#unveiled (visage)

[viciouslyfilthy]

.:Frollo tag dump:.

((MUN'S NOTE: this take on the character is very canon-divergent!))

IC MUSE TAG: the sleep of reason produces monsters ( frollo )

VISAGES: beast of lust ( frollo visage )

AESTHETICS: unveiling depravity ( frollo aesthetic )

MUSINGS: hellfire ( frollo musings )

HEADCANONS: fragments of the man he used to be ( frollo headcanons )

SIDE-CHARACTERS: serons-nous détestables? serons-nous admirables? ( the imps )

[a-small-safe-place]

Soft!Yandere Black Noir w/ Spouse!Reader

You and Earving had shared your lives for many years, forging a bond that had withstood even the disfigurement caused by Soldier Boy. Your love had persisted through the darkest of times. Before Black Noir’s transformation, you two had been inseparable, and even as his appearance changed, your commitment to each other remained unwavering.

When the scars from Soldier Boy’s cruel act marred Black Noir’s once-handsome face, he feared that you might abandon him. He went to great lengths to conceal the disfigurement, even in the intimate moments you shared. However, his sudden withdrawal and the cessation of communication did not escape your notice. With concern etched across your face, you gently implored, “Please, Earving, tell me what’s wrong. Why won’t you speak to me or remove your mask?”

Black Noir shook his head, refusing to divulge his inner turmoil. He adored you deeply, and the thought of losing you was unbearable. He was willing to resort to any means to prevent your departure, even if it meant resorting to physical measures. You were his world, his anchor in a world filled with chaos and uncertainty.

After persistent persuasion, you finally persuaded him to unveil his masked face. The sight of the burnt half of his visage and his milky eye bulging from its socket was almost too much for you to bear. He noticed your distress and hastily replaced his mask, shaking his head as if to say, “No, no, it’s still me. I’m not frightening. Please don’t abandon me.”

Tears streamed down your face as you asked, “Soldier Boy did this?” In response, he nodded, clutching your arms tightly, ensuring you couldn’t escape his grip even if you attempted to flee. You bestowed upon him a tender, loving smile and inquired, “Were you afraid to tell me?” Black Noir nodded slowly. His fear of losing you, regardless of the extent of his disfigurement, was overwhelming.

In a surprising move, you gently lifted his mask and planted a soft kiss on the burnt part of his mouth. This gesture sent Black Noir’s heart into a flutter, and his knees nearly gave way under the weight of his emotions. He yearned to express his love at that moment but couldn’t. Instead, he fashioned his hands into the shape of a heart, conveying his feelings. You understood his unspoken message and reciprocated, your actions concealed beneath his mask, causing him to blush.

Now, the two of you are united in marriage. Black Noir has provided you with a home specially designed for your comfort and privacy, a sanctuary away from those who might covet you, such as The Deep or Homelander. Black Noir relishes the moments spent at home with you, where he can remove his mask and relish in your reassuring words that you love him. In the safety of your private haven, you belong entirely to him, and he has the privilege of taking care of you.

[willows-escape]

Symbolic - 1990!Erik x Reader - Part 1

Pairing - Erik (1990! Charles Dance) x (Female) Reader

Summary - the topic of the mask was the last obstacle in your blossoming relationship, and you were desperate to cross the barrier and become fully intertwined with the man you loved and claimed he loved you too.

Warnings - erik’s deformity is a mix of the deformity we see erik have as a child in the 1990 version and the musical, phantom having a small breakdown, the ✨mask✨topic, poorly dealt with feelings, miscommunication, suggestive moments and reference to genitalia and arousal, descriptions of a gory facial disfigurement, intense self hatred, mentions of christine but she’s long gone in this

Word Count - 4,770

Notes - there will be a part 2 i gotchu i gotchu. should part 2 be smutty or also just suggestive? also i tried writing this in a victorian-esque tone but if you arent vibing with that let me know and i’ll switch it up for part 2. i just thought it would be a nice touch.

give me feedback !!! pleasee !!!!

01 (you're here!) / 02

The nearby sound of trickling water gracefully blended into the ambiance of your surroundings; the towering trees above you resembled a verdant canopy. The quilt beneath you protected your body from the prickly blades of grass and artificial soil, offering a comfortable spot to recline with your hair spread out beneath you, shimmering in the artificial light.

You laid supine, hands elevated above you to cradle a book you had recently begun reading. The words captivated your attention, submerging you in a realm of fantasy and euphoria. Reading was your preferred means of escaping reality, a release you frequently yearned for when the burdens of the world weighed on your shoulders. It all faded away when you became engrossed in the pages of a book.

Regrettably, you were not the only person who was aware of your coping mechanisms. The situation was quite an affair, so you wouldn’t delve too deeply into the small details, but the love of your life had at long last informed you of his reciprocal affection for you. It felt magical and otherworldly to hear that sweet confession escape his enthralling lips, his eyes penetrating into the depths of your soul as his hands tenderly grasped your waist. You had witnessed the words that you only ever seemed to hear in your dreams.

So what had left you so apprehensive?

Well, the man you spoke so highly about, Erik, did not seem to return those high opinions for you. There was a part of himself he laboured ceaselessly to conceal from you, a mask that symbolically and literally kept up a barrier between your world and his world to prevent them from intertwining. You’d exchanged tender sentiments, cried tears of anguish and passion the night you’d finally confessed. You clung to each other as if your lives depended on it and subjected each other to a night of basking in vulnerability and fragility as your secrets long harboured tumbled past your tongue before you could restrain them. The morning after was no less exquisite and that of a fairy tale romance, but the barrier remained.

That mask he wore, pale and icy to the touch, silently spoke of his distrust for you. The final puzzle piece that he adamantly refused to fit into place, even for the sake of your love. Oh, it was a cruel predicament indeed! All you desired was to behold the appearance of the man you held dear, but he swore by the highest heavens that his visage would send you fleeing, and that was the last outcome he desired. To some extent, you understood his apprehension, having heard him recount tales of how numerous individuals he had cared for and adored had reacted abhorrently upon the unveiling of his face. But how could he expect the two of you to spend the remainder of your lives together without even a glimpse of his unadorned skin?

You weren't expecting Prince Charming, and while you weren't entirely convinced by his claims of him having a face of nightmares, you did trust that he might not be conventionally attractive. After all, you had never seen him. Besides his gentlemanly actions and his physique that seemed as if it had been crafted by a divine being, you weren't going to assume that he was the most handsome man in the world. You would love him nonetheless. But no matter how greatly you persisted and promised him you wouldn’t leave despite what he looked like, he truly did not believe a word you said. And it hurt.

“A new book, dear?”

You glanced upward, granting the subject of your grovelling a tight lipped smile as you hastily flicked your attention back to the words on the page. No anger dwelled within you, just painful disappointment, and the ache in your heart made it hard to bare the sight of him. “Of course. It’s Jane Eyre.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, his walking cane planted firmly into the ground below. You internally winced as the silence rang loud in the air. You were not seeking to upset your lover, but also somehow desiring to communicate that you weren't entirely pleased at the moment. It appeared that the message had travelled clear, but the upset was unavoidable.

A moment more passed before he spoke, “I feel a chill coming on. Seems as though it’s about to rain, don’t you think? Come, let’s retreat inside before it starts to pour.”

You arched a suspicious eyebrow, fingers still tightly clasped around the novel you held. If the plastic animals scattered around that Erik had stolen from the props department said anything, everything in this quaint woodsy area was unquestionably fake. From the dirt to the grass to the trees, the animals and the sky. It went without saying there would be no rainfall. This meant he wanted to discuss things with you without the distraction of your nose being buried within the pages of a book. And you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

“And why should I do that?” you questioned, paying him no eye contact as you pretended to continue to read.

“You wouldn’t want your clothing to get wet, would you? I won’t be visiting the laundry room of the opera house for another week, hence it would be wise to avoid sullying a valuable item of clothing,” he reasoned, knowing fully well that he’d drop whatever he was currently doing to run and fulfil any request you asked of him, never mind visiting the damn laundry room.

You parted your lips, ready to jestingly remark about how there would indeed be no rainfall. Yet, in that very moment, a peculiar sensation graced your senses. A solitary droplet of water descended upon your nose, its touch cold and trailing a path of dampness as it glided down your nasal bridge. A gasp escaped your lips as more droplets descended, their frequency increasing with each passing moment. In a hastened flurry, you stood upright, clasping your cherished book to your bosom. You abandoned the forgotten quilt as you sprinted through the doors adorned with stained glass, leading you back to Erik's modest dwelling. He followed closely, not far behind your hurried steps.

You’d have to speak to him about putting up a gazebo. To block out the sun, you’d tell him.

“Guess you were right,” you half-heartedly chuckled, absentmindedly tossing the book onto a table to the side of you.

You found yourself in Erik’s room of treasures, where he stored and cherished his most esteemed items, namely his collection of masks and his grand piano. The ambiance within was of a tranquil and serene nature, causing your anger to gradually dissipate. Yet, the sorrow and anguish still lingered within you.

"Forgive me, have I down something to displease you?" Erik questioned, his steps measured and deliberate as if he were trying not to startle you, akin to approaching a timid creature. With utmost gentleness, he lightly laid his hand upon your shoulder, allowing it to glide downward, tracing the contour of your arm.

"Erik…" you whispered, tearing your eyes away from him. Your heart faltered, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips delicately brushed against your skin. A fire simmered in your core, your veins rushing with hot blood as the touch of his hand engulfed you, overwhelming your senses with a fervour. “I… do not wish to upset you.”

“The only upset you cause me is by not being honest with your feelings,” he replied, hand reaching up to gently trace the skin of your cheek. Your eyes felt weak, gently fluttering shut as you indulged yourself in his affections. “Please, tell me what is troubling you.”

You paused for a moment, allowing yourself to succumb to his touch for a little while longer. The words settled on the tip of your tongue, ready to escape you and take a leap of faith from your mouth to his waiting ears, but you’d already approached this subject with him before and did not wish to push him to frustration or sorrow.

“I just…” you paused, “One day, Erik, do you wish for us to be husband and wife?”

His eyes widened, mouth agape in shock at your blunt statement. He stammered in surprise, removing his hand from your cheek slowly. He drew in a deep breath before answering, “There is nothing I desire more than to be wedded to you. Where is this coming from? Are you feeling as though our relationship is moving too slow? I just didn’t want to frighten you by pushing for more. Why, I’ll marry you tomorrow-”

“Erik, Erik,” you laughed, hand coming up to cup his cheek with your own hand as he was doing to you seconds ago, “I didn’t mean it like that, though I’ll marry you the second you ask it of me. Maybe not tomorrow, however.”

“Ah,” his nerves tingled, goosebumps rising on his skin at the electricity of your touch. He cleared his throat before continuing, “While that is a great relief to me, may I ask as to why you asked that, if not for the reason I previously thought?”

Taking one last final pause, you readied yourself to confess your true want. “I know you’ve said no, and told me to not bring up the subject again… but my love, how can I marry somebody when I have yet to see their face?”

Erik pursed his lips, his eyes shifting down as he began fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. You felt dreadful witnessing the unease that the inquiry evoked in him, understanding that it inevitably resurrected distressing memories he longed to forget. Nevertheless, no advancement could transpire between the two of you in your relationship until he allowed you to see his face. You refused to be bound to someone who concealed such an essential aspect of himself, even if you knew the intentions to be entirely pure.

“I can’t do that,” Erik shook his head, walking away from you and moving towards his basket of walking canes. He placed his current one back with the bunch, before busying himself with rearranging his mask collection. He didn’t want to stray too far from you, but also wanted you to drop the subject.

You quietly tip toed behind him, enveloping him in your arms as you wrapped them around his waist and placed your head on his broad shoulder. You audibly heard his breathing pause, feeling him shiver as he relished in your touch. But nevertheless, he pushed on with rearranging his collection, although he wasn’t moving side to side around the table as he was doing previously.

“But why?” you asked.

“You know why, my face is that of nightmares. And I’ve hurt too many by showing them what they believed they could handle. My expectations are realistic.”

“You could never hurt me!” You insisted, your emotions getting the best of you as you retreated from him. He hunched over slightly, hands resting upon the clear spot of table in front of him to steady himself. His head twitched to the side as he bit his bottom lip in thought.

“Dear, I know you think that I exaggerate when I speak of my face, but I can assure you that I do not lie out of simple insecurity. My own father hid me down here due to my appearance, that must speak volumes,” he sighed, coming up once again to stand straight. “Now please, do not ask again.”

“So when I inevitably return to wallowing in my own feelings and escaping to the woods for hours at a time again, will you tell me to not ask again when you approach the subject of my feelings once more?” you tried to reason, desperately wanting him to view the situation from your point of view.

He didn’t respond for a little while, evidently pondering your words that he knew deep down held some veracity. The matter of the mask was evidently causing you distress, and he couldn't fathom any solution that would alleviate your concerns. But alas, he simply couldn't bring himself to do so.

“I’m sorry, my answer’s no.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, shimmering with unspoken pain and longing. Your vision blurred as a single tear cascaded down your cheek, tracing a path of sorrow. Your body trembled with silent sobs, your shoulders shook as you struggled to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume you. The ache in your heart grew stronger, as if each tear shed was a testament to the love and vulnerability you had offered, only to be met with rejection.

“My dear, please, don’t cry over me,” his arms swiftly enfolded you in an embrace, his own frame quivering with an inability to endure the sight of your tears. With a resolute tenderness, he pressed his chilled lips upon your forehead, bestowing a gentle kiss as he cradled your head against his chest. In a steady rhythm, he swayed, seeking to soothe your anguish and stifle the heart breaking sounds that escaped your lips.

“How can I not?” you wept, fingers shaking from how firmly you were clinging onto his white button up shirt. You were grabbing on to him so tight you feared your nails would pierce holes in the delicate fabric, but you couldn’t bring yourself to relinquish your grip no matter how much you internally fought with yourself. Nothing you were doing seemed to be venting your frustrations adequately, leaving you at a loss for how to cope. "My love, the very essence of my existence, the one who breathes life into me, steadfastly refuses to show me his face."

“You must understand- I feel for you exactly as you describe your feelings for me, if not tenfold. That’s why I can’t show you. I’m protecting you just as much I want to protect myself,” he confessed, eyes squeezing shut as his swaying slowed to a stop. His grip was becoming tighter and tighter.

“I know life has dealt you an unfair hand, Erik, I’ve heard your cries and witnessed your heartbreak. I was there for you all throughout Christine, I was there to see your regret and misery as she left you behind. I did not leave your side for a second. I know the great despair and trauma her reaction to your face cast upon you, but please believe not a hair on my head resembles Christine. I will not hurt you the same.”

Erik held you a little longer, his embrace becoming even more so impossibly tighter. He wasn’t urgent to reply, instead allowing himself to bask in your love for as long as he could manage. Your sweet love was an addiction, an ambrosia he craved every single waking hour. But even then you lived in his dreams, your angelic presence blessing him wherever he went or whatever state he was in.

“I love you, Erik,” you spoke, looking upwards towards him as he began to tilt his head to share your unwavering gaze.

“I love you too,” he said.

“So show me,” you whispered, eyes glistening with tears and lips downturned into a subtle frown.

You took one last look into his eyes, before pushing yourself forward and up. Your lips met in a fervent union, a culmination of the deepest desires and longings that had long been brewing between you both. It was a kiss imbued with a delicate tenderness and an irresistible urgency, your mouths moving in perfect harmony. Each brush of his lips sent electric waves coursing through your body, igniting a blazing fire within your soul. In that timeless moment, you and him surrendered yourselves completely, losing all sense of time and space. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent pledge of profound love and unwavering devotion.

As you reluctantly broke the intimate connection, succumbing to the need for a breath of air, your gaze met his half-lidded eyes. His lips were swollen, and his tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip as he inhaled deeply. A blush crept across your cheeks as you attempted to conceal the rapid beating of your heart, finally becoming aware of his hands that had gradually ventured downward, tenderly tracing the curves of your waist.

He silently took a moment to recover, savouring the lingering taste of your kiss. It was unlike any other you had shared before - no longer innocent and brief, but a passionate embrace that ignited a fire within you. As your lips met, it felt as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in a moment of pure bliss. The intensity of your connection was palpable, like a match being scraped against a stone, creating small sparks that danced and flickered between your bodies. It was a kiss that left you both breathless, your hearts racing with newfound desire and a longing for more.

“If you really insist on seeing my face, come with me to your room. I do not wish to make you feel cornered, but if you are to faint I wish for you to not bring yourself harm.”

You nodded eagerly, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation. The kiss you shared made every colour appear more vibrant and the air feel lighter, filling every fibre of your being with pure bliss. As you followed him, each step felt buoyant, as if you were walking on air.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your room. Erik was very against you two sharing a bedroom, stating that he did not wish to make you uncomfortable or feel trapped next to him, when the reality couldn’t be farther from that. But you feared that he might’ve just been projecting, that he was the one who felt uncomfortable and trapped with the idea of you two sharing a room, so you’d left the topic alone for another day. That day still hasn’t arrived.

Erik took a hold of your hand, gently pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. He shook slightly, so lightly that you almost thought your eyes were deceiving you. “Are you sure about this, y/n?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything, besides how much I love you,” you giggled.

“I… will not keep you down here, if you decide you never want to see me again. I’ve learnt my lessons, do not fear you reaching the same fate Christine did when she reacted negatively.”

You wanted to protest his words, state that you feeling negatively towards him was inconceivable and never going to happen. You also wanted to tell him to stop mentioning Christine, just the utterance of her name made you scowl. But you didn’t want to argue at a time like this, so you just nodded your head.

“Before I take this awful thing off… that kiss was everything I’ve ever wanted and more. If after this you no longer love me, please know that your display of love made me feel like a normal, living man, and that I’m doing this because I know I can die happy after the fact, if you were to leave.”

“I’m honoured to be able to make you feel that way, my love.”

He hesitantly extended his hand towards the strings that secured his mask to his head, skillfully undoing the knot he had carefully tied. As he prepared to remove the mask, he couldn't help but steal a final wistful glance at you, savoring the moment before gradually peeling it away from his skin, gripping the edges tightly with his other hand. The air seemed to hold its breath as the mask revealed the vulnerable visage beneath, unveiling a hidden side that had long been concealed.

His face was a grotesque sight, something that defied accurate description. The skin was cruelly stripped away, revealing the raw and twisted muscles beneath. It was a horrifying visage, and it made your heart ache. He was deformed, disfigured; the only parts of his face that were covered in flesh were swollen and bright red, contrasting the pale whiteness of his bone. You tried your best to swallow the gasp that was pushing past your throat, but you were human.

You were sure you could hear the sound of his heart shattering, but you were so shocked you could only watch as he crumbled to his knees before you. His screams and cries made you nauseous, his repeated wails of, ‘why!? why!? why!?’ as he grabbed onto the hem of your skirt, hiding his face in the fabric in his suffering. You snapped back into reality, falling to your knees in front of him.

“Erik, no, please-”

“Go, please. Leave me.”

“No, please, hear me out. I don’t hate you-”

“This is hardly a face you’d want to marry!” he protested, burying his face deeper into the fabric of your skirt, resisting as you tried to pull it away. “You may not hate me, but you’re scared! Is this the face of a man you could wake up next to, spend the rest of your love with, make love to at night before we sleep? Please just go!”

“No!” you cried, relenting on your attempts to tear his desperate self away from your skirt. You wrapped your arms around him, this time cradling him against your bosom as you rocked back and forth. You felt the tension slowly dissipate from his form. “I do not hate you and I am not scared of you! I want to do all those things with you, Erik, please I swear!”

His quiet sobs continued to echo through the air, his scared body shaking erratically. With utmost tenderness, you cradled his quivering form in your arms, holding him close and providing a safe haven for his shattered heart. Gently, you brushed your fingers through his hair, whispering words of love and reassurance into his ear. Your touch and soothing voice offered him comfort and solace, doing your best to remind him that your love extended far beyond mere physical appearances.

In that moment, as he sought refuge in your embrace, you felt an overwhelming surge of love and compassion for this broken man before you. Despite the mask he wore, both symbolically and literally, you saw the depth of his pain and the vulnerability he rarely allowed others to witness. Your heart ached for him, yearning to heal the wounds that had haunted him for far too long.

"You are more than your face, Erik," you whispered softly, your voice filled with unwavering affection. "Your heart, your soul, and the love we share transcends any physical imperfections. I love you for who you are, please believe that."

As his sobs gradually subsided, he looked up at you with tear-filled eyes, searching for a glimmer of hope and acceptance. In that moment, you saw a spark of belief flicker within him, a tiny beacon of light amidst the darkness that had consumed him for so long.

"I… I want to believe you," he choked out, his voice trembling with both fear and longing. "But all my life people have only said different. How can they when I don’t have a face, and only the resemblance of a face?”

You held his face gently in your hands, your touch conveying a tenderness that words alone could not express. "I understand. I’m sorry for reacting like that, please forgive me. I love you regardless of your face, it was just unlike anything I’d ever seen before. That’s all. I feel no differently for you than how I felt before you removed the mask.”

He hesitantly inclined towards your touch, his eyes seeking yours for reassurance and acquiescence. He quivered as a vehement cry escaped his lips once more, bedewing your bodice in his tears. Yet, you cared not the slightest, more preoccupied with consoling the poor man trembling before you.

You both sat together on the floor of your bedroom for an indeterminate span of time, but to you it felt like hours. You cradled him like a mother would her infant, tenderly caressing and comforting him with gentle touches and whispered reassurances. You hadn’t seen Erik shed tears since the evening of your confession, and you could only surmise that all the trepidation and unease had finally reached a breaking point and crumbled along with his composure. It deeply saddened you to know the man you loved so intensely hated himself and had been hated so harshly by those around him. You vowed to never cause him pain like everybody else had as long as you both lived.

Eventually, he withdrew from you, gracefully settling on his knees, his hands still shielding his face from your view, protecting his vulnerability. He wiped away the glistening tears that adorned his cheeks, his other hand instinctively seeking to conceal himself from your gaze. A pensive frown graced your mouth as you hesitantly reached upward, your fingers yearning to grasp his trembling hands, only to recoil as he instinctively recoiled in response to your advance.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve seen it all now, haven’t I?” you hushed, hands dropping from his hands but instead reaching up to smooth back his hair with your fingers.

He sniffled quietly, “Forgive me, I did not intend on frightening you. I am simply unused to showing my bare face around others, it’s unfamiliar.”

“Of course, I understand, love,” you smiled, gently trailing your hand down the side of his face. Goosebumps littered his skin like a trail.

You moved closer to him, your heart racing with anticipation. You kept one hand on his face, basking in the warmth of his skin that didn't have any disfigurement. Your other hand gently draped over his shoulder as you approached, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his back. He quivered beneath your touch, his legs extending out from under him to create a space for you to come impossibly closer. As you lowered yourself onto his lap, a surge of electricity coursed through your veins. His breath, warm and intoxicating, caressed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands trembled with uncertainty, itching to remove themselves from his face to come down and touch you instead. You chuckled.

“You can hold me.”

His breath caught in his throat, his mind filled with a whirlwind of desires as he absorbed the words that flowed from your enchanting lips. You couldn't help but chuckle softly, savouring the profound effect you had on the man beneath you.

“I’d like to put on my mask, dear,” Erik finally spoke, “As much as I love having you so close, I’m not ready to show myself to you so unashamedly yet.”

With a nod of your head, you stepped back, allowing him the space he needed to shroud his face from view. Though you comprehended the internal struggle he faced after years of hiding, a bittersweet pang of sadness tugged at the depths of your heart. The poignant reality that he still felt the need to shield himself wounded you deeply. But you tried to keep reminding yourself that it wasn’t personal.

He swiftly and efficiently retied the strings, maintaining his determination, as he stood up following you. You leaned in and planted a brief but meaningful kiss on his lips, savoring the moment before reluctantly breaking away. With a mix of emotions swirling inside, you diverted your attention, attempting to shift your focus away from the recent event that had transpired.

“I’ll be out dusting the statues, you haven’t kept up with them in a while and I’d noticed them on the way in and I think they could really use a clean. I’ll speak to you later.” You quickly retreated from the room without even sparing a second glance.

Erik stood there, mouth agape, unable to comprehend the suddenness of your departure. His mind was flooded with a multitude of questions, doubts, and confusion, hindering his ability to think clearly. As he glanced around the room, an overwhelming sense of awe washed over him, as he tried to process the intensity of the moment and the speed at which you had vanished from his presence. Meanwhile, his body felt an uncomfortable strain, as his arousal pressed insistently against the constricting fabric of his trousers, adding yet another layer of complexity to his already tumultuous thoughts.

You were no less aroused, the tingling sensation in your nether regions proving that you had been mutually affected by your lover. Oh lord, this was going to cause problems.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Presentiment of Massacre.

Yan Geto x F Reader.

Synopsis: Of all the people in your village, why were you the only one spared?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, major spoilers for the start of JJK S2, some not SFW implications, and violence/slight gore.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

“You can see them, can’t you?”

The man is tall, so much taller, so much taller than you who is curled up into a ball in the corner of your home, to hide, an intention that was more or less popped like a balloon. He is so much taller than the corpses littering the floor with their blood, their vomit, their tears. Gazing at the disarray with a mix of revulsion and frustration, he found himself devoid of any trace of it on his person, his exasperation evident as he muttered the word monkeys repeatedly along with quick, muffled talks of cleaning and baths and stains.

“Miss. You can see them, can’t you? The beings around us.”

As he receives no response once more, he pivots. A terrifying grin adorns his face, an unsettling visage that seems to transcend the boundaries of humanity. It appears as if it is a mere appendage, capable of detachment at whim, akin to a magnet or a metallic fragment. This facade, a deceptive guise, conceals the malevolent demon lurking beneath its surface.

“...I… Please… Please just ge-”

“Answer my question.” Interrupting, he maintains a sickeningly warm smile and tone, though his words possess an entirely different temperature. They are demanding. Frigid. For nothing burns quite like the icy cold. “I know you can, from the way you are looking around the room and hiding. Stop pretending you can’t.”

Even when his gaze was averted, his vigilance never wavered, always deciphering the motives behind your awkward, apprehensive behavior. He possesses an uncanny ability to interrogate as if presiding over a courtroom, posing probing inquiries that unveil the heart of the matter. Every response you offer seems to hold the power to determine your verdict: a life of freedom, confinement, or even death.

Opting for honesty may prove beneficial. It could potentially strengthen your position, although there are no guarantees. Contemplating the act of praying, you ponder its efficacy, hoping for assistance from any divine entity that may exist. You certainly wouldn't want to become another disfigured body within the grasp of the beast behind the man's monstrous jaws.

So, after weighing all of this out, your lips part instinctively.

“Ah, I knew it. Unlike these monkeys, you are worthy.” As a reaction to those two sentences, about a million thoughts and questions sprout in your mind. “You will be spared if you join us. You do not want to be rotting on top of these filthy monkey corpses, do you?”

In an instant, you vigorously shake your head, causing a fleeting sense of dizziness, as you promptly respond to his inquiry this time.

“I’ll… I’ll… do it.” As anticipated, the act of surrendering proved to be a complex experience, simultaneously challenging and effortless. This situation resembles a collision of opposing forces, resulting in a powerful and explosive event. However, due to an innate instinct and the familiarity acquired from past encounters with your inebriated father, you find yourself succumbing once again. “Anything.” You don’t think of saying that word specifically, and you regret it later than sooner. “Just… Just please. I want to live.”

A gentle pull brings you to your feet as his hand reaches out to grasp yours.

“I am glad you accepted my conditions. Very glad.” The man brushes his side bang out of his face, his grip becoming slightly looser. “I am Suguru, Suguru Geto. Now, what is your name, my new recruit?”

“...[First].” You whisper your name so softly, questioning whether Geto caught it. “Do I… Do I have to use that too? Because…”

“No, you don’t. Though if you want you can be taught to wield something, something weaker than this.”

He responded to your question as if you were a young child inquiring about the purchasing of infants from a retail establishment. “...But do I have to?”

Geto shook his head and called the beast with two waving fingers. It is a dragon, you think, from how long it is and how it has large white scales, even whiter teeth, and long golden hair partially stained red, and how its large blue eyes stared into your soul.

“That depends on the future.” He says, his grip dwindling even further. The monster disappears with another wave of his hand. He chuckles. “Depends mainly on what you do, and why you do it.”

“…What do you think I would do?”

“You’re not good at hiding your emotions, you know.” Something creeps up your thigh, and before you have the chance to scream he puts his hand on your mouth and his other hand grabs one of your arms. “That gives way to not being able to hide your plans very well. You’re planning on running the first chance you get, aren’t you? Before you do such a silly little thing, I must tell you that I can give you protection, and luxuries beyond your imagination… everyone and everything will bow down to you.”

He looks down at the slimy red thing with at least six eyes, the build and size similar to that of a basketball. Its lips were sucking on your flesh with words like love leaving them in between moments. That was the answer to your unspoken question.

“All you have to do is follow me, okay? No matter where I go, follow me. Do that, and your life will be so much better.”

From the look in his eyes, you already know he had already made the decision for you.

[icarustypicalfall]

Mond

fluff!! sorry for not posting much :3

He slumbered, lost in dreams, soft murmurs escaping his lips as he stirred. Enthralled, you beheld his serene state, immersed in a profound slumber's embrace.

König clung to your waist, as if his life depended on it, fearful that you might slip away to your work before he opened his eyes. He had returned to your side only yesterday, yearning to savor every precious moment with you.

His skin bore witness to scars, marked by a heavy bandage that encircled his forearm. The thought of your husband enduring pain made you wince. Yet, he hid it with unwavering resilience, a testament to his steel-like strength and pure devotion, brimming with the love you bestowed upon him.

As your fingers continued their gentle massage, caressing the contours of his supple back, König drew closer. He whispered with a tender timbre, his fluttering lashes unveiling eyes like smoldering ashes, mingled with a hint of the ocean's depths. "Morning, mein liebie..."

A smile adorned your visage as you brushed aside his dark locks, planting a tender kiss upon his nose. He chuckled, his gaze radiating warmth as it met yours.

"Morning, king... I might've burnt the toast... you still want breakfast in bed?"

He chuckled, his voice husky from sleep. König playfully murmured, tickling your side as he fully awakened.

"I've told you countless times, mein Mond, there is no need for you to cook. I should be spoiling you. You go get ready, we'll have breakfast out."

masterlist • ao3 • follow for more!!

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (12) - You Know How Much You Broke Me Apart

LOOK!!! I CAN FINALLY SHARE THIS!!! ❤❤❤ I commissioned this absolutely BEAUTIFUL art from @ritzeldraws of the dance scene in this chapter! It's so beautiful- it captures their expressions and feelings perfectly and it's been my iPad background for months waiting to be unveiled! It's so lovely and I'm beyond happy that I got the opportunity to request this. :") Thank you again!! (They're dancing to Duvet by Boa btw, just in case you thought it was a happy dance)

Prepare your tissues for this chapter 💕 It's sad, and my song choice is awful (sarcasm) but you'll recognize it if you've watched Cyberpunk Edgerunners. No happy endings in Night City 💔

Please enjoy!

Chapter Summary: A brush with death leads to denied realizations from Astarion when Ofelia suffers a fatal wound. After she recovers, the party takes a group photo with Ofelia's revived phone- courtesy of Gale- and they all dance the night away trying to forget about their next objective: taking down the goblin leaders. The unlikely pair's slow dance leads to a drunken confession, and further torment appears in the form of a dream visitor wearing the visage of a former friend from Ofelia's past...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,811

Have some dance pics below the link!!! ❤ (peep the accidental cursor lol)

✧˖Tag List: @khywren

Opening under the cut!

Astarion tries not to think too hard about the way her eyes had been so sweet one moment, and the next had snapped like someone had wrung a child’s neck in front of her. She’d been very successful hiding her tone, but the eyes never lie, and hers were like cold dead stars. Empty and black.

He watches her come out of the broken mill, face impassive, before her brows twitch and a sheepish frown pulls at her lips.

“Lae’zel… I’m really sorry. I should have listened… you know way more about any of these things than me.” 

“No matter. It is normal for warriors to exchange furried words in the heat of battle. Apologies are not necessary, but I will offer mine as well. What were you retrieving?” Ofelia lights up and holds out the little rectangle she’d pried off the goblin.

“My phone! I found it! It plays music!” She grins at Lae’zel earnestly and the gith looks at her a moment before turning away.

“I take it back.” Ofelia sticks her tongue out at Lae’zel’s retreating back before gathering the rest of them close. They disclose the identity of the gnome they’d pulled off the mill, the man walking away towards the treacherous temple ahead- nothing they could do to stop him.

“Okay, we’ve got what? A bugbear behind that building?” She asks, keen eyes darting to the left. Gale nods. “Three trolls in that building there, another four goblins around the back of the old apothecary. Then it’s the road down to the temple. And that sounds like way too many for us to tackle with sunset so close…” She presses a finger to her lips, deep in thought.

“We could break into groups, at least take out the rest here a little at a time?” Karlach asks, her eyes flashing towards the trolls.

“Okay… let’s balance the teams. Karlach, Gale? Trolls?��� The two specified nod, though the wizard with less enthusiasm. “The bugbear… Lae’zel and I.” Astarion tuts.

“What about me, darling? I hope you’re not considering pairing me with these two?” He jerks his chin at Wyll and Shadowheart and the latter rolls her eyes at him and graces him with a rude hand gesture. Ofelia flicks her eyes up to him, darkness flaring in them, before she turns her chin away.

“Okay. Come with Lae’zel and me.” He grins, and though they can do without the wet blanket, he’ll trust Ofelia’s judgment. He slides next to her, brows creasing when she stiffens, but she flashes a warm smile at him and his concern ebbs. She’s started behaving like a timid little thing around him and it’s sweet, almost as sweet as her usual red cheeks and tender warmth. What a lovely thing she’ll be to indulge in when she finally lets him devour her whole.

Ofelia lets him pounce on the passed-out bugbear and he preens at the opportunity to show off, lodging his dagger into the neck of the beast as it roars in anguish. He dances out of range of its angry swipes, leaping away gracefully thanks to the meal she’d provided him this morning. Ofelia strums a little tune to embolden Lae’zel and with a final cleave of the githyanki’s greatsword, the creature collapses into a puddle of blood and sour ale. Vile smelling, at that.

“There are lots of supplies lying around, would be good to take them back to camp after we’re done here.” Ofelia murmurs to Lae’zel and the other woman grunts in acknowledgement.

“Ahh yes, moldy cheese wheels and old brandy. Hardly a feast,” He drops said bottle, her eyes meeting his again and he can see that razor-thin edge beneath like a yawning abyss, void and unseeing. He blinks and it’s gone, replaced by dry humor. When she looks away towards an old barn, he frowns. She’s behaving strangely. At least something useful had come from his centuries of torment- the power of observation. And he’s very good at it.

Had it been what he’d said? Perhaps it was a little… cold. Not that it matters, really. But it does now, and he’ll need to remedy it once the opportunity arises. He rolls his eyes inwardly, breathing out a sigh. Why is it so hard to win her affections? She’d even admitted the first time he’d drank from her how much she likes vampires, that should have won him some points, surely? All he needs is for her to agree to a gods damned night with him and he can take the rest from there. It’d be easy to pretend to care at that point. Clinical, even.

[astrojulia]

Asteroid Bella (695): Understanding its Signs and Houses

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₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ About the Asteroid: Have I found something in my asteroid sources? No. In general sources, the asteroid Bella (695) talks about beauty.. and that's it, that's why I gave a deeper look into what beauty is to make this post.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Sources and inspirations:To make this post, I used what is seen as beauty in the aesthetic area, which goes beyond personal taste, which are factors such as: symmetry, proportion, youthfulness, ,familiarity and similarity, I also used the birth chart of women by the Golden Ratio. The image template in from minikyuns on deviantart.

Asteroid Bella by Sign

✧. ┊Aries: Bella's presence in Aries ignites a magnetic force, drawing attention with youthful exuberance and boldness. The face possesses an angular charm, arousing curiosity and daring others to keep up with the swift pace of life.

✧. ┊Taurus: Bella in Taurus unveils an embodiment of earthly beauty, where proportion and symmetry are paramount. Facial features are refined and harmonious, evoking a timeless allure that echoes the grace of nature itself.

✧. ┊Gemini: In Gemini, Bella's influence manifests as an ever-changing visage, versatile and captivating. The face carries an animated charm, often enhanced by lively expressions, reflecting a familiarity that spans diverse connections.

✧. ┊Cancer: Bella's energy in Cancer enhances the allure of familiarity, drawing on nostalgic appeal. The face emanates a warm and comforting vibe, inviting others to find solace in its welcoming features.

✧. ┊Leo: Bella takes center stage in Leo, radiating an undeniable facial magnetism. Symmetry reigns supreme, and the face exudes a captivating confidence, inviting admiration from all who gaze upon it.

✧. ┊Virgo: In Virgo, Bella lends an understated elegance to facial attractiveness. Subtle proportions and immaculate grooming enhance the visage, creating an allure that stems from a meticulous attention to detail. This placement carries the apex of proportion.

✧. ┊Libra: Bella's placement in Libra emphasizes the aesthetic balance and symmetry in facial features. Grace and charm exude effortlessly, drawing others in with an air of harmony and refined beauty. This placement carries the apex of symmetry.

✧. ┊Scorpio: Bella's influence in Scorpio manifests in an enigmatic and intense allure. Proportionality takes on an alluring edge, and the face carries an aura of mystery that beckons others to explore its depths.This placement carries something that we all like but is not on the standard list, the mystery of trying to understand that person's intentions, people thinks you're mysteryous and that's why they want to know more.

✧. ┊Sagittarius: In Sagittarius, Bella radiates a youthful and adventurous appeal. The face reflects the spirit of exploration, with features that embody the essence of wanderlust and open-minded curiosity.

✧. ┊Capricorn: Bella's presence in Capricorn bestows a dignified and refined attractiveness. Symmetry and proportion are elevated, resulting in a visage that commands respect and admiration, mirroring the aura of a wise elder. This placement has the quality of not being so apparent when the native is younger, but retaining youthfulness over the years.

✧. ┊Aquarius: Bella in Aquarius imparts an otherworldly allure, marked by unique and unconventional features. The face carries an eccentric charm, captivating others with its distinctiveness and originality.

✧. ┊Pisces: Bella's energy in Pisces lends an ethereal and dreamy beauty to the face. Proportions may be fluid and elusive, evoking a sense of enchantment that draws others into a world of imagination and sensitivity.

Asteroid Bella by House

✧. ┊1st House: With Bella in the 1st house, your physical appearance becomes a canvas of attraction. Proportion and symmetry manifest strongly, creating an aura of personal magnetism. Your face exudes youthful energy and a confident allure, drawing others to your charismatic presence.

✧. ┊2nd House: Bella's influence in the 2nd house enhances the allure of your possessions and values. Your facial features reflect the harmony of proportion, making your expressions an asset in both social and material realms.

✧. ┊3rd House: In the 3rd house, Bella enhances your communication style with facial expressions that speak volumes. Youthful charm and familiarity in your interactions draw people to engage with your ideas and stories

✧. ┊4th House: Bella's grace in the 4th house infuses your home and family life with a comforting beauty. Your facial features may hold a resemblance to family members, evoking a sense of shared familiarity and connection.

✧. ┊5th House: Bella's presence in the 5th house adds a touch of artistic allure to your self-expression. Your face becomes a canvas for creativity, exuding an irresistible charm that sparks romance and infuses your creative endeavors with aesthetic appeal.

✧. ┊6th House: With Bella in the 6th house, your health and daily routines become more harmonious and attractive. Your facial proportions may reflect a commitment to self-care, inviting others to take note of your disciplined approach.

✧. ┊7th House: Bella's energy in the 7th house enhances the attractiveness of your partnerships. Facial symmetry and proportion play a significant role, drawing others to your side with a sense of familiarity and compatibility.

✧. ┊8th House: In the 8th house, Bella's allure takes on a mysterious and transformative quality. Your facial features hold an enigmatic charm, inviting others to explore the depths of your persona and engage in meaningful connections.

✧. ┊9th House: Bella's influence in the 9th house bestows a worldly and adventurous attractiveness. Your face carries the glow of youthful curiosity, enticing others to join you on journeys of both the mind and spirit.

✧. ┊10th House: Bella's presence in the 10th house enhances your public image and career pursuits. Your facial features reflect an air of professionalism and authority, attracting attention and admiration from those in your professional sphere.

✧. ┊11th House: With Bella in the 11th house, your social interactions are infused with a sense of similarity and camaraderie. Your facial expressions resonate with shared experiences, fostering connections within social circles.

✧. ┊12th House: Bella's energy in the 12th house lends an ethereal and mystical allure. Your facial features may possess a dreamy quality, drawing others into your spiritual insights and inner world.

Asteroid Bella Aspects

✧. ┊Conjunction: The energies of Bella and the associated planet intertwine seamlessly, creating a captivating synergy that can significantly impact the area of life represented by that planet. This conjunction encourages you to embody Bella's charms and express them in a potent and direct way, inviting others to be drawn to your unique allure.

✧. ┊Sextile and Trine: This facilitate a gentle flow of energy, allowing Bella's allure to blend effortlessly with the qualities of the associated planet. This alignment suggests that your innate attractiveness and charm are readily accessible and integrated into the realm of the aligned planet. Relationships, creativity, and personal expression benefit from this harmonious connection, as Bella's grace enhances the natural traits of the associated planet, creating an inviting and appealing aura.

✧. ┊Square and Opposition: This configuration challenges you to navigate and integrate Bella's allure with the energies of the associated planet, which may require conscious effort and self-awareness. The square aspect prompts you to find a balance between your natural charm and the qualities represented by the planet, often leading to growth through overcoming obstacles.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[alyrasturnz]

Can you pleaseee do The Bolter with Matt!

Maybe reader and Matt had a fast love and then she left him heartbroken because she was afraid.

Can be happy ending or not, you decide!

LOVEEE your writing

 ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎THE BOLTER

❐ summary » when matt unveils to y/n the profound truth that fear holds no dominion in his presence, he gently dismantles the walls of trepidation, revealing a sanctuary where vulnerability is met with unwavering strength and compassion.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » toxic relationship, slut shaming, arguments

❐ a/n && w/c » when the writers block is so bad you discontinue two fics 😭 this was a cm away from getting discontinued • 1.75k

the air in the room is thick with unspoken words, a tangible tension that seems to press down on your chest. liam stands by the window, his silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through the curtains, his back rigid, fists tightly clenched. you draw in a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and attempt to steady your wavering voice.

"why won't you just talk to me, liam? what's going on?" you inquire, your voice tinged with a growing frustration that simmers just beneath the surface.

he whirls around, his eyes glacial and unyielding. "you really want to know? fine. let's talk about how you always run away when things get tough."

a heavy weight descends upon your chest, pulling your heart into a chasm of despair. "what are you talking about?"

"don't play dumb, y/n. every time we hit a rough patch, you bolt. you can't handle anything that isn't perfect." he forces the words out through clenched teeth, each syllable laden with barely restrained fury.

a tumultuous blend of guilt and anger churns within you, each emotion vying for dominance in the labyrinth of your heart. "that's not true. i just need space sometimes."

liam's visage transforms into a mask of unyielding resolve, his features set in an unforgiving rigidity. "space? is that what you call disappearing for days without a word? leaving me wondering if you're ever coming back?"

you advance with deliberate steps, your voice crescendoing with each word. "i need time to think! you never give me that. you suffocate me."

he retreats a step, his voice laced with a biting sarcasm that cuts through the air like a sharpened blade. "oh, so now it's my fault? you're the one who can't stick around and work things out."

your eyes narrow to slits, the glistening threat of tears teetering on the brink of falling. "i try, liam. but you make it so hard. you push and push until i can't take it anymore."

liam's face contorts with a fury that seems to burn from within. "you know what your problem is, y/n? you're a bolter. the minute something goes wrong, you run. you're nothing but a coward."

the words slice through you like a dagger, and you feel your heart fracture into a thousand irreparable pieces. "how dare you say that? i care about us, but i can't keep fighting if you don't believe in me."

he fixes you with a piercing glare, his jaw clenched so tightly that it seems to be carved from stone. "believe in you? how can i, when you keep running away?"

with that, he storms out of the room, the door slamming shut with a thunderous crash that seems to shake the very walls. his final words, dripping with venom, reverberate in your mind, leaving a lingering, painful sting that burrows deep into your soul and refuses to fade, casting a shadow over your thoughts and emotions.

"whore."

the silence that follows is almost tangible, an oppressive force that presses down upon you, amplifying the weight of his words that hang heavy in the air like a storm cloud. you sink to the floor, your legs giving way beneath the burden of your emotions, tears streaming down your face in a torrent as you grapple with the overwhelming sense of loss and confusion, wondering how everything unraveled so disastrously.

»--•--«

you squeeze your eyes shut at the memory, your back pressed firmly against the headboard, as if seeking solace from its solid presence. the recollection floods your mind, each detail sharp and vivid, causing a shiver to run down your spine as you try to ward off the haunting images.

you and matt had engaged in a similarly heated argument just the other day, the crux of it revolving around your tendency to shut him out. the words exchanged were sharp and biting, each one a dagger that deepened the chasm between you, leaving an echo of unresolved tension in its wake.

but you had immediately bolted, your feet carrying you away in a desperate flight before he could utter another word, leaving his unfinished sentences hanging in the air like ghosts, haunting the space where you once stood.

and you won't deny it, whenever you catch even the slightest hint of vulnerability, the smallest leak in your emotional armor, you feel an overwhelming urge to bolt. it's as if an invisible force propels you to flee, to escape before the floodgates open and drown you in a deluge of emotions you fear you cannot control.

the mere thought of facing such raw, unfiltered feelings sends a shiver down your spine, compelling you to seek refuge in the safety of solitude, where the walls you’ve built around your heart remain unbreached.

you have always been a runner. people would often hurl insults, calling you a whore for it, but their words never penetrated the fortress you built around your heart. it didn't matter to you because, in the grand tapestry of your existence, you needed to prioritize your own happiness, to shield yourself from the ever-present fear of getting hurt. the prospect of emotional pain loomed like a dark cloud, and so you ran, seeking the clear skies of self-preservation.

all your fucking lives flashed before your eyes with every word matt uttered that day. each syllable seemed to unravel a tapestry of memories, yet it wasn't as harrowing as the venomous words that your previous boyfriends had once wielded like weapons. their cruelty had carved deep scars, but matt's words, though piercing, were but a shadow of the pain you had endured before.

you were terrified. the mere thought of it sent chills down your spine. you didn't want to relive the harrowing sensation of the first time you fell through the ice, when the cold gripped you like a vice and the world above seemed to vanish into a blur of panic and desperation.

the memory of that piercing cold and the suffocating fear was enough to make you shudder, a reminder of the vulnerability you never wished to feel again.

your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the resonant chime of the doorbell, its sound slicing through the silence and scattering your contemplations like leaves in the wind.

you rose from your seat, each step echoing softly as you made your way out of your room and down the hallway. with a deep breath, you reached the front door, the anticipation building as you turned the handle. as the door swung open, there stood matt, his presence filling the threshold with an air of familiarity and unspoken emotions.

"matt?" you whisper, your voice barely audible, as though the mere utterance of his name might shatter the delicate tension hanging in the air.

matt stood a few feet away, his expression a turbulent blend of concern and frustration, his eyes searching yours for answers unspoken.

"why do you always shut me out?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and desperation, as he attempted to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

you sighed, the weight of your past relationships pressing down on you like an invisible burden. "i just... i can't help it," you murmured, your voice tinged with a trace of sorrow. "you're the best thing i've ever had. every time things get tough, i feel this overwhelming urge to run. it's like i'm constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, bracing myself for the inevitable disappointment."

matt took a step closer, his presence a comforting anchor amidst your swirling doubts. "i'm not like them, you know," he said, his voice gentle yet resolute. "i'm not going to abandon you just because we hit a rough patch. i'm here to weather the storms with you."

you looked up, your eyes a storm of doubt and uncertainty, searching his for a glimmer of reassurance. "but what if things get really bad? what if i mess everything up?"

he smiled softly, his touch gentle yet grounding as he took your hands in his, offering a silent promise of unwavering support. "then we work through it together. no matter how bad things get, i'm not going anywhere. you're stuck with me, remember?"

you bit your lip, the memories of past heartbreaks flashing through your mind like ghostly apparitions, each one a reminder of the pain you've endured. "it's just... every time i start to feel safe, something happens. it's like i'm always on edge, waiting for things to fall apart."

matt's grip on your hands tightened, his eyes steadfastly locked onto yours, a silent vow of his unwavering commitment. "i get it. you've been hurt before, and it's left scars. but i'm not them. i'm here, and i'm not going to let a few bumps in the road scare me away."

a solitary tear traced a path down your cheek, a fleeting testament to your vulnerability, before you hastily brushed it away. "i don't want to push you away, but sometimes it feels like the only way to protect myself."

he gently cupped your face, his thumb tenderly sweeping away the lingering tear, as if erasing the sorrow etched upon your skin. "you don't have to protect yourself from me. i'm not here to hurt you. i'm here to love you, flaws and all. even if we argue, even if things get tough, i'm not leaving."

you took a deep breath, the remnants of fear still clinging to your heart, yet gradually being eclipsed by the burgeoning light of hope. "promise?"

matt nodded, the sincerity in his eyes speaking volumes, conveying a depth of understanding beyond mere words. "promise. we're in this together, for better or worse."

you felt a warmth radiate through your chest, the tendrils of fear gradually dissolving. perhaps, just perhaps, you could entrust him with the fragile treasure of your heart. "okay," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "i'll try."

matt smiled, his lips bestowing a tender kiss upon your forehead, a silent promise woven into the delicate touch. "that's all i ask. we'll figure it out together."

as you rested your head against his shoulder, a glimmer of hope began to flicker within you. the warmth of his presence seemed to chase away the shadows of doubt, and in that quiet moment, you dared to believe that perhaps this time, the tides of fate would shift.

maybe, just maybe, you had discovered someone truly worth holding onto, someone who could mend the fractures of your heart and walk beside you on the journey ahead.

[love-and-deepspace-fanfic]

IN THE NAME OF THE FORGOTTEN

Finally! I have finished this little story for our little fishie's newest card, "Floral Promise," and have decided to take part in the Contest in honor of his first kiss as well.

So I would very much appreciate it if you could give some support to help celebrate this precious kiss together!

Now is the time for some #delulus!

What's going on in Rafayel's mind during his "first" kiss?

IN THE NAME OF THE FORGOTTEN

"Every name holds an invisible thread, binding souls together. Just as I, the moment you called my name, was forever held within your grasp.”

**************************************

I had envisioned today to be a mere excursion into nature's embrace, yet from the moment of our departure to our return, I was enveloped in a symphony of joy alongside you, and even delved into the secrets I long concealed.

Hmmm, where to begin? Perhaps from our journey itself.

The instant my gaze met yours as you sparkled at a couple gifting each other flowers along the way, an irresistible urge to replicate their gesture seized me. But flowers are best admired upon arrival, so my resourceful mind concocted a plan – sketching a flower for you. Much did I long for you to recognize the hidden significance it would hold, for the flower I depicted was the very one I yearned for you to behold today (Fortunate indeed that I carry my pen wherever I roam!).

Yet, what did you say in response? You questioned my sincerity? Could you fathom the depths of my contemplation, seeking the perfect means to convey my heartfelt intentions? For to me, gifting mere flowers felt far too commonplace.

Before I could unveil my grand surprise, you surprised me even further. In a moment of tenderness, you clasped my hand, drawing it closer. Your warm fingers holding the pen you took from me traced the contours of mine, gently caressing my skin, sending shivers of delight down my spine. You lowered your head, your silken tresses cascading over your exquisite visage, leaving a few strands to dance playfully in the breeze. Little did you know, I yearned to embrace you then, but sensing your focused concentration, I restrained my impulse. To interrupt would not only earn me a reprimand, but also deprive me of witnessing the masterpiece you were crafting for me. Indeed, such a blunder would have resulted in a loss on both fronts!

When you finally completed your 'opus' and beamed at me, I eagerly awaited the opportunity to praise your creation. But allow me to inquire...

...what exactly did you sketch?

I am no adept at deception, and upon meeting your expectant gaze, I found myself at a loss for words. 

Could the object you had drawn be... a pot? Round with a handle, it bore some resemblance, I suppose. Yet, when I tentatively sought confirmation, you remained evasive, attributing it to your artistic shortcomings.

Who dares to label your artistry as flawed? Not even I!

But your mischievous habit of withholding information has caused me much distress. For the entire drive, I could think of nothing but the mysterious pot you had bestowed upon me.

Arghhhh! You truly know how to torment me, for even now, despite your explanation, its identity remains elusive!

The phrase 'is it a pot?' echoed incessantly within my mind until we reached our destination. I decided to set aside the enigma for the moment and focus on guiding you through the garden's splendor.

The scenery remained as picturesque as I recalled, perhaps even more vibrant, and with your presence, the surroundings exuded an intoxicating charm.

Dreamy lavender, radiant sunshine yellow, pristine white, lush green – all the colors converging within the garden could not rival the crimson glow adorning your radiant cheeks.

So, this is the essence of 'falling for someone in the midst of a scene.'

Witnessing your blissful smile rendered my every effort worthwhile...

As we savored the fragrance of countless blossoms swaying gently in the breeze, my attention was captured by the iridescent aura emanating from the delicate wings of a flitting butterfly. Upon observing the spectrum of colors shimmering amidst its transparent wings as it alighted upon the very flower I desired you to admire, I couldn't contain my fascination and leaned in for a closer look. The moment the magical hues blended seamlessly, I couldn't help but exclaim at the wonders of nature's artistry.

Sight reveals, but it is the heart that truly perceives. And thanks to you, this entire panorama transcended the mundane hues of the past.

Lost in my reverie, I was unaware of my prolonged distraction until I captured your inquisitive gaze.

As our eyes met, did you realize that yours are the convergence point of 300 million colors?

Behold, you claim to envy my ability to perceive a multitude of shades, yet fail to recognize your own power to illuminate those very hues. At least, in my eyes.

If your eyes cannot discern the 300 million colors, allow me to discern them on your behalf and assist you in expressing them. All you need do is gaze upon me.

Engrossed in admiring the flowers and you, I recalled a task I had pending. And while contemplating its execution, a revelation struck me – why not entrust it to you?

An ingenious idea indeed! For you have already christened my paintings, so naming a flower could hardly be a more daunting feat, could it?

Yet, you initially resisted, claiming the responsibility was too grand. Do you comprehend the sheer effort it takes to name every single existence? In that spectrum of 300 million colors, only the one that stirs my soul is bestowed with a name, much like you, a fiery crimson that embodies the nature of the heart within my chest.

Ah, this notion arrived at an opportune moment, for it would not only solidify my sincerity but also hold profound significance.

For a name is an intrinsic part of every being. Each name serves as a unique identifier for an individual. Even identical entities are distinguished by their names. Just as the flower I rescued is, without a name, merely a temporary replica of an extinct bloom. How utterly tragic to be a distinct entity condemned to the fate of a mere substitute.

Therefore, if it be within your power, I implore you to bestow upon it a name, liberating it from isolation, loneliness, and the ostracization it endures for being unable to embrace its true identity.

Much like myself and the bond I forged with you.

For years, I have not heard you utter my name, for it is the essence of who I am, and thus, the very bond we share seemed veiled in dust. Yet, during our game of color guessing, and as I reminded you of the importance of names, you began to truly acknowledge mine.

You gradually began to speak my name, for it represents me and only me. And in these past few days, you have even issued commands to me unconsciously.

Silly girl! You are becoming accustomed to giving me orders, aren't you? But how can I blame you, when I yearn for you to speak my name?

And in that very instant, the moment you questioned whether a name could be a prison, binding the one it identifies, I couldn't help but urge you to try. Speak my name, for you will witness the mark of our connection, a testament to the vow I eternally make to you.

And as you whispered my name, a revelation dawned upon me – the answer I seek has always resided within you, waiting to be discovered.

For countless times have I been plagued by remorse, burdened by a myriad of questions swirling within me about you, none yielding a satisfactory answer because it did not originate from you, the one from whom I longed to hear it.

Therefore, I have resolved that until my very last moment, I will seek you out to find all the answers I need, the most significant question being...does your heart hold a place for me?

And now, as the sigil etched upon my chest merges with the rhythm of your beating heart, I am undeniably certain of your answer. I have always belonged to you, and so, I beseech you, belong only to me.

Actions speak louder than words. A kiss conveys a multitude of emotions.

And this single mark, a symbol of my unwavering desire – that I, willingly, surrender to your hold.

*************************

I had presumed our happiness would culminate in that passionate kiss, but you truly are a master of surprises.

The very moment you inquired whether you might ever forget me, my heart skipped a beat.

Have you...recalled something?

But upon witnessing your wide-eyed innocence, I realized you had merely blurted out the question inadvertently.

How many times have you left me bewildered? Yet, this time...it feels different...

Much like the sigil that only appears when it detects sincerity in your words.

I shall not divulge the mechanics of the sigil's operation!

But...wait a minute...you...what do you mean by 'meow'?

Haizzz...

Truly...

You are my darling, whimsical enigma. Though oblivious to the specifics, you possess the key. I foresee a future filled with your playful torments.

But what recourse do I have? For whatever you command, I vow to fulfill it with every fiber of my being, my beloved bride.

Therefore, it is your turn to answer my lingering query...

What, precisely, is that strange fishie you claim is not a pot?

[theredofoctober]

DARKNESS— an Alicent Hightower/Rhaenyra fic

Synopsis: Alicent and Rhaenyra's meeting at the Sept ends in a sensual tryst wreathed with forbidden lust and longing...

Written from Alicent's POV

Pairing: F/F, Alicent and Rhaenyra

TW: internalised homophobia, technically stepcest/step incest

Read after the cut

-

Wretched under the eyes of the Gods I made to flee the Sept, where I had gone to pray and give up to that place of stone and tallow all my sins, of which there were now many. But she who had met me there, disguised in modest cloth, called out to me with urgency.

"Alicent."

I should have run from her, called a guard to shackle her or cut her throat across the flagstones. But I could not, could never even at my cruellest turns have hated or wished ill upon her.

Scoffing, I looked over my shoulder, damning myself for the chattering bird of my heart, which has sung for her long and always.

"There is nothing more to say," I spat. "We cannot agree on this matter."

"No," said Rhaenyra. "But there are other things I would speak of with you, as we did when we were girls. Is there not some private chamber where you might sit with me?"

There was, but I knew that I should not trust her by me alone, that I might as well hold the blade she had in her sleeve to my own throat, such was the risk. But I saw in the winter moon of her soft face upturned, beseeching, that she meant me no injury, that she thought only of the days we'd lounged together on warm grass in happy youth.

I could not deny my longing to return to those hours of languid pleasures in which I'd yearned for her as one woman should not another. This crisis I had muttered over candlelight, ashamed of it, and yet I found myself nodding to my enemy and awaiting her as she gathered her skirts to rise.

Even in a Septa's formless garb Rhaenyra was beautiful, her long eyes like troubled jewels, her strong nose a pleasant slope above her slim rose of a mouth. There were those that whispered she'd long envied me my looks, and yet as she walked by my side I could not think how I would improve her visage.

For all her inner faults she did not wear them outwardly in any clear regard.

In silence I took her to a small room used for private worship whose door I locked behind us. The chamber was comprised of a simple cushioned bench, a high, narrow window, and a sparse row of candles, their modest light enough that I withheld a breath as my old friend unveiled her hair. It fell like the tail of a tumbled down star upon her clothes, so white amidst the gold of fire.

For all my bitterness against her and her clan, for all that I grieved for those dead and that would die I craved to run my hands through that hair as I had done while braiding it as a child. I burned there like some hapless wick, and sat as stone, my fists hard in my lap.

"Alicent," said Rhaenyra, again, and sitting by me on the bench she took my hand, a furrow cleaving her pale brow as I flinched, skittish, from her.

"You are bold to touch me," I said, "after what you have done. And what has been done to you."

"Perhaps," she said. "But have I not always been?"

I thought of her kissing me, once, which she'd done as a girl, a secret thing we had been caught at, and scolded from doing again. As Rhaenyra spoke I watched her mouth as I'd done then and wondered if it was soft still, how it would taste unsweetened by the cake she'd favoured.

My innards coiled with shame at the fancy, and I despaired that I was given so helplessly to aberration, whether through my lying with Cole or this other hunger.

"What is it you wish to discuss with me?" I asked.

My voice was cold, I'll warrant cruel, and yet I betrayed something of my thought, it seemed, for again Rhaenyra put out her hand to mine.

A fool, I let her take it. Like some plush bolt of fabric her skin was against me. Her fingers coiled, gentle, through mine.

I found my breathing laboured.

"My love for you remains," she said. "Remember this, when darkness falls. Through everything, I have loved you."

"And I you," I said. "It has been difficult. I do not deny it."

Rhaenyra lifted up my hand and kissed it, her lips like some pretty ring between the knuckles. She kept them there with soundless joy, her eyes half-closed in reverence. I shivered as she held me thus, and blinked my eyes of tears.

"My heart has strained for some solution to all that is between us," she said. "I came here in pursuit of it and have found none, and still this love remains."

"It is a doomed one," I said. "This we both know."

We looked upon each other without hope of altering what we beheld of fate, and as though impelled by one sole mind we moved into embrace, my arms about her shoulders, hers a link of iron at my waist. How warm and firm she was, smelling of leather, of travel sweat, and the sea.

I was overcome then with a joy contorted by my mourning of the friendship that was, by my resentment that in this world which was a trap for any woman she had thrived, defied it, had sinned often and without a care. That she had come to this place of worship and soundly dashed from me the prophecy, from which I'd clawed a desperate hope that all the motions I and those I loved had made against her claim were righteous—

She, this gleaming serpent of a woman, was the glass in which I saw myself descended from all grace. Yet as I held Rhaenyra I was overcome by love, by want of her; as I drew back I saw she felt the same, her eyes—always her most honest feature—flitting a dance of fire before me.

"We will not be together like this again," she said.

Her voice was soft, alluring. One hand came up to stroke my cheek, and only through fear of judgement did I resist her caress.

"No," I said. "Rhaenyra, I forget myself—"

"So forget with me," she said, "and think instead of how we were, once. What I dreamt in some other life could be."

She inclined her face to mine, our lips parted only by a lattice of breath.

"We must awaken from that dream," I whispered. "We cannot flee on dragon back together."

"That is not what I ask," she said. "Only this."

Slowly Rhaenyra brought her mouth to mine, and I opened to her willing, pulling her slim form to my breast with searing want of her proximity. So fierce, that kiss, a flagon that slaked me; I felt through it her care for me, the agony that was the gully of time and injury that would drive us both mad.

The crimson length of her tongue found mine, and I parted my jaw to take it, giving myself to violent abandon as I did to all beckoning sin.

She kissed me, kissed me, bent me back against the pillowed bench until I lay upon it, her figure in its dress of false innocence between my thighs. I tugged at my underskirts and the fabric beneath with haste, my hand at Rhaenyra's wrist, pulling her to the hot and urgent longing there.

She paused a moment, her white cheeks flushed with passion.

"You are certain?" she asked.

"Do not speak," I said. "Touch me. Touch me."

I kissed her, my hand a talon in her hair, exalting in the texture of it, the oily scent of it upon me. Rhaenyra moaned into my eagerness, led by my words to touch the cleft between my legs, the pistil of the lily waking to her fingertips. Digits by two she curved within me, guided by the upward wave of my hips in their wanton rutting.

I murmured against her lips, pulled at the Septa's dress until, gathered about her chest, I worked my palms beneath it. Rhaenyra's breasts fell into them, beautiful still, though like my own they had been changed by age and childbirth I felt and saw only loveliness, and wished I could have lain with her all the day to know them more. I turned my face into their weight, afraid my cries would give away our folly.

Rhaenyra slipped down from me then and knelt upon the floor, bowed in the mode of prayer between my trembling legs. Her eyes were the glittering of a wave as she caught my pleasure in the glass of her mouth, her tongue at play where her forefinger had been.

I gripped the bench and hissed through my teeth.

"Rhaenyra..."

I thought before I had known pleasure, not from Viserys, but from Cole— yet now as my enemy licked cunning fire through me those sensual heights seemed a phantom of the peak to which I leapt with Rhaenyra. Her fingers made a butter of my flesh, all salt, all molten sun— I saw her face turn, crowned with it, as she kissed my seam farewell.

"Come here," I said, and I tugged her up onto the bench in my place, earnest that I should return what she had given.

Rhaenyra laughed at my ferocity, and yet obeyed, watching from that greater height as I scrambled on all fours in a blinkering frenzy of desire to see this out.

There was a greed in me to taste her, a kind of lunatic helplessness to which I could put up not an ounce of resistance. I ran my face across her mound, the white arch of hair and dawn pink opening beneath; I sucked and lapped to cure the thirst that had me twisting, abject, a decade in my bed.

I felt her hands upon my nape, heard distantly her stifled cries as I—at last—had the flavour of her, the female musk I'd known before only from my own fingertips, or on the breath of my fallen knight. I ate of her clumsily, without expertise, my hand prying her lower mouth until its slickness let me in.

By the rhythm of her breathing and her motions against me I found how she was pleased, what touch, what tempo was her body's music.

Her mouth dropped open, her eyelids half-fell; her hands upon my scalp were sweat-damp, and I dismissed in my necessity to satisfy her the wickedness of what we did. Always such storm winds of lust took me away from myself, and did so then. I knew nothing of anger or despair, only the triumph of having Rhaenyra moan and rain her delight between my open lips.

I climbed up and sat against her, kissing her still, our pleasure one in the fluid melded on our tongues and lips. Then we sat still, her head on my shoulder as though we were but youths once more, both of us crying, sombre now in the loss that was to come.

There was nothing to be done to keep her by me; I had no power in this war between men, although I'd played my part in it.

When again I was to rise and leave the Sept we would be on either side of a crevasse that history would tremble to recall, this, like some glint of foresight, I was certain of.

And so I stayed beside her some minutes after, watched with longing as she rearranged her dress and put away her lovely hair again. But then I, too, rose from the bench and blew the candles out.

"Darkness," I said, at Rhaenyra's questioning glance. "It is a fitting end."

[killerbananas]

Longing

Miche has his way with you in the firelight of soft snuggling turned filth.

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 1,421 wc | afab!reader x Miche x (light) Erwin

Warnings: smut; frottage, clit banging, nipple play, Dom sub tones, xxx 📼 in the background, hair pulling, facial, come play, creampie, rough sex, group sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism tones, teasing, size

AN: Repost from my old account.

The movie flashes blend bright whites and saturated contrasts across your skin with the warm tones of the fire casting you in glow. Miche’s eyes have no interest in the television, just the star curled in his lap, clad in only a long knit sweater and your shared blanket. The soft fabric of the piece you’re wearing is both comfortingly insulated and in excess, pooling around the natural curves of your body pleasantly, engulfing your breasts, but pressed to clearly outline your budding nipples perfectly.

Distractingly, from Miche’s perspective. He has to exercise more self-control than he’d admit to keep his hands to himself. You’re snuggled into the crook where his arm meets his chest along the couch, fairly focused on the screen. It’s not until a suspiciously lewd moan that he questions the source of hits his preoccupied mind that he takes more stock in his surroundings; the movie, which also may explain your nipples. The fire was almost too hot from where Miche was lounging. Then again, stars ran hot, didn’t they?

“Did we choose an adult film for movie night without realizing it?”

You giggle in the way he finds adorable and unique to your personality. It’s got him grinning and shamelessly grinding his burgeoning hardness into your heated core. Not a drop of shame taints his actions, which only increases the collecting arousal flooding your pussy instead. He nuzzles your neck, tickling you with his facial hair and fine threadspun musculature of his visage twining with his smirk and exhale.

Your fingers comb the densely thatched, dirty blonde hair whirling across his chest and you bite your lip as you conjure your sincerest bedroom eyes to pair with a silly eyebrow wiggle and pout. Your chest vibrates with his baritone musings that rumble gently from his own. You could listen to his voice and smile for an obscene amount of time. He knows and uses it to his advantage, which you couldn’t hate if you tried. It’s too consuming.

He’s snuck himself out of his pants with a flick of his wrist. He’s so hard, the opening of his shorts glide off his cock like dripping silks along heated velvet-firm glory. Your mouth waters at the brush of his skin against yours, rasping crisp cotton whispering in the crackling atmosphere of the fire. Once positioned right, all he has to do is slip against your labia, rutting lapping thrusts against your smoothness, stimulating his swollen cock as it properly shows, peaking from the pillowy skin of your thighs, flushed head dewy with pearling precome.

It sends pangs of longing, showing his love and enamoration with your body physically, erotically intimate with your apex. It’s also lovely that he’s slowly managed to spread your wetness to combine with his and cross both your eyes stupid when that fat head rubs against your puffy clit, playing your pussy like a lewd violin with his rod, a sonnet of whimpers harmoniously lilting from your mewling pout. Eyebrows scrunching and tiny points on your expression knitting pairs intoxicatingly well with the blossoming blush canvasing your delicate cheekbones.

Miche’s hands squeeze your breasts roughly with the sounds, then route beneath your sensitive underarms before lifting you from his lap. He gets you on your back on the coffee table, sweater spread over your body as if a gift to open how he pleases. He is kind tonight.

Your upsidedown vision engages with the scene on the television as the air hits your unveiling skin. The fire has been warm, but your body is beginning to spiral into overwhelming arousal that tenses muscles and encourages you to buck emphatically into Miche’s mouth when he gets on his knees to worship your pussy at the same time as the scene unfolds to your brain on the screen. A truly embarrassing and ungodly, carnal sound leaves your throat unbidden, but Miche knows how to soak up every sense with you. Your reaction tugs groans from his connection point to you. He’s absolutely glued to your pussy, licking sucking inhaling caressing laving loving you with his imploring tongue, insistent mouth, invasive respiration, invoking desperation, as if to haze his being on your supple cunt.

He drinks, inspirates his fill and then some like a greedy boy.

The actress in the film receives a smack from a man dominating her, popping sound making your eyes flare wide and then roll with Miche sinking two fingers into your softness, splaying to massage you open to his knuckle. He’s so tender and considerate of his size and strength, the care suffusing heady passion in your soul, as he takes his time just letting you open up around his curling appendages and grunting his choral contentment.

The smacking of pounding hips degrades Miche’s patience and control in equal heaving, dignity-robbing shoves that have his shorts non-existent in milliseconds and his cockhead resting on your clit again. He suckles the sweetness off his fingers as he breathes deeply of your scent, dragging his cock down slowly to part your folds like a Smith parting smelting molten cream with his own unbreakable length.

A sinful gasp marks the moment his pelvis hits your petals and jars a whole lungful of air from you. Miche watches your body ripple like passion incarnated into kinetic energy when he finally sinks in as deep as he can, which is far, considering he’s got your legs over his shoulder, letting his hips angle down into your rich pitch of lust.

“Fuck, take his load, you dirty cockslut.”

You couldn’t help it if you tried. So, you don’t. Your pussy clenches unbearably tightly around Miche’s filling member; it interrupts his rhythm. He looks up to see two men standing over a sweating woman, one curled over and fucking his seed into her cunt while the other busts his load across her face. He can’t help the flex he gets at the scene either. So, he doesn’t.

You both make eye-contact and blush, almost concerned.

“Miss him, huh? Maybe if we get you down on your knees, you can pray for him, angel. I know you both get so needy being apart like this.”

He encourages your arms to cling up around his neck, places kisses along your throat, letting you hold onto his body while he places you on the blanket that crashed onto the soft rug. You cannot bear the stillness and begin to writhe against his lean torso before he even gets situated, letting your walls cling to him, stroking him like he’s home inside you. If it feels so physically good to you, it simply must touch something as deep and meaningful in him as the searing pleasure hums in your nerve endings like buzzing aphrodisia. Indeed, he finds, it does.

“Legs.”

He’s still tender with his touch until he has you where he wants you. He’d caught the text blinking on his phone’s lock screen, thinking himself daringly sneaky to find just the position to drive all of you-

“Fuck!”

Oops, he might’ve pulled a little too much there, but your body is still giving him every indication that it only turns you on more. He’s got you facing the door, tits arched forward, kissed by the firelight, cock stuffed as far as physically possible on instinct to combine the pull of all of you downward onto him with the tug on your hair. It’s the second your body crashes like a crumbling tower of coursing sensory overload onto the rumpled blanket balled beneath your hips from Miche’s fingertips tapping rhythmic madness on your clit, that the Devil himself walks in. It’s orchestrated to the movement of Miche dragging your throat to bare it upward, meeting your eye as he fucks you through your orgasm stutteringly hard, mounted to get fucked into the floor. You end up stuck on his still thriving member, milking him fruitlessly, eyebrows laced with confused arousal that exacerbates the spasm of your climax harshly. It draws your lips into the perfect circle for Erwin to fuck his cock into once he can rip open his fly.

Miche does not stop thrusting as he greets the new guest.

“You’re here awful early, Commander.”

He always arrives two hours before he originally says because he’s needier than one might guess.

“It looks like I’m just in time from where I’m standing and she’s panting. How hard did he work you, poor thing?”

“Just fucking right so far to warm her up for us.”

“Hm, I’ll be the judge of that.”

Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alexpro-nwn @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @aviinnit @beffjurky @blondeboyfriend @casuallyck @cherrxs @dearbaji @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @fujoneshi @holographicceo @hinasakuino @interfectio-mortales @kenryug @koulakoukoula2003 @kxkyuu-main @lavenderdaisyhoney   @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @chaotic-nick @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @arsonszn @pockcock @poursomesunaonme @scouts-stuff @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @downbadpie @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @theinariakuma @tonaken @torapologist @touyyes @we-are-so-close @witchycamisado

[thewandererh]

🐏Counting Sleep

| { [ ( a post-coma cccclinic short story ) ] } |

for character references, visit here

please do not tag this as a ship

_…~^*^~…_ _…~^*^~…_ _…~^*^~…_

big, white, heavy eyes

beaming straight into my skull

my ribs start to burn

gasping awake as if empty, a heartbeat rages in his ribs. it’s dark. everything’s so dark.

hands fumble for the bedside lamp while eyes dash about the darkness. any shape perceived as a threat. light bursts from the lamp to reveal a pile of laundry and a coat on the door hook. the relief is overwhelming.

todd wheezes, leaning back before falling to the pillow. a hand at his forehead with the other at his chest. he’s calming down now. breathing proper again. eyes daring to close.

those big, white, and heavy eyes flick into existence behind his eyelids. shivering breaths and tremors overtake his entire figure. the nightmare lingered prominent in his mind, overbearing and overwhelming. any attempt to close his eyes or block it out was met with those masked eyes.

it wasn’t a part of soul now. but that thing—that thing still haunted him. it hurt so much. why did it still hurt so much??

panic and anxiety coursed through his pulse. he hugged himself tight in the sheets. but repressing the visage with pressure was no use. the thick blanket now encompassing him blocked out the lamp’s light. tears crawled into and out of his eyes as air became sparse under the blanket.

he couldn’t do this by himself.

todd unveiled himself to the world, gaze tearing across the dark corners of his room. simon’s desk was bare and tidy, and the night stood silent except for his panic. todd took a deep breath and thought. moments passed. enveloped in twisting anxiety while trying to calm it. although paying attention to it felt worse. he couldn’t help bringing his knees close to him as his entire body shivered. systems shellshocked. the fabric of his drapey pjs promised comfort: the blue with leopard spots felt mangled but fluffy. todd’s eyes lit up when resolve strummed his core. conclusion. a big inhale got him moving again: a decision to go made in the moment.

the floor was cold under thick socks. neat and sturdy. beamed with smooth wood. panic screamed doubt under every movement. painfully holding him back. yet he got up.

todd made it to the door alive. gripping the steel reflecting his lamp’s light with sweaty palms. turning it flung open to reveal a dark hallway. a lump of fear nearly blocked his throat. yet he pushed on. tunnel visioned and unsure of his every step. this could be his grave. the strumming resolve dimmed inside him, and the next step faltered.

down the hall. to the left. former study. dove’s room.

each further stride could only be taken with the thought of the pale purple walls. the blankets of fluff dove encased themself in. how they held his hand while todd told them all a story. wetness pierced his vision again but he steadied himself with a breath.

everything lasted forever in the darkness pressing in on his body. suffocating beyond end. he functionally stumbled to the door, croaking it open with swiftness. the creak made him flinch.

a gasp resounded in further darkness revealed by the door. a scared and tired sound. then silence. forced silence made when the hunted percieves a threat.

/d-don’t worry. it’s me, w-whole. todd. hi. i-…sorry. c-can i…?/

dove sighed thankfully, shifting in their bed before patting a spot in the darkness. had they already been awake? todd picked his way across the room, begging his eyes to adjust faster. shapes glared from every corner. yet he remained pulled toward the bed. something sharp met his knee and he gasped through his teeth. dove held out a hand and todd took it. he let it guide him to the bed. sighing with a quiver, he shook and massaged his aching knee. dove reached for it but todd flinched aback. they reflected the flinch, headwings subtly puffing. startled. confused. frightened?

/i-i….i…..i’m sorry. i th-think it was the…tablesomething./

todd sighed, frazzled. he let dove feel his knee.

/no blood. i-i just…i had a nightmare. i…/

the lump in his throat choked him up at last. rivers bled from his face like hungry snakes.

dove shifted, then held him.

moment after moment. precious seconds of comfort.

reassurance gathered as they rocked from side to side.

massaging and warming. releasing tension.

finding relief in the finality of peace.

hearing dove breathe comforted him. he settled and sighed. sleepy.

it was too dark to sign anything, and words couldn’t escape todd’s throat without bringing on tears. so no one spoke. it stayed silent, peaceful, calm, and serene.

dove pulled back from the backrub, gently smiling while wiping a tear away from todd’s face. dove then scooted and patted the bed beside them, offering todd to stay and perhaps (platonically) snuggle. a shiver snuck up todd’s spine in the cold darkness, and he succumbed to the idea of comfort.

todd lay weakly, and dove tucked him in. pulling a blanket from the basket and using their fingertips to tuck it under todd’s sides. effectivley burritoing him. dove rummaged around for a loose sleeping eyemask, and handed it to todd. he took it and sighed, looking at it with adjusted eyes. it was soft and sheep-like, with a closed-eyes decal and sheep ears on the front. brought him a smile as he put it on.

the world fuzzed out. not seeing felt so…peaceful. something stepped off of his chest and shoulders as comforting darkness slid over his eyes. no more veiny red. no more piercing masked eyes. it was so soft.

todd found dove’s hand when they’d settled in, wings and hair drooping across the pillows. heartbeats steady and tired. exhausted by the fuss panic and confusion brought. a throat burning with the aftermath of agony, another ineffective but speaking soundlessly. two hands within the other’s grasp. physically separate, but unified with comfort. dove shuffled into sleep. todd pensively pondered the cause for this twilight anxiety.

the nightmare withdrew from todd’s head. overfilled to the point of waking him up. that…thing. that entity of perfect existence still haunted him. that idealism. that torment. that want to never worry about his health again. it was reasonable, really. a manifestation of struggle and self-loathing. a hate bent to unstitch his sinew. tear him open. todd understood where it came from: a cavity in his body that held onto the past, and the sights that came with it. the stuckness and fear. the mistrust and toxicity.

that wasn’t who leo was anymore. leo had been burdened by the anxiety that todd manifested within him. gave to him. projected. todd had separated himself from his feelings so wholly that it grew beyond his control. becoming something and someone else entirely. yet when the universe of emotions in his head tested him, he perservered. he recovered. he was better now—they all were. he understood himself. challenges like that can be overcome. and if he could jump that strange, near-supernatural horror hurdle, then who knows what he couldn’t do.

todd finally fell asleep tucked in by dove and weakly grasping their hand. calmly counting breath like sheep.

[holyplasmaball]

Wicked mirth tugged at the corners of Melkor’s lips.

Now this was a jest to outshine any that had danced upon his tongue. One of a practical nature, and not so lightly cast aside as his words, to which Mairon had long since grown immune.

Unaware of the treachery afoot, Mairon stood at the wooden rail, his keen gaze scrutinizing the fray at the tilt yard below. Upon the sound of approach, he cast a glance over his shoulder, his mood as cold and unyielding as the plates of armor he donned.

Melkor could scarce keep his cackles at bay.

"What would you now?" Mairon asked, his tone sharper than the drawn blades in the yard below.

Wordless, Melkor grinned. From behind his back, he unveiled a splendid red rose – its petals rich as the crimson flow of blood – and extended it toward his frigid lieutenant.

For a heartbeat, the flower merely perplexed Mairon. “What am I to do with this? Has it taken ill?”

Then, the true intent behind Melkor’s gesture unfurled within his mind. Horror etched itself upon his flawless visage, and a deep blush followed, his cheeks awash with shame.

With swift resolve, he snatched the flower and crushed it within his steel gauntlet, glancing about in dismay to ensure no prying eyes had beheld his sudden embarrassment. Once satisfied that none had witnessed the humiliation, he whirled back to Melkor, eyes aflame.

"What madness has seized you?" he demanded, the tempest of his mood smothered to hissed whispers. "You cannot bestow upon me such folly! I am not the sort to receive flowers!"

At last, Melkor loosed his laughter. "Yet such a fine crimson could not escape mine hand’s desire," spoke he, and gestured at Mairon’s reddened cheeks, “And the hue does flatter your complexion most handsomely.”

[elleneedsleep]

My Mouth Before It Called You A Lying Traitor

To those who belittle members of the lower class, they have failed to consider the ace that is knowledge. Rumours could be dismissed, but not forgotten. With the nobles now divided into two — those standing loyally by the Earis of Serulla, and those who believed in Sarl Zaros Atha'lin — gossip made for propaganda. Unfortunately, it seemed the information uncovered would help very little with the matters of the Trials. If anything, it only stood to fuel the candidates' internal conflicts.

Alongside the attendants who'd moved in to the Palace in order to tend to the son of Nira Atha'lin, came words of his... recent tastes. It was all speculation, of course, but the Earis's handmaidens had whispered about how all of his conquests had held a striking resemblance to them. Dismissal was the immediate response, followed swiftly by the slight hope that even an ember of their old friendship remained.

Zaros had been pinning an Atha'lin rose to his lapel, when his mother entered the room. She did not straighten his collar, nor kiss his cheek or envelope him in a hug — maternal warmth was not something he knew. But if anything, her cold nature had prepared him for the noble court.

"You look... decent. The rose is a nice touch." Nira appraised, gaze analytic as though she was a gardener pruning a hedge.

He did not reply, simply weaving blonde strands together into an intricate plait. Taking this as a sign to continue, his mother lowered her voice to a hiss, a plot readied on her tongue.

"Apparently the Earis was not as virtuous as they would have led people to believe — this will be more shocking to the court than your own exploits, fortunately."

Again, Zaros did not respond. He was not as naive as Nira Atha'lin assumed, nor did he have interest in winning through blackmail. Still, another reminder that he had forfeited his place at the Earis's side left him positively miserable.

"Zaros, are you even listening? Underhanded methods may not be your preference, but for the sake of reform—"

"—what has coveted your attention, mother?"

Blinking, Nira could not speak for a moment. She had half the mind to raise her hand to him for such insolence, but alas she could not afford to direct him back into the arms of that spoilt palace brat. Clearing her throat, she continued with her tale, though the expression on her face distinctly proved her unspoken warning.

"The Earis has shown favour to lovers reminiscent of your visage, my son. If they harbour any lingering affections from your youth, it would be wise to use that to our advantage. Surely you know that the loser of the Trials will be disgraced to the point that one's position may be futile in the face of mockery?"

A noticeable hitch in Zaros's breath caught her attention, but she did not scold him. No one was immune to infatuation but she had faith that he would choose family, and the ideologies she had spent countless hours teaching him, over childish emotions. Still, Nira had the sense to leave in that moment, aware that the second Trial required careful preparation.

The door may have shut, but for Zaros it was the sound of a dam cracking. He downed the glass of wine, filling it up again as though the alcohol burning down his throat was some herbal remedy. Had they thought of him, when they'd lain with people of similar likeness? Had they both been so prideful as to reject the implication of reciprocation?

With a curse, his fists hit the desk he'd been writing his arguments at. He wanted to make do on his jest, and climb through the window and hold his Earis in his arms. Eight long years, and still his heart was weak to that insufferable snark. To that self-righteous nature. To that dammed smile which spurred dangerous thoughts.

Shoulder to shoulder, like the pillars at the entrance to the library, two adolescents watched the stars as though waiting for them to unveil some hidden secret. One, clearly not used to such late night rendezvous, anxiously looked over their shoulder for fear of being caught. The other, noticing such with a merciless grin, draped his arm over them.

"Are you scared of being caught, belladonna?"

His words earned him a huff, and a jab to the ribs with an elbow at the use of the nickname. Clearly, they were not aware of the true meaning of that flower: a dangerous beauty, indeed. A few heartbeats passed before the victim of his playful tease answered with a sarcastic tone of voice.

"No, it's not like anything would happen to us if Madame Venys caught us out after curfew. She would applaud our climbing skills, for sure, and neither you nor I would spend the next few days organising the non-fiction section."

Zaros snickered, leaning into them. They nudged him in retaliation, but nonetheless did not pull away. It would always be like this with them, he could sense it. A verbal back and forth which secreted far too many glances. Silence came over them again, just shy of awkwardness yet comfortable all the same.

"One day," they started, "I'm going to make a map of the stars."

It was an unexpected declaration, but Zaros did not complain, his gaze softening. Something pulled on his mind; it would typically be buried, but his tongue had been loosened by her vulnerable statement.

"Will you go alone?" He asked, quietly.

"Would you want me to?"

The young Sarl almost wanted to scoff at their audacity to have a back and forth during what should be an intimate conversation. But, he knew now to look beyond that porcelain mask — the pretense of the expectations weighed upon them.

"I could not think of anything so honourable as ensuring that Her Emminence's second born does not do anything foolish on their voyage."

A well-crafted response. Not quite the I could think of no better place for me than by your side that he had wanted to say, but it was enough. Their hands crept closer, until their pinkies were entertwined in a silent vow.

Oh, but how the death of the original Earis could change everything.

[kckt88]

The Picture of Aemond Targaryen - SNEAK PEEK!!

Summary:

The story of a young man who sells his soul for eternal youth and beauty.

Warning(s): Language, Drugs, Sin, Indulgence, Debauchery, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), P in V.

VICTORIAN ERA AEMOND TARGARYEN

INSPIRED BY THE BOOK/MOVIE - THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

Word Count: TBC

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond Targaryen stood before the mirror, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

He had made a vow in a moment of youthful folly, a vow whispered in jest, believing it would never come to pass. But now, as he gazed upon his reflection, he saw something both wondrous and horrifying.

His features were flawless, his skin smooth and unblemished, untouched by the ravages of time. His hair shone like molten silver, cascading perfectly around his shoulders.

Aemond gasped, unable to tear his eyes away from the visage staring back at him. It was as if he had been granted eternal youth and beauty, just as he had foolishly wished for so many years ago.

But then, his gaze drifted to the corner of the room where a portrait hung, concealed beneath a tattered cloth. With a sense of foreboding, he approached it, his heart heavy with dread. As he unveiled the painting, his breath caught in his throat.

There, staring back at him from the canvas, was not the image of youth and beauty he had seen in the mirror, but something twisted and grotesque.

His once proud features were now distorted almost beyond recognition, his skin stretched tight over bone as though pulled by unseen hands.

Deep, jagged lines etched across his face, the scar bisecting his left eye was elongated and festering.

His one blue eye, once filled with life and vitality, was now sunken and hollow, a singular pool of darkness that seemed to swallow the very light around it.

But it was the mouth that truly horrified those who dared to gaze upon the cursed canvas. Lips pulled back in a rictus grin, revealing rows of sharp, pointed teeth that gleamed in the dim light. It was a visage of madness, of unspeakable horror that seemed to seep from every brushstroke.

As Aemond stood before the cursed portrait, a chilling acceptance washed over him. He realized that there was no escaping his affliction, no undoing the bargain he had struck with the devil.

With a resigned sigh, he made a fateful decision – if he was to be condemned, then he would embrace his damnation with open arms.

Turning away from the painting, Aemond cast aside the last vestiges of his morality, surrendering himself to a life of sin and debauchery. He sought out every pleasure the world had to offer, indulging in excesses that would make even the most jaded of souls blanch.

He reveled in the company of courtesans and thieves, losing himself in the heady haze of wine and opium. He gambled away fortunes on games of chance, caring not for the consequences of his reckless abandon. His once noble demeanor crumbled away, replaced by a ruthless ambition fueled by his insatiable hunger for power and pleasure.

The people whispered of his descent into madness, of the dark shadow that seemed to cling to him wherever he went. But Aemond paid them no heed, for he had long since forsaken the opinions of others. He was a creature of his own making now, a slave to his basest desires.

And as the years passed, the cursed portrait grew ever more grotesque, mirroring the depths of his depravity with chilling accuracy. Yet Aemond welcomed its macabre reflection, for it served as a constant reminder of the price he had paid for his eternal youth and beauty.

[hyvyinjie]

THE WATER PILLAR.

TW! none.

fluff! centric.

t. giyuu x gn. reader.

his visage, seemingly untouched by the passage of time, betrays no hint of emotion—the enigmatic water pillar.

BEHOLD THE AQUEOUS HASHIRA—a figure of immense might, an indomitable slayer of demons, perpetually adorned with an unfaltering countenance.

how could someone of such chilling detachment find himself entangled in a circumstance so imbued with romance?

nay, it is a marvel beyond comprehension, a convergence of fate's whims and the questionable allure that resides within the depths of his icy soul.

through a gentle fade-in, the enchanting scene unfurls, unveiling a resplendent day bathed in the amenity of the sun.

the cerulean celesta stretched overhead, adorned with wisps of clouds, while a tranquil zephyr tenderly caresses the surroundings.

within this vast expanse, a lone little bird frolics merrily, its mellifluous melody imbuing the air with a dulcet serenade.

as the camera gradually pans out, a picturesque panorama, an embodiment of flawlessness in every intricate detail, is unveiled before our captured gaze.

drawing nearer to the glistening waters, our attention shifts to a youthful man.

perched at the water's edge, he immerses himself in the splendor of the vista, his senses enraptured by the lulling ambiance. in the embrace of the sun's affectionate rays, he discovers solace, a fleeting interlude of tranquil contemplation amidst the idyllic backdrop.

the water pillar—unburdened by the weight of his arduous duties and responsibilities—reclined in a state of serenity, his form motionless.

with closed eyes, he absorbed the resplendence of nature, inhaling deeply the magnificence that surrounded him, allowing his strained body to surrender to this wondrous respite.

simultaneously, his countenance underwent a subtle transformation—as the lines upon his face softened, lending an air of tranquility to his undeniably attractive visage.

a light breeze—as tender as a lover's touch—caressed his skin, while a subtle intuition alerted him to a presence drawing near.

yet, despite his awareness of this newcomer, he remained unmoved, neither acknowledging nor negating their existence.

instead, a sense of ease seemed to envelop him even more, as if the arrival of this individual brought him peace beyond measure.

his ears—acutely attuned to the symphony of the ambience—caught the faintest sound of leaves crunching underfoot, and he felt the grass swaying in response to the leisurely descent of the person settling beside him.

without the need to open his eyes, he could discern the identity of this newcomer, for the aura of familiar solace they emanated was unmistakable.

this atmospheric comfort—unique to this individual alone—could be recognized by him effortlessly, irrespective of place, day, or hour.

yet, it was not solely due to the rarity of those who would dare to engage with him on a consistent basis—although, in truth, that may have played a small part.

no, the deeper truth lies in the fact that this person—in particular—held a profound and irreplaceable position within the very core of his being.

the faintest of curls quivered upon the corners of his lips, a benevolent ripple of emotion that danced with an elliptical grace.

perplexed—he, too—struggled to grasp the intricate workings of this phenomenon, to comprehend the why and the how.

yet, amidst the muddled confusion, one thing remained undeniable—this inexplicable connection felt inherently right.

in your presence, he found a sense of belonging, a sanctuary where authenticity flourished. it was as if, in the embrace of your essence, he had finally returned home.

it was a pleasantly overwhelming sensation, a profound knowing that resonated deep within his soul.

everything about it felt undeniably right, as if the cosmic forces had conspired to orchestrate this union.

despite his reluctance to venture into new connections, deep within the recesses of his soul, a tender whisper of destiny caressed his spirit.

it softly insinuated that, against all odds, this particular connection may have been divinely orchestrated, as if written in the stars.

though his heart hesitated, a flicker of curiosity danced within him, beckoning him to explore the uncharted realms of this potential bond. for there was an undeniable appeal in the possibility that fate had woven their paths together, guiding them towards an extraordinary rendezvous.

in the face of his reservations, the tempting possibility of this preordained connection shimmered like a distant beacon, inviting him to embrace the untrodden path and discover the radical depths of what was meant to be.

it was as if the universe itself had guided their paths to intersect, to intertwine in perfect harmony.

within the adoring embrace of their presence, the water pillar—giyuu tomioka, forever adorned with stoicism and guarded walls—unearthed a momentary seclusion, a harbor of belonging, and an unwavering sense of being unequivocally at home.

in their company, his guarded façade melted away, revealing vulnerabilities long concealed.

in their presence, he discovered a retreat where he could unapologetically be himself, where the weight of his burdens was shared, and where his heart, and mind alike, found solace in the rhythm of their shared existence.

they became the anchor that grounded him, the guiding light that illuminated his path, encapsulating him in a laconic embrace that declared—

you were the sanctuary he had long sought, the haven where the water pillar's soul found its rest.