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gutsby · 10 months

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I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Pairing: Reader x Detective Dixon x Officer Grimes x Officer Walsh

Summary: Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Warnings: NSFW. Foursome! :-) Unprotected p-in-v, spitroast, double penetration, overstimulation, praise and degradation, bimbofication, throatfucking, painal, breeding kink, using c*m as lube, and a (consensual) strugglefuck. Elements of dubcon à la power imbalance and coercion. Age gap. Public indecency, evading arrest, assault on two cops, and general drunken stupidity.

“Goooooood morning, babycakes!”

Your best friend rolled the hem of her shirt over her chest and shimmied her shoulders at the big white semi truck about to pass under the bridge. The stranger at the wheel took one look at the woman’s tits and almost swerved across two lanes of traffic. The sight sent you and your drunken group howling with laughter, falling onto the ground as Maggie yanked her top back down.

It was five a.m. and freezing. The club where you’d been boozing all night had long since shuttered closed, and you and your closest friends from high school—home for the holidays and happily plastered—had gone wandering home in a daze. When one of the girls had stopped suddenly at the midsection of a bridge, you hadn’t been able to keep from sharing her smile the second she’d grinned and said, ‘For old time’s sake?’

In no time at all, you’d been lined up along the metal railing and ogling the unsuspecting drivers down below. The freeway was mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple tractor trailers and early morning commuters, but that didn’t matter.

Rosita was up next. You watched her eye an RV as it bumbled down the road and saw her take hold of her shirt just like Maggie had. Then, right when the camper got close enough, the brunette bent slightly at the waist, flipped her top up, and screamed at the top of her lungs:

“HEY BIG RED!”

A big, buff dude with a bright red handlebar mustache looked up from the passenger seat, as did the white-haired, bearded gentleman wearing a bucket hat beside him. The pair then watched your friend’s roadside spectacle with shared looks of wonder and awe, before passing under the bridge as slow as they possibly could. Rosita staggered off the ledge and reached for the flask in your hand, heedless of her breasts still hanging out.

“Your turn,” she chirped before taking a swig.

Your feet were already wobbling onto the concrete slab. From your vantage point, the outline of the sun was just then breaking out across the tops of the trees, casting the morning’s first rays across your bare skin. You stretched your arms out wide, Titanic-style, and basked in the warmth—likely looking drunk as all hell as you did.

“Ooo, this one, this one!” Maggie cut in presently.

You followed your friend’s gaze and caught sight of a sleek, glistening firetruck speeding down the road.

Perfect, you thought as your eyes soaked in the sight. You pictured the truck packed to the gills with hot and sweaty firemen inside, and your fingers itched at the bottom of your shirt. Curled under the fabric and ready to lift as soon as the time came. Even from a distance, you could make out a tiny cluster of uniformed men at the helm, each of their faces contorted with curiosity.

The truck sped up and drew closer. Maggie squeezed your hip, Rosita chewed her lip, and together, you all stared the firetruck down with bated breath until it was just about to go under the bridge.

In a blink, you flipped your shirt up and shook your tits back and forth for the men going by. Much to your surprise, the firefighter in the driver’s seat honked his horn a couple times, and another one, at the rear, stuck his grinning head out the window and waved.

You, Maggie, and Rosita waved right back, practically falling over each other in fits of laughter as you yelled,

“Call me, daddy!”

The three of you collapsed on the sidewalk in a heap of shitfaced hysterics. Rosita flung your flask to the side and smacked you playfully across your boobs—still out and proud and likely able to cut diamonds with how hard your nipples had gotten in the chilly morning air.

“Daddy?!” she wheezed, “You skank!”

You straightened up, partially splayed across Maggie’s lap, and wiggled your shoulders once more, feigning that high-pitched, ditzy voice you used whenever you were hammered,

“Daddy please fuck my titties, I’ve been such a bad girl!”

Then you gave the best porn star moan you could muster and started to pull your shirt the rest of the way off. Not thinking, you balled up the light pink fabric and threw it up in the air while Rosita cheered—‘Tits out for the girls!’—and Maggie almost pissed herself laughing. Really anything would’ve had your sides fit to split at this point, seeing how faded and adrenaline-drunk you were.

You reached up and waited for the top to fall back into your hand...until it didn’t. You cast a sweeping look across the three of you to see if your shirt had landed somewhere else, but the garment was nowhere in sight.

You turned and craned your neck to see over the railing.

“Shit!”

You scrambled to your feet and gripped the metal siding of the bridge, tits fully out and exposed to the world. You watched as an old Ford Ranger picked up speed and crushed the scrap of fabric under its tires, before the driver, in turn, gawked and honked his horn like a fool.

Just as you started to turn back to tell your friends the bad news—and beg them for a piece of spare clothing to cover you—a sound startled you all.

The short, sharp yelp of a siren straight ahead.

Your hands flew to cover your chest while Maggie and Rosita went floundering over each other trying to get up. A few yards away, a police cruiser had pulled up to the side of the bridge with its lights flashing bright red and blue.

Shit, again, seemed to be the resounding sentiment among you three as the car started inching closer.

“Stop right there!” a voice boomed over the PA system.

That only prompted your group to take off running.

You, cradling your tits in both hands, and Rosita and Maggie trying desperately not to trip over the curb, the wayside trash, or each other as they raced down the street.

Two car doors flew open. Then, the sound of that same voice, breaking out across the still morning air without the aid of the intercom and telling you to freeze right now, followed by the sound of footsteps. Boots thudded heavy on the ground below, moving fast and with purpose. Both pairs easily gained on your three retreating forms in a matter of seconds.

Maggie and Rosita were already leaps and bounds ahead of you. Too busy juggling your tits and struggling to breathe, you felt your heart sink.

Rosita shot a look over her shoulder and cried, ‘C’mon!’ as she eyed the cops coming closer.

I’m trying, you wanted to say, but couldn’t speak. Your chest was too tight, pupils blown wide with fear.

This was not the fucking time to be having a panic attack. But here you were.

Before you could stop yourself, you waved a frantic hand to your friends and somehow managed to scream, ‘Go!’

The girls slowed, tried to urge you forward, but, sensing that you weren’t keeping up and wanted them to go on without you, relented at last. They bounded off toward a side street and disappeared down an alley while you felt your legs start to falter beneath you.

“Freeze!” the voice bellowed again. Loud, gruff, and much closer to your ear than it had been before.

You did as he said, not because you wanted to, but because you had to, then, or your body would’ve given out. Still in the grips of terror and rampant intoxication, you stopped in your tracks, spun on your heels, and watched the two officers sprint toward you.

You started to raise your hands in surrender, but just when one of them approached—presumably to tackle you to the ground—your instincts took over. You scarcely knew what you were doing; you just felt your leg lift with the last bit of strength you had left, then, astonishingly, deliver a kick straight to the first man’s gut.

To the shock of you, the cop, and his partner, the man went tumbling backward. Fell straight on the pavement in almost comical fashion and grunted in pain.

“Rick!” the dark-haired one yelled reflexively.

His gaze darted back to you in an instant.

You knew you were capital F fucked. You didn’t bother trying to run and simply stared at the man left standing in a mixture of horror and dread as he charged straight at you.

Your flight response abandoned, you had only to fight. And, by the looks of your opponent, you sensed this motherfucker knew how to tussle.

Before you could even prime yourself for another kick, the cop had taken you down with one lunge. Pinned you flat on the asphalt and yelled right in your face,

“I said don’t move!”

You moved. You moved in his arms while he wrestled you to the sidewalk, snaked his hand around your front, pressed your back against his chest. You moved when he barked his orders once more, told you to get down now and stop resisting, and even wrapped his arm around your throat to force your compliance.

Chokehold’s illegal, asshole, you thought, fighting hard against his grasp. This cop played dirty, and appeared to give no fucks about who could see.

Just as his grip started to tighten around your neck, you heard the other officer back on his feet, talking sharply into his radio:

“Code 10-33. Requesting backup on Fayette Bridge.”

At the same time, the man above you was trying to shake his head, craning his neck to get his partner’s attention.

“Nah, nah, Rick, I got her!”

When ‘Rick’ didn’t seem to hear and kept shouting into the receiver, the burly cop turned his body to the side, squeezing your neck even tighter.

“Rick!” he called, “I got her right here, she’s— FUCK!”

Suddenly, the man’s voice broke off in a strangled yelp as you sank your teeth into the flesh of his arm. When he loosened his grip out of instinct, stinging with pain, you made a desperate attempt to slip from his grasp and get back on your hands and knees.

The freshly bitten cop just slammed you even harder on the ground, unleashing a string of expletives in your ear.

“Fuck you, pig!” you screamed back.

You weren’t sure what had come over you in the few short moments preceding this one—what had irked you so terribly to be inclined to kick one cop in the stomach and bite another on the arm like a feral cat—but there you went. Face down on the pavement with a set of handcuffs being clipped over your wrists.

You winced when you were jerked back onto your feet, the cop’s left hand on your shoulder and the other at your back. He shoved you to take your first steps forward, you instinctively told him to eat shit and die, and as a grim, unsavory unit, you walked toward the officer with his grip still fastened tight to his radio.

“You alright?” Rick asked, out of breath.

His gaze seared right through you to his partner—whose face, you could sense, was already beset with a scowl.

“Bitch bit me,” he spat.

You saw Rick’s expression change, watched his mouth move to speak again, when a sound crackled out of the receiver in his hand. A couple code words and street names you couldn’t make out.

“That’s— that’s alright, now, Officer Walsh has the subject restrained,” Rick returned hastily.

At present, Mr. Walsh had his thumb dug deep in your back, ostensibly holding tight to keep you subdued but more than likely just being an ass. He felt you flinch and gave you a fierce shake.

“Quit squirmin’, girl.”

“Quit pinchin’ me, pig!”

“You’d best watch that fuckin’ mouth’a yours.”

The voice above your ear had you easily outmatched in volume and tone, coarse as it was unkind.

You decided to try your luck anyway.

“Make me, pussy.”

The last thing you saw was the look of bewilderment leap to Rick’s face as Walsh thrust you forward, suddenly, and slammed you face-down on the hood of their car.

“What’d I say ‘bout that fuckin’ mouthin’ off?! Huh?”

“Shane—”

Rick grabbed this Shane’s shoulder in an effort to intervene. Tried prying him off before he could shove you down any harder, but his partner seemed adamant. Shane put his palm over the side of your head and knotted his fingers through your hair, quick to pull.

“Nah, man, I ain’t takin’ lip from some halfwit bimbo—”

“Hey!” you started, only to have your words muffled with your head forced back on the hood.

“Shane!” Rick snapped this time, taking a harder grip of his shirt and yanking him back. To your dismay, Shane kept a chunk of your hair clenched in his fist and probably dislodged a dozen or more strands when he was pulled away.

You let out a gentle groan as your head hit the car for a third time and the two officers broke off in a skirmish.

“You heard what Dixon said,” Rick hissed.

“Fuck what Dixon said!”

“You cain’t just— you got no right—”

“I got every right, man, lemme tell you sumn’—”

Before Shane could ‘tell you’ much of anything, though, the two were rendered silent by the sound of tires on pavement close by. A halt, a tense moment, a car door swinging open and closed, and a whisper passed quickly from Rick to Shane as the two exchanged a look,

“You fucked up.”

You tried tilting your head up toward the windshield to sneak a look in its reflection, maybe see who was coming. You couldn’t make out a thing.

Then, presently, the voice of a much more hushed, humbler Officer Walsh as he spoke,

“Detective Dixon, how’s it—”

“Six bucks.” Another man, presumably Dixon, cut in.

“Huh?”

“Six bucks fer this fuckin’ coffee. Tastes like dirt.”

Oh, uh, yeah, you could just sense Shane shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he searched for the right words to say, maybe scratched his head once or twice. Fortunately for him, Rick came to the rescue.

“Tried that new place on Main, huh?”

“Nic and Norman’s, yeah. Eggs were runny as shit an’ the waitress kept callin’ me ‘Dale’,” the man, now presumably Dixon but not Dale, said in a huff.

It was as if you weren’t lying flat on your tummy with your top off and your hands cuffed behind your back. You stupidly hoped the new man hadn’t noticed you.

“Well who’ve we got here?”

Shit.

You heard footsteps approach, but you didn’t turn your head. Your lungs expelled a small, shaky breath as this detective came by and stood inches from your bent form.

“She and her friends were flashing their tits to the cars passing under the bridge,” Shane declared, a touch too smug as he said it, “The others got away, but this one was sweet enough to grace us with her presence.”

“Kicked me in the stomach and knocked me on my ass,” Rick added.

“Bit me, too.”

You heard a low tsk-tsk as the detective clicked his tongue. Took another sip of his mud-flavored espresso and shook his head above you. Your skin burned with the imprint of his gaze.

“Spring break come a little late this year?” he teased.

“Fuck you,” you muttered.

The men let out a collective chuckle at your tart words. You could just picture the smirks and sly glances shared between them as they watched you writhe against the hood of the police cruiser and try not to give them the satisfaction of seeing your breasts splayed out underneath you.

You were ashamed, admittedly, unsure of how to proceed with three cops at your rear and few options at your disposal besides swearing up a storm. At last, you decided to shift your gaze in their direction and shoot them a glare—more of an empty threat than any real message, but you didn’t care.

You turned and immediately wished you hadn’t.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Daryl?!”

This time, Rick and Shane were the only ones to laugh out loud, before quickly stifling the sounds when they realized their superior hadn’t shown a hint of amusement.

Daryl Dixon, the detective, and your brother’s best friend from college, stared down at you with a look of horror.

“Y/N,” he stammered, in shock.

It was clear he was trying with every fiber of his being not to look down at your tits, but his resolve was only so strong. Finally, he settled on looking away, fast, and staring off in the distance while you readjusted yourself.

“Been a minute,” he said, trying for a curt, awkward nod.

And a minute it had been. The last time you’d laid eyes on the man had been at a Christmas party hosted by your brother and his husband four years ago. You’d exchanged all of ten words in polite, drunken pleasantries, and he’d stumbled off at the end of the night with a gorgeous redhead dressed as Mrs. Clause. You hadn’t heard hide nor hair of him since.

For a moment, Rick’s eyes danced indeterminately between you two. Shane’s remained fixed on your face.

“You know this little hellion, Detective?”

Daryl cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uh, that’s— that’s Aaron’s little sister.”

“No shit?”

The words came out faster than Shane could think to stop them. Your hometown was no great metropolis, and even he knew of your brother through a friend-of-a-friend and several cousins’ babysitter’s grandma’s Aunt Carol, or some similar relation. He and Rick had probably partied at your lake house a couple times in college.

“Uncuff her.” Daryl’s voice had already lowered some, pacing away to give you privacy.

Shane obliged and freed you from the handcuffs. When you turned around, only the back of Daryl’s body was visible to you as he ducked inside the backseat of his car.

He returned a few moments later with a blanket. Tried his damndest not to let his vision stray an inch from your face as he handed it to you. Then he beckoned Rick over, and the two exchanged a few quiet words by his sedan.

“You got rabies or anything?” Shane was eyeing the tiny crescent of teeth marks on his forearm.

You rolled your eyes.

“Worse. I’m one of those walkers.”

Shane gave you a look that conveyed he was just as annoyed but didn’t say anything more, even when you made a face at him. He just crossed his arms, leaned back against the squad car, and gritted his teeth. Before you knew it, Daryl and Rick were walking back.

“I’ll take her to the station,” Daryl said.

“Alri—”

“What?” you cried, “For what?!”

You knew for damn what. You just couldn’t believe your brother’s best friend wasn’t planning on giving you a family friend freebie of some kind.

Officer Walsh supplied an answer for you nonetheless, “Let’s see, now: public intoxication, public indecency, open container, and aggravated assault on two police officers. That clear things up, sweet cheeks?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Disorderly conduct, too,” Rick chimed in. Trying not to smile as he said it.

The only ones still not amused by anything this situation had to offer were you and Daryl. The detective looked positively pissed and ready to chuck his cup of coffee over the bridge, while you wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ether. The two of you exchanged a brief, uneasy look and quickly looked the other way.

Rick and Shane were already retreating to their cruiser. You just watched them, almost forlorn, and pretended not to see Daryl signaling for you to follow him.

“C’mon now,” he murmured.

“Can’t you just let me off with a warning?”

Daryl was treading closer to you now, hand outstretched in an almost gentle sort of gesture. Like he wasn’t about to cart you off to the slammer.

“Y’know I can’t do tha’,” he replied, “With all the fuss ya caused, Captain would have my head.”

When you wrenched your arm away from his grasp, you saw him frown.

“Hey,” Daryl said, a little more sternly now, “Don’t make this harder than it needs ta be.”

You watched him reach for you again.

Your first instinct was to shrug him off. Your second was to flee.

You weren’t sure why you even tried it—it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, like they did in the movies, to take off sprinting down the street. You gave it a shot.

Unfortunately for you, your feet didn’t carry you far, and Daryl had you snagged in his arms in about five seconds flat. You glanced to the first cop car and saw that Rick and Shane hadn’t even stirred from their seats. Just grinning and laughing at your attempted escape.

Detective Dixon had you by the bicep now, leading you toward his car with a little more force in his step. You were cursing, writhing, fighting every effort of his to corral you into the backseat, but, without much trouble, he pushed you in.

Rear doors locking automatically, you had little more to do than sit and pout and feel every bit the brat as Daryl buckled himself in and started the car.

“C’mon, Dar, this isn’t a joke. I could lose my job ‘cause of this,” you whined, threading your fingers through the wired metal barricade that separated you.

Daryl watched and waited for the other cruiser to fall behind him. Then he started off.

“Shoulda thought about tha’ before ya decided to show yer tits off ta the world, no?”

“Like four people saw us.”

In the rearview mirror, you could’ve sworn you saw a ghost of a smile cross Daryl’s lips.

“I got a pretty colorful phone call from a man named Eugene saying he saw three girls danglin’ half nekkid from a bridge tryin’ ta flag down a firetruck...Don’t sound all that discreet to me.” Daryl shrugged, pretending not to see you slump back in your seat.

“We were drunk!” you cried.

You threw your hands up and let them fall at your side, while Daryl made a wide left turn.

“So?”

“You’ve done plenty of dumb shit when you were drunk, Dixon. Don’t even start.” You raised your hand like you were talking to your mother as an angsty teen. The man in the driver’s seat hardly seemed fazed.

“Oh?”

You paused a beat, then jolted back up as an old memory stirred in your mind.

“Like— like the time you got so shitfaced on senior night that you stumbled into my room thinking it was the bathroom,” you said, hastily, “Pissed all over my floor.”

Daryl’s eyes darted up to meet yours in the mirror, sharing in that vague and ugly recollection from his college days.

“That was yer room?” he winced.

“I was twelve and terrified,” you said, hovering as close as the metal wall would allow you, “Didn’t even know what being piss-drunk meant until you decided to relieve yourself all over my Barbie rug.”

“Ah shit...I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Let me out and we’ll call it even?” you ventured.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl said, shaking his head, “Not how that works.”

You balled your hand in a fist and struck the wall between you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips. Try as you might to fight it, you were still slightly buzzed and far more prone to anger than you normally would be. Daryl gave you a look.

“Pipe down, princess, ‘s’ain’t the end of the world.”

“And who the fuck are you to say?” you snapped, clenching your jaw.

Daryl pressed a bit harder on the brakes as he brought the car to a stop at a red light. Then he shot a look over his shoulder. His brow drew in just slightly.

“Yer a real brat, ya know that?”

“Really, pig?” you sneered.

“Yeah, slut.”

Your mouth fell open at the sound of Daryl’s first real insult. He’d been all placid smiles and gentle eyes, never lapsing in the civility of his rank or his respect for you, his close friend’s sister, until that point. You watched as his gaze visibly hardened and moved away from yours, foot hitting the gas when the light turned green.

“What did you just call me?”

“A fucking slut. ‘Cause tha’s what ya are,” Daryl answered, not missing a beat.

Had he lost his fucking mind? Who did he think he was? The man carried on, starting to increase the car’s speed,

“Nobody’s showin’ off a pair’a tits that damn pretty ‘less they’re a whore, ya know?”

You sat back in awe, hardly aware of the cruiser’s growing acceleration, or the fact that Daryl was just then starting to turn down a road you—and Rick and Shane—had never seen before. You were too offended. Flustered.

“Excuse m—”

“Yeah, I looked. You’ve got an incredible rack, really,” Daryl admitted as he cut you off, “Too bad it’s attached to such a worthless little slut.”

“Get fucked, Dixon,” you hissed, beating your fist against the divider once more.

“Oh, believe me, we will.”

Your blood likely would’ve run cold in your veins if you had the first clue what he was talking about. What did he mean by ‘we’? Why had he started smiling when he’d said that?

Presently, you looked out the window.

Where the everliving fuck had he taken you?

Instead of finding yourself parked outside the King County Sheriff’s Department, as expected, you cast a sidelong glance to the left and the right and saw nothing but trees. Wilderness. You were parked in a clearing, at what appeared to be a campground...in a quarry?

You turned back to Daryl, suddenly rigid with fear.

The driver’s side door was already slamming shut behind him. Instead of deigning so much as a glance at the back, he strode right past you and went over to the car that had just pulled up. Rick and Shane appeared just as confused as you were as they came to a stop.

You watched them, dumbstruck, pulse pounding in your ears as a hundred different thoughts danced in your mind and grew progressively darker the longer you stared. Were they going to torture you? Kill you? Cuff you to the car and kick the living shit out of you until you bled from the mouth and begged them for mercy?

There was no way the drunken fratboy of your youth, now a detective on the police force and your brother’s best friend, would do something so heinous, right?

You slinked back in your seat when you saw all three men turn and approach your car.

Now, more than ever, there was no place but the police car you wanted to be as Daryl flung the back door open and stuck his head inside.

“Hey,” he grinned, “Wanna talk?”

Before you knew it, your feet were planted on the rocky terrain directly in front of Daryl’s car, and your hands were clasped together. Not cuffed this time—just folded and trying to look as polite and unassuming as possible.

“We’ve got a proposition,” Daryl started, steady.

You watched him pace back and forth while the two other officers stood back in silence. Shane wore the faintest smirk.

“You don’t wanna go to jail, right?”

You shook your head no.

“Good, ‘cause we don’t really feel like bookin’ ya,” Daryl continued, “Too much paperwork an’ all tha’ bullshit.”

You nodded along, slowly. Relieved to hear you weren’t getting arrested but waiting to see what the ‘But…’ was.

“But, y’know— it wouldn’t be fair to let ya go that easy.”

You kept nodding. Now looking at Shane and Rick and finding both of them smiling.

“So I say we make ourselves a deal. That okay with you, sugar tits?” Daryl sneered.

You balked at the name but swallowed your pride and answered, ‘Uh huh’ in a small voice. Squeezed your hands even tighter together.

Daryl approached you for the first time. You stood there, trembling, still thinking there was a chance that the three of them might just beat the hell out of you right then and there—and you flinched when Daryl lifted his hand to your cheek.

He brushed a few loose hairs from your face.

“I think you need to start by saying sorry.” His voice was almost serene.

You blinked a couple times up at Daryl with wide, oblivious eyes, shaking your head when you didn’t understand what he meant.

“To Shane,” Daryl added.

Softly, he tilted your chin toward his friend, who was grinning even bigger now.

You struggled for a second, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before stammering:

“I-I’m sorry, Shane.”

Your voice barely reached them in a whisper. You were so confused.

And, just as you started to wonder if that was all they really wanted, or if there’d be some other catch, Daryl decided to supply you with a wordless answer before you could even ask. The “catch” caught you right on the backs of your legs as Daryl gave them a gentle kick, causing both to buckle underneath you. You fell to the ground on your hands and knees and straightened yourself up just in time to see Shane make his leisurely approach.

“I’m sorry, Shane,” you spluttered again, thinking he just wanted you to grovel there in front of him.

Daryl and Shane exchanged looks. Then they smirked at you.

“I think Shane would rather you show him how sorry you are,” Daryl said, suddenly leaning over to collect two handfuls of hair behind your head, “With your mouth.”

At any other time, such condescension dripping from a man’s tone would have turned you off—and pissed you off—immediately. With Daryl and Shane standing over you now, the former’s fingers slotting through your hair and the latter’s working to unzip his pants, you couldn’t imagine yourself being any more aroused.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, all at once.

They were there to fuck you, not fight you.

At least not in the way you’d imagined anyway. No doubt Shane was keen to get his fill, and might be a tad more aggressive than the others to get it, but Daryl would make sure he didn’t push too hard. He held your head in place while Shane pulled out his cock.

And, you hated to say it, but your mouth was salivating for a taste. You couldn’t be bothered to look up at either man now, just soaking in the sight of Shane’s thick, veiny member and feeling your face being moved closer to it. Not minding you were being manhandled as a gentle moan escaped your throat.

“Wanna show Shane how sorry ya are? Show him how good tha’ slutty little mouth’a yers can make him feel?” Daryl hummed.

“She’s droolin’, man,” Shane said, hardening at the sight.

You were. You couldn’t help it. You felt a thumb swipe at the spit that had just begun to trickle out of your mouth and sensed Rick at your side, enthralled as all the rest of them. Then that same finger drifted down to your tits, smearing the moisture all over one nipple before pinching the peak between two digits.

Your lips parted with another small whimper at the sensation, and Shane took that as his window to thrust his cock in your mouth. Caught off guard, you couldn’t help but gag when his tip hit the back of your throat, but Daryl steered your head back just in time so you weren’t choking on that first, single stroke.

“Easy, easy,” Daryl chided his friend as he watched your eyes water and your hand reach up to steady yourself against Shane’s thigh.

“You kiddin’? She fuckin’ loves it,” Shane grinned, “Don’t you, slut?”

You licked your lips and nodded. Didn’t bat an eye when Shane brought the head of his cock back down to your lips, and you quickly enveloped him in an open-mouthed kiss of sorts. Shane groaned at the sensation and couldn’t help but rut his hips.

“Such a fuckin’ whore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Daryl helped move your head up and down his length while you stared up at Shane with the prettiest, most fucked-out expression you could manage, and you felt his length twitch in your mouth. Daryl pulled you off.

“Now what do we say for kicking Officer Grimes, hm?”

Before you could answer, your face was tilted to the left, and you were met with the sight of Rick stroking his length at your side. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to Shane’s cock, you looked up at the friendlier of the two officers and gave him a smile.

“I’m sorry, Officer Grimes.”

This time, Daryl let Rick take the reins, for a moment, and move your mouth over his shaft. You happily accepted him between your lips and started bobbing almost instantly. You relished the pleasure that flooded those soft blue eyes, the way they winced just a little when you took him to the back of your throat. Like he wanted to fuck your face but felt too overcome with some feeling or fear to give it a try.

You decided it was cruel to make a man so polite wait a second longer than he needed to. Presently, you pulled off Rick’s length with a gentle ‘pop’ and turned your head back over to Daryl.

“Can you please tell Officer Grimes to fuck my throat?”

All three of them froze for a second, taken back by the filth that had just come out of your mouth, still spoken so sweetly. You stroked Rick’s cock and pretended to be oblivious of what you saw. Deep down, you knew by the glint in their eyes they were yearning, lusting, fucking you in their minds with every innocent blink you made. You felt Daryl’s grip tighten in your hair.

“You heard the lady,” Shane said, words directed to Rick but gaze never leaving you.

Out of habit, his hand came to wrap around his own cock as he watched you take Rick’s. You glanced between the two of them, placed a quick kiss on the tip—first on Rick’s and then, to the men’s surprise, on Shane’s—and parted your lips when you moved back to Rick.

Officer Grimes didn’t hesitate this time. He leveled himself with your mouth and pushed all the way in. You started to moan, but the sound was audibly cut short by a spasm in your throat. Rick reached the back of your warm, wet orifice with ease and, going further than Shane ever went, actually slid down that space. Exactly how you wanted him. You bobbed your head and hummed to show your appreciation.

Encouraged by how eagerly you swallowed him and how quick your whimpers were to reverberate down his length, Rick moved his hips. Watched you gag once or twice and blink through a couple tears, before Daryl wiped the moisture away as Rick had done for your spit. You were every bit the pampered and primped fuckdoll in their hands, bobbing and licking and sucking him dry.

“Good girl,” Daryl murmured, massaging your scalp when you gagged again.

“Takin’ me so well,” Rick groaned as he fed you another inch.

Shane continued pumping his cock, grunting out expletives, and watching you all the while.

You pulled off of Rick for a moment. Whether it would piss them off or turn them on, you didn’t really care—but you reached up to Shane and replaced his hand with yours, before dropping a kiss over the head of his cock.

All three men seemed to love it. Especially Daryl.

Though he hadn’t made a move to get his own dick wet just yet, you got the sense the man loved to watch. Loved to see your mouth sliding up and down and swallowing more cock every time, thinking to himself what a nasty, filthy little whore you were and just waiting for the moment it would be his turn to claim your throat and the rest of your holes as his own. In the meantime, you wanted to give him a good show.

You jerked both Rick and Shane in either hand and chanced a look over at Daryl.

Locking eyes with him, you moved down over Rick and sucked half his length in your mouth. Then, just as quick, you took Shane between your lips and gave the tip a wet, spongy kiss before taking him to the back of your throat. The mound in Daryl’s pants grew even more pronounced.

“Hey,” Rick said, grazing your cheek with his knuckles, “Ain’t you gonna say sorry to Detective Dixon, too?”

You moaned against Shane’s throbbing length and made sure Daryl saw your tongue swirl over the tip. Teasing him now.

Presently, Shane pulled out of your mouth and grabbed hold of your hair.

“Gonna make him feel real good with that slutty little mouth’a yours, huh?” he growled.

You nodded and smiled. Wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and started crawling over to Daryl as soon as Shane let you go.

You couldn’t believe he’d waited this long—couldn’t believe you’d been sucking his friends dry all this time and hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse at him. Daryl watched you with a comfortable, lopsided sort of smirk as you made your way over to him, clearly enjoying this view of you on all fours.

Not even a guillotine could take away the head you were about to give this man.

When you finally reached his knees and straightened up enough to reach for the zip of his brown slacks, you felt a hand catch you around the wrist. To your surprise, Daryl held you back and yanked you onto your feet.

“I wan’ my apology someplace else.”

That ‘place,’ you would come to learn, was simply on top of his car. Splayed out on the hood of his cruiser with your pants dragged all the way down to your ankles and kicked off at your feet. Daryl carried you there and stripped you down to your panties, leaving you all but naked and ogling him with keen, hungry eyes. Rick and Shane were quick to follow suit and seemed just as eager as you were to watch this scene unfold.

You reached for his clothed erection once more but found your hand swatted away.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl shook his head.

You raised an eyebrow in question. You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself moaning instead when Daryl slipped a finger past your panties and between your folds. Somehow finding your clit quicker than you could even dream, he circled that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb and teased the seal of your entrance with his middle and ring fingers.

You clawed at his wrist.

“But Dar— I-I wanna taste you so bad,” you pleaded.

Daryl grinned and plunged his two fingers deep inside you, holding your hip to the car to keep you from squirming. He nodded to Rick, who took that as his cue to press down on your other side. Together, they had you pinned to the hood and helpless under their touch.

Daryl curled his fingers up and caused you to moan.

“How bad?” he asked.

“So—” your voice broke off in a gasp when the pads of his fingers stroked your G spot, “So bad, Daryl, please.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was savoring every second of this sight: you with your legs spread, begging and pathetic as he and Rick held you down. He probably would’ve liked to keep you there a little longer, maybe teased and fingerfucked you to the point of tears, but he got the sense that his friends weren’t possessed of quite the same patience. He’d just have to save the overstimulation for later.

Before you knew it, Daryl had given Rick another quick nod, released you from his hold, and pulled you off the car—before steadying you back on your feet, facing the vehicle.

Your hands flew out to catch yourself, but, before meeting metal, intercepted Daryl’s broad form instead. He took a seat on the front end of the car and caught you in both of his big, calloused palms.

“How ‘bout that taste, hm?” He was already starting to unbuckle his pants.

Finally. You promptly started to sink to your knees, when a light slap struck your cheek. You peeked up at its source and found Daryl shaking his head once more.

“Stay put,” he instructed as he started to pull his cock out of his boxers, “Rick’s gonna fuck tha’ slutty little cunt while ya suck me off, alright?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a signal—and an effective one at that—to get Rick off his ass and hurrying to get behind yours. In the next second, you felt a set of warm, calloused hands on your hips and a tender grip tugging you back to meet someone’s crotch.

Your pussy twitched with the realization of your current predicament: bent over between the two men, with Daryl’s cock mere inches from your face and Rick’s member throbbing above your heat. Never once had an image like this materialized in your mind’s wildest fantasies, but now that you were here, stuck between these two with Shane just then drawing closer, you found yourself turned on to no end.

You parted your lips to allow Daryl entry when Rick teased the head of his cock up your slit. You took just the tip of Daryl, trying to stifle a moan, and the man behind you rubbed the length of himself up and down the seam of your cunt to collect all your juices. Another inch of Daryl in your mouth and you were whimpering with the feeblest look up at him, needing Rick inside you too.

Daryl held your gaze and ran a hand over your head.

“Little slut needs her pussy fucked, does she?”

You nodded, bobbing gently over Daryl’s member. You were just preparing to ease him in another inch or two when all of a sudden, the head of his cock jumped to the back of your throat as Rick thrusted into you.

It was far less gentle than you’d expected, sending you deep down Daryl’s length and causing you to gag. You hardly had time to adjust, or pull off of the man in front of you to catch your breath, when Rick started pounding you from behind. Rutting his hips, grunting in time with his thrusts, and slapping your ass in quick, ruthless hits. Daryl groaned above you as you had no choice but to deepthroat him again and again.

Shane, ever impatient, approached your free hand and guided it toward his erection. He wrapped your fingers around his cock and helped you stroke him quick, all while your mouth and pussy were presently occupied by Daryl and Rick’s sloppy thrusts.

“Ya like gettin’ spitroasted, huh? Like gettin’ fucked in two holes at once?” Shane sneered.

“Fuckin’ loves it,” Rick answered for you with a smirk, “Never seen a pussy this wet in my life.”

You imagined all of them could see and hear the arousal oozing from your freshly-fucked cunt, but you sensed no one liked it better than Daryl. The man was entranced with the sight of your form getting fucked from behind, sucking him deeper, looking up through your wet, tear-stained lashes as you let him fuck your face. That pure euphoric look in his eyes was almost like a drug—you wanted nothing more than to keep it there as long as you could.

Mere minutes later, Rick’s hips were stuttering against your own and his cum was spraying all over your insides. You didn’t stop sucking Daryl.

Shane gladly switched places with Rick and took a greedy handful of your hips before pumping his cock once or twice. You flattened your tongue against Daryl’s member and took him even further down your throat.

The man behind you was panting, right about to breach your folds when a sight below him held him in place.

Rick’s load was just then starting to dribble out of your pussy, leaving a long white trail of milky residue down your slit.

Shane clenched his jaw.

“Still hungry for more, slut?” he said through gritted teeth. To your surprise, you felt his fingertips trace the outline of your cunt and start moving up toward your other hole.

He was coating your asshole with Rick’s cum, grinning when you flinched.

“Think she’s ever been fucked in the ass before?” Shane asked the others. He slipped a digit inside your hole and watched you moan on Daryl’s dick.

Daryl pulled you off his cock and held you by your hair, your mouth saturated with strings of fresh saliva.

“Have you?”

You swallowed and shook your head. Daryl didn’t let his gaze linger on you another second. He signaled to Rick.

“Right there,” he pointed with his chin.

You hardly knew what was going on or where Rick had hastened off to. All you could comprehend was the gruff tone of Daryl’s voice telling you to get up, now, and the feel of Shane’s hands still holding you, guiding you back to your feet. When you didn’t move fast enough for his liking, Shane simply swept you up in his arms bridal-style and started carrying you himself.

Over his shoulder, you spied Daryl and Rick exchanging words and the latter placing the blanket you’d worn earlier on the ground. You almost felt tempted to ask Shane what they were planning to do, just starting to speak, when the man brought you over to the spot and set you right down.

The three of them had you circled in an instant.

Before the question could even form on your lips, you watched Daryl join you on the blanket. His smirk was evident.

He patted his lap for you to come straddle him.

When he started to lie down, your hands followed suit, eager to rest on either side of his chest, but another touch held you back. Behind you, Shane had grabbed hold of your hair and turned your head to face him.

“Spit,” he ordered, holding his hand under your chin.

You did as you were told and watched him rub your spit all over his shaft, before bringing his hand up to your face again and repeating his command.

At the same time, Daryl had lifted his hips and was guiding you closer to his cock. Your gaze moved down, then up, then over at Rick with a look of confusion, only to dart back to Daryl when you felt him split you open with a single thrust.

You had just been impaled on Daryl’s cock, mind reeling at the stretch and sensation, when you felt two fingers slip between your legs from behind. Daryl gripped your face and brought it down to his—wouldn’t let you look over your shoulder as the other man’s hand started to traverse the contour of your ass.

You were pulled in for a kiss as Daryl bottomed out inside you. Tongue hardly able to keep up with his as moans and whimpers went bubbling up in your throat, you just sat there, straddled him, and let him use your pussy any way he pleased. He snapped his hips and groaned your name between your lips, while the hand that was prodding you from behind finally reached its intended destination.

You yelped into Daryl’s mouth the second you felt a full, hefty finger slip inside your ass. Officer Walsh, no doubt.

The two men at your rear all but moaned as your tight little hole contracted around Shane’s finger and Daryl continued to pound you from below. It was odd, that sharp, disparate feeling of Daryl’s cock drilling your pussy while Shane’s digit pumped a much slower pace in your ass. Your senses had kicked into overdrive, and you couldn’t keep from showing your pleasure with every sound that you made.

Shane withdrew just long enough to add another finger, smearing a mixture of cum, spit, and your own juices all over your walls for lubrication. You sensed him moving closer, when Rick grabbed hold of his shoulder.

“Give her a minute,” he muttered.

Shane scoffed, shaking him off.

“Little whore looks plenty ready to me,” he retorted as he eyed your slick, sensitive hole.

Suddenly, your throat was clasped in Shane’s big hand and your head pulled tight against his chest. He had taken his cock in his other hand and was angling his length just right to press the head between your cheeks. Daryl had slowed almost completely.

“C’mere.” Daryl beckoned you closer with a tender look. When you leaned down to lay flat on his chest, he smiled, stroked your hair, “Jus’ hold on ta me, alright?”

Your walls were already squeezing his cock like a vice and your fingernails making white-hot crescents in his shoulders—you couldn’t hold him tighter if you tried—but you nodded. You let him kiss you again, felt a little more fit to take his tongue this time, and eased down along his shaft until you were filled to the brim with nothing but him.

That last part changed as soon as Shane thrust into your ass.

You jolted forward and instinctively tried to pull off his cock, but Daryl held you tight. Brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face and started peppering your skin with kisses the louder you whimpered.

“Doin’ so good for us, baby— takin’ our cocks so well,” he cooed in your ear.

You whined at the fierce burn between your legs as both Daryl and Shane pushed inside you. Rough fucking was one thing, but being penetrated in both holes simultaneously while sandwiched between two men just brought the sensations to entirely new heights. You clawed at Daryl’s shoulders and damn near sunk your teeth straight through your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” the man below you mumbled as he watched your face contort in a medley of pleasure and pain, “Tha’s my good girl.”

“Fuckin’ whore,” Shane spat, shoving his cock even deeper. Clearly not one for tender anal training.

Now it was Daryl going slow and sweet, just barely stirring his cock inside you while Shane slapped your ass and yanked your hips over his own. You saw Rick’s previously-deflated cock grow hard in his hands, and you proceeded to watch him watch you as he stroked himself a few feet away.

You needed another distraction. You caught Rick’s eye and simply licked your lips in silent invitation. He was filling your mouth in a matter of seconds.

With three cocks pumping in and out of you, you felt every bit the fucked-out brat you knew they’d wanted to claim. Your brain had all but melted to mush in their hands, your body manhandled and fucked every which way while your thoughts yielded, in turn, to pure anoesis.

There was something unusually freeing about being a living, breathing fuckdoll for these three King County cops. You couldn’t get enough.

Rick pulled his dick out of your mouth just long enough to slap you with it.

“This what ya needed?” he teased, tapping the head of his cock on your spit-painted cheeks, “A good fucking in all your holes to make you behave?”

You stuck out your tongue and tried to nod, your body still shaking with every thrust from Daryl and Shane. Instead of pushing back in, Rick simply rubbed his cock all over your face and shot you a look that was soaked to the core with condescension. Somewhere below, Daryl began toying with your clit.

You sucked in a breath between broken moans and clenched harder around both men inside you.

“Think she wants a switch,” Rick grinned.

In a minute, you felt yourself hoisted back up—Shane pulling out and Daryl rising swiftly to his feet. Two sets of hands helped maneuver your body to a position you’d never tried, never even seen before as your legs hooked over either one of Daryl’s arms and your ass was thrust back. Then, to your relief, it was Rick at your rear this time, rubbing his tip along your red and stretched out hole while your head came to rest on his shoulder.

You were pressed between the men once more and cradled comfortably in their arms. Daryl took care not to rut into you too hard while Rick was still coating your arousal across the hole Shane had just fucked raw.

“Shh, shh,” Rick’s lips dropped close to your ear while he pressed a wet finger inside, trying to relubricate the area.

You wiggled and squirmed, a bit too sensitive to keep still at this point, so Shane reached in and took you by the throat.

“Hold still,” he snapped. Stroking himself with his free hand.

You watched his eyes drift down to the spot where he’d just been, where Rick was trying to squeeze into, and felt the first real twinge of bliss when you felt the head of his cock tease your entrance. This was softer, even sweet. Paired with Daryl’s extra slow thrusts and the sounds all three were making as you spread your legs even wider, you first became aware of a knot in your tummy.

When the warmth of your ass enveloped just the tip of him, you felt it constrict even tighter.

Rick let out a groan and struggled to keep from thrusting too hard. Shane tightened his grip on your neck.

“C’mon now, sugar tits, don’t act like you ain’t just—”

“Shane,” Daryl growled.

Rick didn’t stop. You squeezed both cocks and moaned.

“I’m just sayin’ if the slut could fit my cock in and—”

“Fuck,” Rick hissed.

You were bouncing in between them now, head lolled back on Rick’s shoulder and hand pressed flush against Daryl’s chest. Steeped in pleasure as they stood and fucked you stupid.

Shane continued to tug his cock and stare you down with hungry, possessive eyes.

Daryl’s moans turned to shallow grunts while Rick’s breath fanned soft across your cheeks in ragged breaths. You writhed and you grinded between their two bodies, too lost in your own ascent to pleasure to sense anything else. Your skin was wet with a sheen of sweat and both holes all but soaked between the two men. Their cocks plunging in and out at a vicious pace until the coil in your stomach was nearly starting to ache.

“Feelin’ good?” Rick hummed in your ear.

“Gettin’ close?” Daryl joined.

Shane’s hand closed around your throat until your lungs could scarcely breathe and your vision blurred with stars. Making one last strangled moan, you rolled your hips and felt something taut and tight and blisteringly hot break loose across your abdomen—and not just the ropes of cum shooting deep inside you.

Alongside that tiny eruption came a blitz of pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Your body went haywire, every square inch of your skin alight with ecstasy and your mind going numb in a surge of bliss. You moaned and felt the walls of both holes spasm desperately over Daryl and Rick alike, and suddenly, something far beyond your control seemed ready to tear your body in two.

A beat of silence. Your consciousness gradually returned.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing to grace your sight was Daryl’s shining face, grinning ear to ear with the happiest expression.

You blinked and watched him closer.

As your vision adjusted and the world came clearer into view, you caught a glimpse of what seemed to have stretched Daryl’s smile so wide—and what had made his features so unusually luminous in this light.

Your eyes widened.

Daryl glanced to Rick, then Shane.

“Who knew she’d be a squirter?”

Presently, your juices were coating Daryl’s face and chest, having spurted straight from your cunt in the throes of climax and spraying all over his front.

Your pussy still clenched and convulsed as the cum from either man went seeping out of both holes.

Even Shane was left speechless, having just milked the last of his own release and watched you come undone in near-pornographic fashion. His chest was still heaving, blinking in disbelief and exchanging sly looks with Daryl and Rick every now and then. Rick pressed a kiss to your shoulder and smiled.

And, just when it seemed any one of you were liable to break that spell of silence with a laugh, the rattle of radio feedback startled you all.

Somewhere amidst the articles of clothing strewn around you, a walkie talkie clipped to one officer’s belt rang loud with the sound of a voice from a neighboring county’s dispatcher.

“All available units, high-speed pursuit in progress— Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound, GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution.”

All three men stood to attention. Daryl and Rick lowered you quickly to the ground while Shane went scrambling for his clothes.

“Suspects are two male Caucasians. Be advised they have fired upon police officers. One Linden County officer is wounded.”

“Shit!” Rick hissed.

“Unit 1, unit 3, to eastbound Route 18. Two miles west of Interstate 85. Will patch in Linden County sheriff radio.”

“Is tha’—” Daryl started.

“We need to go,” Shane interrupted.

Another voice broke out over the line,

“Roger that. We’re five minutes south of the Route 18 intersection.”

Daryl tossed you what garments of yours he could find and snatched your arm in a breakneck haste. Before you could so much as slip your shirt over your head, though, you found yourself carted back over to his squad car and pushed toward an open door.

“What’s—”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

For reasons you couldn’t yet understand, you knew this call didn’t bode well for any of you. You took one last look at Officer Grimes and felt a twist in your stomach.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #rick grimes smut #shane walsh smut #rickyl

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ryin-silverfish · 4 months

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A Guide to the Chinese Underworld (and what it isn't)

As many FSYY and fox posts as there were on my blog, I am actually a huge fan of the Chinese Underworld mythos. Mostly because I was once a morbid little kid that loved reading about the excavations of ancient tombs, and found the statues depicting hellish torture in the Haw Par Villa "super cool".

Apart from the aesthetics, the history of its evolution is also fascinating. Most of us, Chinese or not, only know the most popular version of the Underworld——the "Ten Kings" system, yet that isn't always the case. So today, I'll start off with a short summary of that.

In pre-Qin era, there was already this generic idea of a "Realm of the Dead" called the Yellow Spring, Youdu, or Youming, but we know very little about it.

Then, in the Han dynasty, two ideas start to emerge: 1) the Underworld is a bureaucracy, 2) the God of Mt. Tai ruled over the dead.

This early bureaucracy might not function as an agent of punishment; the main focus was on keeping the dead segregated from the living so they wouldn't bring diseases and misfortune to the latter, as well as using those ghosts to enforce collective punishments upon people for their lineage's wrongdoings while they were still alive.

Post-Han, after Buddhism entered China and took root, its idea of karmic punishments and reincarnation and the figure of King Yama was merged with folk and Daoist ideas of the Underworld bureaucracy, and, came Tang dynasty, resulted in the "Ten Kings" system that first appeared in Dunhuang manuscripts.

It was very rudimentary and far from well-established, as seen in Tang legends, with some adopting the Ten Kings system, some sticking to the Lord of Mt. Tai and some favoring King Yama, and overall little agreements on who's in charge of the Underworld.

But the "Ten Kings" system would become the mainstream version from then onwards, used in Ming vernacular novels and made even more popular by folk religion scrolls like the Jade Records (Yuli Baochao).

As such, most points in the following sections will be based on the fully matured "Ten Kings" system of the Underworld, as seen in the Jade Records and JTTW.

What happens when you die?

(This is a fictionalized walkthrough of the posthumous fate of souls under the "Ten Kings" system. I try to stick to the very broad progression outlined in the Jade Records, but many creative liberties are taken on the details.)

Let's say there's a guy named Xiao Ming, and he had just died of a heart attack. Bummers. What now?

Well, the first thing he saw would be the ghost cops.

There isn't really an unanimous agreement on who these ghost cops are: they may be a pair of ghosts in white and black robes, wearing tall hats (Heibai Wuchang), they may have the heads of farm animals (Ox-Head and Horse-Face), or they can just be generic ghost bureaucrats. For convenience's sake, let's say it was the first scenario.

"Who are you guys and where are you taking me?"

"Glad you asked!" The taller ghost cop, being the cheerful one of the pair, replied. It wasn't very reassuring, considering that his tongue was dangling out of his mouth way further than it should. "I'm the White Impermanence, my sour-looking colleague here is the Black Impermanence, and we are taking you to the City God's office."

This City God, a.k.a. Chenghuang, is just like how it sounds: the divine guardian of a city, who also pulls double duty as the head of the local Dead People Customs Office. They are usually virtuous officials deified posthumously, and in JTTW, they fall under the category of "Ghostly immortals", together with the Earth Gods a.k.a. Tudi.

So Xiao Ming went with the two ghost cops——not like he had much of a choice, made his way through the long queue at the City God's office, and was now standing in front of a gruff old magistrate in traditional robes.

"Name?"

"Wang Xiao Ming."

"Age and birth dates?"

"21, April 16 2003…"

After he was done asking questions, the City God flipped through his ledger, then picked up a brush, ticked off Xiao Ming's name, and told him to go get his pass in the next room. More waiting in a queue. Wonderful.

"I never heard anything about needing a pass to get to the Underworld," the girl in front of Xiao Ming asked the ghost cops, who were standing guard nearby. "Is this a new policy or something?"

"Yeah. In the old days, we'd just drag y'all straight to the Ghost Gate." The ghost cop in black said, then muttered to himself, "Fuckin' paperworks and overpopulation, man…"

(This "Dead People Passport" thing was popularized in the middle-to-late Ming dynasty, as shown by the discovery of such documents inside tombs in southern China. )

(It might have evolved from similar passes to the Western Pure Land in lay Buddhism that recorded their acts of merits. Which, in turn, might be traced back to the "Dead People Belongings List" of Han dynasty, to be shown to Underworld bureaucrats so that no one would take away the dead's private property down there or something.)

Anyways, after he received his pass, Xiao Ming departed together with the rest of the bunch, to be led to the Ghost Gate. It was like the world's most depressing tourist group, where instead of tour guides, you got two ghost cops in funny hats, and the only scenery in sight was the desolation of the Yellow Spring Road.

They weren't the only travellers on the road, though. Xiao Ming noticed other groups moving in the far distance, behind the fog and the flickering ghostfire, led by similar figures in black and white.

It made a lot of sense; realistically, there was no way two ghost cops could fetch hundreds of thousands of dead people all by themselves.

(SEA Tang-ki mediums believed there were multiple Tua Di Ya Peks——Hokkien name for the Black and White Impermanences, working for different Underworld Courts.)

At last, the Ghost Gate stood in front of Xiao Ming, guarded by two towering figures. Normally, they'd be Ox-Head and Horse-Face, like what you see at Haw Par Villa's Underworld entrance.

However, older Han dynasty works like Wang Chong's 论衡·订鬼 also mentioned two gods, Shenshu and Yulei, as guardians of the Ghost Gate, who would use reed ropes to capture malicious ghosts and feed them to tigers, making them possibly the earliest incarnation of "Gate Gods".

So here, they were what Xiao Ming sees, standing side by side like proper doormen, silently watching herds of ghosts being funneled through the entrance.

The place was more crowded than a train station during the CNY Spring Rush; the ghost cops had already said their quick goodbye and left to fetch the next group of dead people, leaving the resident officials of the Underworld proper to maintain order and quell any would-be riots.

Now you started seeing the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guys, poking at unruly ghosts with their pitchforks and dragging away the violent ones in chains. Among their ranks were other monstrous beings, blue-faced yakshas and imps, but also regular dead humans who look 100% done with their jobs, like the lady who stamped Xiao Ming's pass when it was finally his turn.

After this point, Xiao Ming had entered the Underworld proper, and his next destination would be the First Court, led by King Qin'guang. Here, his fate should be decided by what is revealed in the King's magical mirror.

If Xiao Ming was a good guy, or someone who had done an equal amount of good and bad things in life, he'd be sent straight to the Tenth Court for reincarnation. However, if the mirror, while replaying his life events, had displayed more evil deeds than good ones, he'd be sent to one of the 2nd-9th Courts for judgment and then punished inside the Eighteen Hells.

Each of the Ten Kings was also assisted by ghostly judges. Many of them were righteous and just officials in life who had been recruited into the Ten Courts posthumously——Cui Jue from JTTW is one such example, while others were living people working part-time for the Underworld, like how Wei Zheng, Taizong's minister, works part-time for the Celestial Bureaucracy in JTTW.

We decide to be nice to Xiao Ming, so, after reliving some embarrassing childhood incidents and cringy teenage phases in front of a bunch of dead bureaucrats, he was found innocent and sent to the Tenth Court.

The queue here was almost as long as the First Court's, stretching on and on alongside of the banks of the Nai River. King of the Turning Wheel made his judgment without even lifting his head when it was Xiao Ming's turn:

"Path of Humans, male, healthy in body and mind, ordinary family. Next!"

Exiting the Tenth Court building, Xiao Ming saw the Terrace of Forgetfulness, standing tall before six bridges, made of gold, silver, jade, stone, wood, and…some unidentified material. Before he could get a good look at them and the little dots moving across those bridges, he was hurried into the Terrace by the ghostly officials.

Now, both JTTW and the Jade Records mention multiple bridges across the Nai River. In the former, there is 3, and the latter, 6. The bridges made of precious materials are for people who will reincarnate into better lives, as the wealthy, the fortunate, and the divine, while the Naihe Bridge is either the common option or the terribad shitty option.

However, the Naihe Bridge proved to be so iconic, it became THE bridge you walk across to reincarnate in popular legends.

Anyways, back to Xiao Ming. He found himself standing in a giant soup kitchen of sorts, with an old lady at the counter, scooping soup out of her steaming pot and into one cup after another.

This is Mengpo, the amnesia soup granny; according to the Jade Records, she was born in the Western Han era, and a pious cultivator who thought of neither the past nor the future, only knowing that her surname was Meng.

Made into an Underworld god by the Jade Emperor, she cooks a soup of five flavors that will wipe the memory of the dead, making sure they do not remember any of their past lives once they reincarnate.

It tastes awful. Like what you get after pouring corn syrup, coffee, chilli sauce, lemon juice and seawater into the same cup.

Such was Xiao Ming's last thought, as he gulped down the soup, and then he knew no more.

Things you should know about the Chinese Underworld:

1. It's not the Christian Hell.

Rather, the Chinese Underworld functions somewhat like the Purgatory, in that there are a lot of torment, but the torment's not eternal, however long the duration may be. Once you finish your sentence, you get reincarnated as something else, though that "something else" is not a guaranteed good birth.

Other people can also speed up the process via transferring of merits: hiring a priest/monk to chant sutras and perform rituals, for example, or performing good deeds in life in dedication to the dead, or they can pray to a Daoist/Buddhist deity to save their loved ones from a dreadful fate.

Interestingly enough, a thesis paper I read mentions that, whereas Buddhist salvation from the Hells was based on transference of merits——you give monks offerings and pay them to chant sutras, so they can cancel out the sinners' bad karma with good ones, Daoist ideas of salvation tend to involve the priest going down there, sorting it out with the Underworld officials, and taking the dead out of the Hells themselves.

(The paper also stops at the Northern-Southern and Tang dynasties, so the above is likely period-specific.)

2. Nor is it run by evil demons.

Underworld officials are not nice guys and look pretty monstrous and torture the sinful dead, but they are not the embodiment of evil. Rather, the faction as a whole is what I'd call Lawful Neutral, who function on this "An Eye for An Eye" logic, where every harm the sinner caused in life must be returned to them, in order for their karmic debts to be cleansed and move on to their next life.

They can absolutely be corrupt and incompetent and take bribes——Tang dynasty Zhiguai tales and Qing folklore compendiums featured plenty of such cases, but that's a very mundane and human kind of evil, not a cosmic/innate one.

This is just my personal opinion, but if you want to do an "evil" Chinese Underworld? It should be a very bureaucratic evil, whose leaders are bootlickers to the higher-ups, slavedrivers to their rank-and-file workers, and bullies who abuse their power over regular dead people.

Not, y'know, Satan and his infernal legions or conspiring Cthulu cultists.

3. The Ten Kings are not Hades.

Make no mistake, they still have a lot of power over your average dead mortal. But in the grand scheme of things? They are the backwater department of the pantheon, who only show up in JTTW to get pushed around and revive the occasional dead people.

When Taizong made his trip to the Underworld, the Ten Kings greeted him as equals——kings of ghosts to the king of the living. If they see themselves as equal in status to a mortal emperor, then, like any mortal emperors, they are subordinate to the Celestial Host, and the balance of power is not even remotely equal or in their favor.

Also, it isn't said outright, but under the Zhong-Lv classification of immortals JTTW is using, Underworld officials will likely be considered Ghostly immortals, the lowest and weakest of the five types, much like Tudis and Chenghuangs.

Essentially: they are ghosts that are powerful enough to not reincarnate and linger on and on, spirits of pure Yin as opposed to true immortals, who are beings of pure Yang.

It's pretty much the shittiest form of immortality, the result you get when you try to speedrun cultivation (the Zhong-Lv text also made a dig at Buddhist meditation here), and if they don't reincarnate or regain a physical body, there is no chance of progressing any further.

Oh, and fun fact? In the Song dynasty, commoners and literati elites alike believed that virtuous officials in life would get appointed as ghostly officials in death.

However, the latter viewed it as a punishment. Which was strange, considering how they still held the same position and the same amount of authority, just over dead people instead of living ones, so there should be no big losses, right?

Well...it was precisely the "dead people" part that made it a punishment. See, a lot of the power and prestige they had as officials came from the benefits they could bring to their families and kins and native places, as well as the potential wealth and reputation bonuses for themselves.

A job in the Dead People Supreme Court would give them the same workload, but with none of those benefits. Since all the dead people had to reincarnate eventually, they couldn't have a fixed group as their power base, or keep their old familial ties and connections. At most, they could help out an occasional dead relative or two.

Like, working for the Underworld Courts was the kind of deadend (no pun intended) job not even living officials wanted for themselves in the afterlife. That's how hilariously sad and pathetic they are.

4. In JTTW at least, they aren't even the highest authorities of the Underworld.

That would be Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha, who is technically their boss, though he seems to be more of a spiritual leader than someone who is actually involved in running the bureaucracy.

Which makes sense, since he has sworn an oath to not attain Buddhahood until all Hells are empty, and his role is to offer relief and salvation to the suffering souls, not judging and punishing them.

Now, historically...even though Ksitigarbha in early Tang legends was still the savior of the dead, he seemed to be unable to interfere with the judicial process of the Underworld, merely showing up to take people away before they were judged by King Yama.

However, in the mid-Tang apocryphal "Sutra of Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha" (地藏菩萨经), he had evolved into the equal of King Yama, with the power of supervision over his judgements. By the time the Scripture on the Ten Kings came out, in artistic depictions, the Ten Kings had become fully subservient to him.

5. Diyu usually refers to the prison-torture chamber part, not the courthouse, nor is it the entirety of the Underworld.

And for the majority of souls that haven't committed crimes, they'll only see the courthouse part before they are sent to reincarnation. That's why I personally don't like, or use the name Diyu for the Chinese Underworld: I prefer the term Difu ("Earth Mansions"), which encompasses the whole realm better.

Also: even though historical sources like the Scripture on the Ten Kings and Jade Records seem to suggest that the dead were just funneled through this Courthouse-Prison-Reincarnation pipeline with no breaks in between, in practice, that isn't the case.

According to popular folk beliefs, after the dead were done with their trials/sentences, they stayed in the Underworld for a period of time and led regular lives, while functioning as ancestor spirits and receiving offerings.

Which would imply that the Underworld had a civilian district of sorts, populated by regular ghosts, making the whole realm even less of a direct Hell/Purgatory equivalent.

6. It is located in a different realm, but still part of the Six Paths and doesn't exist outside of reality.

In Buddhist cosmology, like the Celestial Realm, the Underworld is part of the Realm of Desires and thus subject to all the woes of samsara.

The pain and misery of the Path of Hell may be the worst and most obvious, but becoming a celestial being isn't the goal of serious Buddhists either: despite all the pleasures and near-infinite lifespan they enjoy, they are not free from samsara and will eventually have to reincarnate.

So if, say, the world is being destroyed at the end of a kalpa, all beings of the Six Paths will perish alongside it, leaving behind a clean slate for the cycle to start anew. The dead won't all end up in the Underworld and face eternal damnation.

7. The Black and White Impermanences would not appear in the Underworld pantheon formally until the Qing dynasty.

The concept that when you die, you get fetched to the Underworld by petty ghost bureaucrats is already well-established in Tang legends, but these were just generic ghost bureaucrats in all sorts of colorful official robes, with yellow being the most common color.

The idea of there being two specific psychopomps in black and white would only become popular in the Qing dynasty. Mengpo is kinda similar: although she existed before the Ming-Qing era as a goddess of wind, venerated by boatmen, her "amnesia soup granny" incarnation came from the Jade Records.

#chinese mythology #chinese folklore #chinese underworld #diyu #chinese religion #cw: death #hell #underworld #journey to the west #I'm lazy so if you want a “work cited” list #just dm me

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

Text

Title: Homesickness.

Pairing: Yandere!Silver x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 1.6k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @felix-the-lemon-king.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Physical Intimidation, Arranged Marriages, and Manipulation.

“You’re going to miss the ball, beloved.”

You flinched into yourself as you heard his voice, accompanied by the sound of clipped heels against stone floors and the slight reverberation of both disruptions against barren walls. A foolish, naïve part of you had convinced the rest that a royal guard – no, a general would have too much pride to be found absent from his own betrothal celebrations, let alone be seen in a servant’s hall, but you should’ve known better. There were many in Briar Valley who let their pride distort their vision, countless who allowed their rank and titles to overshadow even their most basic sense of rationality. Silver was, tragically, not among them.

And Silver was, tragically, the only resident of the valley you were engaged to.

You didn’t rush to respond. Patiently, you counted the seconds until he was standing at the base of the stairwell you’d took refuge in – not unlike the way you used to hide in spare bedrooms and vacant parlors as a child, whenever your parents were entertaining guests who had too many questions about your pointed ears and the scales on the backs of your hands. And, tangentially, you couldn’t say the bolt of dread that would always strike your chest when you heard you parents calling you out of that day’s chosen hiding place was totally dissimilar to the fear that knotted in the back of your throat as Silver stepped into your line of sight, coming to stand in the doorway at the stairwell’s base. He was still dressed in his regalia, his clothing evenly divided between the pitch-black armor of the royal guards and the formal attire that would be expected, given the occasion. His sword was sheathed at his waist – a sight that, weeks ago, might’ve made you somewhat wary, but that you’d since grown desensitized to. No part of you found comfort in the fact that he seemed to be constantly within arm’s reach of a weapon, but it was hard to be scared of something he never seemed to draw.

It took him a moment to find you in the darkness, his eyes more limited by it than your own, but he seemed to soften as his gaze finally landed on you. “You’ll miss the ball,” he repeated, his tone concerned rather than irritated. Another small blessing – for a knight, your betrothed seemed remarkably slow to anger. “Is something wrong? I know Malleus took charge of the arrangements, but if something doesn’t suit your preferences, I can—”

“It’s beautiful,” you assured, because it was. Because it had been. Because for any little girl from the Briar Valley or any other fae land had been in your place, this all would’ve been nothing short of a dream come true, but you weren’t a little girl, and you weren’t from Briar Valley, and you found very few things beautiful about the idea of getting married at all, let alone to a man you had only recently met. “It’s only…” You curled your hands around the fabric of your own attire. “I’m afraid I’m just… not very good at parties, I guess. I’m sorry.”

You half-expected Silver to frown, to urge you back to the banquet hall he’d come from, but he only sighed, shaking his head in a sympathetic sort of way before taking to the stairs and seating himself beside you, leaving a measured gap between your body and his. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you’re not used to being here, just yet.” He paused, flashed a small smile in your direction. Even at the best of times, you struggled to read his expression – not because he was overly cold, but because he always seemed to radiate that same uncanny, only a touch above off-putting warmth. At least a portion of it had to be insincere. Fae or human, there wasn’t a person alive who could be so consistently affable. “It took me months to adjust, the first time I left the valley. Everything was so alien – if I hadn’t been travelling with my father, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a day.”

It was difficult, but you did your best to smile, to laugh. Although your pairing had seemed strange at first, it did make a twisted kind of sense – a fae born without magic, raised by the human nobility of a country with only negligible ties to Briar Valley, arranged to marry a human with magical prowess in spades, raised in service of a fae king, for the mutual benefit of their homelands. You wouldn’t have been surprised to find out it was a part of some elaborate joke, the type it was rumored your kin were so fond of. It was only unfortunate that you had to be the target of their humor.

“The dark bothers me more than anything,” you admitted, before you could think better of it. “Where I come from, it’s almost always sunny. Having to live someplace without light and with so little warmth—” And so many cruel faces, and so many gnashing teeth, “—I suppose I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“It’s not always like this.” It was the most eagerly you’d ever seen him speak. “You’ve come during a poor season for it, but the view from the castle’s highest tower on a clear day is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and the valley’s coasts get much more sun. I’ve heard they tend to hold their festivals around this time of year, too.” He seemed to pause, to consider, then went on, “After the wedding, I’d be my pleasure to take you to one.”

At that, you let yourself relax. He was aloof, sure, but he was kind, too. You could be thankful for that, if nothing else. “I was planning to return home as soon as possible, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer.”

“Of course.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought you heard him moving closer to you. “Malleus suggested we continue to stay in the castle while you settle, but… it would be nice, if we had our own home.”

Your delicate smile wavered. “Silver, I know we haven’t talked about this but—”

“Unless you’d like to stay here, I mean. But, I’d still like to show you the cabin where—”

“Silver,” you tried, again, letting out an exasperated laugh. “I meant that I’m not going to stay in the valley at all after the wedding. I understand why I’ve been asked to marry you, and it’s not that I haven’t enjoyed my time here, but—” Another laugh, a pleading glance in his direction. “I don’t belong here, as you wouldn’t belong anywhere but Briar Valley. You know that, don’t you?”

Now, it was Silver’s turn to go quiet. When you found the nerve to look toward him, you found him staring blankly ahead, his lips ever so slightly quirked downward. Huh.

So that was what he looked like, after he’d gone cold.

You didn’t see him draw his sword. His hand was on his hilt, grip tight enough to bleed the color from his knuckles, and then, your back was pressed against the harsh slant of the staircase, the flat of his blade pressed to the base of your throat and Silver above you. You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. You might’ve forgotten to breathe, too, if you hadn’t been shocked enough to let out a single, airy gasp – just loud enough to be audible.

“After the wedding,” he started, speaking slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid you might not understand. “I think you should remain in the valley, with me. I’ll build us a house – a cabin not far from the castle – and you’ll be safe and warm for as long as I can take care of you. Would you like that?”

You opened your mouth, but suddenly couldn’t remember how to move your tongue. Silver angled his wrist, the slant of his blade pressing into tender flesh. “Would you like that, beloved?”

“I---” You forced yourself to swallow, to shut your eyes. “I want to go home, Silver.”

This time, you felt something razor-sharp and frigid bite into the skin just below your jawline, drawing the thinnest possible trail of blood. “And you will.” Then, after a measured pause, “And that home will be with me.”

He wasn’t cruel enough to make you say it aloud. All it took was a quick nod, a pathetically fractured whimper, and he was drawing back, returning his sword to its sheath as he pushed himself to his feet. There was no mention of swords or cabins or the blood now dripping down your neck – only long, weighted look, the implications of which you didn’t wish to examine. “Stay here.” Almost reflexively, you moved to stand, but all it took was a tilt of his head and a flash of his blade to have you falling back into place, paralyzed. “I’ll tell Malleus that you won’t be returning. When I’m finished, we’ll return to our chambers together.”

You hadn’t formerly been sharing chambers, but pointing that out felt redundant, if not entirely useless.

You watched as he started to turn away, only to hesitate and return to you. With a deliberate kind of slowness, he lowered himself onto one knee in front of you, taking your limp hand in his. “Of all the people I could’ve been betrothed to, I’ve found myself increasingly glad that I’m betrothed to you.”

His smile was warmer than it ever had been, and yet, you’d never felt so cold.

“And, eventually, I know you’ll feel the same.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst xreader #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere silver #silver x reader

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nanaslutt · 5 months

Text

ʚ minors and ageless blogs go away, ill block u ^.^

Thinking about trying to get Sukuna to sub,,

and he wants to sooo badly, but he's having such a hard time getting over the humiliation of letting himself be at the mercy of someone else. The king was so used to always being in charge and dominating everything and everyone in every sense of the word. So now as he's tied up and at your mercy as you sit on his cock and force him to stay still and not fuck up into you, he's having such a hard time letting himself relax.

You bound his arms tightly together behind his back, but you could still see how his arms flexed and his shoulder muscles bulged under the force of his large body, fighting the restraints. You both knew he could bust out in seconds if he wanted to, and a part of him really did want to, but a larger part wanted this, he wanted you to fuck him stupid and take control.

Sukuna's lip and the corner of his nose twitched upwards in a scowl as you slowly dragged your ass off of him, letting his cock slide halfway out of your tight, inviting hole before sliding torturously back down on it. You could feel how tense his muscles were underneath you, and you could tell by his cursed energy how much he was struggling with submitting.

While Sukuna has his eyes glued to your dripping cunt, already making a mess on the base of his cock, you took the opportunity to press your fingers against his lips and force your fingers into his mouth. His eyes shot up to yours in an almost angry, shocked glare. You smiled at his reaction, feeling his body vibrate with animosity as he battled his feelings about this situation internally.

Sukuna made no effort to open his mouth wider for you, just letting you force your fingers to the back of his throat through the little gap you had created between his plush lips. Sukuna's cock kicked against your walls, thick white pre-cum dripping inside your walls, making your cunt even messier than before. You pressed your fingers fully against his mouth, your knuckles pressed against his lips as you pressed down hard on the back of his tongue.

Sukuna stifled a gag, his eyebrows furrowing as he let himself lose composure for half a second only before his anxious, frustrated gaze returned. You smiled before you started rocking your hips back and forth on his lap, rubbing his fat cockhead against your gummy walls. Sukuna's head bobbed ever so slightly with your rocking, his brain slowly getting overturned with pleasure.

"Pretend like you hate it if that makes you feel better." You teased, starting to bounce up and down on his cock, forcing his dick so deep inside your warm walls. Sukuna growled at the feeling of your cunt sucking in his cock, combined with your words of faux comfort. The king briefly closed his eyes when you sat down on his cock fully and squeezed your cunt around him as tight as you could, repeating that sensation over and over around him.

He released a shaky moan before letting his head tip back against his bed. You bit your lip and slid your fingers out of his mouth, dragging your hand down to grab his thick throat. You weren't quite able to wrap your hand around the expanse of his neck, but the feeling of grabbing what you could and applying pressure to his throat still made him dizzy.

Sukuna's eyes found yours and you could tell as he was slipping away more and more to your whim, he was growing increasingly more irritated with letting himself feel like this. You wanted to comfort him, but you knew he would hate that more than anything. "You like how tight I am?" You asked instead, trying to distract him. Sukuna didn't answer, his eyes just lidded further as he watched you start to bounce up and down on his cock again.

The king might be struggling now, but you were sure that after a few more tries, you would successfully get him to submit to you without feeling insecure about it. Baby steps.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen smut #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu sukuna

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pcr-alice · 3 months

Text

DPxDC - Missing Persons

also on AO3

It started so quietly no one really noticed.

People were disappearing. A veteran from the mountains, a firefighter from the city, a surfer from the coast, and on and on. All gone without a trace. The local authorities investigated, of course, but they never found any leads. After some time, the people were simply written off as missing, and their communities moved on. They remained forgotten until the Justice League got involved. Their systems flagged the uptick in disappearances, and once a Bat took a look, they were immediately suspicious. It took another Bat before the link was finally found. And it took Red Hood disappearing to confirm it. The missing people all had previous close calls with death. And so the League followed protocol – they announced an investigation.

The disappearances stopped.

It was a relief at first. There were far too many people who fit the profile, and none of their analysis could discern a usable pattern from the previous disappearances. But as time stretched on, they got nervous. Surely whatever this was wouldn’t just stop once noticed? What was going to happen next, and when? Justice League Dark got involved. Only once John Constantine started poking around did they find a lead, and even then only thanks to dumb luck.

When Constantine was finally dragged to the town where one of the early disappearances occurred, he zeroed in on an old woman living in a care home. As it turned out, she was mildly magically sensitive. Apparently her grandmother was a witch or something of that sort. But crucially, she had suffered a nearly fatal heart attack almost a decade ago. And she was all too happy to talk about the ‘nice young man’ from her dream who offered to take her away.

She granted Constantine permission to dive into her memory to learn more. Whatever he learned did not make him happy. He said he’d be back after a quick trip to Hell and disappeared, much to Batman’s irritation. But true to his word, surprising some, he returned with slightly singed clothes and a book.

So here he was, chalking sigils onto the floor. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern watched him work in silence, likely trying to wrap their minds around the fact that there was a so-called Ghost King who they were about to request an audience with. Constantine finished up his work and stood at what they all assumed was the front of the circle he had just drawn.

“I do all the talking, yeah? These ones can be tricky.”

Without waiting for a response, he waved his hand, magic glowing at his palm. The circle responded in kind, pulsing white then fading into a harsh, vibrant green. A large black, green, and red elaborately-decorated sarcophagus rose inside the circle, appearing to phase straight through the floor.

“Dramatic fuckers, eh?” Constantine muttered.

A thick fog billowed out alongside it, quickly surging out past the boundary of the circle. It spread upward, threatening to fill the entire room. Constantine cursed to himself and waved an arm, clearing out the fog around them even as it thickened throughout the rest of the room, obscuring the view of the ceiling and walls save for the door directly behind them.

A deep voice echoed through the room with no discernible source. Everyone tensed.

“Who would dare wake the sleeping tyrant?”

A pair of bright green slits appeared from the depths of the fog and widened into eyes.

“Eugh, it’s you.”

The voice lost its echo. It sounded annoyed but entirely human and...young? That didn’t stop Constantine from clenching a hand into a fist, charging magic and preparing for an attack. The eyes moved closer, revealing a pale face and snow-white hair that floated in an unfelt breeze.

“Peace, Hellblazer.”

A lanky figure stepped forward onto the sarcophagus from where they were floating. They wore all black save for their white gloves, white boots, and previously visible head. With an audible thunk they plopped down on the foot of the sarcophagus, one leg bent upward to rest their chin on and wrap their arms around.

“I mean you no harm.”

There was a pause as the others waited to see how Constantine would respond.

“We met?”

“No, but I know of you. And I must admit, I’m disappointed to see you working with the likes of them.”

They gestured to the others in the room.

“Yeah, well,” Constantine relaxed his fist but lost none of his tension, “Don’t meet your heroes.”

The stranger scoffed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just enjoy seeing demons annoyed.”

There was another tense pause as the stranger lazily looked over all those present. Constantine broke the silence again.

“Who might you be, then?”

The stranger slowly dragged their gaze away from Wonder Woman and back to the magician. After a pause they spoke.

“You may call me Ambassador.”

“Ambassador to ghosts?”

“If you’d like to think of it that way.”

Constantine straightened his posture.

“We would like to formally request an audience with His Majesty The King to discuss what we suspect is ghost activity in our world.”

The ambassador stared back in silence with squinted eyes before sighing and thumping their forehead to their knee.

“Where to even begin…” they whispered to themselves.

“Okay, let’s start with this.” They slapped the side of the sarcophagus and looked up. “What part of ‘sleeping tyrant’ wasn’t clear?”

“I was under the impression His Majesty was recently crowned and well-respected?”

The ambassador pinched the bridge of their nose and groaned.

“Ancients...”

They hopped to the ground without warning, causing everyone to flinch into defensive stances. If the ambassador noticed, they gave no indication.

“The king is a tyrant, he is trapped in forever sleep again, and I’d like to keep it that way this time.”

Constantine opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted before he got a chance.

“Speaking of which, how’d you even summon him?”

“Summon?” Constantine choked out, clearly surprised.

The ambassador walked toward Constantine, making everyone save for him slide backwards a step. They looked down at the chalk marks on the floor.

“Ancients, this is archaic. Where’d you find it?”

After a few seconds of silence, the ambassador looked up at Constantine.

“Well?”

“Ah...Merlin.”

The ambassador raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s bloody true!”

The ambassador huffed out a laugh and walked back to lean against the sarcophagus and cross their arms.

“Can’t fault his demonology, but this circle is Bad. I suggest you lose it.”

Constantine opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time from an unfamiliar voice echoing through the room.

“Lord Phantom.”

Everyone flinched as a set of black armor coated in purple flames stepped into view from the fog.

“’Sup Frighty?”

“The dark one is marked.”

The ambassador flicked their eyes to Batman and stared for several tense seconds.

“So he is. Just like the other one, but actually concealed. Must be barely contaminated.”

The ambassador squinted and tilted their head.

“Sure enough. It’s weak, but there’s a family bond there.”

Batman clenched his fist.

“Where is Red Hood?”

The ambassador straightened their head, unflinching and unblinking.

“Safe. And being cared for.”

Before Batman could respond, yet another voice echoed from the fog.

“These are the ones?”

The ambassador turned their back to Batman and groaned.

“Is anyone not coming?”

A giant, four-armed, blue-skinned, armor-clad woman stepped out of the fog with two sets of crossed arms. She had the smallest smirk on her face.

“Apologies. I wished to see those who would obstruct our evacuation.”

Superman and Green Lantern perked up and shared a short look of confusion. The woman turned her head to Wonder Woman, her smirk replaced with a grimace.

“I am disappointed to see one of my kin among them.”

“I thought she might be, but I wasn’t sure.”

Wonder Woman stepped forward.

“My Lady, I –”

“You were not asked to speak, Child.” The woman snapped.

Her voice shook the floor underneath them. Wonder Woman flinched and stared up at her with wide eyes. The heroes tensed for a fight. But to their shock, Wonder Woman slowly raised her arm to press a fist over her heart and bowed her head in deference.

“I will make my displeasure known,” the woman growled, voice still angry but no longer violently.

“Take Dora with you.”

“Do you think me unable to fend for myself, Little One?” Her mouth curved up into a fond smirk again.

“I know better than to doubt you,” they briefly smirked back, “but given my limited experience, I don’t hold them in high regard.”

After a pause they tacked on a “no offense”.

“None taken.”

The woman stepped backwards and faded into the fog. Superman took a step forward, eyeing the armor cautiously.

“Ambassador, my apologies for our unpleasant first meeting.”

He waited until the ambassador gave him a slight nod.

“May I inquire what your companion meant by ‘evacuation’?”

“Exactly what she said. Our kind are being hunted, and we are trying to save them.”

“In that case I must apologize again. We were not aware of this unfortunate situation. Had we been provided an explanation, we would –”

“Typical,” the ambassador scoffed, “your primary patron government is committing a genocide, and yet we’re at fault for not properly informing you.”

Superman was smart enough to bite back his standard “we’re independent” retort. Green Lantern stepped forward instead.

“If I may, Ambassador, my name is Hal Jordan. I am a member of the Green Lantern Corps. We are a wholly independent organization dedicated to peacekeeping across the galaxy.”

The ambassador looked him up and down slowly before turning their head away dismissively.

“I don’t talk to cops.”

The heroes were stunned to silence. The ambassador turned to the floating armor.

“Prepare the Keep. I’ll ward against this circle once the sarcophagus is back in its place.”

“My Lord.”

The armor bowed its head then faded into the fog. Batman stepped forward.

“We have no involvement in the violence against you or your kind.”

The ambassador turned to stare at Batman for several seconds, squinted eyes glowing brightly.

“You’re an excellent liar, Batman.” The fog crept forward and wrapped around their legs. “Unfortunately, I know you’re full of shit.”

“What points you to that conclusion?” Batman kept his voice neutral and steady.

The fog had risen to the ambassador’s chest. They scoffed.

“There are photos of you with Amanda Waller.”

Batman’s fist clenched harder.

The ambassador turned to look at Constantine as the fog enveloped them, leaving two glowing green spots.

“I suggest you not push this any further, Laughing Magician. There are some things in this universe that trump even your luck.”

The glowing green eyes closed, and the fog faded away, leaving an empty summoning circle and untouched room. After several seconds of silence, Wonder Woman finally raised her head and spoke.

“I must return to Themyscira, perhaps for some time. If that was who I believe it to be...something has gone very wrong.”

Superman glanced over the others, who were all still silently processing the encounter. He turned back to Wonder Woman to give her a nod, and she quickly walked out of the room.

Constantine reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He unscrewed the cap with a heavy sigh and downed whatever was left. He looked tired and annoyed, same as he always did. But Batman could tell he was shaken.

He looked away from Constantine and back to the empty circle again. There was a lot of concerning information to process, but one key thing did slip through. The knight had called the stranger ‘Phantom’. He had come across that name once before. One of three legible words on a burnt piece of paper in an abandoned and destroyed facility. A facility that stank of a classified government cover-up. A facility Waller had sworn up and down she knew nothing about. But he had a lead. The other two words. Amity Park. A small town that only existed if you looked at paper maps printed several years ago.

He had to act quickly.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #my writing #not sure where this idea came from #dont know where it goes from here #but i think itd be funny if batman clocks danny #cuz he hears him say 'i dont talk to cops'#bonus points if its to dick/nightwing

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brokenmenswhore · 2 months

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Hi hi

Could I request an Aegon fic where after he got burned Aegon thought that you would see him as a monster and would leave him, but he was surprised when you stayed and took care of him.

aweh i fuckin love this request

monster | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x reader

warnings: none, just some fluff :)

────── ☾ ──────

When Aegon regained consciousness, all he wanted was you.

The events that had brought him to his current predicament were blurry; all he knew was that he was painful and terrified for the future. Would he heal? Would he survive? Would he ever speak again? Walk again? Would you even look at him?

Aegon was not someone who maintained stable, healthy relationships with anyone, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake you. When no one cared for him, you were there. When his own family and council disagreed with him, turned on him, or treated him like he was useless, you listened to him. You pushed him to be a better king, a better partner, a better person.

Everyone always leaves. Laying stagnant, leg wrapped and propped up in his bed, his grotesque burns on display, he couldn’t possibly imagine why you would be an exception. He felt, in his heart, that you wouldn’t do that to someone, but, in his head, he believed that he wasn’t worth someone like you sticking around. He could only imagine how he looked, just as he felt he was internally: a monster.

Aegon was stable, and Maester Orwyle was hopeful that the King would make some form of a recovery. Aegon spent most of the day asleep, his body desperate for an infinite amount of rest, but would awaken for just around an hour of every ten.

It took days, if not weeks, for Aegon to be able to speak, and when he could, he could only form small words or groans. He tried to speak your name- to ask for you- but he was unintelligible.

Aegon wasn’t aware that you had spent most of your recent days tending to him as he slept. You cleaned his wounds, rewrapped his leg, and most importantly, sat beside him and spoke to him, hoping the words would stick in his brain when he was conscious enough to remember or understand them. You told him of your days, the happenings around the castle, and laughed to yourself about the stupidity of his brother Aemond’s new policies. You missed him, and you were terrified for his life and his health every single second of every single day.

Weeks after Aegon regained somewhat stability, handmaidens rushed in to begin his morning care, and Aegon fought with everything inside of him to let out a small whine of your name.

One of the handmaidens stopped her actions, her fingers leaving the wrap around Aegon’s head as she looked into his eyes. “Your Grace?”

Aegon repeated your name, the handmaiden leaning in to ensure she heard it correctly. Even if you were going to leave, he had to see you one last time.

The handmaiden stood up straight in understanding, exiting the room as she went to fetch you.

“He is asking for you, My Lady.”

You shot up from your chair. He was asking for you? Meaning he could speak? Meaning he was awake?

A million thoughts rushed through your head, but your feet took charge, rushing toward his chambers to see him.

When you entered the room, the handmaidens all turned in unison to watch you.

“Please leave us for a moment,” you requested, the handmaidens bowing in your direction as they exited the room, leaving you alone with Aegon.

He looked straight at you. You hadn’t seen his eyes open in what felt like ages. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes at the sight. You rushed to his side, taking his uninjured hand and holding it in your own.

“Aegon,” you spoke, a smile on your lips as you choked back a sob.

Aegon could not say or move much, this much you knew. You didn’t expect him to, you were simply happy to finally be in his true presence.

Aegon, however, was nervous. He was nervous that you were moments away from breaking his heart, the only feeling worse than that of his current condition.

Aegon was completely in his head. She’s going to leave. Memorize her features, you’ll never see them again. You fucking monster, no one could love you like this.

“I’ve missed you dearly,” you nearly whispered, “you know, I’ve been here each and every day, yet we’ve always seemed to miss one another.”

Involuntarily, a tear fell from one of Aegon’s eyes. You had come to see him every day. You didn’t run at the first sight of him.

You noticed the tear, and you knew Aegon. You know he likely doubted your relationship and himself, and you’re almost certain that he expected this to be a goodbye. He underestimated your love for him constantly, and to no fault of your own, but because he still struggled to believe anyone could actually love him.

You didn’t want to overwhelm his emotions, but just in case, it was important for you to make sure he knew this was true: “I love you, Aegon.”

You leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead, calming Aegon’s crying hiccups and erratic breathing kissing his burns to show you loved him no matter what, but keeping the kiss light so as not to hurt him further.

You stared at one another for a moment, content to be in each other’s presence.

“May I?” you asked, walking the the other side of the bed and patting the sheets next to Aegon.

Aegon groaned in response, and you knew him well enough to know it meant yes. You, slowly so as not to hurt him or shift his body weight, lifted the sheets and layed down beside Aegon, your face turned on the pillow so you could look directly at him.

You brought your hand up to Aegon’s face, stroking the unphased skin as a gesture of love, avoiding the burns in an effort to keep your actions painless. “You could not rid yourself of me if you tried, My King.”

Aegon’s eyes closed again, and yours did the same, your body relaxing as you slept next to him in peace.

#aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x y/n #aegon targaryen x y/n #aegon targaryen drabble #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen one shot #aegon targaryen imagines #aegon targaryen fluff #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #asks

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imoncloud7 · 1 month

Text

suna rintaro headcanons

general:

has a meme folder in his phone with over 2000 pics & videos and uses them as reaction photos frequently

some are even of the twins LOL

has a google drive of all the school fight videos and charges people for them

hes actually really smart but chooses not to try in school?

suuuper close with his little sister

she calls him all the time when hes away at school (since hes not from hyogo)

they play roblox together every night

they play those princess roleplay games (fantasia) and a lot of dress to impress

hes literally a top model by now

he really like indie films esp horror movies

has never picked up a book in his life

he owns wired apple headphone for the "aesthetic"

the twins clown him for them and flex their airpods

hes an avid wearer of the uniqlo airism tee

has a silver chain he never takes off

lowkey would be a stalker and have burner ig and tiktok accounts

nonchalant king

literally hes so mysterious and girls looove that

he ran an anonymous account on instagram rating all the water fountains at school

had a lot of followers ngl

he takes his bed very seriously

like weighted blanket, silk sheets, the weighted dino stuffed animal from target, fresh water by his bed, magnesium and melatonin at night

doesn't let anyone sit in it with outside clothes on

neevvverrrr lets the twins sit in it

definitely uses "yh" when hes texting (absolutely tf not)

as a boyfriend:

he was plottin on you since the start

but bc hes nonchalant af you had no idea

hes really perceptive so he could kinda tell you reciprocated those feelings

so he took that as his sign and he confessed first

he was super casual about it

you guys were walking back to the dorms after his practice one day and he just kinda dropped it on you

"yo can i tell you something"

LMAOOOO

he was kindddd of awkward about it

but its ok!! now youre dating!!!

his love language is def physical touch

this man takes his cuddling time SERIOUSLY

youre one of the only people he frequently lets in his bed

you guys stay up till 2 am cuddling and giggling with one another about stupid shit

so many sneaky sleepovers (the dorms dont usually allow opposite genders in the same room)

yall r one of those couples that sit in the corner and talk shit about everyone in the room like whispering in each others ears and laughing

esp about the twins

you two have a very long streak of word hunt going back and forth

you guys also send a lot of voice memos ranting back and forth

his sister loves you!! she doesn't have an older sister, so you fill that role. only so much that suna can do for her

she texts you a lot too lol

you join them in playing roblox every night

so many 2 am convenience store runs

#haikyuu #hq x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna rintaro headcanons #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x y/n #suna headcanons

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howyouloveyourdragon · 7 months

Text

Tԋҽ Sσϝƚҽʂƚ Lσʋҽ

summary: sometimes all you need is a gentle lover and a comforting hand, Jacaerys knows this all too well with you at his side and a crown at his temple request: Hii can I request a softest love prompt 2&7 for Jace:)))) pairing: King!Jacaerys x reader pronouns: she/her dividers by: saradika and cafekitsune wordcount: 2,659 prompts: 2. touching foreheads in a hug, 7. that gaze--tired, soft, their thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you" banners by myself A/N: i really hope you enjoyed this anon! let me know!

“AND IF we are unable to find said payment or refuse, then it is a reasonable assumption to make that–” The droning speech of Isembard Arryn, Master of Coin, continues despite the Jacaerys’ clenching jaw and slitted gaze. “War is no solution.” Lord Cregan Stark swiftly interrupts him, glancing his King’s way as the words pass him. It is no secret that the King is not fond of division nor war. Jacaerys stays staring ahead, gaze hard and impenetrable. “We have the money.” He contributes, voice uncharacteristically gruff. You squeeze his hand but as quickly as you can blink, he brings your palm to his lips and places a deft kiss there. Soft and gentle as it had always been. The council pauses at the motion then returns to the matter. They shift in discomfort, they continue to look at his stiff form. “I believe, our liege, that–” Lord Thaddeus Rowen, Master of Laws and lord justiciar begins. “My Hand is right, let us rest on the matter.” Jacaerys snaps briskly. Lord Rowen clears his throat and lets a childish huff pass him. “The decision should be made with haste, your grace, Lord Baratheon shall not be so kind. He will–” Arryn presses further before– “We will let it rest!” Jacaerys shouts with suddenness. He stands and slams one cold, commanding fist against the table. Each breath is held at such an outburst and for once, the King is not blinking at the nothingness of a floor or blankly ahead. Purpose takes flight in his eyes, directing their focus as sharp as a blade on the infuriating man.

Silence presides over the table, It echoes and flickers with the rage of a King’s charge. Your King had spoken and if his council continued to defy him, you were certain that it would end less than favourably for them. And so, you circle your thumb of his hand and latch your eyes on the side of his face until the pull of your attention tugs him back to you. His eyes lock on your own–at first they stare with the stark hardness of stone. They swim with slitted irritation and glare with a gruffness unknown to you. But he is still your Jacaerys and it takes not long before he softens at your own gaze, you are enough to gentle him. You always are. Jacaerys swallows and turns his gaze back on his dispersing council. “I meant not to frighten you.” He uttered quietly. His body lightened like a feather and his sights trained on the stone table before him. As easily as he does so, you stand and cup his face with your unarmed hand. Your fingers flatten against his face and turn him once more before you. “You could never frighten me.” You reply simply, closing your eyes. Simpleness was your most favourable quality. Everything you cast him was with ease, no secrets stood between you both. It was a relief after so long at troublesome court for you both. A bated huff fluttered with purpose through his nose and it took little for the both of you to rest your foreheads together. He releases shuddered breaths which follow the seam of your mouth. “I love you.” He whispers. A smile pinches at your lips. “I love you too.” You return as the doors swing shut. Another sigh passes through your husband and relaxation washes over him.

Finally everyone has left, Jacaerys’ arms wrap around you and fingers are already pawing at your gown. It comforts him to feel you, to clench that fabric up in his balled hands and know you’re there. What feels even better however is when a warm, firm kiss is planted against your forehead. And then you hear the most lyrical words…“I love you so much I can barely breathe.” And you let out a shaky exhale. You flutter against him and it almost entices his arms to hold you tighter. The sweetness of his voice plays like a melody through your ears until they circle your brain and lull it to stop the whirring. The whirring that had become so painfully familiar. So painfully consistent. It reminds you of your lover. Not your husband but your lover. The marriage had been chosen for you but that did not mean that your love had been, as Jacaerys cares to remind you each eve as he twists those silken fingers through your hair, as he kisses his affection down your neck until caressed bruises lay in his wake and colour with the pink of his love. Because he does love you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves–He loves to be yours, he reminds you as he pulls away. The drapes flutter the cold air inside as swiftly as you can imagine wings could. It folds over you in the space between yourself and your husband. Slowly, your eyes open to find him already gazing at you with his wear lovesick gaze. The gaze that buckles your knees and has you unable to as much as glance away from him. Not for a single moment.

A shaky sigh sputters from The King of Just’s lips. The people had named him as such after the activities of his on-running reign. Of the odd mercy that he had approached his former enemies with. You think of these events as his fingers dance into your hair. His eyes follow fast to his own actions, fascinated in the treasure within those fingers. Of what he has been blessed to hold, he vows to hold you dearly. Tenderly. Softly. As he does so, your own sights linger on his face. At his pillowed lips and dark, thick eyelashes. At the short scar that stretches along his jaw and chin. The tips of your own fingers flutter toward it like a moth to light. Your thumb lays gentle touch upon it and smooths along the surface. Again, a sigh passes through him but with the gentleness of a doe. With the timid, uncertain glance of a doe. The thought amuses you but you allow it to settle. Breath threads between you both and tugs you ever closer. Ever where you belong. But when he finally presses a kiss to your lips, it barely greets the skin. There is something divinely religious in the way he caresses your lips with his like an idol. Worship dances along his tongue and almost expels prayers from his warm mouth. His thumb detangles from your hair and cups your face. His thumb rolls slow circles into your cheek as his kisses press on between unkempt words. “I love you.” He utters in repetition. “I love you, I love you,” His nose burrows into the side of your own until you almost become one body entwined only with itself. The words tangle themselves in the sweetest patterns throughout your brain and chest.

Your face turns to face the tall dark door. “They must know that war will not be sustainable.” Utters through you, the spell of confusion and aged bewilderment leaves through an exhale. “We have funds to cease such affairs, why cause a fate of destruction?” Jacaerys feels his jaw soften and his eyes stare distantly into your face. With two gentle fingers, he turns you back towards him. “Men will destroy aplenty for power. I know that all too well.” His gruff words murmur through the air. Your eyes stare into the harsh darkness of his gaze – warm amber turns to stone. Your eyes continue to trace down his ridged nose and chiselled jaw, his plump lips. Something possesses you to caress them with your thumb – slowly parting them until his teeth peek out like shining pearls. His throat bobs but his shoulders stay calm as he leans in again. Jace had been not only your dearest love but your most sweet and that meant more to you than words could ever detail. His lips brush against yours before diving between them and all you can remember is that he feels like home. Jace feels like home. Your Jace. His soft love addresses you and only you – he needs not hide it from anyone. Not even from irritative lords in council chambers. Because you were not only his wife but his Queen. And he has no intent to keep that a discretion. His kiss blossoms your flesh like the blooming of your affection; tentative, tender and tenacious. You would not release it for the world. Not for any Kingdom or cure from mortality for you would happily die in his embrace. Endure any erratic wars or gruelling hardship. It is hard to imagine that you would ever deny him your kiss – the memory flutters the reverberation of a laugh from your mouth.

Jacaerys has never thought himself one to offend but even less so to cater to the whimsy of romance, yet the moment your laugh reaches his ears, he feels himself reflect one himself. The hair of his fringe passes your own forehead as your press ever-closely together. The thought of parting from you for even a moment brings him heartache. His hands wrap atop the circle of your waist and squeeze with a playfulness unknown to those outside your threshold. “What is that which has you fluttering?” He delights in good charm. He cups your face with one broad, warm hand and rubs the skin. “Hm? What has my dereworthy darling fluttering so?” His amusement only triggers you moreso. When you return him your gaze, Jacaerys can recall why he wished to paint your face upon glass. He wishes to keep your sculpted, smiling face forever in view. It matters not should you outlive him so long as he need not spend a single moment without the sweet, shining eyes of yours. The brows of his face cannot help but droop at your mere sight. His expression stays tender and intense. How could he ever meet a woman of your beauty? He is certain that your charms were not merely a gift of Gods but the heavens themselves. “My joy, I nearly refused you.” It is that of befuddlement which pinches and clouds your pleasant face. A shake of your head rustles the strands of your hair. “How could I ever have refused you? My heart…”

A chuckle rumbles throughout the King’s chest and he tucks the brushes of hair behind your ears. His sights skid across your features but not in search – he has every answer he could ever need and in the safest of vaults. The vault of his heart. You truly were the sweetest of wines, the holder of hidden truths and the wielder of worlds – his at least. “Tis not your fault, you had not met my charms until our day.” At the mention of such a date, he earned his years of prize – your smile. “To all truth, such an hour frightened me once.” “I know.” He murmured, grinning like a feline. “Of course, then I knew too.” Your eyes widened and the shortest intake rushed to your mouth. “Surely, you jest!” You all but scold, horror in your eyes. He shakes his head, humour all-consuming as he doubles over and squeezes his eyes. “I do not!” Jacaerys claims. “I was quite nerved by it, for what reason is it that had you to assume I not taken you to bed that eve if not your considerations?” His left brow rises and the air suddenly feels stifling. “I…” You stumble with abash. “I had presumed you had not taken a liking to me yet.” At that, Jace is quick to disagree and nuzzle his nose to yours. “I could never not want for you, sweet wife. You are the most beautiful of women and the most kind.” Your head tilts in that darling way that it only calls for when you are unclued. “For days I–” His voice lowers, his gaze flickers over your face. With a swallow, he summons his courage and rubs his thumb over your jawline. “For days, I took witness to your reading in the gardens. To my cousin on her walks there.”

You had not realised he had seen you with little Jaehaera. The recollection of memories flushes your cheeks. You do not know whether it is your own self-pride or embarrassment. It makes him smile–how easily he can fluster you. “I saw you while passing a window and…Well, you charmed me. Heart and soul, you charmed me.” For a moment, all he can do is stare into your eyes, his gaze soft. “I…” You hesitate, wracking your mind for any clue of the past to which you had ignored but you find nothing. “I had no idea.” You murmur with the quietness of a newborn lamb. He only smiles. “I know, my darling.” Tease carries through his voice. “That is why I love you so; you had not a clue as to anyone witnessing you and your beauty at all.” Adoration was not new to Jacaerys; he had been well accustomed to the Goddess before him for years now. The hand not upon your face runs small circles on your middle. “It is when nobody is watching that I see your heart.” He lands a feather-light kiss to your nose. “I love you, my darling, I love you.”

Your love is one of quiet halls and whispered confessions. Your love is of a King seeking for the mercy only his QUeen can bring him. The mercy of a gentle home. A gentle life amidst the meddling and politics of a life forever in court. You admit that your own love for your husband came later–the fear of marrying a prince heavy on your mind. The expectation that would come with that also gives no bounds. You still recall how trembles had shaken your form as your father hurried you through the luxurious spectacle. The aisle had been a long, empty space in where you could barely catch the face of your soon-husband and Septon. Surrounded by men and women, ladies and lords of note and yet you had not known nor met. Yet when you had finally forced your figure to stand beside the three men who would cement your future, the only calm you found was through the comfort and Jacaerys’ hand resting on yours. Both of your fates to be entwined and tied. You were together, hands warm and clammy with nerves but together. You were not alone. When he searched your eyes for any hesitance throughout the ceremony and whispered in your ear to ask if you were certain–that was when you knew. You were not alone. He would not allow you to be alone.

Now, as tears kiss your cheeks. Of affection and warmth–you can still see that look in his gaze. That kind, soft, assurance that you are not alone. “I love you.” You whispered to him, unable to hold back. It does not take long at all for him to press his lips to yours again. His hands caress your face and his care is unavoidable. And when you parted, he still chased for you. “We should retire to bed. The children will have missed us.” You explain quietly, reluctant to leave. A sigh spills from him and although you both stand there together for another second of tenderness, of softness, you know that he agrees. Ever the dutiful father. He would not let a single eve leave them without a story before their rest. “Do you think they would prefer another tale of Nymyria?” “I think they would care greatly for it.” You agree. He takes your hand in his and draws you out of the chamber. The door closes quietly and so are your footsteps as the two of you walk through the hall. The soft rays of sunlight passing down to caress the dusk echoes around you. And like his love–some things are better kept soft.

General Taglist: - @hopelesswritergall - @succnfuccubus - @madame-fear

HOTD Taglist - @wrendermedone - @its-actually-minicika - @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly - @adelusionalwriter - @cookielovesbook-akie - @maximofftwinsbitch - @ughhthisbitch - @daenerysapologist - @savagemickey03

Jacaerys Taglist - @fairysluna - @jacevelaryonswife - @maximofftwinsbitch

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pin-k-ink · 4 months

Text

cynosure // kageyama tobio

tw ⇢ needy!sub!kageyama, dom reader, begging, cunnilingus, squirting, praise kink (m! receiving), kageyama cums untouched, ruined orgasm, kinda body worship

wc ⇢ 2.3k

"I mean, what can I say?" Kageyama's deep baritone carried across the lively gathering with undisguised swagger. "It helps that my wife is so eager to please in the bedroom. She knows I'm in charge and that's just how it is."

You froze mid-conversation, drink halfway to your lips as his boastful declaration ricocheted through your consciousness like a thunderclap. Slowly, you turned to find your husband holding court among his former Karasuno teammates - chest puffed out and that signature smug grin plastered across his handsome features.

Despite the dull roar of the party surrounding him, Kageyama's navy gaze seemed to find yours through the crowd unerringly. Something deliciously wicked flashed behind those hooded depths as he appraised you from across the room with searing intensity.

As if sensing your rapidly mounting indignation, his smile turned molten - full lips curving into an artful sneer you knew so intimately. The one that said he was already formulating a full wind-up for the pitch guaranteed to send your temper blazing.

"Oi, oi Kageyama!" Tanaka's raucous laughter cut through the din next, jarring your focus. "You're full of it as always! There's no damn way [Y/N] just lets you call all the shots in the bedroom like that."

Nishinoya immediately chimed in with a loud cackle. "Sorry man, but I gotta agree with Ryuu on this one! Remember back in high school how [Y/N] used to keep your Kingly ass in line?"

You pursed your lips to suppress a smirk of your own as Kageyama visibly bristled at the friendly ribbing. Yamaguchi tried half-heartedly to defuse the mounting teasing, only to end up doubling over in wheezes as their loudmouth senpais kept the taunts rolling.

Throughout it all, Kageyama stared straight at you – a heated challenge simmering in that ravenous gaze you recognized all too intimately. You held his stare steadily, delicately grazing the rim of your glass with your tongue in a blatant show of defiance.

A visible shudder ripped through your husband at the deliberate taunt. You relished in the way his jaw clenched, throat bobbing convulsively even from this distance as you signalled your refusal to play along so docilely. Not in public, and certainly not back in the privacy of your own bedroom...where you both knew the delicious truth all too well.

So when the rager finally began winding down in the wee hours and pleasantries were exchanged, you made sure to slip out well ahead of Kageyama – already anticipating the blazing promise awaiting you both at home with heated inevitability.

Sure enough, you'd barely crossed the threshold before your husband's powerful bulk slammed the door shut behind you with a muted bang. Spinning on your heel, you took in the combustible sight of him looming there with those blown pupils smoldering with naked yearning.

"Feeling a little overconfident tonight, my King?" you murmured, keeping your tone light even as electricity fizzed down your spine.

Prowling forward with boneless grace, Kageyama crowded you back against the hallway wall without so much as a word. The rough plaster grated against your shoulders as he caged you in on both sides, but you refused to be cowed so easily.

"Don't..." he growled in that gravelly rasp you adored. "Unless you plan on actually putting me in my place, that is."

For a moment, he held you immobilized beneath the scorching weight of his ravenous study. You remained utterly defiant, licking your lips with delicate leisure just to watch his blown pupils dilate further in response. Then, unhurriedly, you skated your hands up the carved ridges of his abdomen until fingertips dug deliciously into chiseled pectorals.

"Well aren't you feeling rebellious tonight?" you husked out, sharp nails scraping over the stiff peaks of his nipples in wicked suggestion. "I'll admit, this new sense of misguided ego does suit you well, Tobio..."

Kageyama shuddered against you bodily, spine flexing as you angled your face closer until your lips brushed the strained tendon of his neck with every consonant.

"Though it will make taking you apart all the more...rewarding, I suspect," you finished, sealing your mouth over his thundering pulse in a slick glide.

A feral groan punched from your husband's chest as his arms sagged against the wall, fully surrendering himself over to your velvet possession already. You indulged in nipping and laving reverent patterns over every shuddering inch of silken flesh offered freely, relishing the crisp musk of Kageyama's arousal rapidly soaking the air between your twined forms.

Only once his lidded eyes finally fluttered shut in rapturous surrender did you pull back enough to rasp out the final blistering promise against his slack lips:

"Now...let's see how long that bravado holds up once I really put you through your paces, hm, my King?"

"Please...please [Y/N], I can't take it anymore..."

Kageyama's gravelly whine pitched higher as his big hands fisted in the bedding beside your thighs. You simply arched one sculpted brow, letting your gaze trail over his trembling form in a lazy sweep.

He knelt before you stripped bare, chest heaving with exertion and dark locks matted against his forehead from exquisite effort. A delicate sheen of sweat gleamed over the taut cords of his sculpted abdomen and those mouth-watering v-lines disappearing beneath...

You allowed yourself a slow, indulgent perusal of his thick cock straining against the scant fabric still clinging to his hips. No matter how many times you drank in the sight, it never failed to make your mouth water in fresh appreciation.

"Does my sweet little King need something?" you finally rumbled out, tone dripping with sugared condescension.

Kageyama whimpered again, those blown sapphire irises shining with desperate need as he searched your hooded expression pleadingly. In the dim bedroom light, you could make out the delicate glistening of tears streaking over his beautifully ruined features.

"Y-You..." he rasped out, lashes fluttering rapidly. "Please, I need you to touch me...kiss me...anything, [Y/N], I'm begging—"

His desperation broke off into a hitched cry as you simply tilted your head, keeping your folded arms and legs firmly crossed in a show of detached indifference. Despite the rapidly swelling ache pulsing between your own thighs, something primal and merciless reared within at holding this ultimate power over him.

"You're begging?" you echoed softly, letting the molten lull of your voice caress over each damning syllable. "The same King who was mouthing off so arrogantly about having control just hours ago?"

Kageyama's throat worked convulsively as you trailed one toe up the taut line of his inner thigh in a languorous glide. Despite his full-body shudder, you refused to halt the deliciously slow ministrations once you reached the apex of those rippling muscles bracketing his aching length.

"Perhaps this will remind my husband who truly holds the reins in our...intimate affairs, hm?" you crooned, skimming the very tip of your foot along the underside of his weeping cock in one branding caress.

Kageyama's ragged groan fractured into a high, needy whine as he dropped his head and rolled his hips into the honeyed torment helplessly. Wetness from the precum pearling at his flushed tip trailed down your arched instep in silken streaks, making you inhale sharply at the thrilling heat.

"Please..." he panted out in a wrecked rumble that seared straight through your already fraying restraint. "I'm yours, always yours...your good boy, I swear it..."

With maddening lethargy, you allowed your legs to finally unspool from their rigid posture and bracket his shuddering body with purposeful suggestion. Kageyama immediately angled forward to nuzzle his face into your pussy through your thin cotton panties, chasing the scent of your intoxicating musk with a starved whimper.

His beautiful mouth went slack against your damp heat as you threaded elegant fingers through his dark hair with deceptive gentleness – nails raking over his scalp hard enough to leave tingling crescents in their wake.

"That's right..." you whispered in a voice gone hoarse and brimming with possessive ardor. "My perfect, sweet boy knows his place now...at my feet with his King's mouth pressed to his Queen's altar."

Kageyama shattered with a broken wail against your slick folds, eager tongue lapping at your swollen clit, working in frantic reverence as his broad shoulders shook with the force of his rapturous worship. You rolled your hips forward with measured leisure, grinding against his sinfully plush lips in a languid glide, letting the wet rasp of fabric intensify the sensation.

Your husband groaned against your pussy with every breathless swipe of his tongue, lashes fluttering and cheeks glistening with a fresh wave of salty tears. His thick, aching cock bobbed between his thighs as he hastily tugs his boxers down - twitching in a steady beat with each stroke and suckle of his perfect lips.

You tightened your grip on his dark locks, tugging his head back until his throat flexed with a muted moan. He blinked up at you in a daze, those oceanic orbs nearly swallowed by the endless depths of his blackened pupils.

You looked down to see him staring up at you through thick, clumped lashes and the wet glimmer of tears staining his flushed cheeks. That sinful mouth - still gleaming with the slick remnants of your desire - hung open in a pant, revealing the crimson tip of his tongue resting there on offer.

Lower, you could see his cock weeping and twitching in earnest. The tip was dark, flushed, and throbbing - so painfully engorged that the veins crisscrossing the length stood out in stark relief. An obscene amount of precum glistened in a thin string, connecting the slit to a small puddle forming on the hardwood floor below.

"Oh my sweet King," you cooed, trailing the pad of your thumb over the swollen seam of his lower lip. "What a mess you're making already...you want me that badly?"

Kageyama's only response was another wrecked whimper as he surged forward, sucking the tip of your thumb into his mouth with a low, pleading whine. You allowed the intimate contact for several long moments, feeling his tongue swipe around the digit in a filthy pantomime of what you both so desperately craved.

Then, with aching deliberateness, you tugged the soft cotton fabric to the side and spread the puffy folds of your aching pussy. Your husband's eyes widened further, blown pupils zeroing in on your slick, exposed cunt as a low keen rumbled from deep within his chest.

"Be a good boy and clean up your mess, Tobio..."

Without hesitation, Kageyama dove forward, pressing his mouth flush to your aching heat with a groan of relief. You shuddered as his sinful lips immediately sought out your clit, drawing the swollen nub between his teeth to graze with delicate pressure.

"Fuck..." you gasped out, head tipping back at the electric current ripping down your spine. Your hips stuttered forward, thighs flexing on either side of his head. His thick hands came up to grasp at the supple flesh there, fingers digging into the pliant give as he lapped and sucked and licked in a dazed frenzy.

Your husband's enthusiasm was no match for the molten desire burning through your own veins, and you soon found yourself tipping over the edge in a shuddering rush. Your orgasm crashed over you in a relentless wave, and you felt the hot, wet rush of slick gushing from your cunt as he drank it all down in fervent gulps.

He didn't stop his hungry assault until you shoved him back by his tangled hair, chest heaving and pussy trembling from overstimulation. A thick rivulet of cum and saliva oozed from the corner of his mouth, and you watched as Kageyama made no move to wipe it away – simply let it slide down the column of his throat in a filthy display.

"Please..." he slurred out, sounding drunk on pleasure and desperation. "Need you...please, I need you, I can't take it..."

He kept up the litany, a steady stream of half-coherent pleas and broken cries as he rocked his hips forward, searching for friction. His neglected cock bobbed and dripped between his thighs, still painfully swollen and aching for release.

"My poor boy," you crooned, reaching down to cup his jaw with aching tenderness. Kageyama's gaze remained glassy and unfocused, though he instinctively turned his cheek into the warm palm cradling his face. "Let's take care of this, hm?"

At once, your husband nodded eagerly – lips parted and eyes rolling back in bliss as you slid down to your knees to match him. With aching reverence, you cupped his face between both hands and leaned forward, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

He groaned against your mouth, the heady scent and taste of your slick mixing between you both in a deliciously filthy exchange. His thick, calloused hands came up to frame your own jaw, holding you in place as he pressed forward – deepening the kiss with a ragged, animalistic growl.

You were so absorbed in your own spiraling ecstasy that you nearly missed the subtle cues at first. The way Kageyama's shoulders went rigid. How his desperate whimpers fractured into sharper, hitching gasps laced with fresh rapture blooming.

It wasn't until you felt the first spurt of his thick, wet seed splattering against your stomach and thigh did you pull back from the kiss, eyes widening in awe. You looked down to see his swollen cock pulsing, jerking and twitching as he shot rope after rope of cum across your naked flesh.

A punched-out groan tore from his chest as he succumbed, hips jerking in helpless rhythm as the last drops of his release trickled out in a weak stream. Then, as suddenly as the powerful rush had consumed him, Kageyama sagged – his muscular bulk slumping forward until his sweat-slicked forehead thudded against your shoulder.

A stunned laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you reached up to smooth one hand through his tangled locks with affection. He groaned into your collarbone, nuzzling deeper into your neck as his strong arms encircled your waist to hold you tight.

"M’ sorry. Wanted to hold out longer," he mumbled, the words vibrating against your heated skin. "Couldn't help it when you started kissing me, though."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #kageyama tobio x reader smut #kageyama x reader smut #kageyama tobio smut #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama smut #kageyama x reader #tobio x reader #tobio smut #tobio x reader smut

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nicossunshine · 7 months

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“Jason was so boring” “Jason had no personality” what are you talking about

Jason Grace was a child soldier and the son of the KING OF THE GODS. The pressure on him was so huge and the training of the Roman legions was so intense all he ever really did was train. As soon as he was old enough he was put in positions of leadership and power cause he’s the son of Jupiter, leader of the gods, he must be a natural born leader, right?

But his entire character arc revolves around him realising that he can be more than what the Romans made him into, that he can have his own opinions, his own hobbies, love who he wants, live where he wants.

He was the first person to start defending Nico, the first to accept Nico and tell him sincerely that there was nothing wrong with him and that everyone at BOTH camps would accept him and have his back - and if they didn’t they’d have Jason to answer to.

He was sure to always give Reyna the credit she deserved and constantly felt guilty for when he made her shoulder the responsibilities. Throughout HoH he’s got half of his mind on her, praying she’s okay, tracking her progress in his dreams because gods FORBID anything happen to that brilliant woman whom he loved platonically but wholeheartedly.

When they found Leo again after he was at Ogygia, Jason recognised in an instant just from the way Leo was sitting that something was off. When everyone pestered him with questions, Jason took charge to get the limelight off of Leo as much as possible, and checked in with him the minute they were alone.

Jason Grace is fiercely loving, always looks out for those who need support, always sides with the underdogs, always does what’s right even when it’s hard, often does what’s expected even when he doesn’t want to, but if he can take the burden off of someone else he will ALWAYS step up.

He has the honour and bravery of a soldier and carries all of the trauma and doubt that comes with it.

And on top of all of this he was just sixteen years old.

Jason Grace isn’t boring, it just took some time for us to understand why he acts the way he does - always composed and in charge. He is not perfect, but he was always trained/expected to be, and watching the perfect mask crack and seeing his true inner thoughts throughout HoO is what makes his character so interesting.

#sorry that was long #but now that he’s gone I just feel very protective of him #jason grace was never boring #and I’m really sad we never got to see him fully grow into his own person #I LIVED for his interactions with Nico #he was like the big brother he never had #and his moments with Percy were also amazing #jason grace #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #nico di angelo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #leo valdez

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thegreatstoryteller · 3 months

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The Great Shift: Turning 30

The Great shift was a huge time in many people’s lives. Especially those with birthdays who fell around the time of the great shift. Some turning 18, others turning 80! But still others had their hearts set on a time in their life that was quite pivotal. However, because of the shift some may have to wait a little longer to reach that milestone, while others have jumped leaps and bounds beyond it!

Harvey Singh (30 years old)

Fuuuck my head… and my clothes apparently. Damn. This is not what I imagined turning 30 would be like!

Before the world went insane, I was so close! The damn great shift just had to happen right before my birthday. I was working at this law firm, a pretty shady place at first. Lots of scummy people taking advantage of others, but my boss was trying to turn it around! We kicked out those idiots who were causing trouble, got them arrested! I was gonna get promoted and help lead the charge for helping others… but not anymore.

The great shift landed me inside of Skyler Marlo! 18 year old quarterback for the local university. And right after a big party too. I couldn’t find a stitch of clothes to fit my new larger body. I was really lucky this frat house I woke up in had a towel nearby. But that was just the beginning of my nightmare.

You see that smile of distress? Yeah that’s me. Instead of writing briefs and taking on clients in need, I’m here on the football field. Apparently after the upheaval the shift caused people are having trouble verifying identities and gaining access to their property/funds. That’s totally something I could be helping with! Instead I'm stuck back in the life of a teenager again. I wasn't a big fan of 18 last time I was in college.

The only thing that could get me after the shift was taking on this guy’s college scholarship. It gives me a place to stay and access to their college library, but I had to join the college football team. Some organizations like college athletics don’t seem to care who is shifted or not! As long as they got the players they need to draw in a crowd, they seemed perfectly content letting anyone play. Though who can blame them. If they saw me before I doubt they’d want some angry short king running their drills. No… now I’m not the 5’0 Indian guy who got overlooked in school. I look the picture of boy next door prom king that rules the college. 6’2, 195lbs of lean muscle, and size 15 feet. That last one took awhile to get used to! Finding cleats that size was the hardest part of this change.

So here I am, sweating it out day after day to maintain my scholarship, while I wait for the day I’m recertified with my state’s bar! Once I’m a lawyer again I swear I’ll help out others like me forced to cling on to new lives while the system sorts things out. It sucks having to practice every day and do all these drills and grunt work! The college even has me posing for their promotional material to draw in bigger crowds at the game! Who would want this kind of life?!

Then again… it’s already been a few months… I may as well get used to college life… I was a nerdy brown kid my last run in college, mostly studying and doing what my parents wanted… now at least I can get a look at how the athletes lived… That frat did ask me if I wanted to join… I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun while I wait to get my life back.

After all, I do get pretty excited after an intense practice, and judging by some of the looks from my teammates, I may not be the only one eager to get to know my new body better.

Phil Inver (30 years old)

People need to learn how to relax. I don’t know what the big deal is. So a bunch of people swapped bodies. What’s there to worry about? See me? I don’t have a care in the world. When I was turning 30 doctors told me I was overweight and at risk of diabetes, my work would always be on me for not applying myself, and my girlfriend said I was always too lazy in our relationship!

But my mindset since the shift hasn’t changed! It landed me in this nice smooth and lean body! I’m glad that this guy kept in such good shape. Having actual abs is insane! Same for these toned arms! I’m not sure if he’s the shaving kinda guy or if he’s naturally smooth, but it sure as hell beats taking care of an unruly beard and body hair!

Turns out now that I look like this people are a bit more receptive to my ideals! Doctors say my heart is as healthy as a horse! Says my stress free lifestyle is a large part of that! My work? They now say my chill attitude makes things a lot more zen around the office. Guess they don’t care I don’t get too much done whenever I flash them a smile. And my girlfriend… or my boyfriend as he goes by now, certainly thinks I’m taking an active role in the bedroom. Who knew that my new stud of a boyfriend had a thing for Asian guys!?

So what am I gonna do now? Listen to music, chill as my boyfriend showers, and wait out the day as normal. Sure I’m turning 30, but it’s just another day in paradise for me! Oh what’s that? This body is only 21? Even better! I’ve got plenty of time to relax before I turn 30.

Devon Lin (30 years old)

So I was a bit nervous about turning 30. I feel like I haven’t really done all the things I wanted… and all my friends were joking saying it’s all downhill after that. I wasn’t dealing the best with the stress… Well like it or not the shift had me face that hurdle a few year further than I expected.

And I gotta say. It’s not as bad as I thought it was gonna be. Sure I’m a bit older, but hell I look a hell of a lot more manly! Could it be that the shift landed me in a handsome 37 year old with a built body, tan skin, and perfect beard? Maybe… but hey. Age is just a mindset… but these muscles sure aren’t! Boom!

You like that? So do the guys at the bar! They keep insisting I don’t shave my chest or pit hair too. I think I could pull off that look. That being said, I think anything looks good on a 6’5 stud like me. Tall, dark, and handsome all the way!

Before I would jump around from job to job. Bartender, janitor, waiter, and housekeeper, but lately I’ve found my job as a bouncer at the local bar a lot more rewarding. You’d be surprised how many fights stop once I take my shirt off and start playing pool with the patrons. I’ve won nearly every game of billiards I’ve played! Though I have the sneaking suspicion it may be due to the guys staring more at me than the balls.

Guess that’s one of the benefits to working at a chill gay bar! You know, I was always a bit insecure about my body and experimenting sexually. Being a shorter gay man with a chip on his shoulder would do that to you. Now… well let’s just say now I feel like I’ve got a lot more confidence! I may have missed my 30th birthday, but I think I know how I’m gonna spend my 38th!

Marcus Garcia (30 years old)

They say when you get older you begin to value things differently. Honestly I didn’t know what to expect when I turned 30. Was I supposed to be wiser all of a sudden? Have a plan for things? In truth plenty of people younger than me had their life together compared to me. Partners. Kids. A stable job. A house.

In short. I thought I had more time. But we don’t always get to choose how fast life comes at us. I mean look at me. Didn’t expect the shift to make me 55.

Losing 25 years of my life was definitely not the easiest. The great shift nearly tears the world apart and I’m running for my life looking like retirement is right around the corner. That first day was definitely a wake up call that I did not have the same stamina that I used to. In that opening week of the shift I was pretty much running on adrenaline and coffee wherever I could get it. I took lots of naps just to stay sane.

As the days went on and society slowly readjusted to some version of normal, I began to actually have time to look at my body. I mean I was a pretty skinny guy before, my sister would always say I needed to workout more. But I guess all it took was 25 years of my life to finally get in shape.

Not only that, but I’m admiring the body hair. This guy was a pretty hairy dude. The salt and pepper stubble had guys starting me daddy at the gay bars, while the chest hair was still dark like my eyebrows and made my impressive physique pop.

My feet were pretty big too. Size 14! Twice as big as my old feet, but just as hard to find shoes my size.

Needless to say there were highs and lows to my new life. Was I happy that i was 6’6 now? Sure! Loved being tall and nearly bonking my head on doorframes. Was I upset lots of my joints were sore and that I could only take my coffee black to avoid dairy and sugar? No… that sucked. I liked my sweet drinks and I missed not waking up in pain.

Omar LeRon was a guy that lived along my street. He was a single dad raising his 5 year old, all at the age of 45.

I later learned he had a few wild days in his early 40s that lead to Omar Jr. And now in his mid 20s again he’s glad he could be more present for his son! Even if his son is the same age as him now.

He told me all of this one day when we both left our house for a jog. He found that doing some running in his new body helped him vent some much needed energy from his body, while I needed to do something physical if I was to have any hope of maintaining healthy workout routines for mine!

Needles to say he offered some words of wisdom growing up and it really helped put some things in perspective. Meanwhile, I gave him some tips about helping his son. Turns out all those years working at my aunt’s day care counted for something, even for post shifted kids!

Our conversations started as friendly advice and then grew into more! Talks became dates. Dates became moving in. Moving in became an engagement! Now a few years after the wedding I guess you truly can call me a daddy now. Jr. sure does. He’s doing great in school and is looking forward to next week when my sister is gonna watch him for the summer.

My husband and I are gonna take our first real vacation since the great shift! We’re looking forward to it! We’ll be celebrating Omar’s 30th birthday in his new body now! He keeps making jokes saying, “Well I’ve done it before. Nothing to it the second time around.” And “Well here I thought your 30th birthday was extreme. I doubt I could top that”

He also never stops teasing me about how he loves being married to an older man and that I’m not as young as I used to be. We know it’s all in good fun. I mean, I can still keep up with him in the bedroom, where it counts… as long as he gives me a few minutes to recover after. Young guys like him are insatiable. I’ll try to power through though. After all, you only turn “30” once.

#the great shift #great shift #body swap #race change #racial change #age regression #age progression

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 months

Text

A Whole New World

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: in the wake of all the rats abandoning ship, you ask Aemond to leave King's Landing with you as well. [sort of in the vein of my tv show series?? mostly because I want to keep it seperate from the rest of my HOTD stuff that is more book related. part -X XX XXX]

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“Let’s leave this place.”

Aemond looked up at you from his table. Maps and plans littering the surface. There were not enough hours in the day to make headway on a plan to attack or thwart Rhaenyra, so they had moved into your bedroom. “We will leave for Harrenhall in a few days’ time.” He told you. “We will be off soon enough.”

“No, I mean leave this place.” You told him. “Leave Westeros.”

Your husband looked shocked at your suggestion. Understandably. “You would have me leave Westeros. Leave my birthright.”

“It is not yours Aemond.” It was a bitter truth, but a truth none the less, and you were the only one that could tell him that without threat of death.

None of this was supposed to be theirs. Aegon nor Aemond. Deep down they all knew that. Knew that Viserys had not wavered in his final moments on who his favorite child was. Who his first and only was. Alicent could have given the former king 100 sons, and it would not have made up for the one he lost with his first wife. “Rhaenyra now has 7 dragons to our 1 with her dragon mongrels taking flight. Besides which her armies.”

“I have Vhagar!” Aemond shouted in anger. Rising to his feet. “The oldest, strongest, largest dragon in all Seven Kingdoms.”

“And a pack of wild dogs can take down a lion if their numbers are great. I am not trying to upset you Aemond, I’m simply following the maths.”

The prince took a deep breath though his nose and turned from you. Annoyed that you were right, but clearly didn’t want to admit it. “You want me to abandon the city, ney? Run away and hide like the rest of those cowards!”

Aegon had left the city, for his own protection. To where, you could not be sure. That may have been by design as many whispered about how Aemond would kill him in his bed if given the chance. You knew he wouldn’t do that; if for nothing else than the simple fact that it would be dishonorable to murder a cripple in their bed unarmed. His mother had been missing for days at a time now. Uninterested in the war efforts since her dismissal from the council. Such was her right, but the fact that she wouldn’t look you in the eye these days did not grant you comfort on what the former Queen was thinking. The rest seemed to slip out under the cover of darkness. Less and less people seemed to be in the castle. The rats saw that the ship was sinking and were abandoning it quickly.

“I don’t want you to ‘run away’ Aemond. I want you to live.”

Aemond huffed and turned from you again. “Better to die in battle then wither in obscurity.”

“And if you die, and Rhaenyra takes the city, what of me then? Die an honorable suicide like the Queens of old? Be a political prisoner here until the Queen forces me to marry one of her bastard heirs as a good will gesture?”

That got Aemond’s attention. The idea that you could die not nearly as infuriating as the thought that one of Rhaenyra’s “strong boys”, or even her Targaryen brood, would touch you. “That would never happen.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t. Rhaenyra would have to kill me. If not for the simple fact that I would not bend the knee, but also for the fact that I am a charge to her claim.”

Your hand came to rest at your stomach. Still the same, but not for long. Aemond’s eye followed your hand, and his expression turned to shock before you raised his face to look at you with your other hand. “There are more world out there, my love. Across the Narrow Sea. Beyond. We could take Vhagar and make a new kingdom like your ancestors. We don’t have to stay here and fight over this one. We could have so much more.”

Aemond’s gaze dropped from your hold, but he took your hand at his cheek and held it. “You would have me abandon my family? Turn my back on them?”

“Have they not turned their back on you?” They blamed Aemond for everything. As if he put Aegon up on that stage and gave him a crown. You weren’t naïve enough to think your husband was blameless in his actions during this war, but they were looking for a scapegoat at this point and Aemond was the convenient target. “We are each other’s family now. We are all that matters.”

“Daeron….”

“He can come with us.” You felt maddened to the point of tears. You were fond of Daeron, the few times you had met. A sweet boy who was free of this place. Though you would honestly say anything to Aemond at this point to get him to come. “Helaena too, if you wish. We will fly to some far away place like Aegon and his sisters. Just please….please…let us leave this place.”

Aemond seemed to think about it for a long moment, before he gave you his answer and that was the end of it.

In the morning, Vhagar took flight over the city. Whether she went to Harrenhall with her rider or parts unknown, no one could know then. What was sure, as the histories tell us, was that it would be the last time the great dragon, her rider, or his wife ever came back to the city.

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lil-elle · 10 months

Text

Overbooked

group: riize

pair: anton x fem!reader

genre: forced proximity, fluff, suggestive

word count: 4.3k

content: coarse language, kissing, nsfw implications

a/n: the way I've been in such an Anton mood recently is insane

“Uhhh…who'd you say booked this room for us..?” Anton questioned, his voice cracking slightly.

“Seunghan, why, what's wrong?” You stood on your tiptoes, his 6 foot height blocking you from peaking into the room.

“Fucking Seunghan…” he mumbled under his breath. Letting out a shaky breath, he took a few more steps into the room, allowing you to squeeze through the doorway past him.

Your eyes roamed the pristine hotel room, grazing the lush grey carpeting, the silky white curtains, and the wide screen TV mounted on the wall. It was a very elegant room, and you thanked Seunghan in your head for getting it for you…that was until your gaze landed on the lone king sized bed against the left wall, wrapped cleanly in white silk sheets and decorated with plush pillows and two towels sat at the end of it.

“Oh…” You cautiously glanced up at him, his head turned towards the wall with only his bright red pierced ears peeking through his hair as a hint to the thoughts running through his mind.

You placed a soft hand on his arm, to which he trembled almost unnoticeably. “Hey, it's fine. I can sleep on the floor.” You reassured him. He whipped his head around, revealing that the red from his ears had spread to his cheeks too.

“N-no! I'll sleep on the floor, it's alright!” The determined look on his face told you that he wasn't backing down from this and that there was no point in arguing. You smiled softly at him, warmed by his charming sweetness and slight stubbornness.

“Thank you…Anton…” His pupils dilated and you watched as the splotchy red on his cheeks spread to the rest of his face and his lips parted, taking in a quick and sharp breath of air. Suddenly he spun around, stomping towards the bed and landing face down onto the soft and sweet smelling sheets. You hurried over to him, concerned, and reached him just in time to hear a muffled “...when I catch you, Seunghan…”

After you two got settled in, kicking your shoes off, placing your bags in the corner of the room and plugging your phones in to charge on either side of the bed, he picked up one of the towels folded neatly on the end. He looked up at you as you melted into a large cushioned chair next to the bed, his complexion back to its regular pinkish olive colour. “I'll go shower really quick, ‘kay?” The sun had begun to set, casting an orange light across the room and prompting you two to start getting ready for bed.

“Okayyy.” You smiled happily at him and heard him gasp lightly again before he quickly disappeared into the bathroom.

The sound of the running water thrummed again your ears as you closed your eyes and settled further into the chair, noticing just how soft it really was. Without even realising, you drifted off, the noise of the shower and the comfort of the chair lulling you to sleep.

Your consciousness slowly drifted back to you as you felt a gentle poke to your cheek, your eyes fluttering open and meeting a very familiar face. His wet bangs brushed gently against your forehead and his round doe eyes went wide as he processed you looking at him. He somehow ended up with his back against the wall on the other side of the room within a second, his forehead all the way down to his neck flushed a deep red. “I-I didn't, I mean-”

You took in the sight of him, damp hair, plain grey shirt drizzled with wet spots from where water droplets fell from his hair, black sweatpants emphasising his long legs. And on top of all of that he was blushing. Hard. You couldn't deny how charming he looked in this moment.

You spoke up, ignoring the obvious heat creeping up the back of your neck and up to your ears, “I-I should shower now…”

You picked up the other towel, and some pyjamas you'd folded next to it, and rushed to the bathroom, heat overtaking your face. As you passed him, you could've sworn you could hear his heartbeat, fast and hard against his chest.

Locking yourself away in the bathroom, you gazed at yourself in the fogged up mirror. From the sight of your whole face, a deep crimson colour, you could tell the heat covering your body was not from the humidity in the small bathroom.

The shower passed by in a daze. You couldn't believe how many times your brain replayed the scene of waking up to Anton's face so deathly close to yours. Close enough that his freshly washed bangs left a streak of water on your forehead. Close enough that you could feel his breath. Close enough that you could've kis–

Your hairbrush fell to the floor with a clang, startling you out of your thoughts. You met your own wide eyes in the mirror as his muffled voice coming from outside the door filled your ear. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah…yeah, fine…” You responded, bending down to pick yourself hairbrush back up, a slight uncertainty in your voice.

“Be careful, please.” His soft, concerned voice filtering through the door stuck a needle in your heart and you placed the brush onto the vanity with a sigh.

You rushed through your routine, washing and moisturising your face, scrunching your hair with the towel to dry it as much as you could, and slipping into your pyjamas. Cautiously, you opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out, taking in the room now with the blinds closed and the lamps on each bedside table filling the room with warm yellow light. Anton was seated back in the chair you previously slept in, bringing the image of his face so close to yours back into your mind once again.

You took a step forward and the floorboard creaked under you, catching his attention and causing him to look up from his phone. Instantly, he froze. There was no way he was hiding the almost neon red that covered his face within a second of seeing you. Your damp hair, you draped in a shirt a little too big for you, your shorts barely peeking out from under it. The cold wetness of your hair against the back of your neck contrasted the warmth of your skin as you tried to push down the hard thrumming of your heart.

You walked forward, watching as his adams apple bobbed nervously and his eyes traced over your figure as if he was in a daze. You made your way to your bag, tucking your previously worn clothes into it, desperately trying to ignore the heat radiating from your cheeks. You didn't understand why you suddenly felt this way, why the unfinished fantasy of what Anton could've done that close to your face wouldn't leave your mind.

You slipped between the cold silk sheets as you watched Anton meticulously set up a “bed” on the floor next to you with an extra sheet he found. The pitiful set up had you feeling guilty for making him do this, and a subtle thought poked at your brain, a thought that made your cheeks flare up again for the 20th time that night. “H-hey Anton, maybe I should-”

“No. It's fine. You stay there.” He reassured as he slipped between the thin sheet, barely separating him from the hard ground beneath him. He turned off the lamp on his side and you turned off the other one in response, leaving the room dark and silent. The only thing that broke through the silence was the sound of his soft breathing, somehow loud in your right ear as you stared up at the ceiling. The sound of your heartbeat joined not long after, rippling through your body and keeping you from drifting off to sleep. Minutes passed, though you couldn’t tell how many.

“A-Anton…?” You stuttered softly, to which he responded with a low groan, ringing through your ear and bringing heat to your cheeks. “...are you awake…?” You heard him chuckle lightly.

“Of course,” the sound of rustling fabric came from your right side and you just knew he was shifting around to face your direction, “why, what's up?”

“It's just…it can't be comfortable down there…” Your voice was laced with guilt as you spoke.

“Hey. I'm not making you sleep on the floor…okay?” His concern made your heart flutter in a way you hadn't felt before.

There was silence for a moment and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “Well what if…” you heard his breathing slow to a stop, as if he was holding his breath and waiting for you to continue. “What if…we both sleep…in the bed…”

The familiar sound of a sharp breath in, followed by silence. The silence continued to stretch out with no sign from Anton that he was going to respond. Had he fallen asleep?

You quickly turned over and flicked the lamp on, letting your gaze land on where you knew he was laying on the floor. His long figure, outlined by the thin sheet draped over him, was laid flat on his back, his hands completely covering his face. His ears were once again giving away his true feelings, bright red behind his long black hair. As if it was contagious, your own ears heated up along with your cheeks. “...A-Anton..?” His breath caught in his throat and you watched as he parted his fingers, peeking up at you.

In a weak and almost inaudible voice, he spoke, “Are you serious…?”

You nodded gently, biting the inside of your lip. He covered his eyes again and rolled over, turning his back to you as he mumbled, the only words you were able to pick up being “...fuck…Seunghan, why…she's so…”

He suddenly sat up with a strained sigh, propping himself up with one of his hands and the other still covering his face. With a better view of his features, you could now see the very familiar sight of him blushing bright red. “An-”

“...fuck it.” He picked himself up off of the ground and turned to face you, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Scoot over…” A wide smile overtook your features and you quickly shimmied to the other side of the bed, giving him space to crawl in with you. His slightly shaky hand pulled the covers back and he hesitantly layed down, as if afraid that making contact with the clean sheets would dirty them somehow. He laid awkwardly staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You turned over to lean on your side, looking towards him.

“Anton…?” You spoke suddenly, making him flinch.

“Uh- huh?” His throat sounded dry and his gaze didn't move from a single spot on the ceiling.

“Can you…turn the lamp off?” There was a soft smile on your face, like you were enjoying seeing him so anxious and flustered. Despite that, your heart was still pounding harder than you've ever felt and your whole body burned like you had a fever.

“O-oh…” his voice cracked and he quickly reached his long arm behind him and flicked off the lamp, leaving the room in total darkness once again.

The air around you felt heavy with tension as you both laid there in the darkness. It was just like before, the only sound making its way to your ears being his breathing, only this time it was much closer and faster.

You don't know what prompted you to do it, but you extended your right arm out, your knuckles brushing against his arm lightly and making him twitch. His breathing caught in his throat and the silence that flooded the room made the tension all the more dense and palpable. You trailed the tip of your finger down his arm until you felt the veins on the back of his hand and you swore that you could hear his heart pounding against his ribs. Heat sat overwhelmingly on your cheeks as your fingers clamoured against his hand, intertwining themselves with his. His hand was much larger than yours, fitting with his height but not the soft and introverted personality he presented. He hesitated, his fingers sitting limply between yours, but after a few moments his hand tightened and embraced yours, the sound of his heartbeat only becoming louder.

You could've cut the tension in the room with a knife as you two laid hand in hand in silence, your hearts beating in sync.

Him accepting your hand hold made you bolder and the darkness in the room that obscured you two from seeing each other encouraged your confidence. Slowly, you scooted closer to him, as if afraid to startle him away. He took a breath in, as if he was able to feel your warmth get stronger.

“Y/n…” His voice was soft and deep like usual, although there was a slight strain to it, like he was holding something back. You turned your head, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, to see him lying on his side, his head resting on the pillow. His eyes looked at you with emotion you've never seen before, emotion that overwhelmed you and forced the butterflies in your stomach to go wild.

He brought your hand that he was holding up to his lips, pressing them against the back of your hand so softly and your flustered brain struggled to comprehend where he got this boldness from. “Anton…” Your voice was weak and breathy, staring back into his siren-like gaze as he held his lips to your hand.

His lips disconnected from your skin with a subtle wet smack and he spoke, his voice rough and quiet. “I'm glad it's so dark in here right now…I'm sure my face is burning up…”

“You–” your trembling voice was cut off by his hand letting go of yours and moving to rest on your waist. His strong hand grasped your hip before pulling you closer to him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. You looked up at him with a shine in your eyes, just shocked by his actions. He sighed softly before chuckling to himself.

“Y'know, Seunghan definitely did this on purpose.” His eyes stared deeply into yours as you processed his words.

“H-huh…?”

“Booking us a room with one bed? Totally on purpose.” His pinky finger fidgeted with the fabric of your shirt, pulling and twisting it with obvious nervousness.

He leaned his forehead against yours as his gaze stayed locked on your eyes, your breath catching in your throat.

He muttered something so quietly that the only reason you were able to pick it up was because of his proximity and the deathly silence that occupied the rest of the room. “...Should never have told him I like you…”

Suddenly every thought in your head came to a halt as his words played over and over again in your mind. It was as if you were forced onto a treadmill, your heart rate rising like crazy and your breathing heavy.

“Y-you…”

He sighed, closing his eyes and nuzzling against your forehead slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he confirmed your uncertainty. “...Yup…” His voice cracked slightly and you heard him swallow anxiously as he opened his eyes to gaze at you again. He chuckled awkwardly to himself, “It's a little obvious…”

You struggled to speak, your throat dry with nerves, but you managed to get just his name out in a slightly scratchy, whiny tone. “Anton…” You watched a shiver run through him as the breath that uttered his name hit his lips. His eyes dropped to your lips and his breathing slowed. The moment seemed to last for hours, despite it only being a few seconds before he met your gaze again.

“Y/n…” his voice, barely above a whisper at this point, speaking your name like that made you let out a soft gasp for air, like you were drowning. “Can I…?” His eyes gestured down at your lips again and when they flew back up to meet yours they were glossy and full of emotion, almost pleading.

Your lips were parted, trying to take in as much air as you could to fuel your rapidly beating heart. His implication muddled your thoughts and you felt as if you were free-falling. You squeezed your eyes shut before taking that final leap and nodding, giving him the reassurance and consent he needed to do something he'd waited so long to do.

His hand on your waist slid up slowly, his fingertips trailing along your arm and coming to rest on your cheek. You could feel his hand trembling.

Almost in slow motion, he closed the gap between you and him, his soft pillowy first only grazing yours and you found yourself fighting a full-body shiver. His breath was hot, almost unbearably so as it covered your lips.

He was hesitating, refusing to finish closing the gap, making you restless.

“An-” With that your mouth was sealed, your words swallowed by the sudden push of his lips to yours. An inaudible squeak pushed up through your throat, drowned out by the soft wet sounds of his lips pressing repeatedly to yours.

He was desperate, much more than you'd expected. It was obvious now that this was something he's wanted to do for a very long time.

His breathing turned to panting as his fingers tightened against your cheek.

“An-mm-”

He used his other arm to prop himself up, putting him in a position where he was leaning over you, his lips still relentless in stealing air from your lungs. His bangs fell against your forehead, light and fluffy from his shower earlier that night, making an obvious shiver run through you.

What you didn't expect was his response to that shiver, a melodic hum from deep in his throat that made you see stars.

His hand trailed back down to your waist, gripping and bunching your shirt in his fist as he tilted his head for a better angle. You gasped for breath against his lips, overwhelmed with the sudden passion he'd drowned you in, but he only submerges you further when he takes the opportunity to flick his tongue against your bottom lip. You gasped, this time with shock and you didn't even notice your hand pushing against his chest, prying his lips from yours.

For a moment, you two just looked at each other's faces, his bright red even in the dark room, his lips parted as he breathed heavily, and his eyelids sitting half-closed. The light coating of saliva on his lips made your head heat up even more and you licked your own unconsciously, making his eyes immediately dart back down to stare at them.

“Y/n…” his voice was raspy and deep, making you squeak with surprise. His hand tightened on your waist and your breath only sped up, anticipating his next words. “I think…I need…to sleep on the floor….” Your eyes shot open at his unexpected words, words that came out through heavy breaths and you were surprised at how he was still out of breath.

“A-Ant-”

“I don't want to stop…” He whispered, almost inaudibly, and it was only now you noticed the look of lust in his eyes. “So…I need to sleep on the floor…”

You sat stunned as he pried himself off of you and made his way back to the makeshift bed on the floor. You couldn't even utter a single word, the memory of the way he was looking down at you, almost like a wild animal that hadn't eaten in days, burned into your mind. What surprised you most, though, was the way your heart fluttered and your stomach turned at the sight.

“A-are you sure?” You managed to stutter out, lifting yourself up to look at him, only for your gaze to meet his broad back. He stayed silent, the audible rapid beat of his heart giving you enough of an answer. You laid back down, your face going red with embarrassment at the thought that you were slightly disappointed.

Safe to say you didn't get a wink of sleep that night, fully awake to welcome the first chirps of the birds outside and the orange light of the sunrise streaming through the blinds. You didn't even spare a glance for Anton as you packed up your individual belongings and cleaned the room, a slave to the way your heart threatened to burst from your chest at the slightest glance of his messy bed hair or busy hands making the bed and gathering his things.

You both made your way out of the room, bags slung over your backs, walking an awkward distance apart from each other as you struggled to keep a blush from overtaking your face. Even his finger pressing the button for the elevator was too much for you, keeping your eyes glued to the floor until you heard the ding signalling the arrival of the elevator. You stepped into the elevator cautiously, your mind swimming at the realisation that you'd be in this small space with just him, if even for a few moments, being too much for you.

The subtle rumbling of the elevator as it travelled floor to floor filled your ears and you could feel heat on the back of your neck from the now close proximity of him.

You were quickly pulled from your chaotic train of thought by the elevator suddenly coming to a stop. Your eyes darted up to the screen above the buttons reading “5” when it should say “G”.

“W-what happened…?” You stuttered out, still unable to bring yourself to look at him. Although, it was a pointless endeavour, as he suddenly invaded your vision, stepping in front of you to spam the button that opens the door. Unsurprisingly, the doors didn't respond, and it seemed you were completely stuck.

“Great…” he sighed, leaning back against the wall and sliding down. For the first time all morning, you were able to look directly at him, your worry taking over all other emotions. You carefully sat down next to him, ignoring the beat of your heart as you peered into his face.

“W-what…do we do…?” You questioned, a slight shake in your voice.

He sighed before leaning his cheek against his knees, looking at you softly.

“There isn't much we can do except sit here and wait for someone to show up and help us.” His soft gaze brought a subtle heat to your cheeks and you questioned how it took you so long to realise you liked him. Suddenly, another realisation hit you like a lightning bolt.

“...Should never have told him I like you…”

His words replayed in your mind. He likes you…and you like him…

Your face flared up, something he definitely noticed as his eyes got slightly wider.

“A-are you okay…?” he questioned anxiously, “claustrophobic…?”

You shook your head slowly, swallowing your nerves. Taking a deep breath in, you finally spoke what was on your mind.

“So…you like me?”

His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open as a pink tint crept onto his face. You gave him a moment to gather himself and he plucked his head from his knees, staring straight ahead for a moment before nodding softly.

Your heart raced as you prepared to confess your feelings to him as well.

“I think I-”

“I'm so sorry.” He hurriedly spat out, leaving you dazed.

“F-for what?” You spoke with a hint of confusion.

“...Kissing you…” He hung his head, as if ashamed.

“Hey, it's okay, you asked and I said yes.” You explained, kneeling to face him. He took in a breath before continuing.

“B-but I got carried away, and you don't even like me like that, and-”

You grasped his face, turning his head towards you to look directly into his glossy eyes.

“Hey…who said I didn't like you…” You said the words with as much composure as you could muster, but the radiating heat in your skin gave away your true feelings. His expression froze in one of shock and you could feel his warm skin under your fingers grow warmer. After a few moments you felt his fingers creep up onto your cheeks, cradling your face.

“Can-”

“Please.”

Without another second of hesitation, he pressed the softest and sweetest kiss to your lips, much different from the passion of last night. You wanted time to freeze in this moment, but the kiss was already over as quickly as it started. You were still steeped in a pool of heat when he spoke again.

“-end?”

“H-huh…?” Your eyes refocused on his, serious and determined.

“...Will you be my girlfriend…?” He repeated, making your heart skip and a wide smile stretched across your face before you even realised. You could only nod before he quickly pulled you into his arms, burying his head into your neck. You giggled as his nose and lips tickled tickled your skin and your heart raced with love and joy.

You both flinched as the elevator suddenly started moving again, the screen finally flicking from “5” to “4” and continuing to go down. You buried your hand in his soft head of hair, chuckling.

“It's like it was waiting for us to sort everything out.” You felt him smile against your skin, making your heart flutter in your chest. He breathed out, his warm breath spreading across the skin of your neck.

“And I suppose I actually need to thank Seunghan…” He mumbled, earning another giggle from you.

“Y'know we're not getting away from this whole thing without a lot of gloating and teasing, right?”

He sighed, finally pulling back from you and looking into your eyes, a wide smile stretching across his cheeks.

He ran a thumb along your cheek gently.

“It's worth it…”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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#riize #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fanfic #riize anton #anton #anton x reader #anton fluff #anton lee #lee chanyoung

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