and hands you your zippo in return. “mom’s gotta have a long talk with dad once we get there.” 

gojo grins at the way you laugh at megumi’s scrunched up face. he’s thoroughly glad that it was you who stepped up with him.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Jealous wanda?

The way this is like... over a month old... I'm sorry for waiting so long!!! Here's a lot of words to make up for it, this lowkey turned into a short fic haha ♡

I think people get jealousy and possessiveness confused sometimes, jealousy happens when you don't already have something and you want it, and possessiveness is when you do already have something and protect it.

So, for the sake of wording, we'll do a jealous Wanda before you guys inevitably get together. (I would never write something where you and Wanda don't end up together because then what's the point. Anyways, I digress)

I like the idea of this jealousy stemming from a crush, with Wanda newly integrated with the Avengers after AOU. You're Natasha and Tony's number one friend, confident, and trusted member of the team. So you're high up in the ranks, and so fucking friendly.

You immediately make Wanda feel welcome, and she's a little awestruck at someone so high in rank paying attention to her, making sure her room is comfortable and including her in conversation during dinners and such.

The crush sneaks up on Wanda, and she realizes her feelings for you after a few weeks. She's seated on the couch next to you at one of Stark's parties, and your thigh is pressed warmly against hers. At one point, you make a joke. While everyone is laughing, she chuckles quietly, and you turn to look at her.

Your eyes are shining, a soft smile playing on your lips as you watch her for a moment. Your cheeks are slightly flushed from the alcohol you both have been consuming all evening, and Wanda's feels her heart stutter as her breath catches. then, she realizes that she has feelings for you... and cue the angsty thoughts that pop up in her head.

You remain oblivious to her feelings, too busy fighting your own. Obviously you like Wanda, her calm demeanor and the way she manages to say the right thing all the time. Her strong, silent confidence and unwavering loyalty to you the team has you falling for her every day. Not to mention her auburn hair, sparkling green eyes with smudged eyeliner that make your heart skip a beat whenever they look at you, or the way her vanilla perfume lingers on your clothes...

Cue the jealousy.

Given that you're so friendly and extroverted, you get along with everyone. One night during a movie night, you're cuddled up next to Natasha, and although Wanda rationally knows that you've been best friends for years, she can't help the jealousy that creeps into her mind.

She can't even pay attention to the movie, sneaking glances at you and wishing it was her stroking your hair and her thigh with your hands on it. She's so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she doesn't see Natasha's watchful eyes taking in the scarlet wisps circling her fingertips or the small smirk that plants itself on her face when she realizes what's happening.

One morning she sees you and Tony making pancakes for the whole team, your face bright and voice melodic as you sing along to the songs softly playing in the kitchen. She smiles at the sight, before immediately wishing it was her.

Visions of dancing around the kitchen with you, making you her favorite dish, Wanda's hands holding your waist and brushing against you as you move in tandem, your bodies tuned in to each other. Your eyes locked on hers, smiles directly at her... only her.

Wanda has to leave and collect herself, coming back to the kitchen only once the rest of the team arrives and stuttering in front of you. You wonder if she's sick, her face flushed and her eyes glancing anywhere but you. She refuses to let you near her that morning, her emotions getting the better of her as the need to push you against the nearest wall and leave dark hickeys up the side of your neck consumes her.

One time, after a long night of games with the team, Wanda retreats to her room and makes use of the vibrator she'd bought. It wasn't really her fault, you just looked so appealing in your sweatpants and tight compression shirt, bending over the pool table more times that she could count. Your fingers were quick during card games, Wanda's eyes catching them and wondering what else they were capable of.

And then... it finally happens. The confession.

You're at a party, after a successful mission that Wanda had been a big part of. Her first time truly working with the team and feeling like one of the good guys, and making a difference. You rarely left her side, knowing how quickly she gets overwhelmed at big events with a lot of unknown people.

At one point, some girl comes up to the pair of you, barely giving Wanda a glance before immediately gushing about how cool and awesome you were, her hand resting on your forearm as she chatted your ear off.

Glancing uncomfortably to the side, you can visibly see Wanda retreat behind her walls, her face falling and scarlet wisps wrapping around the rim of her glass. Her green eyes, normally sparkling up at you, are locked on her drink, watching the liquid as she slowly swirls it.

You don't know what to do, and the girl is so fucking insistent on talking to you. You just nod along with a small smile plastered on your lips as you keep glancing towards Wanda.

The girl eventually asks you to dance, her body much closer than it was before, and you finally see Wanda look up.

She seems to snap, her green eyes blazing coldly when she looks at you, and you can't help but feel equally as aroused as you are afraid. Wanda doesn't look at the girl, simply placing her glass down on the counter and grabbing your wrist in a firm grip, pulling you from the room.

She doesn't say anything, leading you through the halls until you finally reach her room. You barely have any time to look around, having never seen the inside of her room, before she's locking the door and pressing you up against it.

"You're not hers," Is all she can manage to say, and you nod, distracted with the way her body is fully against yours. Her hands grip the collar of your shirt, the fabric wrinkling slightly. You finally manage to form a coherent thought, a smile breaking across your face as you realize what's happening.

"Do you, like me?" You ask, and Wanda scoffs, finally looking away. Her hands loosen, as if she's realizing what position the two of you were in, before she answers.

"Yeah, I do. And it's consuming my every waking moment. I mean," She gestures at you, "Look at you. You're so fucking perfect, how could I not like you."

When she finally gains enough courage to meet your eyes, she finds nothing but happiness and a touch of excitement. You manage to say something stupid like, 'me too', before your hands are wrapped around her waist in the perfect way that she'd imagined. Then, you're pulling her closer, bodies flush against each other, and lips pressed firmly to hers.

God, kissing you was everything she'd imagined and more. You're utterly perfect, soft lips and warm skin and wandering hands that leave trails of fire across her hips, waist, chest, neck...

When the two of you announce that you're dating, everyone is happy for you, and in the middle of the congratulations, all Wanda hears is Natasha's soft voice saying, "Fucking finally."

[fryingpan1234567]

some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Carmilla: "Incidentally, I'm assuming you did not inform your partner about our weekly sessions."

Vaggie: "Of course I told Charlie I'm doing dancing with you."

Carmilla: "You call this dancing?"

Vaggie: "You're the one who said battle was like a dance."

Carmilla: "I'm about to regret saying that."

Charlie: "Vaggie? Sorry for dropping by out of the blue- if hell HAD a blue sky anyway- but I brought DONUTS and-"

FWOOSH FIRE

Demon Charlie: "-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO HER?!?!"

Carmilla: "The regret has just burned down my favorite axe display case."

Vaggie: "Sweetie! Hi!!!!" (rushes over) (excited hug) "Isn't this great?"

Demon Charlie: "GrEAT? She was attacking you!!!"

Carmilla: "Odette. Clara. Run, now."

Vaggie: "I know. It's pretty neat- She's teaching me more defense stuff, and I'm helping the Carmines test out which weapons are best for using against angels-"

Clara: "Mom, we are so not leaving y-"

Demon Charlie: "BY HAVING THEM USED AGAINST YOU!?"

Odette: "We will await news of your survival from a safe distance, mother. Good luck."

Vaggie: "Yeah and check it out!" (twirls) "Barely a scratch on me!"

Demon Charlie: "VAGGIE THERE ARE AT LEAST FIVE- SIX! SIX CUTS ON YOU AND YOU ARE BLEEDING!"

Vaggie: "Which is a lot better from last week."

Demon Charlie: "It's been like this EVERY week???"

Vaggie: "Yeah?"

Demon Charlie: "...C A R M I L L A...."

Carmilla: "I don't suppose offering to host a formal couple's dance to raise positive PR for your hotel with you both as the guests of honor would help deflect your ire over the current situation?"

Vaggie: "Oh hey that sounds like a great-"

Demon Charlie: "ARMOR!"

Vaggie: "-sudden change of topic uh sweetie what?"

Demon Charlie: "You, like doing these..... insane stupid anti-angel weapons tests?"

Vaggie: "Yes?"

Demon Charlie: "They make you HAPPY??"

Vaggie: "Weren't you the one who pointed out how much more relaxed I've been since I started doing this?"

Demon Charlie: "THEN YOU WILL BE DOING IT! IN! ARMOR!!!"

Carmilla: "Hmm. An interesting concept."

Vaggie: "But babe, I don't know how to move or fight in-"

Charlie: "I DONT CARE!!!"

Vaggie: "-wouldn't be moving like an exorcist anymore, kinda ruining the whole point of-"

Charlie: "I don't care. Armor. You. Wear it."

Vaggie: "Hun, the weapon data..."

Charlie: "Fuck the weapon data. Safety FIRST. PLEASE."

Vaggie: "...okay. Alright. I'll. Wear some stupid armor."

Charlie: "And a helmet????"

Vaggie: "Fine."

Charlie: "Thank you, Vaggie." (hug)

Charlie: "And thank YOU, Carmilla, for volunteering to host a ballroom dance party for the hotel! I'm sure it'll be a KILLER success!"

Carmilla: "I'm sure."

Charlie: "As long as you take good careful care of my girlfriend, I mean! Things would not go WELL if you for example oh I don't know accidentally KILLED HER or anything, ha ha ha!"

Carmilla: "Yes. I did get that impression. As did my burnt and half melted floors..."

Vaggie: "Wait so, how much armor do I really have to wear-"

Charlie: "ALL the armor, Vaggie. ALL of it~"

[takusan-no-ai]

The place I’ve come to call “home”

PAIRING: Eula x Male Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: (Y/N) is Eula’s childhood friend, and her future true love.

“WRONG! Dear friend should only be used to address those the speaker are acquainted with and not particularly close!“ an older man yelled, swatting at Eula’s hands with a wooden stick. “What do you say to someone you are close to?!” He slammed his fists on her desk, glaring into her eyes. She looked down, too scared to answer. “You either know this or not Eula!”

The final straw, and she began to cry an ocean of tears. The man huffed in annoyance. “Class dismissed.” He left the room, clicking his tongue in frustration.

Finally alone, Eula wiped away her tears, still shaking violently. A small tap on the window brought her back to reality. “Huh?” She questioned, beckoned forward by the small pebbles tip tapping the window. She opened the window, only for a pebble to bonk her on the nose. “Ow!”

“Shoot! Are ya okay up there princess? You’s shoulda known better than to make yerself a target!” An arrogant young boy said. Eula could feel her face growing hotter in anger. She climbed out the window and shoved the boy lightly.

“Hmph! (Y/N), For such an act of defiance, I shall have vengeance!” She said proudly. (Y/N) just laughed at her words, patting her on the head with a toothy grin.

“Ya say that, but you’re really just lookin’ for an excuse to see more of yours truly.” Eula huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “Lotsa huffing over there—ya a wolf or somethin’?” He teased.

This uncouth boy was none other than Eula’s one true friend. Her confidant, and someone who she could be herself with. A secret friendship hidden within the backyard of the Lawrence Clan. Whenever the noble life got too stressful, there he was. Waiting for her outside her window.

Sadly, like every day, their hangouts are cut short. Eula crawls back through the window and returns to her next lesson. Dancing practice began early in the day and ended late at night. Her feet sore, and her stomach growling loudly didn’t help ease her nerves. Add the cherry on top, her dinner contained disgusting overly flavored broth. She almost slept hungry that night.

This time, (Y/N) crawled through her window, a small box in hand. It was lights out, and nobody would hear the giggles of two kids eating sandwiches as they went back and forth with joyous banter.

“I have this one dance I really liked today though,” Eula reminisced her lesson with (Y/N), who yawned, eyelids fighting to stay open.

“Cool. Show me some moves! Or else I’ll hafta keep tellin’ folks that you’ve got two left feet.” He mumbled, head rocking back and forth. Eula blinked in confusion before standing up. She grabbed (Y/N) and guided him towards her bed tucking him in with herself.

“Good night (Y/N)…”

“…Good…night…princess,” they cuddled together and fell fast asleep. With (Y/N) almost drooling in his sleep, and Eula blushing in hers.

This was just one of many memories that Eula holds dear. And through the years, those continued interactions helped shaped her into who she was today: the Lawrence Clan’s worst nightmare. Older, she now refused to attend lessons, and even sought to openly interacting with “commoners”; if they had the patience to speak to her, that is.

And when she came to the decision of leaving her household for good, she asked him to come with her. “Oh geez. Ya always hafta pull at my heartstrings princess? How could I ever say no to such a cute face?” She pinched him on the arm, blushing from his constant teasing.

Since Eula was a Lawrence it mean’t no one would allow her to buy from their shops. Even (Y/N) was outcasted by association, but he didn’t care. Him and Eula had been together through thick and thin, and he never had much social standing to begin with. A small inconvenience like that didn’t bother him anyway. Eula resorted to hunting and cooking food over a campfire for the both of them.

Eventually others saw her capabilities, Jean the most, who recruited Eula to be a Knight of Favonius. Through sheer effort, she slowly began to gain a more positive reputation with the citizens of Mondstadt. It came at the cost of being labeled a traitor by her family, but it was a necessary sacrifice for a brighter future. One with him.

She invited him to meet on the mountain top further out of Mondstadt City. “Remember this place?” She asked him.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking for an answer. “Oh! We first met here! Right?” He answered enthusiastically, a dopey grin on his face. Eula frowned and crossed her arms, looking away angrily.

“Forgetting such a special date. I will—”

“Have vengeance right? So what place is this?” He cut her off, which led to her steaming even more. Coughing into her hand, she finally made eye contact with (Y/N).

A bright blush littered across her entire face. And her eyes held a soft gaze as she caressed his cheek. (Y/N) began blushing now, finally remembering what this place meant to her.

“This is where I confessed my love to you.” Guiding his hands to her hips, she placed hers on his shoulders, and began to dance with him. “Years ago I told you I had learned my new favorite dance: The Dance of Sacrifice. In some far away place it might’ve been the only thing to bring me comfort. But now, I have you.”

(Y/N) held a small smile, moving closer to Eula. They shared a kiss under the moonlight.

“Marry me.” She asked.

- Fin

[moonselune]

I don’t know if this request works within the “canon” of the dark bg3 stuff but could there be something of them having a sort of “am I the baddie? No of course not!” moment. Like Mother Superior SH realizing her memory wipes have started to erase things she liked about her partner, but then still justifying it anyway.

omg this is all i could think about

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Am I the Villain?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss, blood, murder, F!reader

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The grand hall is ablaze with light, the flicker of candles dancing off the gleaming armor of the elite and the polished stone walls. Minthara walks with you at her side, her usual commanding presence dominating the room, as she surveys the other attendees. A celebration of her most recent victory, another success in her endless conquest, and yet tonight, something weighs on her.

You’re standing beside her, dressed impeccably in her colors, red and black, a jeweled collar gleaming at your throat—a symbol of her possession. Your eyes, once so defiant, are now soft, almost distant, and Minthara can’t help but notice how different you’ve become. You stay close, your body language careful and measured, as if you’re constantly attuned to her, never straying too far.

But something nags at her tonight, a strange sense of unease that she’s never felt before. She watches you carefully, the way you hold yourself, the way you respond to the others at the gala with polite, but hollow words. The life you once had—the fire, the rebellion—it’s all been snuffed out, and for a moment, Minthara wonders if she’s gone too far.

She remembers the nights of resistance, the fight you used to put up, the venom in your words when you defied her. Back then, it thrilled her—your spirit, your defiance. But over time, she broke you down, bit by bit, until you were hers in every sense of the word. And now, here you are, completely loyal, utterly devoted, always at her side.

But is this what she truly wanted?

Her thoughts are interrupted when she notices how you glance up at her, a look of absolute obedience in your eyes. The way you move closer to her, as if seeking her approval, as if your very presence is tethered to her will. It’s an instinct now, a habit ingrained so deeply in you that it’s second nature. And for a fleeting moment, Minthara feels a pang of guilt. Had she damaged you beyond repair? Had she stripped away too much of who you were?

Her gaze softens as she watches you. There’s no fight left in you, no spark of rebellion, just complete submission. She knows she’s the reason for it—her relentless control, her possessiveness. Maybe she should feel guilty. Maybe this is her fault.

But then, as she watches you greet a lord with a curt nod, your eyes immediately flicking back to hers for approval, something inside her shifts. The guilt begins to fade, replaced by something darker, something more possessive. You belong to her now, completely. Every glance, every word, every breath you take is in service to her. You’ll never leave her.

The thought fills her with a twisted sense of satisfaction. She watches you move through the crowd, always keeping an eye on her, always staying within reach, and she realizes that this—this loyalty, this obedience—is exactly what she wanted all along.

You catch her gaze again, and she smiles. A slow, predatory smile that makes your heart flutter with a mixture of fear and devotion. She beckons you closer with a subtle gesture, and without hesitation, you obey, moving to her side as if you were born to be there.

As you approach, Minthara places a hand on your arm, pulling you just a little closer, her fingers brushing against your skin. She looks down at you, her eyes filled with something possessive, something deeply satisfied.

“You’ve done well tonight,” she murmurs, her voice low and smooth, meant only for your ears. “You’re always so perfect, always so loyal.”

You look up at her, a small, strained smile on your lips, and she can see the exhaustion in your eyes. But there’s no defiance there, no resistance. Only acceptance.

Minthara tightens her grip on your arm, her gaze softening as she leans down to press a kiss to your temple.

“You’ll never leave me,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement, a fact. One she’s ensured.

For a brief moment, the flicker of guilt tries to rise again, but it’s drowned out by the sheer satisfaction of having you completely, utterly hers. She doesn’t feel bad anymore. Why should she? You’re exactly where you’re meant to be—by her side, forever.

With that, she straightens, her grip loosening slightly, though she keeps you close. The night continues, the sounds of the gala fading into the background as Minthara allows herself to bask in the sense of control, of ownership. And as you stand there, ever obedient, ever loyal, she knows she made the right choice.

You’re hers, after all. Always.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

Mother Superior Shadowheart watches you from the edge of the room, her dark, piercing eyes following your every move. You’re sitting by the hearth, quietly stitching a piece of fabric, your once defiant spirit all but extinguished. It should comfort her—this docile, pliant version of you. This is what she wanted, isn’t it? The perfect companion, loyal and obedient, devoted to her in every way. She has molded you, stripped away every rebellious thought, wiped every memory that threatened her control over you, until there was nothing left but submission.

And yet, as she watches you now, there’s an uneasy feeling gnawing at her. There’s something missing. A spark, a fire, a certain light in your eyes that used to challenge her. She remembers the way you used to argue with her, your quick wit and sharp tongue, the way you’d make her feel alive even in your defiance. Now, you simply nod and smile, never questioning, never pushing back. It’s what she wanted, but the satisfaction is hollow.

Shadowheart clenches her fist, feeling the familiar weight of guilt creep up on her, though she shoves it back down where it belongs. No, this is what has to be done. Without the memory wipes, you wouldn’t be here at all. You would have left her long ago, and she couldn’t—she wouldn’t allow that. She had to take control, had to make you forget, for your own sake and hers. If you remembered how things once were, the things you used to say, the way you used to resist her… you’d run.

“You’re quiet today,” she finally says, her voice soft, careful. She crosses the room, standing behind you and placing her hands on your shoulders. You stiffen slightly under her touch, just for a moment, but then you relax, leaning into her, as if the act is second nature.

“I’m just… thinking,” you reply, your voice almost too soft, too distant. There’s a wistfulness in it, something she doesn’t like. What are you thinking about? What parts of your old self are trying to claw their way back?

Shadowheart bends down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering a little too long.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” she asks, but her voice holds a warning, a silent threat that you might not even recognize anymore.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I was thinking about… something. I don’t quite remember.”

Shadowheart’s heart clenches. Something you don’t remember. Of course, you don’t. She made sure of that. The memory wipes have been thorough, meticulous, erasing anything that could ever give you a reason to defy her again. But in doing so, she’s started to erase things she liked about you—things she loved. She straightens up, trying to shake off the unease crawling up her spine.

“Good,” she murmurs, though it sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself. “There’s no need to dwell on the past.”

But the truth gnaws at her. How much of you has she lost in this process? How many parts of the person she fell in love with are gone forever? She tries to recall the way you used to laugh, the way your eyes used to light up with mischief, the way you used to challenge her in ways that no one else dared. Now, all of that is gone—erased, as if it never existed.

But it had to be done. You would have left her. You would have abandoned her, just like everyone else. She had no choice. If you remembered the fights, the times you tried to escape, the moments of rebellion… you’d hate her. You’d leave her. She couldn’t allow that.

“I’m happy,” you say softly, almost mechanically, as if the words are rehearsed. “I’m glad to be here, with you.”

Shadowheart winces, and she quickly moves to sit beside you, taking your hands in hers. She forces a smile, trying to reassure herself that this is what she wants.

“You are exactly where you’re meant to be,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “With me.”

You look at her, that empty, vacant smile still on your lips, and it makes her stomach turn. There’s no fire, no spark, no defiance. Just hollow obedience. She once loved the way you’d look at her with fury in your eyes, how you’d challenge her authority, forcing her to assert control. Now, you’re just… complacent.

But she justifies it, as she always does. Without the memory wipes, you’d leave her. You’d run far away, and she couldn’t bear that. She tells herself it’s necessary, that you’re better off this way. You’re safe, protected, and she has you. That’s all that matters.

Shadowheart lifts your chin gently, making you meet her gaze.

“I love you,” she says, and for a fleeting moment, she wonders if you truly understand those words anymore, or if they’re just another script you’ve been forced to follow.

“I love you too,” you reply automatically, your voice devoid of the passion it once held.

She leans in, kissing you deeply, trying to summon the old fire that used to burn between you, but it feels one-sided now. You kiss her back, but there’s no intensity, no heat, just a practiced motion. She pulls away, her chest tight, and she knows—deep down—that she’s destroyed something beautiful.

But it’s too late now.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

Gale watches you move through his realm, his eyes tracing your every step. His once-human heart, now swollen with divine power, beats with an unsettling calm. He sees you—the god of the muse, the very embodiment of inspiration, grace, and passion—now reduced to something far more hollow. There is no spark left in your eyes, no flicker of the joy you once carried. Your movements are slow, mechanical, as if your purpose has long since evaporated, leaving you to wander aimlessly through the gilded labyrinth that Gale has constructed. His perfect world, made for you.

He knows what he’s done, of course. He sees it in your detachment, in the way your gaze drifts as though searching for something beyond the realm he has meticulously crafted. He sees it in the way your hands no longer create, no longer breathe life into the world. But he also knows why he did it. He tells himself it was necessary—that this was the only way to protect you, to preserve you as his forever.

You are his muse, his divine inspiration, but more importantly, you are his. You belong to him in the same way this realm does, in the same way the power of the Weave now bends to his will. Without you, what would this godhood mean? His ambitions would be empty. He cannot allow you to leave, to break free from his grasp, even if it means crushing the very essence that made you who you are.

“Come here,” Gale commands softly, his voice reverberating through the golden halls like a whisper of thunder. You hesitate for a moment, though not out of defiance, but from the weight of knowing what comes next. Your feet carry you to him as if on strings, compelled by more than just obedience. You stand before him, head slightly lowered, your once-proud form now a shadow of the muse that had once inspired entire realms.

Gale’s eyes bore into you, hungry, searching for something—some sign that your love for him has not faded, that you are still his. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, fingers cold and pulsing with the untamed magic he now controls.

“Tell me,” he says, his tone deceptively gentle, but you feel the underlying edge to it. “How much do you love me?”

Your heart stirs in dread, though your expression remains carefully neutral. You know exactly what he is asking. There is a quiet warning in his words, an unspoken promise of what he will do to the mortal realm if your answer displeases him. You have seen the devastation he is capable of, how easily he reshapes existence to suit his desires. His ambition knows no bounds. You, better than anyone, know how little it would take for him to unmake entire worlds just to punish you for a single misstep.

So, you answer him, your voice soft but steady.

“I am devoted to you, Gale,” you say, each word deliberate, each syllable spoken with the careful precision of someone walking a razor’s edge. “I love you. I adore you.”

For a moment, there is silence. His eyes search yours, as though he’s trying to find something deeper behind your words. You wonder if he sees the truth—the emptiness behind your declaration, the lifeless devotion you now perform like an act, all to keep him from destroying everything. But Gale smiles, and for a terrifying moment, you know he believes you.

“Yes,” he whispers, his smile widening as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead. “I know you do. I knew it from the moment I bound us together.”

In his mind, your love justifies everything. It justifies the suffocating control he’s exerted over you, the gilded cage he’s built, and the countless lives that have been lost in his pursuit of power. It justifies the endless, obsessive need to keep you at his side, to shape you into the perfect companion—no matter how much of yourself he has stripped away in the process.

He brushes a lock of hair from your face, his touch reverent, as though he’s still captivated by the thought of what you once were. But you are no longer his muse. You are his prisoner.

“You see,” Gale continues, his voice low and soothing, “this was all for us. For you. I couldn’t risk losing you, not to the whims of fate or time, or to your own will.” His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, and you can feel the weight of his power thrumming beneath his skin. “No one will ever love you the way I do. No one will ever understand you as I do.”

You nod, even as the void in your chest grows heavier, more suffocating. You are trapped, bound by both his love and his madness. The realm around you feels like a beautiful prison, a perfect world in which you are a mere ornament—a shadow of your former self, kept only because you once inspired the god who now holds you.

And Gale, in his arrogance, in his infinite ambition, believes that this is enough. That this twisted devotion, this corrupted love, is the highest form of worship.

As you stand there, locked in his embrace, you cannot help but wonder how much longer you can pretend. How much longer you can wear this mask of adoration before the last remnants of yourself are lost forever.

But for now, you tell him what he needs to hear. You tell him that you love him. Because to do otherwise would be to unleash the full fury of a god, and the world cannot afford that. Neither can you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

Astarion leans against a crumbling wall, sat on a nearby crate, watching you with a quiet, almost predatory satisfaction as you tear through the night, drenched in bloodlust. He would have preferred more opulent surroundings but you had become ravenous after a meeting at a fellow noble's house. The moonlight filters through the shadows of the alley, illuminating the grotesque scene unfolding before him. Bodies litter the ground, drained of life, their faces frozen in expressions of terror as your fangs sink into another helpless victim. You are unstoppable, a whirlwind of violence and hunger, your eyes wild with the mania of the hunt, your hands stained red with the life you have stolen.

At first, Astarion feels a twisted sense of pride. This is what he wanted, after all. To make you like him—an apex predator, free from the chains of morality and guilt that once held you back. The two of you, together, are gods among mortals, unstoppable in your pursuit of power and blood. He remembers when you would hesitate, how your face would twist in sorrow even as you killed a simple goblin, trying to justify your actions to yourself. You used to care, used to flinch at the thought of taking a life.

But now? Now you are something else entirely. He watches as you throw aside a body, your lips stained with fresh blood, your eyes burning with the same insatiable hunger he once saw in himself. You’ve become the perfect reflection of him, the monster he always knew you could be. And yet, as the frenzy continues, something unexpected stirs within him.

At first, it’s just a fleeting thought—a brief flicker of memory. He recalls the way your face would soften after a fight, how you would stand over the bodies of your enemies, your eyes clouded with guilt. You’d tell him, in quiet whispers, how you never wanted this. How you feared becoming like him. It used to annoy him, how you clung to that sliver of humanity, as though it were some precious treasure. But now, as he watches the carnage, that memory claws its way to the surface, unbidden.

Look at you now.

The sound of your laughter, unhinged and wild, echoes through the blood-soaked street, and Astarion feels something twist inside him. His gaze follows your every movement as you finish off the last of your victims, blood dripping from your lips, your body swaying with the exhaustion of the frenzy. You’ve taken more lives tonight than you can count, and Astarion can see it—the mania burning through you, consuming you. You’re lost in it, no longer in control, just a vessel for the hunger that now defines you.

And it’s then that it hits him: he has done this to you.

A flicker of regret rises in him, sharp and unexpected. It’s not that he regrets the power he’s given you or the freedom to revel in your darkest desires. No, it’s something deeper. He remembers how you used to be—how you used to fight to keep your heart intact, even when it hurt you. He watches the way your hands tremble, not from fear, but from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, from the sheer mania that has taken hold of you.

It’s gone now, that humanity you once clung to. He’s broken you. Turned you into a creature of blood and death, a reflection of his own cruelty. And for the briefest of moments, Astarion feels a pang of something close to sorrow.

But then it’s gone—washed away as you collapse at his feet, utterly spent. Your body, drenched in blood, crumples to the ground, and before he can react, your head falls gently into his lap. You look up at him, your chest heaving with exhaustion, eyes glassy from the high of the hunt, and in that moment, whatever flicker of regret he felt vanishes.

Because this—this is where you belong. At his feet. You, the once-innocent soul who balked at the thought of killing, who feared the very darkness that now consumes you. You are his now, entirely, just as he always wanted. Your humanity is gone, and in its place, there is only devotion—to him, to the hunger, to the night.

Astarion smiles, his fingers brushing lightly against your blood-soaked hair as he gazes down at you with a mix of possessiveness and dark satisfaction. You are perfect. His perfect creature, shaped and molded by his hand. Whatever regret he had felt is meaningless now, drowned out by the reality of what you’ve become.

“Look at you,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, though there is a sinister undertone to it. “You’ve finally embraced what you are, my love. Doesn’t it feel… freeing?”

You don’t respond, still too exhausted from the bloodshed, but your eyes flicker up to meet his. There’s no need for words; he sees it in your gaze—the surrender, the acceptance. You’re his now, irrevocably and utterly. Astarion knows that whatever small piece of you once resisted him is gone, devoured by the darkness he helped unleash.

He tilts your chin up, his thumb gently brushing the corner of your bloodied lips, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. “This is where you belong,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “At my side. By my feet. There’s nowhere else for you now.”

And in the stillness that follows, as the bodies of the slain lie cold and lifeless around you, Astarion knows that he has won. Whatever part of you he might have mourned is insignificant compared to the power he now holds over you. You are bound to him in every sense—by blood, by darkness, by the very madness that he has instilled in you.

He feels no regret anymore. Only pride.

The regret was a fleeting ghost, and now it is gone, replaced by the absolute certainty that you belong to him.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

Halsin stood quietly in the shadows of the grove, watching you as you tended to the small group of animals you had rescued. You moved among them with a gentle care, hands stroking their fur, whispering soft reassurances. A faint smile played on your lips, a reflection of the compassion you still held in your heart, but something was wrong. He could see it. It was in the way your hands trembled, the slight stiffness in your posture, the way your eyes—though focused on the creatures before you—seemed distant, as if they were seeing something far away.

And then, there were the tears.

They slipped from your eyes silently, trailing down your cheeks like rain. You weren’t sobbing, nor were you visibly distressed. It was as if your body had decided to release the sorrow on its own, without your permission. You didn’t wipe them away or acknowledge them, instead choosing to ignore them entirely, continuing your work as though nothing was wrong.

But Halsin knew better. He could feel the ache beneath your surface, could see it in the way your smile faltered when you thought no one was watching. He had imprisoned you here in the grove, telling himself it was for the best—that you belonged to nature, that this was where you were meant to be, where he could keep you safe from the chaos and destruction of the world beyond. But now, as he watched you tend to the animals with a hollow, mechanical grace, he realized just how deeply that decision had affected you.

Your mind had shut down, he realized. It was coping, retreating inward, while your body simply went through the motions. The tears were your soul’s quiet cry, one you couldn’t bring yourself to voice. It was easier to focus on the animals, on the routine of caring for them, than to confront the prison that this grove had become.

A slight pang of regret stirred in Halsin’s heart, unsettling him. He had never meant to break your spirit like this. He had only wanted to protect you, to ensure that you stayed close to the wilds, where you could be one with the natural world. But had he gone too far? Had he mistaken control for love?

Just then, a small fawn stumbled beside you, its legs weak, its body trembling. You knelt beside it, your hands moving with practiced care, trying to find the source of its distress. But something was wrong. Despite your efforts, the fawn’s breathing remained labored, and its small body continued to tremble under your touch. Panic flickered across your face, and for the first time, your composure wavered.

Without hesitation, you stood, your eyes wide with worry, and you sprinted towards Halsin, desperation lacing your voice.

“Halsin, please! I don’t know what’s wrong with the fawn—I can’t help it!” Your breath was quick, your heart pounding, as you looked up at him, eyes wide with a raw, vulnerable need.

Halsin blinked, the regret he had felt a moment ago slipping from his mind as he moved toward the fawn, laying his hands gently upon its quivering body. With a soft incantation, he channeled the magic of the natural world into the creature, healing its ailment with the simple touch of his hand. The fawn let out a soft breath, its body relaxing as the magic took hold, its eyes now clear and calm.

You exhaled in relief, tears still streaming down your cheeks, but now they were different—born from gratitude, not grief. You turned to Halsin, your face breaking into a genuine smile as you stepped closer to him.

Without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you. You saved it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

For a brief moment, the world seemed to still around Halsin. The warmth of your lips on his cheek, the way you looked at him with such trust, such deep reliance—it stirred something deep within him. Whatever regret he had felt, whatever doubt had briefly flickered in his heart, was now gone. In this moment, he was reminded of why he had done what he had—why he had brought you here, why he had kept you close.

He wasn’t just protecting you. He was giving you a life where you could be safe, where you could rely on him, where you could find solace in the wild, away from the chaos of the world that had threatened to tear you apart. You might not see it now, but in time, you would come to understand. This was where you belonged, with the creatures of the forest, with him.

You needed him, and that need justified everything.

Halsin’s large hand came up to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the tear that still clung to your skin.

“You’re welcome, my heart,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet strength. “You’ll always have me to help you. Always.”

He pulled you into an embrace, and though he could feel the stiffness in your body, the hesitation that lingered beneath the surface, he ignored it. You were here, in his arms, in the grove, and that was enough.

It had to be enough.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

Wyll strode down the hall with purpose, the weight of his title as Grand Duke pressing heavily upon his shoulders. He had dealt with emissaries, council meetings, and the ever-growing burden of ruling Baldur’s Gate, but his thoughts always drifted back to you. His spouse. His love. The one he had claimed as his, by any means necessary. To him, it had been an act of devotion—a way to protect you from the dangers of the world, to shield you from harm. His love for you was absolute, consuming, and he believed that it justified everything.

As he approached your chambers, the sound of muffled sobbing reached his ears. His brow furrowed, and a sense of unease began to settle in his chest. Something was wrong. Without thinking, he pushed open the door, not bothering to knock. His eyes immediately fell upon you, sitting on the edge of the bed, your shoulders trembling with the force of your silent sobs. Your hands were clutching a piece of fabric, as though trying to anchor yourself, and tears streamed down your face unchecked.

Wyll’s heart lurched at the sight, and he rushed to your side. "What is it? What’s wrong?" he demanded, his voice filled with concern but laced with an edge of possessiveness. He hated seeing you like this—broken, fragile. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had made sure you would be safe, protected, loved.

You gasped, startled by his sudden presence, and immediately tried to pull yourself together. You wiped at your face in a near-hysterical fashion, your movements frantic and clumsy as you struggled to hide your tears.

"Wyll—no, it’s nothing. I’m fine," you said, your voice strained, a weak smile plastered across your tear-streaked face. “I wasn’t expecting you—”

But Wyll wasn’t having any of it. His eyes darkened with frustration, his hand reaching out to stop you as you tried to stand and walk away from him. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling you back toward him.

"Don’t lie to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. He wasn’t going to let you slip away, not like this. Not when you were clearly hurting.

You stumbled slightly as he pulled you to face him, his other hand gently but insistently tilting your chin up so that you were forced to meet his gaze. That’s when he saw it—the fear in your eyes. The way your breath hitched in your chest, the way your body stiffened under his touch. The raw, unspoken terror that you were trying so desperately to hide. His heart clenched at the realization. You were scared of him.

He hadn’t wanted this. He had taken you, yes— locked you away from the dangers of the world outside—but he had done it all for love. For you. To protect you. But now, as he stared into your tear-filled eyes, the truth was impossible to ignore. You were broken, fractured under the weight of his possessive love, and it was his doing.

A pang of regret stirred in his chest, an unfamiliar ache as he loosened his grip on your wrist. He had taken too much from you, pushed you too far, and now he could see the consequences etched across your face.

“Tell me what's wrong,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer, as if trying to soothe the very wound he had caused.

But you shook your head quickly, panic flashing in your eyes as you tried to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing, Wyll, really. I—it’s just the pressure- yes, the pressure of it all. The responsibility of being your spouse, of being by your side all the time. It’s overwhelming sometimes, but I’m fine. I’m glad you’re here. You make it better.”

Your words were rushed, and Wyll could tell you were lying, though he wasn’t sure if it was to protect yourself or to keep him from feeling guilty. Maybe it was both. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care if you were telling the truth or not, because in the next moment, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. Your embrace was tight, desperate, as though you were clinging to him for stability, for some sense of safety amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Wyll hesitated for only a moment before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you firmly against his chest. He could feel your body trembling against his, your heart beating rapidly, and despite the regret that had momentarily flickered in his heart, it quickly began to fade. As he held you close, as he felt your warmth against him, all of his doubts and guilt melted away.

You needed him. You belonged to him. And in that embrace, he found the justification he had always clung to. Whatever pain you felt, whatever fear you harbored, it was all necessary. Because without him, where would you be? Lost, vulnerable, exposed to the dangers of the world. He had saved you, claimed you, and ensured that no one else could ever hurt you. He was your protector, your keeper. Your everything.

Wyll tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he whispered into your hair.

"I’ll always be here for you, my love, no matter what.” His voice was soothing, even as his heart swelled with possessiveness. He wasn’t going to let you go—not ever. Whatever regret he had felt was gone now, replaced by the certainty that he had done the right thing. He had to keep you close, had to keep you under his control. Because if he didn’t, if you left him, the world would tear you apart.

You held him tighter, your face buried in his chest, and Wyll closed his eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breathing. This was right. This was how it was meant to be. You, in his arms, relying on him, needing him.

And as he held you, any lingering remorse faded into nothingness, drowned by the all-consuming love—and control—he had over you. He believed, deep down, that this was for the best. For you. For both of you.

Because in Wyll’s mind, love justified everything. Even the chains he had bound you with.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This was so fun but also so soul crushing to write, poor darlings, they will never catch a break. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[apothe-roses]

Dance of the Sugarplum Prince

Nutcracker!Aemond x Clara!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: violence, character death, smut, tiddy sucking, oral (f-receiving), uncle-niece incest, unprotected sex, piv sex, breeding kink, possessive Aemond, obsessed Aemond

A/N: I may not be the first nor the last to do a nutcracker au, but I’m doin it anyways! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. All rights go to HBO and George RR Martin

The snow falls heavy and thick outside the window. You watch the snowflakes dance to the ground while your family makes a ruckus behind you. The adults Gossip amongst themselves while your brothers laugh and joke amongst themselves. You love your family, but you’ve grown tired of your overbearing aunties trying to set you up with “nice boys” they know.

You notice a figure making their way towards the front door, making your own way towards it to greet them. Right after the doorbell rings, you open the door, smiling at the woman on the other side.

“Aunt Alys,” you smile and embrace the older woman.

“Forgive me for my tardiness, but it’s nearly impossible to make one’s way through that,” she replies, indicating to the storm outside. Other family members come to greet Alys, so you move to the side and let them. She pulls a large case out from under her coat. She reveals several beautifully made dolls, winding them up and letting them dance across the carpet. Your family is in awe. While they’re distracted, Alys approaches you.

“I have a special gift for you,” Alys says. She opens her bag, gingerly pulling out a final doll. He was a beautiful man with long silver hair and black armor accentuated with gold.

“This,” you aunt explains, “is no ordinary knight. He is a prince of a faraway land.”

“Oh Alys, she’s too old for dolls!” your mother calls from across the room.

“Oh, but he’s so beautiful!” you rebut. “Couldn’t I just put on on my shelf and admire him?”

“You can put these dirty dishes in the kitchen,” your mother tells you. You sigh, setting your doll on the windowsill. Alys follows you into the kitchen.

“Perhaps you should’ve brought me a real prince. That would’ve made mother happy,” you laugh. Alys simply smiles at that.

Suddenly, a loud crash sounds from the sitting room, followed by your mother shouting “Luke!” You rush into the room. Your doll is lying on the floor at your brother’s feet.

“It was an accident!” Luke explains. “I only wanted to get a closer look!”

You rush over, picking your doll up off the ground. One of his eyes is broken. Luke apologizes profusely while you carefully extract the broken pieces. Alys approaches.

“I couldn’t find a spare eye, but this should fit,” she says, handing you a small sapphire. You slip it into his empty socket; it fits perfectly. She provides a small strip of black fabric that you use as a makeshift eyepatch.

“Thank you, Alys,” you say, giving the older woman a hug. You don’t notice the worried look she gives your doll.

BONG

BONG

BONG

Was it midnight already? You must have nodded off at some point. You look down at your prince, admiring his handsome face. Perhaps it’s the dim light, but it looks as though his mouth twitches.

You’re about to go to bed when something moves at the edge of your vision. A small man walks out from under your Christmas tree! For a moment, you think it’s your prince. However, this man has two eyes and looks older. He wears a crown that looks like it’s made of wood. He’s looking around, clearly searching for something. You stay as still as possible, hoping he doesn’t notice you. Theres a possibility you’re still dreaming, but you’re not willing to take that risk.

“Looking for someone, Daemon?” a voice calls out. Both your heads snap to the corner where it came from. Your mouth falls open. It’s your prince! But he’s alive! He approaches the man, sword drawn.

“Aemond,” Daemon greets. “It appears you’ve suffered a horrible accident. Shame. I was hoping for a fair fight.”

“And you’ll get one,” Aemond snaps. At that moment, more figures storm into view. You recognize them as your brothers’ toy soldiers.

“Alright. Two can play at that game,” Daemon raises a hand, and several mice scurry out from nowhere. You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to scream. Daemon and Aemond draw their swords, circling one another. Daemon strikes first, but Aemond is quick to block. The mice and toys launch at each other. You’re enthralled. Though bloodless, the battle is intense.

Suddenly, Daemon strikes Aemond’s blind side. He’s sent flying to the floor, his sword clattering away. Daemon smiles viciously, standing over his nephew. He raises his sword to strike the killing blow and—

WHAM!

A giant slipper knocks him off his feet. Aemond glances at you, noting you are now missing a slipper. He grins, then springs into action. He draws a dagger, races to his uncle, and plunges the blade into his neck. Daemon never had time to regain his senses before he bleeds out, choking and clasping at his throat. The battle stops. The now leaderless mice scurry off, and the toy soldiers return to where your brothers left them originally. Aemond walks over to you. As he does, he grows until he’s the height of a normal man. You stare up at him, lips parted. He’s tall, and even more handsome as a man.

“You saved me,” he states, kneeling at your side.

“I-it was nothing,” you stammer, blushing. “I didn’t want him to…kill you.”

Aemond’s lips curl into a smirk. “Such a sweet thing you are,” he muses. He reaches out, winding a lock on your hair around his finger. “It’s not every day a man can say he was saved by someone so beautiful or kind.”

Your blush deepens. “You’re too kind,” you whisper.

“You must come back to the castle with me. My family will want to meet the girl who helped defeat my wicked uncle and his wretched mouse army,” he stands, extending a hand to you. You look around the empty sitting room, wondering what to do.

“It’s only for tonight. I promise to have you back by morning,” he assures you. You bite your lip, not noticing the way his gaze darkens. Then, you smile and take his hand. When you stand, you notice how much taller he is. you look down shyly, but he tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to his. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But then he says, “let’s be off then,” and leads you to the Christmas tree. With each step, you shrink until you can easily walk under the branches.

You spot a castle in the distance. A beautiful red fortress perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a sprawling city. The faint ringing of bells can be heard.

“It seems word of our victory has spread,” Aemond observes. “I imagine the celebration is well underway.

“Oh, but I’m not dressed!” you realize.

“Look down, little one,” Aemond replies. You do, and you gasp. Your simple nightgown had been replaced with a beautiful white dress, tied by a large red ribbon. The skirt floats in light layers down to your calves. Your feet are covered by red slippers with ribbons wrapped around your legs.

“How…?” you start to ask, the question dying on your lips when you look up and see Aemond had changed as well. He’s wearing a black and red jacket adorned with golden epaulettes, and also matching breeches and shiny black boots. His hair is loose, and the swath of ribbon covering his eye is replaced with a proper eyepatch.

“Come,” he requests, extending his hand. “We don’t want to miss out on the festivities.”

The walk to the castle is filled with merriment as the small folk throw flowers over your heads and dance and cheer. Inside the castle is even more merry as ball is in full swing. You spy the king and queen at the end of the hall, their matching silver hair catching the light.

Aemond leads you to the middle of the dance floor and leads you in a waltz. The night passes in a series of twirls and lifts, until a hush falls over the crowd.

The king leads his queen off the dais into the center of the crowd. Everyone pushes back, forming a wide berth around them as they lead a solitary waltz. You feel a large hand on the small of your back.

“Come with me,” Aemond whispers. His breath tickles your ear.

He leads you out of the room. The two of you race down the halls. You haven’t felt this exhilarated since you were a child chasing your brothers outdoors.

You’re lead into a bedroom that you presume is his. You don’t have time to take in the decor, as he grabs your face and kisses you hungrily. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his soft hair.

He deftly undoes the bow on your back. He tries to untie the laces, but he gets impatient and just tears your dress open. You gasp as your dress falls from your body.

Aemond scoops you up and lays you on the bed. He looks over you like a lion about to devour his kill.

“Have you ever been with a man before little one?”

“N-no,” you stutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Well,” he starts, “allow me to show you.”

He tears the rest of your underthings off, leaving you bare before him. Without breaking eye contact, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Your head rolls back as he sucks on the sensitive flesh, kneading your other side.

“So beautiful,” he gasps, switching to the other tit.

“So perfect.” He trails kisses down your torso. He fingers swipe through your folds. He brings them to his lips and sucks them clean; his eyes roll back and he groans.

“I knew you’d taste sweet,” he purrs. He lowers his head to your mound and drags his tongue through your folds. You gasp and instinctually shy away, but he pins you with this hands on your hips. You can only moan as he relentlessly devours your cunt.

“M-my prince…”

“Aemond. Call me Aemond,” he breathes, sending a shiver through you. You feel your peak approaching, closer and closer. It’s just about to wash over you when he pulls away. You whine at the loss of stimulation.

“The first time I make you come, it will be on my cock,” Aemond states, once again leaning over you. He sheds his clothing with ease. He’s truly one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. His cock is long and thick, and already leaking. He strokes himself as he gets into position.

“What if it doesn’t fit?” You ask innocently.

“It will fit.” He replies. “I’ll make it fit.”

He angles his cock and enters you with one sure thrust. You gasp loudly, clinging to his shoulders.

“Gods you’re tight,” he whispers. He begins to rock in and out of you, setting a steady pace.

“So wet, and I’ve barely touched you. Such a needy little thing. Absolutely begging to be fucked.”

You babble incoherently in response. Aemond chuckles and starts playing with your pearl.

“Already cockdumb are we?”

He pinches your pearl.

“I could keep you here you know. Fuck you—breed you— day and night, until your belly swells with my child. You’d like that wouldn’t you? My perfect little princess. My broodmare. Mine.”

You’re a little frightened by his declaration, but you’re to overwhelmed by pleasure to do anything about it. You can only lay there as you climax, the pleasure melting your bones and heating your blood.

“That’s my girl. That’s my good girl,” he groans, and you feel his cock pulse followed by a sense of warmth. He keeps his cock plugged inside until he starts to soften, then he pulls out. You feel a mixture of your fluid and his seed leak out. He hold your legs open, admiring the sight. Then, he lays down, pulling you into his arms.

“You’ll want for nothing. I’ll make sure of it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair.

You lay against his chest, and it isn’t long before sleep claims you.

“Sweetheart, wake up!” you hear your mother call. You reluctantly open your eyes. You’re in your own bed, in your own room.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but we have some surprise guests waiting downstairs,” she pulls open the curtains, and you wince at the sudden brightness.

“Get dressed quickly! I need to get back downstairs!” she rushes out of your room, closing the door behind you.

At first, you don’t move. There was a heaviness in your chest. It had all been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. Mice soldiers, living dolls, and princes could only be the product of dreams. This is the real world, and there are guests waiting for you.

As you get dressed, you realize your prince doll is nowhere to be found. You must have left him downstairs.

Voices could be heard in the sitting room as you make your way downstairs. Unfamiliar voices. You round the corner and freeze. Sitting around the room are three very familiar faces.

“Darling, these are my half-siblings.” She leads you to the Sugarplum King. “This is Aegon,” then to the Queen, who smiles sweetly at you, “Helaena,” then finally to the most familiar of them all, “and this is Aemond.”

He takes your hand in his, planting a kiss on your knuckles. You stare up at him with wide eyes. He’s wearing an eyepatch. Over the same eye your brother broke. Was he hiding a sapphire under there?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you breathe.

“Please, the pleasure is all mine, niece,” he purrs, looking at you in a way an uncle should never look at a niece.

“What happened to your eye?” Luke asked abruptly. Jace whacks him on the shoulder, admonishing him.

“Ow!”

“It’s alright. It was an accident long ago,” Aemond replies.

“Oh, let’s not dwell on unhappy memories,” your mother says, turning to Helaena. “How is Alicent? It’s been too long since I’ve heard from her.”

The conversation carries on, but you’ve stopped paying attention. You’re not looking at him, but you feel his gaze on you. Just as intense as it had been when he made love to you in your dream.

A dream.

It had only been a dream.

Right?

[princessmaybank]

Ride The Cowboy

Pairings: JJ x BestFriend!Fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, riding, creampie

Summary: JJ got a new cowboy hat and reader has no idea about the rule.

Authors Note: I had a smut written for a request. It was JJ and reader with the cowboy hat rule but it got deleted! It was anonymous so I hope whoever requested this sees it and enjoys!!!

(Edit: I changed the gif bc he's got a cowboy hat on 🤭 idk who these belong to but they aren't mine so credit to whoever made these!)

JJ found this random black cowboy hat at one of our shops in town. I didn't think he was serious when he said he wanted to buy it because it's not even his style.

Anyway he's been wearing it for a fucking week, trying to act all country and it's so fucking annoying. He has started using a country accent trying to be funny, but it was just so, so lame.

We were at the boneyard having the time of our lives. JJ and I were dancing together, giggling and having some normal fun, until he started talking like he was from Texas.

I was so fed up. I reached for his hat and threw it onto my head. "Look at me, I'm JJ, all I ever do is talk with an accent and twirl around in my cowboy hat!!" I said, very annoyed with a terrible attempt at a country accent.

JJ was staring at me in awe, which got the attention of our friend Pope, whose jaw went slack as well. Pope walked over and rested his arm on JJ's shoulder. "She doesn't know does she?" Pope looked at JJ with the most dead serious look I've ever seen. What the hell was he talking about???

"I don't think she does." He grinned and started laughing. His cheeks flushed red as he looked at his feet then back to Pope. "What are you talking about?!" I asked frantically. "Have fun cowboy." Pope said patting JJ's back while walking away. I give JJ a questioning look.

He got extremely close to my body, yet he was still towering over me. Damn this boy was tall. JJ took my hands in his. "You don't know the cowboy hat rule?" He asked smirking down at me. "These things have fucking rules too???" He giggled. "Yes but this one is probably the most important." Somehow he got closer, which was surprisingly not as uncomfortable as I thought. "What is it??" I asked getting annoyed because he was playing games at this point.

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

His face never changed from that smug little smirk, but my eyes got wide. I hit his chest, he was my best friend. "No way Maybank, that's probably something you made up to get you laid." He grinned. "It's not I swear, if you don't believe me look it up."

Unfortunately I did, and he was right. It was some kind of sick joke. "Well I didn't know so it doesn't count!" I crossed my arms. "Hey, rules are rules baby." He was holding my hips now. Why were butterflies filling my stomach? I've never thought of JJ this way. It would be so wrong. "So is no pogue on pogue macking!" I say trying my hardest to find a way out of this, but of course he's ready for whatever I say. "First of all, John B and Sarah are right over there, basically eating each other's faces. Second of all, it's not macking, it's riding baby." He smiled to himself because he knew he won.

JJ walked us to the Twinkie, where we wouldn't be bothered. "You just want an excuse to fuck your best friend!" I say fighting the best I could. "I could say the same about you! I didn't tell you to steal my hat! And you're still wearing it!" He laughs so hard after he gets his sentence out. I was blushing when I quickly took his hat off and threw it at him.

I was hovering over him, very anxious. He had a huge grip on my hips. "We do not have to do this if you don't want to." He says while holding me up. "JJ, I'm already naked. Plus you said it, rules are rules." Before I could change his mind or my own, I started easing myself down onto his dick. JJ let out a slight hissing sound as I went lower. Not gonna lie, I did need to get fucked. It was probably why I found him so annoying this week.

JJ helped me move at a pace that made us both feel good. "Come here." He pulled me in with a motion of his finger. "Might as well break a rule while we're at it." He smirked before attaching his lips to mine. JJ sat up and put his back against the seat, never pulling out. I pulled his hands away from my hips and to my tits, making him squeeze them as I bounced on his dick all by myself. I couldn't believe I was riding my best friend.

"Fuck Y/N/N don't stop." Woah. JJ called me by my nickname while I was bouncing on his huge cock. How fucking hot. Can't believe I'm saying this but I think I'm catching feelings in the middle of all of this. "Fuck I'm cumming!" I yell as my body starts spasming, I feel his dick shoot his hot liquid into me after I was done. JJ pushed my hips up and down, helping us ride out our orgasms.

He started spooning me after I put my clothes back on and laid down. "JJ I don't wan-" Before I could finish he interrupted me. "Y/N, I can't handle it anymore. I need to be with you, especially now. Now that I've had a little taste of you, I don't think I could let you go and just continue being just your best friend." He was hovering over me now. "I was thinking the same thing." That made us both smile.

We popped up when we heard the side door slam open. "I'm assuming she followed the rules?" Pope giggled staring at JJ, making him giggle as well. They high fived as I rolled over to hide in JJ's chest.

[radiance1]

"I have lived for thousands of years, seen the rise and fall of civilizations both known and unknown to man. I have tasted the old magics, became one with and conquered the eldest flame where many have failed and been reduced to dust." The phoenix stood tall, flame leaking from its form and dancing along the ground. Its eyes were narrowed, various emotions dancing within and all were none too pleased.

"I have grasped my power through the blood of the fallen, from humble ghost to staggering False God. And you believe that I, wielder of the black flame and one who stands above an uncountable number of ghosts would EVER." The phoenix paused, letting the weight of its words sink as the temperature of the room reached all new levels of heat. Underneath his suit, Batman could feel himself sweating up a storm, he squashed down the urge to take off his suit and instead stuck close to the pillar hiding him from sight before slowly moving along the shadows.

"Ever, Allow myself to be bested by a mere mortal, the last of his race and a demi-goddess!?" The great beast hissed out the words, as if the mere implication alone was a slight against him as he waved wing. A tsunami of black fire spilled forth, forcing the separation of Superman and Wonder Woman as they both sought refuge from the attack. "I have felled far more despicable foes than you three, and you will all kneel before me!" The great bird raised itself to the sky, flapping its wings and taking off to the sky.

The roof of the warehouse melted far before the phoenix could reach it, and its path was uninhibited as it took the sky. With it's back to the sky it reached its wings back, condensing magical fire before slamming them downwards with a great amount of force.

Black fire rained down on those below, Superman quickly located and held onto Batman. Using his superior agility to keep both from harm as Wonder Woman dashed from pillar to pillar. After the rain of fire ended the three met up once more with none to many injuries.

Superman had minor burns, a consequence of taking damage and Batman's place, and Wonder Woman wasn't any worse for wear either, in fact, she was better off than her ally. Batman stepped down to the ground and stared up at the Duke of the Ghost Zone with narrowed eyes.

===

Lol you actually thought I was going to finish this? Hah! No. Anyways, that phoenix is Vlad, why is he fighting the Justice League? I don't know.

Make it enough.

[wonbriiize]

Hi could u write something about wonbin secretly dating the reader who is another idol !! reader is kind of an airhead in her group (who is under SM too!!!) and she’s a really good dancer and she has many fans !! one day she’s invited with 2 of her members to a tv show (like running man, knowing brothers etc) and there is also wonbin and riize members too !!! anyway one MC could make a joke about crushing or wanting to date the reader and wonbin would feel jealous, he then would make sneaky remarks about how he and the reader could make a great couple (so the fans could ship them hahaha) thank youuu

note; this was sm fun to write (and challenging bc i don’t really watch knowing brothers or running man so idk if i did well with writing about it), thank u anon for this request !! i changed it a little tho; instead of wonbin x reader already dating, i wanted to show how wonbin is secretly crushing on reader and gets jealous.. i hope you still like it !! <3 (it’s a bit long i’m sorry ㅜㅜ)

pairing; park wonbin x idol reader

warnings; a little bit of cursing

dancing together

your heart is heart shaking and your hands are sweating when you walk to the set of ‘knowing brothers’. it was your first time ever attending a variety show like this and you were nervous, you want to do your best but you don’t know if you’re variety show potential or not.

it hasn’t been long since your group debuted so you feel even more thankful that ‘knowing brothers’ invited you along with two of your other group members for their next episode.

some people think that they only invited you because you’re SM’s new girlgroup, they think that you guys got the big 3 privilege. what they don’t know is that being in one of the big 3 companies isn’t as much of an easy ride as they make it out to be and you all had demons to fight so you could finally debut.

“oh, they’re also here,” one of your group members softly nudges your side and you follow her gaze, your eyes landing on RIIZE. SM‘s boygroup that debuted a while ago.

“i can‘t believe our managers didn’t tell us that we wouldn’t be the only SM group here,” you whisper to your two group members.

“well, i don‘t mind. i can finally get to know sungchan,” the other group member giggles.

she has been crushing on sungchan since the minute she first landed eyes on him, but because of the fact that their schedule never aligns with your groups schedule, she didn’t really have time to get to know him.

well, none of you guys had the time to get to know any of the RIIZE members.

you try to catch a glimpse of park wonbin, the center of the boygroup.

your members don’t know this, but you’ve been eyeing wonbin for the longest time ever. everytime you guys walk past each other in the company building, you just feel something between the two of you. and you know that you’re not the only one who thinks that way ; especially when wonbin catches you staring and gives you a soft smile.

embarrassing, you think, he saw me staring at him.

what you don’t know about wonbin is that he has been eyeing you the whole time too. the second the company introduced the members for the new girlgroup, he was mesmerized by you. he made it his life’s mission to get to know you.

so the fact that he is here, at ‘knowing brothers’, with some of his group members, and you’re here too — it seems like the perfect opportunity to finally make a move.

when the cameras start rolling, your group enters first. getting hyped up by the people filming, the MC‘s and other guests, you gain confidence and the nervousness you were feeling a few minutes ago starts to fade.

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

“oh, *y/n*, we heard that you’re the main dancer of your group,” one of the MC‘s points at you. “so we prepared something especially for you.”

it has been a while since the show started and your nervousness was completely gone, but when the MC grabs after your hand and pulls you to the middle of the supposed classroom, you feel your ears heating up a little.

“do you think you can do it?”

you take a look around the set, seeing how everyone is analyzing you — including wonbin.

you can’t let him see you being insecure. nope, you need to pull off your best.

“of course i can. i‘m the main dancer for a reason,” you smile, hearing your members cheer for you in the background.

the MC‘s stare at you, amazed by your confidence. they’re not the only ones though ; from the side of your eyes you see wonbin looking at you with a big grin on his face.

“seeing you so confident is refreshing, a lot of other idols would feel shy. it’s kind of cute,“ one of the MC‘s raises his eyebrow at you. ew. you’re so not feeling what he just said, but because the cameras are on, you can’t let your discomfort show, so you just laugh.

wonbin doesn’t notice that he put his hand in a fist when the MC called you cute until sungchan put a hand on his shoulder and told him to loosen up.

“you can’t let your jealousy show, wonbin.”

wonbin looks at him, acting like he doesn’t know what sungchan is talking about.

“jealous? why would i be jealous? i‘m not jealous.”

sungchan doesn’t answer, he just raises his eyebrows and grins at wonbin.

“the random dance play starts now!” the MC suddenly announces which brings wonbin’s whole attention back to you.

while the countdown to the first song started, the same MC who called you cute, walks closer to you . “a little spoiler; at some point, bite me by enhypen will play. i will jump in to do the partner dance with you.”

you had no choice but to press your lips together and smile. remember, it’s all for the show, you tell yourself.

the MC thought he was being slick with walking closer to you to tell you that, but he wasn’t as quiet as he probably intended to be because wonbin heard it. he heard what the MC told you.

“who does he think he is?” wonbin whispers to himself. “i‘m not going to let that happen.”

so far, the dances on the random dance play were all that you’ve done dance challenges to, so it wasn’t really hard. you were doing very good if you could say so yourself.

but the constant panic that keeps arising within you whenever the next song is supposed to play (because you just didn’t want to dance to bite me with the MC) is making it hard for you to focus.

and when the song finally plays, you close your eyes for the first few seconds because you weren’t ready for what’s about to happen.

taking a deep breath in and out, you open them again.. only to see wonbin right next to you, leading the dance.

wait? what?

you’re trying your best to not let the confusion show; why is he here? did he really just come up to dance with you? why would he do that?

the dance goes smoothly, it’s like the two of you were meant to dance together.

not to mention the fireworks that are exploding inside of you right now and they only grow bigger everytime wonbin even slightly touches you.

the whole time, wonbin is trying his hardest to not grin like an idiot because he’s enjoying this so much. he couldn’t care less about what everyone is thinking right now. for him, nothing else matters other than dancing together with you.

the music stops and you two freeze, just looking into each others eyes for a moment until you realize that you’re in public right now and everything is being filmed.

quickly, you bow to wonbin as a thank you and turn away from him to face the MC‘s (who are looking at you with big smiles).

“park wonbin,” the MC, who has been hitting on you the whole time, calls out.

wonbin turns to him, nodding. “yes?”

“you‘re quite the show stealer. and partner.”

wonbin doesn’t let himself get thrown offguard. instead, he puts on his best smile.

“i just thought that a main dancer should dance with another dancer. i didn’t intend to steal your moment, sir.. and also, don’t we look good together?” wonbin smiles at you.

the MC analyzes wonbin for a quick moment until he lets out the biggest laugh. “honestly, you danced way better than i could ever have. you matched *y/n*s energy very well and it’s true that you look good together.. almost like a couple.”

the other MC nodds in agreement. “seeing you two dance together makes me want to wish for a collab stage between the two of you in the future.”

now wonbin’s eyes wander over to you. his smile is so infectious that you feel the corners of your lips going up as well.

“well, *y/n*, let’s talk to our managers about this idea and make it happen.”

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

“and.. cut! we are done!”

you let out a breath of relief. your first ever ‘knowing brothers’ appearance has offically ended. even though you enjoyed it, you can’t wait to go back to your dorm and just rest.

your members feel the same way.

“let us go change quickly,” one of them says when you guys walk to the backstage area.

somehow, your mind is still stuck on wonbin. you can’t believe what had happened. it feels like some kind of dream, or just something that you’ve imagined.

there’s no way that park wonbin wanted to dance with me, you just can’t seem to believe it.

being all in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that someone had walked up next to you.

“hey,” wonbin softly touches your shoulder which makes you stop walking.

“you were a great dance partner earlier.”

not being able to answer (because you can’t grasp the fact that he’s standing right in front of you), you just smile.

talk, say something, you pressure yourself. don’t look like an idiot in front of him right now when you’ve tried to show your best side the whole day.

“i should honestly thank you. really, i mean it. we did well together.”

wonbin smiles, his eyes sparkling, making it look like he has stars shining inside of them.

“i hope we can dance together sometime in the future too. and i don’t mean the collab stage.. i mean privately. like, only the two of us..”

wonbin can’t believe he just said that. it took him all the guts in the world but he’s happy that it’s out in the open, he’s happy to finally have the courage to ask you out (which is what he has been wanting to do for months).

hold on-

park wonbin?? is asking ME out??

you try your hardest to not stop breathing at this very moment.

“as in a date?”

wonbin scratches the back of his head. “yes.. uhm.. unless i was just imaging things and you don’t really want to get to know me the same way i want to get to know you.”

you stare at him while the fireworks you were feeling earlier are making a comeback.

“shit, yeah, maybe this was too much. i should probably just lea-” you cut wonbin off.

“i would love to dance with you again. privately.”

you’ve seen wonbin being all smiley the whole day but right now, you see the biggest smile on his face ever. as if he’s a little kid and someone gave him tons of sweets.

“cool.. more than cool. amazing. would you mind giving me your number so i can hit you up with the details later?”

you shake your head laughingly while typing in your number on wonbin’s phone.

once you give it back to him, his smile only grows bigger.

“okay, yeah.. i will text you. for sure. i just have to leave now, as you probably saw; sungchan keeps messaging me. uhm.. i can’t wait to see you again.”

before you could reply, wonbin turns around and you could swear that you heard him giggle while he excitedly walked (almost galloping) away.

[nats-bottom]

NR - I Never Get Jealous Pt. 2

Summary: Part two of "I Never Get Jealous". Reader wants to have sex with Natasha, but Natasha stops before anything can happen. She stops because they are both drunk, and knows that drunk consent is not real consent.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff and Reader

Warnings: Drunkenness, a little angst

Notes:

I also have accounts on Wattpad and AO3! The users there are @ paige_vers

Please give me requests! You can submit them here or on my insta, @ scarlettsoutset

ᨖᨖೱᨖ⧗ᨖⴵᨖ🕷️ᨖⴵᨖ⧗ᨖೱᨖᨖ

Natasha POV

I open the door to our shared room and see y/n there on the bed, clad in a matching lingerie set. I close the door behind me and walk up to her, smashing our lips together.

I put my hands around her waist, and rub up and down on her sides. She puts her arms on my shoulders and her hands around my neck. I run my fingers around her back and rest them on the small of her back. I use my nails and scratch her lightly, making her gasp. I use this as my chance to slide my tongue into her mouth. I start with licking her lips, and slowly I slip inside her mouth, exploring the inside of her mouth. She moans at this, which only turns me on even more. I meet her tongue in her mouth, and they fight for dominance, which of course I win. We continue this dance for a little more, until she starts to play with the strap on my dress. I continue to kiss her, but I know that I can't let this go anywhere. 

She slides the strap of my dress down off of my shoulder and pushes my dress down to my waist. She deepens the kiss by pulling my head closer to hers, her hands on the back of my head. I continue to lightly scratch up and down her back, but not hard enough to leave marks. 

Y/n starts to play with the straps of my bra, breaking the kiss only to look at me for consent. I look at her, and shake my head. She looks at me with shock in her eyes, a bit surprised. 

"Why?" she asks. "You seem so into it, why not?"

"Babe, we're drunk. You know that I can't do this, we can't do this. I can't take advantage of you like this." I say softly, caressing her cheek with the back of my hand. 

"But it's okay. I want this." She replies sadly.

"Baby, you're drunk, and I'm drunk. I just can't do this to you. Not tonight. I'm sorry." I say, this time with a little more seriousness in my voice. She toys with my bra strap again, which tells me that she did not hear what I said. I put my hands on hers, and move them down in my lap, but not before kissing them first. 

"Y/n/n, you may want this now, but I don't know if you really want this. I just can't do that to you." She nods, but I can tell that she still really doesn't want to listen. 

"Fine. I guess you just don't want me then." She says bitterly. She takes her hands out of mine and lets out a huff. She turns away from me and looks at the wall.

I place a hand on your jaw and gently turn her face towards mine. "No that's not it at all. I just need you to understand that I just don't want to take advantage of you. I don't want you to not want this later on." I say seriously. "I do want you, I want you more than anything, and trust me, I want this too. But I know better. Please trust me on this." I say sincerely and look her in the eyes lovingly. "We can still cuddle though. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah I guess." Y/n says disappointed. 

"Do you not want cuddles?" I ask, knowing she will want them anyway.

"No, no, no. I'll take them."

"Then let's get changed and all ready for bed. C'mon, I'll help you." I say, standing up and outstretching my hand to her. We get all ready for bed and I help her crawl into bed. I get into bed after her, pulling up the blanket on top of us. She snuggles her head into my neck, and I wrap one of my arms around her stomach. Our legs got tangled together, and I felt the warmth radiating off of her. 

"Will you sing to me?" y/n asks sweetly. I can tell that she's tired, almost asleep, so I sing a Russian lullaby to her.

As she falls off into her nightly slumber, I whisper in her ear, "I love you detka."

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part eight

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

TW: Murder. Non-Con.

series masterlist |

"If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary You and I go from one kiss to gettin married." - loml, Taylor Swift.

(TARGARYEN RESIDENCE. 2008)

It was a hail mary from the beginning. Two people who had everything to lose, plotting to have more than they could handle. "She must've known." Alicent breathes, playing with the rosary-styled bracelet on her left wrist. "- I told you not to cheap out on the assassins. We'll get the money back anyways." she scolded.

Her grip on the bracelet tightened. Viserys' took a deep breath.

"I did not hire mediocre mercenaries. It was a recommendation from the goddamn Governor of Texas. If you're searching for good mercenaries, you're not gonna find them because people who kill people for a living don't have a moral compass." he gritted his teeth. His anger doubling at every second he spent in his wife's presence.

"I couldn't care less about their moral compass. You should've hired someone who had a follow through." she hissed, glaring at him. "I'm sorry but I'm not the one who wanted Olivia L/N dead." he groaned, standing up and attempting to exit the door.

She stares at the side, the sight of a crucifix snapping her back into reality. "I don't like the role that you're giving me, Viserys." her voice cracked, her fingers dancing along every bead. Along every Hail Mary. Her breath hitched for a second.

Fearing the person that she's become.

He made her this way. He manipulated her, made her believe that the love that they shared was true. He made her fight for every scrap of his love. He made her a monster. Now, she was finally thirty, fifteen would never cross her mind. "You're the one who wanted to give your children part of Aemma's company. I was following your wishes." he tried to flip the table at her.

Our children. She wanted to correct him.

It might've been her idea, but he didn't give her a choice. Her children would live in poverty without the money that Aemma provided. Alicent didn't have a job. She didn't even finish High School, and it was obvious that Viserys wasn't going to be around for long.

"Don't worry about Olivia. She doesn't have the guts to sue us. I hope that you learn to be content with what you've been provided. Not everything has to be handed on a silver spoon." Viserys remarked.

Aemond breathes. "They're fighting again." he spoke through the landline. Fighting was a normal occurrence in the Targaryen Household, it was always about the inheritance.

"Mom ought to accept that the old man isn't gonna leave us a single dime." Aegon chuckled. His older brother long accepted the fact that Viserys hated all his children from his second-marriage.

"- Rhaenyra has always been the golden child. I don't know why we bother." he added with an eye-roll.

Aemond pressed his lips closer to the microphone. "Dad hired someone to kill Aunt Olivia." he dropped the bomb, and the other line answered with silence. "- Mom figured that if Aunt Olivia died, then all the shares would go to Dad, and there'll be enough for us." he whispered, careful not to be heard.

"He'd rather have someone murdered than give us a tiny piece of Rhaenyra's billion dollar inheritance? I study in New York. I should kill Aunt Olive, make Mom proud for once." his lips pressed into a thin line, seriously considering that random thought.

The younger brother responds with a chuckle.

"You won't do that Aegon. You're not actually a murderer." he laughed, thinking that it was his older brother's way of making a joke. Aegon licks his lips. Right, not a murderer.

OLIVIA L/N FOUND DEAD IN AN NYC APARTMENT WITH NO CURRENT SUSPECTS, POLICE SOURCES SAY.

NEW YORK -- Police sources are revealing more details about a murder in Manhattan. They say that the New York City Police Department is currently conducting investigations about possible motives for the crime.

It happened in Upper Manhattan, sources say that the first person that found the body was Ms. Olivia L/N's daughter, then a neighbor that chooses to remain anonymous.

Olivia L/N is the co-founder of Dragonpine Brewery, which has now expanded into different industries including real estate, technology, and pharmaceuticals. She currently owns 49% of Dragonpine Brewery, but all shares are expected to return to Viserys Targaryen, who too, owns 49% of the company.

The medical examiner ruled her death a homicide due to the blunt force trauma to the head, and stab wounds on her stomach.

Anyone with any information is asked to call the NYPD's Crime Stoppers hotline at 1-***-***-TIPS. ALL CALLS ARE KEPT CONFIDENTIAL.

(PRESENT)

Daemon couldn't stop pacing and forth. Luckily, the bullet didn't hit anything important. You could still use your ankle normally in the future, but it would take time to heal.

"It's a medical miracle. It's the first time I've seen it happen." he remarks, trying to calm himself down.

The entire thing was difficult to process. He found it hard to believe that Aemond suddenly lost all semblance of normalcy and broke. "The gun wasn't registered. He could face charges, unless Alicent drives by with her golden chariot and bribes the judge again." he rolled his eyes, unwilling to let his nephew live scot-free.

"I told her about Aemond's past, the case with the girl and Nick. She could've confronted him about it, brought memories that he couldn't handle. He could've been guilty." Rhaenyra suggested, shaking her head. "Where is he?" Daemon's eyes narrowed.

He peeked through the halls, searching for his nephew's familiar silver-gold locks. "Down at the police station. Jace tells me that Aemond's shaken. Unable to form any statement." she adds with a deep breath. Aware that the story was reaching its climax.

"Alicent won't let him speak anyways. Where's Helaena?" he paused, reminded of his youngest niece. "She's babysitting the kids. Daemon, role-calling everyone won't be enough to distract you from Y/N. She's a wall away, I can hear her heart monitor from here." she pointed out.

Clearly as nervous as he was.

"I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe that we're given a second chance at everything, but we're still making the same mistakes." he sat down on the bench beside her.

He wanted to be a better person. Make his life worthwhile, but with the people around him repeating the same mistakes over and over. "I feel like I'm trapped inside a paradox. We'll die, then we'll get reborn and repeat everything again. It's like that show we watched. Are we in the Bad Place?" his eyebrows merged together.

"I don't know, Daemon. It feels like hell, but then I see my sons and I wouldn't trade this life for anything else." she had a bitter smile on her face. A nurse steps out of your room.

Daemon rises to his feet.

"Is she awake?" he inquired.

"No. I don't think that I'm at liberty to say this but - being unconscious for this long isn't normal. They'll do some tests, but I'm sure she'll be fine." the nurse felt inclined to speak out, seeing Daemon's worried face.

"Are you her boyfriend?" the nurse asked.

Rhaenyra's face softened. "It's complicated." she bit her lower lip.

(HARRENHAL.)

TW: NON CON SCENE (WILL STATE WHEN IT'S OVER SO YOU CAN SCROLL DOWN TO IT)

You breathe in the smell of smoke. Harrenhal was a curse.

"You will die here." you whispered, the prophetic visions finally finding solace inside of you, like they've found solace in Alys.

"You dampen the mood." Aemond pours himself a goblet of wine. "- it will not stop me from having my way." he reminded.

"I know." you whispered.

"We won't be needing this," he stated, cutting swiftly through your gown. He was staring at your body with the intensity of a thousand stars - you could've sworn that it was love - but it was not. "Why are you doing this?" you whisper, covering your breasts.

He does not acknowledge the use of your tongue. He ignores you. He presses a kiss to your jaw, inhaling the scent of your jasmine perfume. A prisoner has never lived more lavishly than you. "Riñītsos," he answered, hands trailing down to pull yours away.

"You sleep beside my sister knowing such stain is upon your honor." you gritted your teeth.

"Stomach up." he commanded - eyes twinkling with lust. "Legs open," he added - seeing you in the vulnerable position.

You couldn't remember anything that happened afterwards.

(NON-CON SCENE OVER)

"I care not about what he's done to your husband. I care more about what you had to go through." Alys looked at you in a crestfallen way. She vowed to protect you, but her visions clouded her judgement. Made her believe that Aemond was their savior.

"It'll be the same tomorrow, Alys, unless you can remedy this curse then rid yourself. Leave my presence." you pleaded, unable to stare into her eyes. The same eyes that you looked at in the mirror. "You may think me cold, that all I've ever grown to love is him. I thought that I could control him, but he is like the wind." she shook her head.

"You cannot catch the wind, sister." your breath quivered.

"What I've done is payment for my sins," she started.

You snap out of the trance. Eyes finally meeting hers.

"What did you do?" you asked.

"I killed him." Alys admitted, only then did you realize the streak of blood of her cheek. "I'm sorry." she apologized, falling to the floor.

"I forgive you." you bite the insides of your cheeks.

You've watched your sister hold the enemy softer than she's ever held you. You watch her let peace slip through her fingers. You watch her betray you and you forgive her, because this is the role she must play. You cannot resent the dancer for the actions of the song.

"There will be a boat going to an island near the Ghiscari Empire. I hope that you find peace there." she handed you three dragons. "What about you?" you tilted her head, feeling the tears trickle down your cheeks. "I must stay." she reminded.

It was the last winter that you'd spend with this body. You lived sixty more years without your husband. Now, you were old and frail - there were lines on the sides of your eyes. Wrinkles that weren't there when your husband was still alive.

"Have some tea." Serenei's daughter beckoned.

You complied.

Feeling every bit of your consciousness slip away.

You had a vision the night before, that this would be your last life. You already broke the karmic chains and learnt all your lessons. There was no need to restart the pain and suffering.

But you sharply argued with the gods.

Told them that you had to be reborn. You needed to see Daemon. You needed a life where you could be with him longer, and happier.

The gods granted you that gift.

And thus, here you are again.

Your throat felt dry; like you haven't drank water in a thousand years. You hear the machine beeping beside you. A feeling of someone's hand on top of yours.

You opened your eyes.

"Daemon," you whispered.

"I remember."

next chapter>>

OK THIS LINE

You've watched your sister hold the enemy softer than she's ever held you. You watch her let peace slip through her fingers. You watch her betray you and you forgive her, because this is the role she must play. You cannot resent the dancer for the actions of the song.

WAS COPIED FROM @faiIwife on twitter. IT MADE MY LIFE IM SORRY.

[flemingology]

flexing ─ jessie fleming x reader

in which: jessie is putting in some extra work in the gym, and you start to notice it – in more ways than one

warnings: smut (18+), fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), dirty talk

wc: 2.6k

n/n: i started writing this and didn't stop until it was finished, lol. hope you enjoy! not proofread as always, sorry for any mistakes! requests are open for the moment :D

You didn't know how long you had been scrolling through Tiktok, but an ache starting to form in your thumb for the repetitive scrolling motion gave you a slight idea. Your partner on the other end of the sofa wasn't much better. Her body dancing in between sleeping and some one-eyed watching of some rewatch of a show she had seen plenty of times before.

You and Jessie loved days like these. Her schedule didn't allow much downtime, so when she did get a day off that aligned with one of yours, you'd make the most of it by reveling in each other's presence all day.

This morning started, like every single day off, by needing about 7 tries before you were able to wiggle out of your girlfriend's hold. Jessie was used to rising early for her morning training sessions, but when she wasn't on the clock it was a chore to get her out of bed. After many kisses and promises of more cuddles downstairs, you finally got her to get up from under the covers.

You took a shower together, 'to save water', but the water you would've saved got wasted anyway seen as you spent way too long in there. You washing Jessie's curls, Jessie washing your body, feeling each other up – by the time you got out of the shower it was nearing lunch time.

Neither of you felt like cooking, so you ordered in from Jessie's favorite brunch place. She got her usual sandwich, you tried a new type of toast and both were delicious. You had lunch on the couch, talking about everything and nothing, enjoying each other's company for as long as it lasted.

Not being able to fight the post-lunch daze, you took a nap together. You curled up into Jessie's chest and she traced patterns on her back until you both fell asleep for a couple hours, which has led you both to the situation you were in now.

You'd woken up from your shared nap about half an hour ago, but hadn't moved yet. You still had your face nuzzled into your girlfriend's neck, but were now mindlessly scrolling your phone. Your girlfriend on the other hand, was still in and out of sleep while Friends was playing on the tv. She'd seen it so many times, she could probably recite whole episodes if she tried.

As much as you would've loved to doze back off to sleep in Jessie's warm embrace, you started to feel like you were wasting too much of your day away. You went over some ideas in your head, until you settled on wanting to bake a cake. You looked up some recipes and once you found one that you were satisfied with and had all the ingredients for, you slowly peeled Jessie's arms from around your waist and got up, trying not to wake your Canadian.

Mission successful, as you got up from the couch without a stir from Jessie. You made your way over to the kitchen and started grabbing all the ingredients necessary for the cake, trying to make as little sound as possible.

You connected your phone to the kitchen speaker and softly played some music so that you had some background noise while baking.

You cracked a couple eggs in a bowl, to which you added sugar and flour before you started mixing them all together. You zoned out a little while whisking, not paying attention to your surroundings as suddenly you squealed as a pair of arms sneaked around your waist.

"Jessie Alexandra Fleming," you whisper-yelled, "warn a girl, will you?"

She snickered and hid her face in your neck, while tightening her grip on your waist. You felt her lips pressing tender kisses to the exposed skin there.

"Better not distract me if you want this cake to be any good later, Jess."

"Come back to the couch with me", she started. You sighed and turned in her arms, pressing your nose against hers. "Nope", you said while popping the p.

"I'm making us a cake, you can go back if you want though," you teased while looking at her innocently.

She shook her head to that, both you and her knowing she'd rather be here in the kitchen helping you with the cake than lounging on the couch for the nth rewatch of her show.

"Hand me the bowl, baby. I'll do the rest of the mixing so you can start on the next step." You pressed a tender kiss to her cheek as you slid the bowl over to her across the counter, and checked back with the recipe on your phone.

You were about to speak up and ask Jessie if you had vanilla extract, when your words got caught in your throat. You had turned back to the counter where your girlfriend was whisking the mixture, but your attention was pulled by something else.

You knew Jessie had been going the extra mile in the gym lately, but you hadn't seen any results yet, up until now.

She was wearing one of her old UCLA t-shirts – one you had grown to love a lot on her anyway –, that revealed her biceps. They had been one of your favorite features about her for a while, but they had grown. And they were showing.

Her biceps were flexing deliciously while she was mixing the ingredients in the bowl, and you couldn't help but stare. Either she caught on and was teasing you, or was being very oblivious, but right on cue she rolled up her sleeves. You cleared your throat and turned away from her, turning your focus back on the recipe and decided to look for the vanilla extract yourself.

Jessie shot you a look. "You okay, baby?"

You didn't trust your voice not to waver if you spoke right now, so you resorted to humming and giving her a small smile from behind the door of the cupboard you were reaching for the vanilla extract in.

She frowned but let it go, going back to the task at hand. You were both in your own world now, finishing your sides of the recipe before you came back together at the end and added some finishing touches before the cake was ready to be baked.

Jessie put the cake in the pre-heated oven and you closed the door, putting a timer for 35 minutes from now.

She stood up and turned around, but before she even registered what was happening you pushed her back against the fridge, pressing a hungry kiss against her lips. You wasted no time and slipped your tongue inside Jessie's mouth, exploring it like it was the last time you would ever get to kiss her.

You pulled back when you needed some air, and Jessie pressed a hand against your chest just as you were to lean in again. "Hey," she started as she let out a light chuckle, "as much as I like this, what happened? What's got you so worked up?"

You rolled your eyes and felt your cheeks growing red before you hid your face in Jessie's chest. "Yourbicepslookedhot", you mumbled almost incoherently against her body. "What's that, love? Speak up for me." She knew what she was doing and she knew it was only gonna spur on your arousal. You groaned and pulled your head away from her chest, before looking her in the eyes. "Your biceps."

"What about them?" she questioned. You rolled your eyes. "They're hot," you sighed, "I can tell you've been working on them. I noticed it whilst you were mixing the ingredients earlier and it got to me a little."

Jessie couldn't hide the smug grin that was forming on her face. "So you like my biceps, huh?"

If your cheeks weren't red before, you knew they would be now. You nodded and moved your hands over to her arms, rubbing them up and down before you gave her biceps a light squeeze. She subtly flexed them while your hands were wandering all over them, knowing it would get you even more worked up.

You pulled Jessie's hips against you and subconsciously started rolling yours against them while you pressed another kiss against her lips. She slid her hands over your back down over your ass, halting right underneath it and giving the back of your thigh a light tap signaling you to jump.

Jessie picked you up as you did, and moved the two of you out of the kitchen and back to the couch. She placed you both down and hovered on top of you, teasing you as she wouldn't lean back in to kiss you. You circled your arms around her neck and pulled her down abruptly, her body flush against you as you let out a gasp at the feelings of her hips against yours.

She ducked her head down and pressed tender kisses against your neck, biting down every now and then before using her tongue to soothe the sing, something that never failed to get a desperate moan out of you. Jessie knew all your spots. She knew where to push, kiss, bite or lick to get you weak in the knees, and that is knowledge she loved putting to use.

You tugged at Jessie's curls when she sucked eagerly on the sensitive spot in your neck, feeling her smile against your skin as you did so. She sat up and traced her fingers down your body until she reached the hem of your shirt, which she lifted asking for permission to take it off. You nodded, sitting up and gesturing her to take her clothes off too before the both of you laid back down, now without a border of clothes separating your bodies.

She immediately got back to work and started placing featherlight kisses on your collarbone, your chest and on your bra-covered breasts. "Can I take this off?", she mumbled in between kisses.

You only just managed to breathe out a "yeah" before Jessie eagerly unclasped your bra and discarded it somewhere in the living room. You knew you would scold her when one of you inevitably tripped over it later, but you could not be bothered less about that right now. You gasped as she attached her mouth to your nipple and began licking and sucking on the sensitive nub.

"Jess," you breathed, "I need you". You knew you sounded desperate but you couldn't care right now.

"Patience, darling. I got you," she whispered against your sensitive, wet nipples. She trailed open-mouthed kisses down your body until she reached your underwear. You lifted your hips in a silent question, allowing her to slip off the last piece of clothing off of your body.

"You're soaked," she whispered as she teasingly slid one finger through your folds. You crossed your arm over your face in attempt to hide the blush that was creeping up your cheeks.

You were expecting a snarky comment, but instead you were met with a slow, teasing lap of Jessie's tongue against your wet core.

You couldn't hold back the near embarrassing moan that formed in your throat at the first contact with her tongue. She skipped all the teasing and playing around and dove straight in, clearly just as worked up as you were.

Jessie held your thighs to steady herself as you instinctively spread them wider for her. She was expertly sucking and flicking at the exposed bundle of nerves, ducking down every now and then to lick a long stripe of arousal through your folds.

"I need more," you whispered. Jessie hummed into your pussy, acknowledging your request. She placed a finger against your entrance, collecting some of your arousal before slowly dipping one inside of you.

You let out a breathy moan, reveling in the feeling of being filled by your girlfriend. "Fuck baby, you feel so good around my fingers. Always so nice and tight for me."

Jessie wasn't a very outspoken person. Not with others, but she could also be really quiet around you. Although it seemed like sex turned her into a different person. It was one thing that she could be really loud and vocal when on the receiving end, but it was another thing when you discovered how much of a dirty talker she was when pleasuring you.

You moaned at her words, throwing your head back as she filled you to the hilt. She slowly withdrew her fingers to which you whined, but before you could speak up she added a second finger and slammed back into you. Your breath got caught in your throat as Jessie started pistoning her index and ring finger in and out of your wet entrance.

Soon enough you felt the ever so familiar sensation of a tying knot building in your stomach, and you knew Jessie could feel it too on her fingers. Your walls would start pulling her in, close in on her fingers as she tried her best to keep up the speed and intensity of her thrusts as you came to your high.

"Jess", you started before a particularly good thrust of her fingers cut your sentence short. "Jessie, I'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me cum."

This was quick for you. You weren't someone who needed much anyway, but it was almost embarrassing how little work Jessie had to do to get you over the edge today.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers."

She looked up at you from between your legs and you swear you could feel yourself get even wetter at the sight. Her hair was disheveled and all over the place from having been between your thighs, her chin was slick with arousal and she had a toothy grin plastered on her face, that you found more attractive than you'd like to admit.

She ducked her face back down and gave a couple more hard thrusts of her fingers before you felt your body tense up, your thighs clenching around her head and your fingers tugging at her curls, to a point where you knew it must have hurt her a little. But you couldn't care less. Not when she just brought you to a state of pure bliss and was carrying it out as long as possible by continuing her thrusts slowly, lapping up the arousal that leaked out of you as your orgasmed.

Jessie only stopped her ministrations when you put a hand on one of her arms holding your thigh, to signal that you were getting too sensitive. You closed your eyes and leant your head back against the armrest of the couch. "Fuck, Jess. That was so good."

You didn't even have to look at your girlfriend to know that she was more than likely sporting a cocky grin as she crawled back up your body. "Okay if I pull out?"

You nodded but couldn't hold back the soft hiss that escaped your lips as she pulled her fingers out of your entrance, nearing a state of overstimulation. She grabbed your chin with one hand and made sure you were watching her, as she licked the two fingers that were just inside of you. She put them in her mouth and sucked off all the remaining arousal that were on them before laying down on your chest and pressing a soft kiss against the underside of your jaw.

You were still catching your breath when she spoke up. "I will never ever get tired of making you cum," she smiled and kissed your puckered lips.

"Well, I don't know how but it feels like you get better at it every single time we have sex", she snickered and buried her head in your chest, back to her usual shy self.

"It's the biceps, for sure." "Oh, is it now? Better thank the coach then." "Talking about my coach after sex? Damn, way to ruin the mood." "Oh, I'll fix the mood don't you worry."

You abruptly flipped the two of you around so you were now straddling Jessie's waist, leaning down to press a few kisses against her neck and ear.

"We're not done yet."