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noirscript · 1 month ago

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bride of the abyss

Pairing: Yandere Siren x Reader Description: Years after you saved him, Zeiryn returns to drag you beneath the waves—where his love waits, fierce and inescapable. Warning/s: Yandere | Noncon/Dubcon Themes | Kidnapping | Possessive Behavior | Captivity | Obsession | Emotional Manipulation | Mild Violence | Body Morphing/Transformation Note/s: Commissioned on ko-fi! Thabk you for trusting me with your commission! Idk if you've received the email. I hope you enjoy this one! Tags will be added later!

Commissions are still open!

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The first time you met him, the sun was so high it burned your shoulders through your shirt. Your sandals had long been discarded, the soles of your feet pressed against coarse, grainy sand, warmed by the afternoon heat. Vacation meant freedom, and for you—a curious child with scraped knees and untamed hair—that meant wandering far beyond the adults’ lazy eyes and picnic baskets.

You weren’t supposed to be near the cliffs. The locals had told stories, murmured warnings of tides that dragged unsuspecting feet into the undertow. But you were eight, and warnings slid off your ears like water. You’d chased a crab across slick rocks, nearly slipping once—okay, twice—before rounding a jagged stone formation and stopping short.

A glint of silver caught your eye. At first, you thought it was trash—a bit of foil or an abandoned soda can. Then it moved. Just slightly. Enough to catch the sun and reflect a brilliance so blinding it made your eyes water. You stepped closer, heart thudding, and gasped.

He was tangled in a net.

You didn’t know what he was—some strange fish, perhaps? But then he turned his face to you, and your world cracked open.

He had eyes like the sea after a storm—grey, but not dull. There was depth there. Sorrow. His skin, though damp and streaked with grit, shimmered faintly under the sun. Hair, long and tangled with bits of kelp and shell, framed a face that was almost too lovely for this world. And below the waist…

A tail. Silver-scaled, powerful, twitching weakly with every shallow breath he took.

You froze.

He didn’t speak. He just stared. His lips slightly parted. You noticed the way he held himself, cautious and ready to defend. His hand—webbed and claw-tipped—twitched when you shifted your weight.

“I won’t hurt you,” you said, holding out your hands to show you had nothing. No rocks. No spear. Just your palms, scraped and pink from climbing.

He blinked slowly, suspicious still.

“Are you stuck?” you asked.

No reply. But he didn’t back away when you stepped closer. You knelt beside him, the scent of salt and something sharper—like rotting seaweed baking in the sun—invading your nose. It made your stomach twist. But you pushed it aside and began working at the net.

The knots were tight. You pulled and untangled, ignoring the barnacles slicing your fingertips. Time passed, but neither of you spoke. It wasn’t silence. The waves talked, the seagulls screamed above, and your own breath came hard with effort. Still, it felt sacred—like speaking would shatter something delicate between you.

Eventually, the net slackened.

He let out a sharp sound—surprise? Relief?—and pushed himself forward, dragging the last threads free with a flick of his tail. Then, to your astonishment, he touched your arm. A light brush of damp fingers on your skin. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to. The look in his eyes—raw and electric—said everything.

And then, he was gone. A splash, a spray of saltwater, and silver glimmering beneath the waves.

You never told anyone.

You convinced yourself it was a dream, a fantasy born from too much sun. But you visited that rock again. And again. Just in case.

Years passed. You grew up. He did not fade.

• • — ✦ — • •

Beneath the waves, he remembered everything.

Zeiryn had been young when you saved him, and even then, his mind was unlike the others. While his kin drowned sailors and split hulls for fun, Zeiryn watched the world above with a secret hunger. He had never known mercy—not until you. He thought you were an illusion at first. A sun-struck phantom, kindness shaped like a child.

But you were real. You touched him without fear. You saved him.

And he had never forgotten.

Seasons passed above and below. He grew stronger, his voice deeper, the gift of his lineage blooming in his throat. His tail thickened with muscle, the silver of his scales deepening to something more molten, almost iridescent. His hair, once wild and matted, was now woven with the treasures of the deep—rings of coral, braids of pearl, beads carved from whalebone. He was no longer a drifting child of the tide. He was a leader now.

Yet every dusk, he swam to the same stretch of shore, peering through kelp and coral, waiting for the only face that had ever haunted him.

And then—finally—he saw you.

You stood there, older, but still you. Your eyes held the same wonder, the same distant sadness. He watched from the rocks, heart hammering, the sea rising with every thrum of anticipation. You were holding a bottle. The scent reached him even through the water. Alcohol. Sour and sharp.

You stumbled closer to the edge, barefoot like before. He didn’t understand your tears at first. But when they hit the water, he tasted them.

Bitterness.

He had never tasted sorrow before.

He moved without thinking, cutting through the water with a predator’s grace. When you stepped into the sea—lost, maybe hoping it would take you—he was already there. His arms wrapped around you just before your knees buckled. He caught you. Held you. And for the first time in years, he felt whole again.

He turned to the shore. His eyes, once filled with awe, hardened. There were people there. A town. A world that had allowed you to suffer.

He would never forgive it.

The water closed over your head.

And he took you home.

• • — ✦ — • •

The cold hits you first. It pierces your skin like needles, forcing your eyes open.

Then the pressure—thick and heavy—presses against your chest. You try to gasp and choke instead. The world is liquid. Blurry shapes. Movement. Panic claws through you. You thrash—

Then you notice the shimmer.

Your legs—no. Not legs.

You scream, but no sound comes out. Just bubbles.

The tail is yours. You move, and it moves with you—powerful, golden, alien.

Your lungs don’t ache. You aren’t drowning.

You’re breathing. Underwater.

A presence approaches. You backpedal—awkward, instinctual.

Then he’s there.

The siren.

Older. Towering. Regal in a way that defies language. His eyes widen as you meet his gaze. He reaches for you like a lover, a prayer on his lips without sound.

You float, stunned, your heart racing in your chest.

"You're awake! Welcome home!" he says—somehow, impossibly, the words sliding into your mind like a current. His voice doesn’t echo in your ears. It resonates in your bones. Inside you.

Your lips tremble. “What... what did you do to me?”

He cocks his head, almost confused by the question. “I saved you.”

You glance around. Coral walls. Bioluminescent plants. Faint shadows darting beyond what your eyes can track.

“I didn’t ask to be saved.”

His face falters, just briefly. But then the soft smile returns. “You did, once. When I was dying. You touched me. You gave me your warmth. Your kindness.” He swims closer. “You were the only one who ever did.”

“That was years ago.” You try to back away, but your body is sluggish in this new form. “I was a kid.”

“You remembered me.” His voice is gentle now, like a lullaby. “You returned.”

You shake your head, panicked. “No. I—I was just walking. I didn’t know—”

His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek. His touch is warm now. Familiar. Like seawater kissed by the sun. “You were hurting. They made you cry. But you don’t have to cry anymore.”

“I want to go back,” you whisper.

“There’s nothing there for you.”

He’s not angry. Not yet. Just... patient. Like he’s waiting for you to understand something you’ve missed.

“You belong here,” he murmurs. “With me.”

You remember the way he looked at you back then—curious and soft. But this is different. There’s devotion in his eyes. A fire born not of gentle affection, but of obsession that has steeped too long.

“You changed me,” you say, voice shaking. You look down at the tail. “How?”

“There’s a pearl,” he says, pointing to your side. You notice now—embedded near your hip is a small, glowing orb, barely visible beneath your skin.

“I couldn’t risk losing you again.”

You turn, frantic now. “No, no, this isn’t right. I can’t—this isn’t real.”

“You are real.” His voice is sharper now. “I dreamed of you so long I thought you were only in my mind. But you’re here. Flesh and spirit. And you’ll never have to suffer again.”

You shake your head. “I’m not your wife.”

Silence.

Then he leans close, his breath warm against your ear even underwater.

“Yet.”

• • — ✦ — • •

Back on the surface, a woman named Marina squints at the shore where she last saw you. She’s a local—grew up with the sea in her lungs and warnings stitched into her grandmother’s lullabies. When she saw you walk into the ocean, something in her gut twisted. She waited hours. You didn’t return.

Now, she’s standing with a fisherman and an old priest, their gazes following the waterline.

“No body,” the man mutters. “Currents here don’t drag far. Should’ve washed up if she drowned.”

“She didn’t drown,” Marina says softly. “She was taken.”

The priest mutters something in an old tongue. The fisherman scoffs.

“By what? Sea spirits? Merfolk?”

“No.” Marina’s eyes don’t leave the water. “A siren.”

“Those don’t exist.”

“They do,” she says. “And if it’s the one I think… she won’t come back.”

And deep beneath the waves, Zeiryn brushes a strand of hair from your face as you lie curled in coral-silk bedding. You’ve cried yourself into a stupor. But your skin is warmer now. The transformation is complete. Soon, you’ll forget what it was like to walk. To speak above the waves. To live without him.

He hums you a song—a melody he’s written over the years, just for you. It wraps around your heart like a net.

You stir in your sleep.

He smiles.

Tomorrow, you’ll love him back.

You have to.

After all… you’re home.

TBC.

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans@ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

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rex-rambles · 2 months ago

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➤ HOMEMAKER | LEWIS HAMILTON

summary: if your past relationships have taught you anything, you'll never be a homemaker, as hard as you try - so what do you do when lewis comes home to you? (inspired by 'homemaker' by next of kin)

pairing: lewis hamilton x celebrity!reader

wc: 1.8 k

warnings: angst with a happy ending, discussions of negative past relationships

➤ MASTERLIST

You had gotten used to silence.

It didn't matter that you had adoring fans, or paparazzi trailing you, photoshoots or interviews, when you were alone, you were silent. That's how it always seemed to be, anyway.

You don't know how many nights you'd sat like this, not saying a word as you're curled up at the end of some guy's couch. Sometimes, you had a book. Sometimes, you had a mug of tea or coffee, clothes actually put away in drawers or closets.

Other times you were just passing through.

You don't know how many nights you'd sat like this, phone left on the table in front of you, waiting for that text, that call, anything. It always started out sweet, the messages, the compliments, only to turn to silence in a few months time. If you had a dollar for every night you spent like this, you could buy an island somewhere far away to be silent in, but instead, you waste your time and your money on the rare chance that they come through in the end.

They never do.

In your fantasies, they're knights in shining armour, who come home with flowers or a surprise dinner, but even you couldn't fool yourself sometimes. You don't think any of the guys you'd seen have ever fantasized about you in that way, either, because you already did it. You showed up, you planned surprises, you played the role of the loving, doting partner.

Yet, despite it all, you weren't a homemaker at the end of the day. It wasn't even like you were trying to be some stay-at-home spouse, you just wanted a relationship that was real, that lasted, that you could call home.

But, no matter how much time, or energy, or god forbid love you put into a relationship, it didn't last. In the end, it seemed that you just housed people who liked you break your heart. Men saw a star, something to chase, but never keep. Marriage was never in the cards, something long, something stable either. There was a time you used to dream about it, of actually settling down and finding enough love somewhere to marry someone, but now, you'd seen the worst of enough men to be content with silence, with not throwing your life away for them.

It didn't stop you from curling up on strangers' couches, or watching your phone.

It just made it that much more pitiful.

"God," Lewis's voice makes you jump, mug of tea rocking forward and spilling onto his probably ridiculously expensive carpet. Penthouse guys always splashed out on whatever cost the most, even if it didn't look good. "Shit, sorry babe."

"Shit," You echo somewhat numbly, trying to rise to find something to clean it up with, and Lewis waves a hand, moving from the open front door to the kitchen, and you can't help but stare at it.

The hallway is brightly lit at all hours, casting a warm glow into the darkened apartment. It's like a little glimpse into whatever heaven Lewis had come from, and you spare a glance at your phone on the table, no message waiting for you. You'd surprised him, by being here, and he'd surprised you by showing up.

Lewis returns with a roll of paper towel, dropping to your feet to try and pat down the carpet, and he spares a glance up at you. "What are you still doing up?" He asks, before noticing the door is open. "Can you get that for me?"

"I was going to wait to see if you made it in on time." You answer as you slowly move to the door, pulling Lewis's luggage aside as you close it, casting the apartment in darkness again. For some reason, you can't bring yourself to turn any lights on, so you stand in the little front hall, staring at the shadows of Lewis as he does a fairly poor job of cleaning.

"It's so late," He says, finally rising with his hands full of soaked paper towel. "You should be in bed. You should be at home."

"I can go." Most didn't want you to stay, anyway. Some liked this little gesture, of waiting up for them, surprising them with their favourite, back home treats after long periods away, but you'd only been going out with Lewis for a month or two now. It might be overstepping, or it might just be another sign of commitment you can never have.

"No, no." Lewis says, throwing the paper towel away in the kitchen and flicking on the overhead island light. It was a soft kind of glow that made Lewis seem that much warmer, and the dark that much farther from him. "I gave you the key for a reason, but it's almost 2 AM. You're going to ruin your sleep schedule."

You move forward to stand in the shadows of the living room, wrapping your arms around his oversized shirt you'd adopted to sleep in for the past few days. "You're one to talk," You try to tease, though it doesn't quite reach your voice. "How many time zones have you gone through this week?"

"That's different." Lewis says, coming to stand before you. His hands are gentle on your waist, pulling you close to him. "You really stayed up? For me?"

"Even got those brownies you like from that bakery." You say, gesturing to the kitchen counter. Lewis glances over and a warm laugh bubbles out of him, echoing off the walls. Your hands come to smooth against his chest, as if to feel that he's actually there. It wouldn't last, history tells you. He'd be this sweet, for so long, and then he'd go.

"Great minds think alike, hm?" Lewis moves to grab one of his bags, and he fishes out a somewhat crumpled container that he hands to you, a logo embossed on the top that you'd recognize anywhere. "There was that cookie place you liked, and I had a layover. I was going to surprise you with them tomorrow, but you sort of beat me to that."

You slowly take the cookies in hand, and silence rests over you once more.

It was a regional bakery, a place you talked about loving as a kid. No one ever really cared about it, it was just a sweet story to share over desserts to make people think you had something to talk about. You spare a glance back up at Lewis, who smiles softly back down at you, and neither of you says a word.

You had gotten used to silence, but you didn't know how to break it. You didn't know how to vocalize that he'd remembered, that, cracking open the top, he'd even gotten the flavour right, that he went out of his way to get them for you. You don't know how to think about this as anything other than doomed, but all the signs keep saying otherwise.

Gently, Lewis's hand comes up to cradle your cheek, turning it so it's more in the light of the kitchen. "Are you alright?" He asks quietly, "Tired?"

"I-" All words die on your tongue. You didn't know how to be anything other than what the world wanted to see of you, of a star with their equally famous partner, of being too much or not enough, never going anywhere. Every relationship had been some kind of car wreck, wheels spinning uselessly as you tried to move forward when all they wanted to do was press on the break.

You didn't know how to love Lewis. You just knew how to pretend.

"You can tell me, you know." He says, letting his hand drop. "You've always got this look on your face, like you're so far away. Is it me?"

"You?" You manage to get out softly, "No."

"Don't say 'it's me, not you'," Lewis says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "Give me something real."

"You didn't text." You find yourself saying, and Lewis pulls back with a knowing look.

"Didn't want to wake you. But this isn't about that, because you told me just yesterday I don't have to check in all the time." He moves forward until you hit his couch, and easily he lifts you up to sit on the back of it, cookie box now resting in your lap, and he leans his arms on either side of your legs. "So? You making up reasons to leave?"

Maybe. You stare down at the open box of cookies, and as honestly as you can, you try to explain the strange sort of pulling feeling at your heart. "Most guys don't text. When they go out, or when they travel, it's just radio silence. They give me a time, and I stay up, and they don't show."

"Most guys?"

"You know my reputation, Lewis." It was every other headline, every other blurry photo. You were the one they called a heartbreaker, despite the fact you were the one who wanted these things to work out. "I'm not exactly a homemaker." It's not that you didn't try, that despite it all you wanted to have the perfect relationship, but that they didn't let you. "Men come into my life, and for a blissful moment, I convince myself it'll work out, and it never does. No one's getting down on one knee, no one's remembering anniversaries, they just leave. Because of me."

"That's not because of you." Lewis tries to defend, and you shake your head.

"It is." It's a gallant thought, to try and defend you like that, but at this point there is only one part of this equation that remains the same: you. "I'm too famous, or I'm not famous enough. I'm too clingy, or I don't care about their art. I'm too far away, I can't travel, I'm just not enough. And you didn't text."

Lewis moves one hand to gently graze the side of your thigh, gently rubbing his thumb in circles. "So you didn't expect me to walk through that door. That's why I scared you."

"I get their apartments all nice and ready, change the sheets, pick up a favourite of theirs, get a text about it the next day and they repay me for it with a fancy dinner to make us both feel less guilty." You admit, suddenly far too close to Lewis to stop. "And you showed up. You remembered. Why?"

"Why?" Lewis echoes, sounding rather surprised by the question. "Because it meant something to you."

"No." No, it didn't mean something to you, that's not how your partners have ever thought. It had to mean something to them, a bribe, something to ease the guilt, something to help them, not you. "It meant something to you."

"Yeah, you mean something to me." The words force the air from your lungs, and Lewis leans forward to gently press his forehead to yours. Maybe it was that he was a British gentleman, maybe that he was a different kind of a celebrity, maybe that he was older, but he was different, and you didn't know what to do with that. "I guess I've been out of the dating pool too long," He jokes softly under his breath, "Seems like the world has lost their minds."

You try your best to laugh, a small, sad thing, and Lewis pulls back to stare at you in a way you fantasized about for years. "Lewis," You finally manage to say, "I...I don't know what to do with all this."

"You don't have to. Just let me care for you." Maybe that was how love worked, after all.

You didn't have to know how to do it, or how it worked, but rather, you just tried your best to care for those who meant something to you.

Lewis's arms come under your knees as he scoops you up, carrying you bridal style toward his bedroom, and for the first time, in a long time, you think that this might last. "And to begin, that means getting us to bed."

a/n: LISTEN TO NEXT OF KIN!! Homemaker and Jekyll and Hyde are my favourites

#➤ rex works #➤ lh44 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 x reader #f1 angst #formula one x reader #f1 imagines #reader insert

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pokebreeder · 3 months ago

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Rascal Dratini are covered in alternating layers of unshed skin, giving them a striped, spikey appearance. They constantly seek out battles to grow stronger.

Moody and aloof, Glam Rock Dragonair show their disdain for all others with their extended tongue. They are able to fly at great speeds by enlarging their wings, but have difficulty making turns.

Barricade Dragonite trade the kind-hearted nature of their purebred kin for a competitive and obstinate streak. These immensely powerful Pokémon love nothing more than taunting foes into combat before crushing them with overwhelming force.

Commission for @kamkong! Commission info Here!

#pokemon #pokemon crossbreeds #pokemon variations #pokemon fusion #dragonite #dragonair #dratini #zigzagoon #galarian zigzagoon #linoone #galarian linoone #obstagoon

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miyaz6ki · 8 months ago

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the first time you let kinich take you out, you didn't expect him to do this—similarily seen in his birthday voiceline!

"are you really sure this is safe?! "you feel his gloved hands under your body as he picks you up into his arms—bridal style and everything. "I'm very sure, don't worry; my saurian is nice."

The eight-bit dragon merely grumbles under his pixelated breath as his huge, green hydra lets you both onto his back. "I don't kill humans that don't have the name 'kinich malipo', nor a saurian hunter." The statement sounds forced and almost sarcastic, but just enough for you to believe it.

kinich sat down, and let you take a seat right beside him—on his left specifically. the beast slowly spread its small, byte-like wings into the air, and leaped off.

the wind was fresh, blowing into your face, and through your hair. the saurian hunter only holding you close by your waist, a secure—firm grip, enough for you to relax, even for just a moment.

the view was worth millions of mora, you've never been able to see natlan this clearly. an enthralling, gorgeous, and unforeseen observation from the skies, maybe this ride wasn't as bad as you thought.

the night lightened the mood of the city, and the rest of natlan so beautifully. it almost brought you to tears, this is the same city you've been exploring this whole time, huh?

instinctively, you leaned in closer to the infamous raven head they call the saurian hunter 'malipo'. he couldn't help but set a speck of dust—a mere knit of red dance along his warm skin, specifically his face.

he lets out a bijou cough, clearing his throat of nervousness. as he softens his hold around your torso, letting you observe every little detail you may find while ajaw flies through the skies, giving you a show.

you shuddered—the temperature of the skies isn't what you expected. silently, almost expecting it, he swathed you in the simple fabrics of his jacket. the scent was such a familiar scent, that you couldn't help but melt into such clothing, only leaning your head further to your right.

ajaw suddenly leans too harshly onto the right, almost making kinich fall off—yet he seemed almost.. unfazed? "kin'!" your shout echoed through the skies, even stunning ajaw temporarily. a stoic, apathetic expression was on his face, kinich in this situation wasn't too amused, even letting out a scoff—growing a smirk on the very same expression. "seems like your trick backfired." "ohhhh- quit it, kiniiichh!!"

you let out a sigh of relief, "does he always do that? scared me half to death!" a concerned look tells him everything you felt when you saw him slip for a moment. "usually yeah, don't worry about it." you felt a similar smile bloom on your face, as ajaw slowly starts to descend, and kinich scooping you back into your arms.

he sets you down on the ground, near the house mualani lent you for the meantime of your travels in the renowned toyac springs. it was even prettier at night, you swear you could see the petals in the water light up under the moonlight!

"you feel nauseous, or sick? anything of the sort?" he checks your face, and any other spots where your skin can be seen, looking for any signs of injuries. "if so, I can punish ajaw for doing such." "hey that isn't what we agreed on!—" a rock is thrown at the large dragon, a growl as it keeps quiet. a gaze full of anger set out on kinich as you let out a chuckle.

"i'm fine, no worries. here, your jacket." you reach to hand his jacket back, you felt almost fighting against giving it back, it was warm, and it felt like a piece of him would always be with you. "—keep it. you'll need it for the rest of the night if you continue to hang outside. which I know you probably will, mualani is active at night, especially when cooking."

"so... i'll see you tomorrow?" your eyes looked into his for a moment, tilting your head even. "a- ahem... yes, I'll be here tomorrow. chief asked for your help anyway, so."

"bye then." you send a small wave to him.

"mmh.. yeah bye." he nodded, turning around to hide the redness that bloomed on his cheeks as to how flowers would in spring. gosh it was still fall!

"and goodbye to you too, ajaw." you waved the eight-bit dragon off as he huffed in pride. "farewell to you too, human."

you swear you could hear him and ajaw bickering about how you greeted them both a good night as they flew off once more, back to the canopy.

maybe you should go out more, specifically with kinich.

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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Just started thinking about labor and delivery nurse Steve Harrington having to fill in for his best friend Robin in the ER at the last minute on his off week

And who stumbles in (comes in on a stretcher) but rock star Eddie Munson who fell off the stage at his show just because he’s incredibly clumsy (this isn’t even the first time it’s happened). His leg is very obviously broken at the knee because he broke his fall with it and he’s struggling to focus on questions because of the pain.

One of his bandmates came with him, Jeff, who Eddie keeps referring to as his mom on the road. Jeff calls Eddie’s next of kin so they can focus on giving him a scan, pain meds, and setting his leg as soon as possible.

The pain meds kick in fast and he’s flirting with Steve nonstop.

And he’s good.

He hits all of Steve’s buttons: the obnoxious pet names that should be annoying but aren’t, the casual touches to his hands and arms as he gets him comfortable, the lines he’s using that are stupid but adorable.

He has no reason to stay after they take care of his major injury and the one spot on his arm that needed stitches. He didn’t hit his head and passes all the concussion protocol tests, his stats are normal, his pain is being managed with a prescription of Tylenol with codeine. He can go home.

But Eddie insists he should have Steve’s number in case he gets worse (he won’t) or has questions (google is available). Steve gives him his number.

He texts him almost immediately.

And keeps texting him for days.

Weeks.

Calls him every morning before Steve’s shifts. Every time his post-show adrenaline matches up with Steve’s lunch breaks. Every time their schedules sync up.

And then he shows up randomly to get his cast removed.

Steve reminds him he could’ve gone anywhere, especially because he was working his usual floor.

Eddie reminds him that he wanted an excuse to see him.

Steve manages to grab a 30 minute lunch break when all his fellow nurses and doctors find out his Eddie is visiting.

When Eddie leaves, it’s with a promise to be back when tour ends in less than a month, a promise to take Steve on a real date, and a promise to be the best damn boyfriend Steve’s ever had.

#idk how things work in hospitals #and I’m not gonna research it for a shitpost #so if a medical professional sees this and it’s obviously wrong no it’s not #I’m but a marketing manager #I do not know the way #I’m just here for a good time #and maybe a wrong time factually #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon

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huicitawrites · 10 months ago

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Omen of the Cursed

Yandere! Ryomen Sukuna x Fem! Reader

TW: depictions of abuse, gore, mentions of suicide (non-descriptive), yandere

THE KING OF CURSES sits casually at the edge of the village well, biding his time. Two muscular arms support his weight on the cobblestone, while another relaxes on his knee, and his fourth is busy—clutching a decapitated head in his clawed hand.

Crimson stains adorn the tips of his fingers, and his feet are smeared with blood. Puddles gather in abundance throughout the village, and the earthy streets are littered with bodies and dismembered remains.

He has killed every single one of them.

He enjoyed it.

He relished in their screams and their agony: men, women, children, the elderly. They all sounded the same in the end, squealing and wailing like lowly pigs sent to slaughter.

At first, the village men tried to fight back, but once he claimed his first victim—his Dismantle technique turning a man into a mangled heap of flesh—they began to shriek and run. When they realized there was no escape, they started to beg.

Some cried for their children; others, for their lovers or themselves. It was amusing to observe how far they would go for survival. They offered everything they had: the village's meager gold, their wheat, their rice, their sheep. When they sensed his dissatisfaction, they turned on one another, offering up their wives, their children, their kin—one even stabbed his own brother and threw the corpse at his feet, declaring a desperate loyalty.

Yet, the King of Curses had come to finish what was started, he took their lives one by one, laughing maniacally in ecstasy and joy.

And so, he sits amidst his carnage—waiting.

The best was yet to come.

He tosses the head in his hand, its expression of horror still etched on the pale face as it rolls across the ground, leaving a trail of blood. He shakes his hand to rid himself of the crimson droplets before resting his four-eyed face atop it. His glaring eyes fixate on the village entrance, marked by a large, old Torii gate.

He recalls the day you abandoned him.

He remembers it all too well.

Ryomen Sukuna was born a cursed, unwanted little wretch.

Everyone believed it and treated him as such: the adults and elders in the village, who instilled their beliefs in their children. Even his own father abandoned him as a mere babe, leaving the village under the moon of Sukuna's birth. His mother, on the other hand, took her own life shortly after he learned to walk.

The villagers whispered rumors of a sibling he had devoured while still in his mother's womb.

Everyone despised him, and so young Sukuna began to despise them too—except for one.

You.

You probably knew of Sukuna as ‘an ill omen’ and ‘a cursed child forsaken by the very gods,’ but what surprised him was your disregard for the villagers' cruel words.

(He remembers the first day you met.)

“Hey,” your soft voice called to him in the village woods. He wore dirty, ragged clothes that contrasted with your colorful kimono. “Do you want to play with me?”

“Go away,” he spat, leaning back against the trunk of a tree, pretending to ignore you.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a playful smirk. You crouched by the river, scavenging for the perfect pebble—a flat little rock. To your delight, you found a twin of it, and with both rocks in hand, you approached the bitter boy.

“Here, you have one,” you tossed him a pebble. “I’ll show you.” Your squeaky voice was impossible to ignore, drawing his gaze as you meticulously adjusted your stance. He recognized the blue fire coating the rock in your hand. His eyes widened, and a single thought sprang to mind.

‘Is this girl cursed like me?’

You threw the pebble expertly, and it bounced across the water’s surface three times.

“Did you see that?! Say it was cool, right?! Your turn now; it’ll be fun!” You jumped excitedly, pointing at the lake with a wide, joyous smile.

Sukuna snapped out of his thoughts and concealed his amazement. He didn’t want to admit it then, but it was a very cool shot. With a blank stare, he picked up the pebble at his feet and mirrored your stance. He held it between the tips of his fingers, took a deep breath, and unleashed his own blue fire. The pebble soared from his hand, bouncing farther and more times than yours.

You sparkled with wonder. “Say, can you teach me that? You can see it too, the blue fire!” Your tiny hands clasped his for a jolly handshake.

He remembers the burning embarrassment on his face, nodding and stuttering when you said, “Say… Let’s be friends!”

Back then, you were children who became great friends. You were so different, yet inseparable. You were a pretty daughter: kind, gentle, obedient, playful, and pampered by strict but loving parents.

On the opposite end, he was the village’s outcast. Shooed away from stores, despised by everyone. Parents forbade their children from being near him, adults mistreated him without remorse, and even the village priests scorned him.

Yet you laughed at his antics instead of scorning him. You cheered him on and even sewed him clothes out of spare cloth. You helped him flee when villagers chased him with pitchforks and torches and snuck him food or tea.

Like a moth to a flame, he basked in your warm kindness. As you two grew, he coveted your friendship, wishing for eternity with you by his side.

But as your teenage years approached adulthood, things began to change. While Sukuna detached from the village and its obligations, you became bound by expectations. Your mother filled your days with lessons on housewife duties—sewing, cooking, and manners—while your father began seeking suitors.

You wanted none of it; your spirit longed to explore the world, but your heart was tethered to your family, making it difficult to ignore your parents' wishes.

In a moment of desperation, he proposed an idea, but you laughed incredulously.

“So you say we ‘run away,’” you cocked your head. “I can’t just leave my parents behind. What kind of daughter would I be after all they’ve given me?”

He wanted to protest, to argue that he could take care of you, but you added, “Besides, we need money. A marriage would solve their issues. Yet…”

“I could marry you,” he blurted out.

The words spilled from his lips impulsively, and though he masked his bitterness, a knot tightened in his throat when you laughed.

“My parents would never give their blessings, they’d disown me first.”

“I’m not that bad of a choice.”

“Sure, a boy who steals and has no care or responsibilities makes a decent candidate,” you quipped.

He knew you meant no harm and understood the frustration behind your words. But he stood up and left, even as you apologized. You were speaking the truth. He was still an unworthy boy—weak, poor, a disgrace.

He couldn’t intervene as you left the village.

Three days before your departure, a foreign man appeared. Older, yet toned, with a staff in hand, he seemed a wandering monk- he later realized the old monk was a pesky sorcerer. He should have killed him back then.

The sorcerer interrupted one of your encounters, pointing his staff at you. His eyes sparkled with glee before darkening in disgust as they fell upon him.

Surely, he saw the monster would become - no, the one he was. The hate, the fury, the greed brewing in his dark heart.

The monk spoke with you, offering escape if you became his apprentice. Under the guise of holy work and financial compensation, your parents agreed to send you away.

“I’m leaving, then,” you stuttered, eyes cast down. You couldn't meet his dark crimson gaze, knowing the look of betrayal hiding beneath your stoic facade.

“I will come back to visit; I promise, Ryo,” you said, the pet name spilling from your lips with sweetness, but he huffed in response.

“I will be here waiting, [Y/n].”

Ryomen Sukuna left the same night you departed. He had nothing left in the village and without your presence, he could tolerate the shithole no more.

Two and a half decades passed.

He left as a cursed boy and returned as the feared King of Curses—Ryomen Sukuna.

As he stared at the Torii gate, his foot bounced impatiently, fingers tapping against the cobblestone edge.

Soon, a figure emerged in the distance—a traveler on a mule, donning a kasa. For a moment, he mistook you for the damned sorcerer monk, but he felt your familiar cursed energy. It seems you grew stronger through the years as well.

A wicked grin spread across his face, revealing sharp teeth and fangs. His four bloodshot eyes widened and pupils dilated in anticipation.

Finally, you crossed the gate.

“Welcome back,” the King of Curses greeted. “Do you like my welcome gift?” He gestured to the bodies and blood scattered throughout the devastated village.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled back your kasa, revealing a solemn expression on a beautiful face. To Sukuna’s surprise, your eyes held no disgust, fear, or even anger, only a pitiful gaze that irritated him.

“Did you enjoy it?” you asked, ignoring his question. He huffed, wondering if you were attempting to seek a glimpse of that playful childhood friend.

The King of Curses laughed at your question, finding it absurd given the answer was obvious. “I found it most delightful,” he cooed.

Slowly, he detached himself from the well and stood before you. Even a few meters away, you could see the transformation he had undergone. He had become a beast—two extra eyes and arms, a mouth in his abdomen, a colossal build, and black curse markings embroidering his skin.

“It’s true then,” you sighed. “You’ve become the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Tis how I’m called now.” It struck him as strange to hear his full name from you. “I must say it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“How many have you killed by now?”

“I’ve lost count, darling.” Your frown deepened, and Sukuna’s smile widened. He noted how tightly you clutched the reins and how your body tensed. “My father and mo—”

“I’ve killed them both,” he cut you off, grinning wickedly. “Their deaths were slow and painful.”

“Ah…”

Now it gets exciting, he mused, watching as fury consumed your expression. This was the response he craved—a little punishment for abandoning him, if you will.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to hold back sobs.

“I have come to slay you, curse,” you spat, mixing pity with spite. You clutched the cloak around you, prying it off to reveal white and red Miko clothing. You held a shakujō, likely a cursed tool.

This was not the first time someone had come to exact vengeance upon him, and it wouldn’t be the last.

However, it would be the last time you left him.

The King of Curses made the first move, closing the distance between you in the blink of an eye. He lunged forward, delivering a devastating blow.

You leapt from your mule, who perished instantly. Your body shivered from his overwhelming strength.

Sukuna continued his relentless assault. Blow after blow, all you could do was dodge—there was no time to parry or block.

In a fleeting moment of opportunity, as you rolled away and encountered his exposed back, you swung your staff, chanting, “Cleanse.”

A blinding explosion of cursed energy erupted against him, bright light streaming from the metal adornments of your staff.

For a moment, you thought you had succeeded—what a fool you were.

He was the King of Curses, after all; he was no longer ‘Ryo.’

Sukuna remained unfazed, standing with his back turned to you. Before you could gauge the danger, one of his lower arms seized your staff, crushing it into splinters. He turned, crimson irises meeting yours.

“Was that all, [Y/n]?”

He reveled in your shock, and before you could distance yourself, he conjured his own spell. “Cleave!”

Hundreds of cuts ripped through your skin, blood gushing from every wound. You choked and coughed, your body crashing to the ground in a futile struggle for breath.

“Does it hurt?” he taunted, voice dripping with venom. Lifting his chin, he added, “This is but a taste of how I felt back then when you turned your back on me, spurning me like everyone else.”

He loomed over you, body casting a shadow. The wicked grin evaporated from his face, voice turning serious. “I find the fear in your eyes delicious. It’s a satisfying punishment for what you did to me.”

Crouching down, he drew forth a hand ignited with cursed energy. Not the familiar blue you knew, but a clear white. You had never witnessed such a technique, your weary mind too occupied to marvel.

Sukuna hovered his hand over your wounds, and in a short time, you found yourself healed, yet the damage had already been done—the fighting, the murder of people.

The King of Curses encircled you with his four arms, lifting you as a husband would lift his wife. Despite the tenderness once present in the boy you knew, you turned your head to avoid his gaze.

He scowled at your rejection; your silent tears pierced his resolve more than any weapon. One hand cupped your cheek, forcing your gaze back to his monstrous face.

"Spurn me no more, I will not let you, not again", he warned, his fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ve become a monster—what their words condemned.”

“I’ve become a king.”

“-of curses.” You cut him off.

His many eyes narrowed, “So what? Human or curse, it matters not in the face of strength,” he said nonchalantly against your melancholy. “All that matters is that I am strong now and that we are reunited. Even if you spurn me, I will make you love me again.”

He sighed, his voice as soft as a whisper.

“The boy you knew may be gone, but you will learn to love the man he has become,” Sukuna assured, his four eyes gazing back at you with an affection that twisted your gut, making your heart race in fear. He began moving toward the Torii gate, carrying you as if you were caged in his embrace.

He inhaled your sweet scent— it reminded him of the home he never had, the one he desires to build with you by his side.

“Finally,” he lowered his face to yours, “we are together again.”

His lips tasted of iron and yours tasted divine.

#yandere #yandere writing #yandere blog #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna #yandere fanfiction #self insert #female reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jjk x reader

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jr-acrux101 · 2 months ago

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Soldat's Kin PT.2

Summary: He's alive but different. PT.1 Warnings: dark fic, kidnapping, no direct smut Word count: 4.6k Глупый - stupid Вверх - up Полоска - strip Симпатичный - pretty h/l - hair length береги её - keep her safe E/C-eye color H/C- hair color Сидеть - sit Кошка - cat Иди сюда - come here Зайчик - bunny

2024 -New York City

Sam scanned the battle field, looking for any survivors. The buildings were destroyed, half crumbled while others completely gone. He pulled up the screen attached to his wrist, he scanned, slowly, making sure to assess every pile of rubble. Before he decided to shut it off, he saw warmth emitting from the grabble. It was small; child-like. He rushed over, throwing the rocks off the small boy. He grabbed the child, not paying attention to his face, just trying to do his best to not hurt the body.

“Jamie!” A woman appeared, eyes red, face full of sorrow.

You cleared more of the rocks, as Sam was able to pull the boy fully out. He laid him carefully, the scanner gave full body heat; he checked the pulse, it was strong. He turned to the boy's face, and saw… Bucky Junior.

He watched you hover over the kid, desperation evident in your tone, “Jamie? Jamie!”

The young boy emitted a groan, showing he could hear you. “Oh thank god,” you bawled, one hand clutching your chest, relief in your veins. You drew a shaky breath as you turned to Sam, grabbing his hands in yours, “Thank you so much. Thank you.” Your voice was shaky, your heart still lost in fear.

“You don’t have to thank me ma’am.”

You nodded furiously, ready to talk, when a soft voice was heard, “Mom?”

Eyes wide, you turned your attention to your son, “I’m here. I’m here Jamie.” Hugging the boy, as he gained further consciousness. Sam gave a soft pat on the shoulder, along with a nod, before walking away.

‘That kid looks like it could be Buck’s twin.’ His mind went to Zemos, and Bucky’s devoid of emotion, at that moment. He turned to see you with your son, still there helping him slowly get up, ‘She looks too normal… too nice.’ He watched as you dusted the debris of your son, long h/c hair in a braid, eyes full of love - something Hydra agents lacked.

It ate at the back of his mind for weeks, before he finally asked something, “Hey Buck?” The park was full, as the two grabbed lunch.

Bucky paused, mid-bite, eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“When,” he hesitated, what if he was wrong.

The man with the metal arm seemed to know what the question would be about, “What about Hydra Sam?”

“Did they- like, make you do other things besides killing?” The words were heavy as the atmosphere turned tense.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his right arm fixing his hair, “Why the sudden interest?”

Sam looked away in the distance, taking in the park square, “I saw a boy who looked like you.”

The ex-Winter Soldier paused, “That can mean anything, people have like 10 doppelgangers in their life.”

“I don't know Buck, that kid is like the spitting image of you. The only thing that was different was his eyes, they were e/c.”

Bucky's mind flashed his with an image of e/c eyes, red from crying. “So what, you think one of the orders I had when I was the winter soldier resulted in a hydra spawn.”

“I don't know about hydra spawn, the women looked sweet. But you know what they say, looks can be deceiving.”

“None of them would want- they were all power hungry women with no compassion for kids. Plus I was a lowly soldat, they probably wouldn't have kept the kid.” Bucky avoided eye contact, only moving his food around, hunger disappeared.

Sam nodded, the solemn mood growing too heavy for each other's comfort. Sometimes, often, the universe liked to prove that it was full of humor. “Jamie! Come back here!” There you were, holding an ice cream cone.

A young boy came cycling towards his mother, lo and behold to Bucky, there was the boy who was the spitting image of him. Sam’s eyes widened, he quietly whispered, “That’s her! That's the kid!” Bucky just stared, the boy was his twin; except, just like Sam had said, his eyes were e/c.

He started to gain a migraine. He stared and stared until they were passing them by. He heard a laugh drop from your lips, “Jamie come one, quit being silly and eat your ice cream. This is the only place that sells pancakes and syrup.” The two men turned to one another, upon hearing the child's name and favorite flavor. Bucky was a sucker for pancakes.

The child nodded to you, putting the training bike next to the bench. He sat finally, politely asking for his ice cream. You smiled at the boy, sitting next to him. Breathing in a deep breath of air, you felt eyes on your figure. Looking up, there were ocean blue eyes of the man with the metal arm. The two of you made eye contact, and suddenly you were back in hydra’s base; being dragged to your daily session with soldat.

Bucky internally flinched, the look of terror was evident on your face, he was no stranger to that look. Whilst it never crossed Sam’s name before, it dawned on him the roles could also be reversed. Before he could stop his friend, Bucky was out of the chair heading towards the mother and son. Sam narrowly missed Bucky. Your breath was caught in your throat, here was the father of your child; The Winter Soldier. “Soldat.” It was a whisper that Bucky caught, it heartbreakingly confirmed his suspicions.

The little boy took his attention away from his ice cream, seeing the man all clad in black and another in simple outing attire; plaid button up and jeans. The boy stared at the dark skin man before recognition set, “You’re the Falcon! That means you’re the Winter Soldier!” The boy jumped up off the bench, forgetting he had ice cream. Splat. It laid on the floor, as the child stared at flatten ice cream, tears welling up. He gasped through his sobs, “Mommy..m-my… ice… cream…”

Before you could react, Bucky lowered his height to match the 4 year old, “Hey it’s okay, I’ll get you a new one. It’s our fault for distracting you.”

The boy calmed down, his sobbing turned into sniffles, his face turning less blotchy red, “Promise?”

He held out a pinky, which Bucky held out his own, “Promise.” The little pouty lip turned into a toothy white smile. You watched the scene, this man didn’t seem like the Winter Soldier. Sam watched your reaction, you were more calm.

Sam made his way towards you, “If you want I can take your son to the ice cream shop, while you talk to Bucky.”

E/c eyes snapped to brown, “Bucky? I thought his name was James.”

“He likes to use his nickname.”

Hesitantly nodding, she stared at the man a bit more, “You’re the hero that rescued him?”

He held out his hand, “Sam Wilson, or as your son called me, The Falcon.”

She shakily took his hand, “Y/n L/n. Okay, well um-his flavor was blueberry pancake.”

Sam nodded, giving a little smile: in the back of his mind, that name rang a bell. “Okay so the little man likes that pancake flavor.” Jamie’s eyes snapped to Sam, excitingly nodding his head. Sam gave a laugh, “Alright, come on, I’ll buy you a new one.” The boy jumped for joy, taking Sam's hand and giving his mom a gummy smile.

Bucky sat down in the empty seat next to you. Muscles flinched as he did, your eyes trained on the shoes of people walking by. The man clenched his jaw before he spoke, “I’m sorry.” You didn't speak, so he continued, “I… I don’t remember even that happened in the base, with the torture, cryogenesis and… brain wash. I remembered everyone I killed but being in that basement is… fuzzy to me. I’m sorry for what I did and I am sorry for not remembering all of it. Most of the memories I have are only your eyes crying.”

You slowly faced him, as he was already seeking you, “I forgive you,” his mouth dropped as his eyes widened, “You spoke as someone who was under control, always about the ‘mission to procreate,’ I… I got help, therapy; 2 times a week. Even though my therapist said I didn’t have to forgive you, I wanted to. You were trapped there, just like me. Plus, I’ve always been a crier, so most remember me that way.” You gave an awkward laugh, uncomfortable with the past being brought to light. ‘I liked it,’ Bucky clenched his jaw again as the thought from his deep subconscious awoke. He opened and closed his mouth, like a goldfish, searching for the words to continue. You beat him to the punch though, “He’s yours, Jamie. He’s going to turn six soon.”

“Six?” ‘The boy should be older.’

“Yeah, when the blip happened…he uh… he was gone. He should be 10… but I’m just glad he’s back,” there was a sting behind your eyes, you rapidly blinked it away.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing Bucky could say at this point.

“He’s named after you.”

“How… did you find out my name? And how did you get out?”

You sniffled, “Vlad, the soldier assigned to me, let me go. His daughter… he said I reminded him of her. He also kept the other men away from me; Soldat’s Property. When he let me go, we passed a grave, it was filled with another person. I thought I was going to be killed. No more Soldat, no more Sodalt’s kin needed,” you inhaled thinking back to the time Vlad dragged you through the forest, “But he let me go, said you were an assassin and you were nowhere to be found. They panicked, not sending another person with Vlad to make sure the job was done, or maybe… the person in the grave was the second person. He told me your name was James, hence Jamie.”

Even though Bucky didn’t care for his name, he was touched. “Thank you,” it was small and almost unheard.

“You know, you weren’t a monstrous assassin in the room. I’m not sure if maybe you were given an order to be… hmm gentle, but you were. You call me cимпатичный every time...”

He nodded, he here was being comforted by his own victim, “Still, what I did to you, it's unforgivable.” His foot started to bounce, anger at himself was flooding his veins.

You shrugged, “It’s my choice, and I chose to forgive you.” You were hesitant to ask, but did so anyway, “What does it mean, cимпатичный?”

‘How could she forgive me! I’m a monster! She shouldn’t even be letting me near her or the kid!’ His thoughts were in a whirlwind, and the target was himself. You could see the internal struggle, this man was easier to read than his counterpart, “Sol-,” you cleared your throat, "Bucky?”

He looked at you, fully taking you. You were there, sitting with big eyes staring at him. Your h/l sat naturally, you s/t was glowing, as the sun hit your face he could see why he the Winter Soldier said that word. “He called you pretty.”

You sat a little straighter, mind reeling from knowing now that was his nickname and what it meant, “Oh, okay. Thank you.” You didn’t realize what you said, just reminiscing of every time the Soldat would call you that when he would finish inside you.

Bucky stared at her, brows furrowed and oblivious to where your mind was wandering, “Don’t express gratitude, what I- how cou- why? Why forgive me?” His tone was hard, a different remembrance was stirring inside you.

You were snapped back to the moment, head shaking, “I told you already. You were brai-.”

“No! You can’t just forgive so easily,” shock and anger were held in his soul.

“Please.” It was a hushed whisper as you clench the metal bench, stopping yourself from crying. The Soldat would never yell at you, but the tone of anger was similar.

Bucky turned upon hearing you, his anger evaporated as quickly as it came, “I-I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he cut himself off, hands tugging down on his face.

You never wanted to admit it, “I fell in love with you, with the soldat.” You avoided the man's face, embarrassed to have revealed the secret you kept hidden for so long, “Like I said, you weren’t horrible in the cell. We were fucking almost every night,” a hollow chuckle left your lips, “You would hold me, like you needed my contact to breathe. And… you started to smile, you would take off the mask and do this little smirk or smile when we were done. You become less rigid, a little more human when we were together,” a sigh left your lips before you continued, “I don’t know, it was probably some form of Stockholm syndrome, but that doesn’t make what I felt any less real.”

His jaw hurt from clenching, “Do you miss him?”

Your eyes were the familiar red, holding back tears, “Insanely…yeah I do.”

He softened his demeanor, “I’m sorry.”

“You don't have to keep apologizing, I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop,” he hung his head, so many emotions clouded his person; shame, guilt, self-loathing. ‘Симпатичный.’ It was a whisper in his head, but Bucky was too late.

You glanced at the man, his stare turning blank. You leaned further back, the similarities he was presenting was the Soldat. As his eyes became glossy, he became emotionless. Your eyes widened: whilst you were true in your word about love, the fear of what he was always took up the back of your mind. You glance around the park, no sight of Jamie or Sam, ‘He must be watching him as he eats the ice cream.’ You hoped this was true. The gaze of the hollow man finally turned to you, “Симпатичный.”

You sucked in a breath, “Soldat?”

“Да.” He was here, staring at you.

A pit grew in your stomach, “Can… can I please talk to Bucky again?”

His gaze hardened, with his jaw clenched he spoke, “No,” it was anger filled.

‘It’s okay, just relax.’ You had to make it okay. Drawing in a breath to slowly release it, “Okay soldat. Did you want to keep talking here or did you want to go to yours?” You prayed it was the latter, not wanting to cause whatever the Winter Soldier could release.

The Soldat paused, relishing in being able to make a choice, “Mine.” He looked at you, emotionless eyes have a hint of humanity now.

The direct eye contact made your body flush, “Okay let me drop Jamie off at his play date and then we’ll go to yours.”

He shook his head, “No, kin stays with us.” He wanted the little boy to be with both his parents now.

You drew in another breath, calming your nerves. You leaned in, and he let you, gently touching his lower jaw. Your tone turned softer for him, always softer for the Soldat, “After okay, we can watch movies together or go for a walk, whatever you want but he has to go so we can talk Soldat.”

He glowered, teeth clenching his mouth shut. His nod was curt, barely visible to the untrained eye; but to you, it was evident. You slowly pulled back, when a long forgotten cold touch grabbed your hand, “Jamie?”

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips, “Yeah Jamie.” He gave a nod of approval before letting you go, “Okay, I will be back in 10 minutes okay. Can you wait here?” Another stoic nod was given before you hesitantly turned away from the assassin.

You saw Sam and Jamie on the bench right outside the shop, the man gave you a smile unaware of the current situation unfolding. He stood up, lowering his voice so the child wouldn’t hear him, “I thought it would be best to let him eat it here, in case y’all weren’t done talking.”

You licked your lips, mind still really in from what was happening. “Sam?”

His smile slowly started to falter, fear was visible on you, “Yeah?”

You turned to Jamie, happily oblivious to the turn of events unfolding, you grabbed your cell phone - 1 inbox notification.

‘Hey almost there, walking to the ice cream shop :P’ It was sent 3 minutes ago, ‘Okay she should be here right now then.

“What’s going on?” Sam wasn’t liking how the atmosphere was feeling, his shoulders hunched and the smile was replaced by a frown.

Before you could speak, your sister was there, “Y/n!”

You whipped around the voice, giving a small tight smile, “Jamie come on, your aunt is here.” With the last bite of the cone shoved in his mouth, Jamie hopped off the bench running full speed with his little legs.

Your sister crouched down, meeting the child for a hug, “Jamie, aw I’ve missed you buddy. Are you ready to hang out with your favorite auntie?”

You walked forward, giving your family hugs, and waving them off. You watched them walk away, as you turned back to Sam, the Winter Soldier stood behind him. With your eyes wide and breath hitch, Sam turned around, not noticing the different demeanor yet. “Buck, my man. How did it-,” as Same went forward to talk to his friend, the brainwashed soldier flashed forward gripping his throat.

Sam coughed out, “Shit.” The realization that this man was no longer his friend. People started to stare, and you started to shake; anxiety was clawing at your throat.

“Soldat, please. Let your friend go.” You approached the man, gently holding his right arm. He gripped your hand, it was firm.

“This man is not my friend.” His grip loosened regardless.

“He’s Bucky’s friend, by an extension of yours. Please, let’s go to yours to talk, remember? That’s what you picked?” You prayed he would listen.

He let Sam go, you knew better than to rush and help Sam; it might upset the Soldier. The man was on the floor gasping for breath, the Soldier looked at you nodding his head to the direction, “Come.”

You gave Sam a small sad smile, mouthing ‘Safe,’ to him. With that the Winter Soldat gripped your hand with his metal one, taking you through the sea of people.

Sam hit the floor, “Fuck!” He stood up, running to his car, Joaquin's number already on dial.

The Soldat’s grip was firm but soft, he led you through the city, weaving in and out of alleyways. You were pretty sure that he added extra courses to throw you off. He pushed through a double door, you weren't able to read the name of the complex. You were indeed winded after 4 flights of stairs, the Winter Soldier seemed fine of course. He looked at your hand as he grabbed the keys, “I’m not going anywhere.” It was reassurance he needed, another slight nod before he let you go. The keys turned and a low click, and the door opened. There was another sound, bells jingling. A soft white tuft of fur was seen behind the arch, Soldat waited for you to enter first, which you complied.

The cat peaked its head out, a little meow hitting your ears. The cat lazily stretched forward, before going to inspect you. You knelt for Alpine so he could sniff, sniff, and sniff again; he patiently sat, waiting for a pet. You giggled at the small animal, the fur was soft and vibrations started to emit from it. A gruff voice was broke through your concentration of pets, “Кошка. Alpine.”

“You’re a very cute kitty,” you gave a last pet before the cat made its way to the Soldat. It purred as it rubbed itself against him. You saw the hesitation in the man’s eyes, “Give him a soft pet if you want.” He tentatively reached out, favoring his right arm this time, and he would agree the lush fur was soft and silky. Satisfied, the cat walked away into the hallway before lying down on the rug, ready to take a nap.

He stood next to you, a metal arm extended for you to take. You did so, dusting yourself off. The Soldat stared at you, you didn’t seem to age; not that he knew anything about you, only physical. He led you again down the hall, to his room; wooden floor, one seat, and a bed on the floor. The layout had you thinking of the base, just nice furniture and place. He stopped in front of the bed, “Сидеть.”

He followed his own instructions, he tugged at you gently, “I still can’t understand Russian Soldat.”

“Сидеть; it means sit, Зайчик.”

You nodded, now confused at the other word said. You shifted, and the bed creaked: memories creeped their way into your mind, your body burning as a result. You avoided the Soldiers gaze, knowing the flush of your skin was very much prominent. Soldat smirked, knowing what was being conjured in your head. “Y/n.” Your eyes widened, he never said your name before. You gave a nod as he looked to see if you heard him, “I… I have… missed you,” the words felt foreign on his tongue.

“I’ve missed you too, Soldat… But, why did you return Soldat?”

“Are you not happy to have me?”

Your eyes soften at the man, “Of course I am happy, but from my understanding Bucky has you…” you bit your lip trying to find the right word, “... has you… restrained.”

The Soldat smirked, “He is only in control because I let him.” Your face betrayed your thoughts, and he seemed to notice, raising an eyebrow he spoke again, “I saw you. I will be honest, I do not care what Bucky does most of the time but he was upsetting you.”

“So you came out to - in a way- stop yourself ?”

“I want to be with you, Y/n. Bucky was ruining my chance to see you more.”

You looked away, as the butterflies fluttered in your stomach, “You have grown a lot Soldat. But, this is also Bucky’s life. While we have a child together, I do not think he wants to be with me. And I have to respect that, it’s his choice.”

“What about my choice?” He gave a low growl, teeth clenched at what was said.

“You were in charge… no… what I mean is; while you had to take orders because you were brainwashed and had to survive, during that time - it was you in control. Bucky was trapped in his own mind for years Soldat, it’s only right he has his… time to be in control.”

“I don’t care.” You pressed your mouth into a thin line, of course Soldat would be hard-headed. “Call me James.”

Your brows knitted together at the name change, “Okay… James.” You leaned forward, and he followed your actions, “I need you to let me talk to Bucky please.”

“No.”

“So-,” you cleared your throat, “James please. I need to speak to Bucky.”

“No.”

“Please, I am begging you.”

He smirked, “How about you beg a different way?”

The man in front of you was very different as well, compared to the man you knew. You felt the heat slowly burn through you, “You speak a lot more now.”

The smug look was still on his face, “So do you. As I remember you moaned a lot more.”

With his guard let down, Buck was able to take back control. With a smug turning into wide eye fear, he jolted back. His breath was heavy, eyes frantically taking in his surroundings, “How did you awaken him?”

“I didn’t awaken him, I…not-I, I wouldn't know how to.”

Fear turn to anger quickly, now a familiar feeling cold metal touch ripped your throat, “How the fuck did you awaken him!”

You gasped for a breath, but to no avail. Black dots slowly clouded your vision, gasping one last sentence, “Soldat… or.. Buc-Bucky.”

The metal touch was quickly rescinded as fast as it came, he stood there horrified at what he had done. “Fuck! I-I cou-didn’t mean too.” You hunched over, breathing as much air as you could.

Bucky shot up, and moved himself to the other side, “I’m sorry. I-I… I just don't understand how he came out.”

You gasped again, the oxygen supplying your brain, “He said you were fucking up talking to me.” A couple of coughs slipped past your lips, as your throat tickled still.

He paused, “What?”

“He said he wanted to see me more, and you scared me away. He had to stop it.”

A stupid look made its way to his face, “So, the assassin who is my brainwash counterpart, high-jacked my body to do damage control? Is that what you're saying?”

You rubbed your throat, rolling your eyes at the man, “Yes, basically. Could you not ask James this yourself?”

“James?” His eyebrows continued to knit together.

“That's what he wanted me to call you.”

He was at a loss for words, the Winter Soldier was… gaining humanity. This wasn't supposed to be the future, the Soldier was supposed to be buried and gone. It dawned on him, “He loves you. In his own twisted way, the Winter Soldier actually cares about you.” Fear coursed through him, “You activate him.” It was whispered to himself but you heard it.

Your voice turned soft, “I think he just wants me around.”

Bucky started to breathe heavily, as if the oxygen was being withheld. He gripped the counter top, fighting to breathe. You made your way to him, touch and voice still soft, “Hey. Hey, it's okay. Focus on my voice, or focus on my hand. Can you feel it?”

He gasped again, but nodded. “That's it, you can breathe. One deep breath in: one, two, three. Hold; one, two, three. Exhale; one, two, three.” He started to follow along, till he vision wasn't blurry, till his breath was deep and strong. You rubbed small circles on his back, “It's okay, you're here.”

Bucky gave one loud inhale, he eyed you, “Did you do this a lot for him? Comfort him?” There was no malice, just curiosity.

You gave a shrug, “Not really, he comforted me more than I did him. Not with words, more with actions.”

“What did he do?”

“He held me a lot. After um… what was needed. He would hold me til I fell asleep. Sometimes I would feel the metal arm slowly graze my back or massage my head. When I would cry, which was a lot, he would wipe my tears and kiss me to distract me.”

Bucky nodded, he continued to melt into her touch, his body no stranger to it. They stayed like this, in each other's space, relishing in one another's presence. The comfort the two of you gave each other, it put Bucky’s mind at ease. Slowly, memories of the past were in a way granted access to Bucky.

There's gonna be a part 3

Taglist: @thenameswinter99 @sebastians-love @otherotherplace

#dark!winter soldier x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!winter soldier #winter solider x y/n #winter solider x reader #the winter solider x reader #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark #marvel

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zoppa682 · 7 months ago

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For any nonhumans struggling with species dysphoria, I want to help you all as much as I can. I've been experiencing it all week. It can be quite exhausting and put you in a lot of distress, in my case. X(

Here are some tips I'd recommend to help:

1. Mimic the diet of your kintype/theriotype. You are a shark? Eat seafood. A dragon? Maybe try to burn some food a little (or turn it black like my own preference if you want). You kin a character from [Insert source]? Try recreating foods/dishes from their world or dimension.

2. Listen to relatable music. I'd recommend making a playlist of any songs that feel species affirming/euphoric, or even echo that dysphoria further, therefore turning it relatable. (Few of my favorites are Bones by Imagine Dragons, Control by Halsey, Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land by MARINA, Momento Mori by Fish in a Birdcage, among other songs that feel therian coded to me).

3. Do vocals. Howling, barking, screeching, or roaring are very relieving if you are in the correct space to do them! If you are in a quite space or do not want to out yourself to anyone, try purring, growling, hissing, or other unnoticeable sounds. You have an object kintype? Mimic the sounds of the object, like beeping, clicking, etc. (I personally make microwave sounds just because it is fun). Recite voice lines of your kintype from the source they are in. Mimic their voice and volume to match.

4. Move and physically act like your kintype/theriotype. Quadrobics, mimic the flapping of wings, walk bidepedally, whatever you do, turn your mannerisms and motion to reflect your kintype/theriotype.

5. Dress like your kintype/theriotype. Is your kintype a character? Cosplay them, or mimic their clothing style, clothing color, hairstyle, etc. If they have tattoos, scars, or patterns on their body, copy them on your physical form with paint or pens. (PLEASE USE NON TOXIC MATERIALS. STUFF SAFE FOR YOUR HUMAN SKIN.) Are you a species of animal(s)? Dress in your species' colors, or, once again, paint or color yourself like it/them. Are you perhaps any other form of creature or object? You can use the same tips as the others, and another idea that works for all is that you can buy costume pieces of your kintype/theriotype. Masks, headbands, just normal clothing in general, the options really are infinite.

6. Express your dysphoria through artwork. I love doing art when I am heavily species dysphoric. Drawing, crafting masks, origami, painting, collages, all are forms of art. If you are skilled in music, then you could even create some songs of your own!

7. Go out and explore nature. This one is mainly targeted towards therians, whose types are grounded on the life on earth rather than other dimensions or universes, but just like the other methods, it can be universally used by any types of nonhumans. Collecting things is my favorite way of exploring nature. Collect rocks, shells, sticks, leaves, bugs, plants, anything that makes you feel more comfortable in your own (unfortunate) physical body. Stay grounded in the world around you and you may find the dysphoria slips away. Hiking and going on short walks can also help, building a den, smelling the scents of the outdoors. All great ideas that I personally recommend.

8. Write about your feelings. Whether you are good at expressing yourself through poetry, you keep a diary/journal, or you can project onto OCs for new backstory lore like I do, writing can truly help with any dysphoria. Not only that, but it is sometimes refreshing to come back later and read about what you were feeling before. It can serve as a great reminder that you are a powerful being and you will always overcome the feelings if you try.

9. Research about your kintype/theriotype. It does not matter if you are an animal, concept, or object from earth, a being from fantasy, or a character from the greatest book or show, you learn something new every day. So why not learn about yourself? Read books or watch animal documentaries of your theriotype(s), same thing for you otherkins and your fantasy species. Fictionkins can look up facts about themself as a character, their book, show, game, etc.

10. Talk and interact with other alterhumans/nonhumans. Remember, we are a community, and while you are experiencing horrible episodes of species dysphoria, there are many other beings going through the exact same thing at the exact same time. So why not talk to them about it? Share your experiences, help eachother cope, you may even connect with more individuals that way, building more relationships with others and meeting new beings.

11. Past life meditation. If you are a nonhuman who has a past life/lives, you may find comfort in meditation, where you can truly tap into what you once were, and still are in this life as well. Look to the forgotten, and turn in to remembered. Open up your past and live over again.

12. Listen to sounds. Nature sounds, voices of other characters you know from your world, vocals or sound effects of your kintype. These are all good options to turn to if you want to feel at ease with yourself.

13. Let your emotions out. Sometimes this is all you really need to do when species dysphoria hits hard. Cry, bite things, claw at pillows, LET IT OUT. There is absolutely no problem in being yourself and expressing your heavy emotions in your own, unique, nonhuman way. You may find you feel much better after.

That's all I've got, but I hope whoever/whatever reads this far has an amazing day/night. You are an amazing being, thank you for embracing yourself and living authentically. <3

#therian #therian community #therianthropy #alterhumanity #alterhuman #alterhuman community #fictionkin #objectkin #conceptkin #nonhuman #species dysphoria #otherkin #otherkin community #otherkinity

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kincalling · 8 months ago

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hi there! i'm brad majors from rocky horror picture show! i'd love to talk to anybody from source, whoever's out there. i'm turning 18 in two months so 16+ interactions please! interact w/ this post and i'll reach out (im super slow with tumblr messaging so forgive me🙏) thanks so much! can't wait to meet you :)

⚡️

#brad majors kin #rock horror picture show kin #canon calls

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 8 months ago

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By moonlight

Adar x Fem!Elf!Reader

Part one, Part two- Oaths

Summery: Things are tense with the Uruks and especially their Lord father but you make a decision.

Shorter but more ADAR. There will be more parts as things heat up with our Lord

When you were taken to their Lord Farther, a part of you assumed he'd be...more orcish? Before your kneeling form was what at first glance someone you'd assume your kin. Pointed ears and a tall broad form. Long onyx hair slicked back with stray strands framing alabaster skin. That skin seemed to be the only thing that set him apart from any elven man. It was marred with scarred flesh from his cheeks up past his temple. In fact the same pits and valleys stretched down his neck and bellow midnight armor.

You met his eyes, pale green as new growth. The Uruk Lord kept your gaze, challenging your claim as he shifted closer to you. His body seemed to follow after his head, smooth and graceful but predatory. Then his eyes closed and he took a sharp intake of breath. You were certain then that you would die here in the mud. Your heart felt like it would burst from its cage but you wouldn't close your eyes. You'd face what was to come, shivering and fearful as you were.

Before he could speak or draw his blade you heard a clamor from further down the tunnel. Raised voices, clattering and then Thrak stumbled past the corner. He scrambled in his turn, fists in the muck to change his direction before he slamming against your side at speed. You gasped, just able to keep your balance, as his little arms encircled you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Lord Father!" He cried, breathless from his flight. "Please if I could explain!"

More Uruk rounded after him, scowling at him before dropping their heads in reverence to their Lord.

"Sorry Lord Father, we'll take this one back with the other little 'uns." An Uruk spoke as he entered the space.

Thrak dug in tighter his hair tickling at your throat. You tried your best to return his embrace but with your hands still bound the best you managed was resting your chin on his head.

"No." Their Lord said, his voice far softer than before. He moved in close now, dropping to his knee to meet Thraks eyes. "I wish to hear what you have to say my child."

"It was man who attacked us, not her! She killed them, burnt the one who burnt us!" Thrak rambled on, jumping up from your side to imitate sword slashing. He continued his descriptions of your heroism till his Lord raised a hand. Still on his knee he moved his gaze to the Uruk captain, brow set low.

"One rescues our youngest, keeps them safe from harm and returns them to our hands... and they are brought to me in chains?" He rasped, his low tone taking a sharp edge. The Uruk behind you shift. You could hear them stammering for a response.

"Release her!" Their Lord snaps voice just barely raising from a whisper but it's effect is immediate. Thrak stands straight and the captain is at your wrists immediately. The manacles snap open and you feel their weight pulled away from you. The Uruk doesn't meet your eyes, grabbing the length of chain and hurrying away out of your line of sight.

You rubbed your wrist before a large pale hand reached to you. You paused a moment to consider the Uruk's Lord before placing your uninjured hand in his. He rose, letting you use his hand to pull yourself up gracefully with him. He withdrew quickly, passing to a group of large rocks he offered you a seat.

The other Uruk made their exit, tugging Thrak along. He made to protest but a glance from his Lord made him comply. You felt increasingly tense as the atmosphere of the room shifted. Without Thrak again a fear returned and tightened your throat.

If the Lord Father notice he made no show of it. Instead just running his gauntlet clad hand over a map on a small table. He picked up a roll of fabric, unwinding some. He hummed, a deep and throaty sound that reverberated through your skull.

"You truly have my thanks..." His deep voice scratched. "However I am regretful that your kindness won't be repaid."

"I did not do what I did for reward..." You began but stopped when you met his gaze again. There was solemn look across his features that set your hairs on end.

"Adar, that is my name. And I fear you do not catch my meaning. This..." He said with a wave to the walls. "Is a sanctuary for my Uruks. I will not have it known."

He turned back to you, the sudden movement causing you to jolt to your feet. The Uruk Captain still had your sword and Adar stood between you and the tunnels. Your eyes scanned but fell upon nothing that would aid you.

"Be at ease mellon." Adar spoke. You surmised the elvish was for your benefit. Despite his appearance it seemed an ill fit for his tongue.

"What will become of me, friend." You asked hoping the shake in your body didn't affect the clarity of your voice. Adar stepped back across the room to you. You stood taller, though you still had to lift your head to meet his gaze as he came in close.

"For now, you will stay here. I'm sure the little ones would appreciate your company again." He said. Adar's voice was so calm and sure, the gentle rasp soothing. His hands took your injured one, gently binding your wound. You felt in this moment you could trust his honesty.

...

The Elleth remained at the tents far behind the front of the tunnels. Adar was surprised she'd accepted her imprisonment so easily. He supposed she wasn't quiet a prisoner. Her body was free of chains and she hadn't even swore to him. She came and went from the children and through the tunnels. Though he'd instructed Glüg to shadow her. Still she never strayed beyond his eyesight, even when she'd go into the sunlight beyond his grasp.

She had some skill with herbs and had been diligently caring for the baby she'd taken in. Adar couldn't deny the sight of an Uruk baby in her arms stirred something old and forgotten in him. He wondered how it might feel to have her hands caress his own face but shook himself from such imaginings.

She seemed as happy here as she could be anywhere else. Though Adar did wonder why she was so content. He'd shared few words with her over the last month but even so she'd made no mention of her own. Nor had he spied any ill will on her part, tending to the children with the utmost care. He often found her with Glügs expecting mate and the other women. Normally with one or more still sat in her lap as she listened to them talk.

Adar left the tents, walking past his children with a nod. He had been called forward to the front of the dig. They'd hit the first of the villages some weeks back and now had many new hands to work. The most troublesome were elven guards. They're faces were a far cry from hers. Drawn into scowls and curling lips.

...

You followed after Adar. A part of you screamed at yourself, to let sleeping dogs lie. A curious voice was louder still, risking rocking the boat for an answer you weren't even sure you wanted.

Why the tunnel?

You'd spent so much time passing through that it was little surprise that the Uruks paid you no mind. You smiled and greeted as you normally did and received the grunts and nods as usual. Whilst you'd grown a nicer reputation amongst many, you understood their stoicism. It wasn't too long ago they'd have been at war with Elves. What was a thousand years when that much blood had been spilled.

You slowed your approach when you heard Adar's voice ahead. Every time it sent the same chills through you. After so many weeks you'd hoped you could keep focus around him but alas you slipped up. You weren't even sure what he'd noticed but you saw him glance to you.

You tore your eyes from him and finally noticed the scene ahead. An Uruk, the Captain, lay still on the ground. His blackened blood pooled against the dirt, his face serene as in sleep. Then to the left an Ellon, dark skinned, cropped hair, the fair face of his kin set in barely hidden rage.

You watched as the elven man was taken away, the chains that bound him taken. He left your sight into the daylight beyond the tents edge. There you spied more chain, leading to more who dug into the earth.

"Don't lurk Andúnë." Adar called, his back still to you.

You flushed at his little nickname despite its frequent use. A jest to your kind not being known to have come so far west. It meant sunset in the language of men. You fought past the feelings it stirred in you and stepped into the sun beams the broken tent let past.

"The chains?" You asked, your eloquent words dying on your tongue. You wanted to say more but you could see Adar understood. His slumped shoulders rolling back as he straightened out.

"A necessary precaution." Adar grunted. You kept your eyes on him, his profile lit by the golden light. "We lost more than just Magrot."

You followed his eyes to the captain again, letting them rest on him as you lost yourself in thoughts. War and death had been so far from your kin's land, further still in the depths of the caves.

"Why would they...?" You began but felt your throat close around the sounds. You didn't cry but you felt if you kept staring any longer you'd break your mask soon. You turned your face away and met Adar's. He'd stepped closer, within reach of you now. A part of you still feared what he might do and a tear broke free. It slid down your cheek as your heart beat faster and faster.

"Andúnë..." He all but whispered. "My children have long been foes to most. That is why we must make a home for ourselves."

"I was born in the deep forest, where your world was just a story." You said not moving as he took another step closer. You took your eyes from his, looking to your hand. The scar was new, still wine dark against the surrounding skin. You ran your thumb against it until your hand was taken.

You suppressed a gasp as Adar held your palm between his rough hand and gauntlet. His thumb brushed the mark with a reverence that had your heart jump to your throat. Your fear seemed to slip away all at once and your cheeks flushed.

"You are not bound to stay Andúnë." He rasped, pale green eyes rising to meet your own.

"I know." You answered, placing your other hand over his.

#adar x reader #adar fanfic #the rings of power imagine #my fics

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writingsofwesteros · 1 year ago

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Hi there. I love your work. And wanted to ask if you could write a one shot about free use maid? Daemon loves to fucks her over one of the balconies in Red Keep. And perhaps Aegon stumbles upon them to join the show?

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

The soft, cold breeze moved through the open window as the cotton curtains were no match and allowed entry. “Hmm, anyone could see you, my little slut.” The rogue Prince purred in her ear as his maid’s mouth watering scent came over him. “I imagine nothing they have not seen before.” Daemon only continued to taunt her. A whine of his name easily fell from her lips followed by the mewls of pleasure he teased out of her. Her delicate hand reached behind her for those bright locks of his and pulled him close. It seemed her confidence had only grown with each thrust of his hips. Without pause, Daemon manoeuvred her legs to spread open causing her to lean on the balcony some more.

Those soft, ample breasts of hers pressed against the stone wall; the coldness had her pink nipples pebbling with ease. The Prince began to press soft, open mouthed kisses down her neck as a shiver ran down her spine. Even after all this time; she could not get used to the touches coming her way as the pleasure took hold of her once more. “Please – my Prince…” The words fumbled from her lips as she began to rock back against his fat cock. Daemon only taunted her and slowed his movements to a stop; his pretty maid would have to do all the work. And oh how she did so wonderfully. Her hands reached for the wall once more as the top half of her body was on show for anyone if they were to look up.

“That’s it..good girl.” Daemon whispered out his praises as his larger hands moved towards her hips, tightening his hold. The bruises that would appear in the morning would be a reminder for the both of them. The maid prettily bounced back and forth with practised ease; her sweet pants and moans echoed aloud. The Prince grunted in pleasure at the sight of the ring of cream around his thick length; her shaking body a sight to behold. “I am surprised you are not with child yet.” Daemon purred; his hand snaking around her stomach. “You are filled with cum from so many of my kin.” He taunted her some more as his slender fingers brushed over her sensitive clit.

His thumb began to circle her sweet spot and all the pretty maid could do was sob. Her legs shaking once more as his touch pushed her towards the climax. Daemon allowed his weight to fall on her as his thrusts finally resumed. His fingers played her pretty cunt and only seconds passed before she was squirting around his fat cock. Still, Daemon only fucked her harder; pushing deep as his free hand moved towards her sweet, bouncing breasts. A creaking noise held the rogue Prince’s attention as he subtly looked at the corner of his eye. Still, his movements continued as the maid collapsed onto the wall; allowing Daemon complete control of her.

The flash of shorter, white waves had a smirk tugging on his lips. “Aegon, have you come to learn?” Daemon hummed; amusement dripping in his tone. A soft gasp escaped her as she turned to stare at her side; all the while her body bounced back and forth. “Aegon…” A whisper of his name caused desire to flash in the young Prince’s eyes. Daemon’s hand came down on her arse; the slap echoing as she whined. Her hands tightening some more on the wall as Aegon only stared. “You always do look good on your knees,” Daemon commented before nodding towards the space near the coupling. All the while, the maid babbled nonsense as his fat, mushroom head bullied the sweet spongy spot inside her.

Aegon did as he was told; his submissive side easily taking control as he watched on. Slowly, the Prince moved to his knees whilst Daemon smirked down at him. “I have seen you with your brother and our little slut. You know what to do.” He purred and a shiver of delight ran down her spine as those memories flickered in her mind. Not so gently did Daemon push her back down; face against the marble as he quickened his thrusts. A grunt escaped him once more at the feel of Aegon’s tongue slowly moving up and down his length as he moved in and out of the precious maid of theirs. “No wonder Aemond enjoys your mouth so much.” The rogue Prince commented as Aegon lapped at her wetness flooding down.

Aegon only smirked up at his uncle as his tongue brushed over to her sweet clit as he began to suck with hunger. The young Prince moaned against his maid; the vibrations alone caused her to mewl out in pleasure as Daemon took his own release. Her legs began to shake some more as Aegon greedily lapped at her. Daemon’s stomach began to tighten as Aegon’s mouth soon returned to licking up his length. “Fuck, that’s it.” Aegon hummed; hiding his smirk as his hand reached for her sweet, ample breasts to tease some more. He could not wait for milk to be leaking from them; those thoughts alone had him moaning against Daemon’s cock.

The groans of pleasure echoed in the room as the rogue Prince came closer to his release. Aegon’s touches bring him closer. “Please–pl,ah..oh gods..” She cried out; weeping as her orgasm ripped through her once more. The clamping of her pretty pussy pushed Daemon over the edge as she began to milk him. Aegon groaned; hands palming at Daemon’s arse as his tongue began to lap at the cum dripping down his length. His continuous lapping had the rogue Prince shivering before he slowly removed himself from the pretty maid. Aegon wrapped his hot mouth around Daemon’s softening cock as the maid on shaking legs turned around. His fingers gripped Aegon’s hair tighter than needed as the maid slowly moved to his side; cuddling into him whilst her heart began to calm down. Daemon gently cupped her face as he leaned closer; their lips passionately meeting. The soft sucking Aegon made echoed as their tongues began to dance. “Good boy.” Daemon purred as he leaned away. Aegon only whined; those bright eyes of his looking up as Daemon’s hand stroked up and down the maid’s side. Goosebumps easily came up her soft skin as a sweet, pink blush came over her cheeks.

#daemon targaryen x reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #request #aegon targaryen x reader

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