#and it's like. far from the worst anyone's said

[vampiresbloodx]

warnings(18+ ONLY): smut, sub!reader, Dom!Wanda, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, teasing, blow jobs (on strap), spitting, slight praise, more degradation, rough s/x, strap on use, all of it is consensual, petnames use (good girl, baby).

emo!gf!Wanda uses you however she pleases and you gladly let her.

The first time she got a taste of you, she was obsessed. No, that wasn't a joke. No one has ever seen her been like this before about anyone. You bring out a completely different side to her than not even her best friend could know about.

Wanda claimed she didn't like girls, she always told herself she wasn't a lesbian and denied any rumours surrounding that.

It wasn't that she was ashamed, she didn't give zero fucks about their opinions. Maybe a little. That's what she was known for, her no bullshit attitude, the resting bitch face, someone to not fuck with.

Then she met you.

The cute adorable nerd who's too shy for their own good.

Wanda wanted to have you all to herself, and she did.

No one was allowed to touch you, flirt with you, go as far as to ask you out.

She would kill them.

Only you'd have to stop her from even putting them in the hospital.

Even if you were left alone for a few hours, minutes, seconds, if someone tried to come at you, she would randomly pop up out of nowhere scaring the hell out of them.

But not you.

She liked that.

She really liked you.

What she liked most was making you come as many times as she wanted. How you squirm under her gaze and touch, just one look and you're begging on your knees, it drives her insane. She has to use you.

You gladly accept it. Because you know she likes you. That's all you wanted.

You've had a crush on her for as long as you can remember, and you weren't the type to crush on people easily. Sure, they'd come, but they would never last that long.

And yet with Wanda, you knew you'd do anything she asked. She was the prettiest girl you've ever met, you just wanted her attention, her everything.

Wanda knew that too.

And she used it to her advantage.

"aw, is my pretty baby already soaking wet?" She cooed, slipping her fingers inside of your tight hole, moaning when she feels your walls clench around her. "Fucking hell, I've never fucked anyone who's pussy was just dripping, begging to be touched."

You whined, bucking your hips into her but she forced them down, glaring at you.

"now, you know I'm gonna have my way with you, I'll let you come once I know you've behaved well, don't move" she demanded.

Your body shuddered, somehow you listened, you always did.

There were times where you liked being a brat, getting the worst out of her was fun, however, this time you really didn't want to mess around.

"good girl" she cooed gently, her voice sending a shiver down your spine, she didn't waste anytime, nor did she back down with starting slow and easy, practically splitting you open with her fingers hard enough that'll make you cry.

Wanda smiled wickedly, watching your every move and reaction, your mouth gaped open, your eyes never leaving hers, fuck, it drove her wild.

"aw, does someone wanna come?" She teased, slowing her movements. "Hmm, it seems this pretty pussy is ready for my cock, don't you think?" She said, loving the way your eyes widened, pupils dilated at the sound of that.

She pulled her pants down, releasing her long, lengthy strap that she kept hidden to surprise you. It was one of her favourites she brought online. A cute, pink dildo that reminded her of you.

It's just too precious.

"spit on it" she muttered, watching as you did as she ordered, once she was pleased enough, Wanda's hands came up to your head, you eagerly wrapped your mouth over her fake dick, she groaned.

"good girl, sucking my cock so well" she moaned. "God, you're my personal fucktoy, aren't you?, my flesh light, you like that, don't you?."

She heard you whimper, causing her to smirk.

"do a good enough job and maybe I'll reward you with something else."

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Will Graham X Reader: Nightcap

Summary: Will needs a little help going to sleep after a nightmare.

Warnings: not proof read, smut, cowgirl, oral (f & m receiving), penetration ( p in v), pet names (baby), cursing, nightmares, cum eating, no use of y/n.

Word count: 1,8 K

He’s sweating through his sheets.

Even in his hazy state he can feel the cold sweat that covers his body. He tries to wake himself up but his body refuses. He’s staring at the stag before him. The animal itself isn't threatening. It's the feelings that come with it that cause Will to shake in bed. He feels something grab onto his shoulder and turns to look at what was touching him. His eyes find you, your mouth is open wide as if you were screaming but no sound comes out. He calls out your name just as his body sinks into the ground. 

Will snapped up from his bed, his heart hammering in his chest. His wet clothes cling to his body uncomfortably. He’s been in this situation before, the only difference is that this time he’s not alone. You're here with him. He feels bad for waking you up but he's glad he’s not alone. The palm of your hand warms his arm, causing him to stare at it. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Nightmares.”

“Are they always that bad?”

Will stops staring at your hand on him opting to look at your face. You're looking at him like a wounded animal and he hates it. But he supposes it's better than looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Not always but yeah most of them are…”

“Intense?”

“That's a word for it.”

Of course the only night he has someone sleep over he has one of the worst nightmares he’s had in months. He must have been quite loud for you to be able to hear him from another room.

“Sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to get a cup of water when I heard you. You sounded scared so I thought maybe I should check on you.”

Your relationship with Will was odd. You weren’t exactly friends but you weren’t just coworkers either. You’d been helping him organize information for his next class and hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. Will hated the thought of you driving in the dark because of him so he offered you a place to crash.

It was the first time you’d truly seen Will. You helped him cook dinner and the two of you had shared a bottle of wine. You talked until your eyes started to feel heavy. Will showed you to your bed and bid you goodnight. It all felt very intimate. You weren’t sleeping in his bed but this was the closest you’d been to each other outside of work. Will didn’t really know how to behave around you. He’d flush when you said anything remotely flirty to him and he would often find himself observing you as you worked. He was fascinated by you but instead of telling you that he bottled his desire deep inside himself. 

“Do you have more sheets?”

“Yeah in the closet.”

You moved over to the closet, searching for a fresh set of sheets. Will rose from the bed beginning to tug on the soaked sheets. He bundled the fabric in his hands before throwing it into the hamper. You made your way to him, handing him the clean sheets. The two of you worked together making the bed quickly. You pat Will's pillow lightly before moving away from the bed. 

“There. Good as new!”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Silence fell over the room. You started at the bed wondering if anyone had ever had the pleasure of sharing the space with Will. Will watched you deep in thought. He used the opportunity to observe you. Your body was covered by one of his shirts. It was an old piece of clothing, worn down by time but you made it work. An overwhelming need to move closer towards you consumed him all of a sudden. He decided to act on it. He inched himself towards you slowly, not wanting to break your train of thought.

You didn’t notice him move. When you turned to look at him, expecting him to still be far from you, you bumped into him accidentally. The palms of your hands came in contact with his chest. Will looked down at where your body touched his. Before he could do anything you pulled away, creating some distance between you two. You let out a small laugh, stuttering a bit as you spoke.

“I’m gonna get out of your hair. Goodnight.”

You spun on your heels rolling your eyes at yourself. How could such a small amount of contact flustered you so much? Will reached out to you, his hand grabbing onto your arm. You felt the tug on your arm making you stop and turn. 

“Stay.”

“We have work tomorrow. You need to sleep, Will.”

“I won't be able to fall asleep anytime soon. Stay with me. We can talk until we feel tired again.”

You knew you should say no but the way Will was looking at you:  eyes glossy due to lack of sleep, hair tousled due to his abrupt awakening, lips slightly parted as he waited for your response, made it impossible. So you stayed. 

What's the worst that could happen?

Things escalated quickly. You’d gone from talking about work, to intensely making out, to Will begging to eat you out in a matter of minutes.

And you let him.

Your hands curled into Will's curls as his tongue moved over your clit. His hands grab onto your thighs as you squirm beneath him. 

“Will ah i can’t-”

“Come on just one more. You can do it baby.”

He’d said he needed to destress a bit before going to sleep again and what better way to take his mind off things than absolutely ravaging you with his tongue. He’d already made you cum twice but he needed to feel you spill your juices one more time. Just a bit more and he’d be satisfied. He’d said that but it was a lie. From the second he’d felt your lips on his he knew he’d never get enough of the taste of you. He was clawing so harshly at your legs you were sure you’d have scratch marks tomorrow. The thought of having a reminder of him on your body, even if for a little while, exited you. Your hips rose from the bed as you reached your third orgasm. Will kept licking at you until you had to physically push his face off you. He laid his head on your thigh, staring up at you like a puppy. A warm smile spread over Will's face as he watched your chest rise and fall. He would have never imagined he’d find himself in this situation.  You let out a content sigh, finally opening your eyes to look at him. He was looking up at you like a god. It was then that you noticed he was waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. You placed your hand on his face, thumb stroking his cheek as you called out his name. 

“Yes beautiful?”

“Come give me a kiss.”

You felt the weight on your legs dissipate as he rose from the bed. He crawled over your body, arms flexing as he moved. Once he’d gotten face to face with you he leant down slowly to place a kiss on your lips. You held his face, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Your legs wound around Wills hips as you made out. He let out a small grunt when you accidentally grazed his hard on. Using all of your body weight you managed to flip your positions around so that you were on top of Will. You grinned down at him, hands splayed against his chest as you rocked your hips slowly.

“My turn.”

You inched your body down his. Will's breath hitched as you gave his hipbone a kiss. His hands gripped at the fresh sheets as you continued to tease him over his boxers. It was only when he let out a breathy “please” that you decided to indulge him. You tugged his boxers down, freeing his dick. You held him in your hand enjoying the weight for a moment before beginning to stroke him. The Will Graham you were currently seeing was nothing like the one you were used to. You’d never seen Will's body so relaxed. Your lips ghosted the tip of his dick causing him to whine.

“You want my mouth Will?”

“Shit baby please.”

He sounded so pretty for you. How could you deny him? As soon as your lips wrapped around his dick Will swore he’d never be able to forget the feeling. You boobed your head, tongue moving over the veins of his dick. Will tugged at your hair roughly, not being able to control his strength due to the pleasure you were giving him. Tears fell from your eyes as you gagged around his dick. He felt the droplets fall on his thighs causing him to raise his head from the people to look at you. A deep moan made its way out of Will as he began to buck his hips. Your grip on his legs tightened as he fucked into your throat. He was getting closer and closer to the edge. You waited eagerly for him to blow his load but then all of a sudden he was tugging you off of him. 

“ Will what’s wro-”

“Sorry baby can’t take it any longer.”

Will roughly tugged you onto him. He positioned himself at your entrance and before you could even process what was going on he sunk into you. You moaned out his name as he filled you up. On instinct you started bouncing on his dick. 

“That’s it baby. Ride me.”

“Jesus Will…you feel so good.”

His hands guided your movements forcing you to move faster and faster as he desperately tried to find release. 

“Fuck i’m gonna cum”

“Give to me Will.”

“Ah shit!”

Wills hips bucked up one last time spilling his load into your. YOu continued grinding on him as he came down from his high. Your hands moved to remove the curls that stuck to his forehead. Will gave you a sleepy smile as you caressed him. You leaned down to give him a kiss. His arms wrapped around your body holding you to him. You closed your eyes hearing the small snores that started to slip out of Will. You nuzzled your body closer to him.

“Good night Will.”

When Will woke up the next morning he found your frame nuzzled into his side, his arm slung over your waist. He placed a kiss on your temple before closing his eyes again. Sleep washed over him quickly. 

He waited from the nightmares to come.

They never did.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (2)

Youth

Lady Arianwyn and Prince Aemond grow up side-by-side.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: This chapter is entirely new! The old chapter 2 will be back later as chapter 3. Also, I have not been around babies or toddlers or even kids under 10 since I was that age myself, so if I got any childhood development facts wrong, just pretend that I didn't!

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Only four days after Prince Aemond Targaryen saw his eleventh moon, he took his first steps. It was a matter of necessity. His nursemaid had set him on the nursery floor too far from Aria – all the way on the other side of the rug!

He did not really know who Aria was.

He did not know that her full name was ‘Arianwyn,’ for everyone only called her Aria – except for the large men in bronze suits, who called her ‘Lady,’ or sometimes “Little Lady.” He did not know that she was his cousin, as he did not know what a cousin was. He did not know that she had not always been with him or that she was younger than him, for he had no memories without her there.

All he knew was that Aria was always there, and he was always with her.

But in that moment, she was too far away. He took one look at Aria’s sad and confused face, and he knew he needed to get to her. If he didn’t do it soon, she would start to cry. He hated it when she cried. It made him want to cry.

So, he started crawling toward her. Slowly, he was moving too slowly. She looked more and more like she was going to cry, and Aemond decided there wouldn’t be anything worse in the world.

He pushed his arms against the floor, bracing himself as he raised up onto his legs, as the bigger people did. When he lifted his arms again, he saw Aria staring at him, no longer looking like she was about to cry. While he was glad, he still wanted to go to her.

“Hurry, get the queen!”

Aemond remembered that last word, ‘queen.’ He heard it a lot when his second-favorite person was around. Was she here, too?

He turned his head to look at the part of the wall where people came through but didn’t see anyone. The turn cost him, though. His legs grew wobbly, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to fall. He couldn’t prevent the fall, but maybe he could control it.

His arms flailing, Aemond leaned forward and took three steps closer to Aria before he fell on his face.

Three steps were enough, though. Aria had crawled forward to meet him in the middle of the rug, a wide smile on her face as she squealed with delight. Tears had already sprung to Aemond’s eyes from his fall, but when he looked at Aria, he forgot why he had wanted to cry.

“Aria!”

“Aymmmmmuh!”

Aemond knew words now – several of them. It infuriated Arianwyn. Especially when his favorite word was her name, and she could not say his back.

She knew his name. Whenever someone said “Aemond,” she knew they were talking about him. She just couldn’t get the word out. The first part, the “ay” sound, she usually got right, but it always fell apart from there.

The worst part was seeing his frustration when she failed, yet again, to say his name. She wanted Aemond to like her – needed him to like her.

He wasn’t like Aegon, who was too big and played in ways she couldn’t, or Helaena, who barely liked to play at all. They weren’t even there most of the time. They were big enough to leave the nursery and go to different places like “garden” or “great hall.”

But Aemond was perfect. He played exactly how she liked, and though he was bigger than her, he never played too roughly. When Aunt – who Aemond called “mama” – took Aegon and Helaena out of the nursery, he stayed with her. He always stayed with her. Even when they were in their cradles, she could still see him from across the room.

“Aymmnuh,” she tried again. And failed again.

Aemond frowned and shook his head. “No.”

Another favorite word of his – Aegon taught it to him. Arianwyn huffed, the sound echoed by the hatchling dragon sunning itself in the window.

Some weeks prior, she had woken in the hour of the wolf to find that the egg that had lain in her cradle had shattered. Shards of black speckled with storm gray and ice blue were strewn across her blanket, and the comforting heat she had grown accustomed to warming herself against was gone. As she began to cry, she noticed a shape looming over her, perched on the edge of her cradle.

The night nurses screamed, shouting at the guards outside the door. Both the man in red and black and the man in bronze looked at her and the dark shape at her feet with wide eyes before running down the corridor so fast their clanging armor sounded like a thunderstorm.

The noise woke Aemond, who looked from Arianwyn to the shape that had leaned down to peer at her. “Dwa- dwagon!”

Arianwyn watched as it jumped down from its perch. She could barely make out the shape in the darkness and against the deep brown of her fur blankets. It did look like the toys they played with that the others called “dragon.” Two membranous wings, a thin, flicking tail, a long neck covered with small spines, and eyes like living ice.

It moved cautiously as it approached her until she could see the faint lines of gray and white within its blue eyes—a dragon. Her dragon.

As she now frowned at Aemond, her dragon was sprawled on the stone of the windowsill, wings spread lazily as it echoed her frustration without even opening its eyes.

“Dragon!” Aemond exclaimed.

“Muhmuhnd!” She was so close, she knew it. She had all the pieces. She just needed to put them together. “Ay!”

Aemond stared at her, a hint of a smile on his face from knowing she was about to try again.

“Ay!” Her face was scrunched in determination as she shouted. The nurses paused their work and looked at her as well.

“Ay-muh!”

Aemond started clapping. One of the nurses whispered to another before slipping out the door.

“Ay-muhn!”

In the window, Arianwyn’s dragon sat up, small clouds of smoke puffing from his nostrils as it began to climb down from the window.

“Ay-muhn-duh! Aemond!”

One of the nurses pressed a hand to her chest and said a word Arianwyn didn’t know. The others started rushing around. But Arianwyn didn’t care. She was looking at Aemond, who clapped and smiled wider than she had ever seen.

“Aemond!” She shouted again, delighting in his responding laugh.

He pointed at her. “Aria!”

“Aemond!”

“Aria!”

“Aemond!”

There was a new baby in the nursery—two, actually, but Daeron had already been there for four moons, so his novelty had worn off.

Aemond and Arianwyn sat together on one end of the room, watching as he was held by his mother, Rhaenyra, who was also Aemond’s sister. That made him Aemond’s nephew, the nurses had explained.

They had also explained what he was to Aria, but he didn’t quite understand it, as it was somehow much more complicated. Aegon said he understood, and Helaena had nodded, which meant she probably understood, too. She didn’t talk much, and when she did, it never made much sense.

Aegon also explained that the new babe, whose name was “Jacaerys,” but everyone just called “Jace,” was something called a bastard. It meant that Jace’s father wasn’t his father; some other man was. But that didn’t make sense. Rhaenyra was married to Laenor, which meant Laenor was Jace’s father, for the Mother only gave babes to people who were married and very much in love.

When Aemond had asked more about it, Aegon rolled his eyes and said, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

It was something that was often said to Aemond and Arian, and they did not like it very much. They would have to wait a long time to be older, and they didn’t want to wait.

They also did not like that they were not allowed to play with Jace as they did with Daeron. Rhaenyra said they were “too big.” But when they asked Rhaenyra if she would play with them while Jace was sleeping, she also said no, even though she was definitely big enough. She only ever came to the nursery when Jace was awake and left the moment he fell asleep.

Aemond decided he did not like Rhaenyra.

She had never come to see him, or Aegon, or Helaena, or Aria before Jace was born. Now that she had finally come, she all but ignored them. When they tried to talk to her, she seemed annoyed. Worst of all, he had seen her giving Aria a mean look several times.

His mother did not get along with Rhaenyra very well, so he assumed it was fine not to like her.

However, his father loved Rhaenyra. He came to visit her and her babe often, which would annoy Aemond if it didn’t also mean he got to see his father more.

Since his father was the king, he was very busy and didn’t always have time to see his children in the nursery. But now that the nursery was very full with six children, he made the time, Aemond’s grandsire, who was also the Hand of the King, said.

The king spent most of his time with Jace, but that was probably because Jace was the newest. He still held Daeron, played with Arianwyn and her dragon, complimented Helaena’s insects, admired Aemond's drawings, ruffled Aegon’s hair, and read them all stories from Old Valyria – the fantastical empire where their ancestors were from.

Aemond loved those stories. So did Aria. They tried to memorize them so they could tell them to each other whenever the king wasn’t there. Sometimes, they even acted out some of the stories, with Helaena, Daeron, and several of Aria’s attendants–including her lady’s maid, Brynna, and any number of her twelve guards–as their audience.

Her attendants also told them stories about Aria’s other ancestors, the Bronze Kings. Before there were any Targaryens or Dragons in Westeros, the Bronze Kings ruled over Runestone. One day, Aria would, too.

They didn’t know what Aemond would do. He was a prince, but he wasn’t the heir. There weren’t many stories about second sons. Whenever they asked, they were again told, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” But they never worried for long. There were lots of other exciting things to think about, like when Aemond’s dragon egg would hatch.

Arianwyn looked around the large room with wide eyes. She had never been to this room before, even though she had now been to many different rooms in the Red Keep. At least Aemond was there, so she wasn’t alone. Still, she wished she had been allowed to bring her dragon – which she had named ‘Emrys’ after a recent visit from her cousin, Ser Gerold.

Brynna was also there, but she sat in a chair by the door sewing something, so she couldn’t hold Arianwyn’s hand. Aemond did so happily. She was pretty sure he was also nervous. His eyes were moving all around the room, too. But his face didn’t look afraid.

Aegon was also there, but Arianwyn didn’t find comfort in his presence. Ever since Aegon left the nursery, he became mean. He was never very nice, but Arianwyn never thought he had been mean. He liked to make jokes that were not very funny, but he laughed anyway.

Most of the jokes were about Aemond and how his egg hadn’t hatched. It didn’t make much sense to Arianwyn, as Aegon’s egg hadn’t hatched either. But he had just returned from a trip to Dragonstone – their family’s other castle – with a hatchling from a different egg. He named it Sunfyre, because it was gold and pink and shiny.

Helaena also went, and though she did not find a dragon from Dragonstone, when she went with their father and Aegon to show Sunfyre the Dragonpit, she met Dreamfyre, who was once ridden by Princess Rhaena, their grandfather’s sister. Helaena and Dreamfyre bonded almost instantly, and the king was very happy.

Aemond and Arianwyn hadn’t been allowed to go along to Dragonstone at all. Arianwyn, because she was too little and already had a dragon, and Aemond, just because he was too little. He had been sad since then, and nothing Arianwyn did seemed to cheer him up for very long.

She squeezed his hand a little, causing him to look at her, his face still empty. “Are you excited?"

At the other end of the table, Aegon scoffed. “There’s nothing to be excited about, trust me.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. The first time she did it, it annoyed Aegon, so now she did it whenever possible. “I’m excited. I want to learn everything!”

The corner of Aemond’s mouth quirked up as if he would smile. But it fell back when Aegon started talking again. “You want to learn ‘everything?’ Perhaps you should become a maester, then.”

His tone was mocking, but Arianwyn considered the possibility. The maesters had the biggest library at the Citadel in Oldtown. Perhaps she should be a master; then, she could read all the stories she wanted. But that would require her to be in Oldtown, which was very far away from Runestone.

“Can I be a maester and Lady of Runestone?” she asked.

It went completely silent. Then, Brynna sighed sadly in the corner, and Aegon started laughing.

Arianwyn’s stomach sank. Had she said something wrong? She looked around, hoping someone else would tell her why Aegon was laughing. But Brynna just looked tired, and her guard for the day, Ser Warren, looked like he was hurting, or maybe had smelled something bad. Either way, his face was all scrunched up.

“Shut up!” Aemond shouted, startling her enough that she clapped her hands over her ears. He glared at his brother, his face reddened and angry. “Don’t laugh at her!”

Aegon kept laughing. Aemond kept shouting. Ser Christor looked like he was about to panic. Brynna abandoned her sewing and ran to calm everyone down, but it didn’t work. Tears started to sting behind Arianwyn’s eyes, so she shut them tight, ducked her chin, and shook her head back and forth. That always made the nightmares go away. Maybe it would make this go away, too.

Suddenly, Aegon’s laughing and Aemond’s shouting stopped. She lifted her hands away from her ears and opened her eyes just enough to see Maester Orwyle entering the room.

“Prince Aegon, perhaps it would be wise to keep your lessons separate from Prince Aemond and Lady Arianwyn’s.” His voice was just as gentle as when he came to the nursery when one of them was sick, but Aegon still scowled at him. “Unless you would prefer to repeat the fundamentals of the curriculum?”

Aegon pushed his chair away from the table so fast it fell over and gave a smile that made Arianwyn nervous. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Ser Christor’s eyes went wide. Brynna gasped and put a hand on her chest. Aegon didn’t acknowledge them before stomping out of the room.

After the door slammed shut, Orwyle sighed. He smiled at Aemond and Arianwyn, but it seemed fake. “I am very excited you two are beginning your lessons; you have always been curious.”

He sat at the table across from them and opened a large, messy book. “Before we begin, do you have any questions about how lessons work?”

Aemond said nothing, pouting, as he often did around Aegon, with his arms crossed.

Arianwyn raised her hand above her head. “Grand Maester, what is a ‘fuck?’”

“Just grab it!”

“It’s too high!”

Arianwyn huffed, crossing her arms as she looked up at Aemond, standing atop a chair trying to reach a large leather-bound book. “Do you want me to try?”

“No!” Aemond’s face reddened. “I can do it. Besides, you’re shorter than me – how could you reach it if I can’t?”

She thought for a moment. If Emrys lived in the Keep, she could have him pry the book out, but he was in the Dragonpit now. Even after three moons, she still woke, expecting to find him tucked against her chest, fast asleep.

But he’d gotten too big to stay in the castle, and Arianwyn had to take him to the Dragonpit. The king and Aemond went with her and helped her with her High Valyrian while she explained to Emrys that he had to stay there now. It didn’t stop him from flying back to the castle for the first fortnight, but he eventually learned to stay in his den.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “Maybe I’ll have an idea if I get on the chair.”

Aemond shook his head, his brow set. “No, you could fall.” Before she could get her next argument out, he continued, “I can do it. Watch.”  

He braced one hand on the edge of the shelf while the other just skimmed the spine of the book they were trying to reach, then jumped. Arianwyn called his name, certain he would fall and hurt himself or even destroy the book.

But then, Aemond was again standing steady on the chair, the book in his hands and a happy grin.

“You did it!” The very moment he was off the chair, Arianwyn hugged him tightly. He could not hug her back with the heavy book in his hands, so he just dropped his head on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go read!”

She dragged him back to the table in the small alcove, where they had already set out pen and paper. Once Aemond had set the book down and opened it to the first page, she picked up the pen and got ready to write.

“Before the Andu-Andals came to Westeros, and long before Aegon Targaryen con… conchu… um…”

Arianwyn pointed to the word he struggled with. “Conquered. Remember how he’s called ‘Aegon the Conqueror?’”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I know. Con-kerd. I was just…making sure I was saying it right.”

She didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t want to correct him either, so she gave him a smile and nodded for him to continue.

“…before Aegon Targaryen conquered the Seven Kingdoms with his dragons, the lands were inhuh- inhah… inhabee...”

Arianwyn again pointed at the book. “‘In-hah-bih-ted.’ I’ve heard it before but can’t remember what it means. Do you?”

“I…” He slumped, looking pointedly away from her. “No, I don’t.”

They both looked at the book for a moment before Arianwyn handed the pen and paper to Aemond. “Write it down,” she instructed. “In our lessons with Orwyle tomorrow, we can ask him.”

Aemond looked from the book to the paper, then slid the book to her. It made more sense this way, Arianwyn thought. She was better at pronouncing big words, and he was better at writing things down so they would be ‘legible,’ a word Orwyle said but had never really explained.

“In-hah-bih-ted,” Aemond said as he wrote the word down. He whispered the pronunciation a few more times before looking back at Arianwyn. “I’m ready for more.”

She smiled broadly before looking at the page again. “The lands were inhabited by the First Men, who had built mighty kingdoms that…”

When he was younger, Aemond used to look at the Dragonpit from the seat at the nursery window. For hours, he would dream about one day walking through its mighty doors, mounting his own dragon, and finally claiming his birthright as a Targaryen prince.

Now, he had half a mind to tear down those doors himself.

The task would be far easier with the assistance of a dragon, however, which at the age of eight, Aemond still did not have.

Aegon and Helaena did. His bastard nephews did, somehow. Arianwyn did. But Aemond did not.

Still, he was forced to attend lessons with the Dragonkeepers, watching the others and only imagining doing the same with his own dragon. It wasn’t so bad when Aria was with him. Aegon made jokes, but stopped when she snapped back at him. After that, he would target their nephews. Aemond sometimes even laughed with him.

But then, during one lesson, Dreamfyre snapped at the younger dragons as they pranced around her. She did not cause any physical harm, but Vermax refused to leave his den for days, and Sunfyre would splay out on all fours the moment he saw the mighty she-dragon and stay that way until she left.

After that, the Dragonkeepers decided it prudent to separate Dreamfyre from the younger dragons. Not entirely, for she needed to learn to tolerate them before they could all fly together. She would continue to train with only one – Emrys.

It made sense. Emrys annoyed Dreamfyre the least. And when Aegon made Aria mad, the black dragon would often snap at Sunfyre.

So, Aemond was left to face the torment of being a Targaryen without a dragon alone.

Without Aria there to stop him, Aegon redoubled his teasing. Worse still, the bastards figured out that if they followed Aegon’s lead and made their own jokes at Aemond’s expense, he would not make jokes about them.

The Dragonpit, once a source of hope and inspiration, was now Aemond’s hell.

It started with small, simple japes or whispered comments about his lack of a dragon. But over time, it worsened.

The remarks became crueler and, sometimes, included a crudeness that rankled Aemond. “It’s still good practice for you,” Aegon said. “Even without a dragon, you’ll still need to know how to ride whatever beast mother sends you off to marry.”

The jokes evolved past mere verbal mockery. Once, Aegon and his bastard lackeys had an old saddle that one of their ancestors had used brought in. For Aemond to practice his riding stance, they said. But when he took the seat, he found himself sitting atop a pile of dragon dung they had placed in the saddle and concealed with a sheet of burlap.

He never should have trusted them. He knew it.

But he wanted to.

He wanted to practice his riding stance, to finally sit in a dragon’s saddle, even if it was on the ground rather than an actual dragon. He wanted to feel reins in his hand and imagine the wind flowing past him. And a part of him even wanted to be friends with his brother and nephews.

That small, weak part of him was soon thoroughly snuffed out.

Just after his ninth nameday, Aemond was approached by Aegon and their nephews. He’d long since vowed not to trust them, but his brother’s words shot through his defenses like Valyrian steel through armor.

“Let’s go get you a dragon, brother.”

“What?” Aemond’s heart stopped in his chest. Had one of the she-dragons laid a new clutch of eggs, or had one of the eggs in the warming chamber hatched? Perhaps a new wild dragon had been spotted?

“Look, you’ve just celebrated your nameday,” there was something genuine in Aegon’s voice, unbelievable as it was. He set a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, but it didn’t reassure him as much as it unsettled him. “You’re nearly a man. And you’ve been training with the Dragonkeepers for so long that you’re more than ready to try and claim a dragon. Unless you’re still waiting on that egg?”

That egg, once a deep blue swirling with purple, green, and silver wisps, had turned to stone years ago. It still waited by the hearth in his chambers, just in case of a miracle. He shook his head.

Aegon smiled and turned toward the dragon dens. “Come on then, let’s go.”

“Do the Dragonkeepers know?”

Lucerys ran up behind them, a half-toothless smile splitting his face. “No! We –”

“We didn’t want to tell them because… well,” Jacaerys stuttered momentarily, and Aemond’s faith wavered.

“They wouldn’t allow it if they knew.” Aegon didn’t look back as he led them down the sloping entrance to the dragon dens. “I can’t understand why. Surely, they know you’re more than ready.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Just imagine the look on their faces when they see you come into the arena on the back of a full-grown dragon!”

And Aria, Aemond thought. She would be thrilled for him. He could picture it perfectly, the gleam of utter glee in her eyes as she smiled as wide as she could. And she would be able to ride Emrys soon, she’d told him. If he claimed an adult dragon, they could fly together.

The fantasy ended the moment the last of the daylight disappeared. That rush of anticipation faded, leaving him with only reluctance and fear.

Not that he had time to act on it before Aegon seized his arm and pointed into the massive passages lit only by distant torches. “Terrax makes his den down there.”

Aemond nearly choked as he named the formidable dragon that had hatched during Aegon the Conqueror’s reign and remained unclaimed since. “You want me to claim Terrax?”

“Yes!” Aegon spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you think you deserve one of the largest and most powerful dragons in the world?”

“I… I suppose so.”

Aegon patted Aemond’s shoulder, then pushed him forward a few steps, sand flying up around him. “Then get on!”

He made no move to follow. Neither did their bastard nephews.

“Are you not coming with me?” The thought of approaching Terrax was daunting enough. To do it alone was nearly unthinkable.

Lucerys opened his mouth, but Jacaerys thumped him before he could say anything. Aegon just held Aemond’s gaze. “We are but must follow behind, so we don’t spook Terrax. Too many unfamiliar scents will put him on edge.”

It made sense, according to everything he’d learned about dragons. Unbonded dragons were especially sensitive to unfamiliar people, it was why novice Dragonkeepers were always accompanied by an elder.

Still, this wasn’t something Aemond wanted to do alone. “But you will be behind me?”

“We will,” Aegon assured, a hint of annoyance entering his voice.

“You swear it?”

“I swear.”

Aemond searched his brother’s face for any hint of deception but found none. Either he had become a more proficient liar, or he was telling the truth. This was his brother, his future king. If he couldn’t trust Aegon, who could he trust?

He could trust Aria. Always. If only she were here, he would be far more confident. And braver – he wouldn’t let her see him afraid. If she were here, he’d march right into Terrax’s den and lay his claim. He remembered the image he’d pictured of her proud face when he told her he’d claimed a dragon and decided he would do anything to make it real.

One step forward. Two. Three.

It was not long before it was so dark that when he looked behind him, he could not see Aegon, Jacaerys, or Lucerys. But knowing they were there was still a comfort, even if he had to walk the shadowed distances between torches.

The dragon dens, at last, came into view. The first few – one on the left, two on the right – were empty. The next one on the left had a massive nest of straw, wood, and sand occupying nearly every crevice of the room.

A low growl echoed through the corridor. Perhaps it was simply a dragon snoring. Maybe one had already scented him. The only way to know for certain was to continue.

As he approached the next den on the right, the growl came again, louder this time. Aemond said a swift prayer before moving closer, as quietly as he could.

He pressed his back to the wall and crept forward, waiting for the den itself to come into view. Waiting to see what lay inside. He reached the threshold and slowly peeked into the den.

A large green eye met his.

Terrax whipped his massive head toward Aemond, letting out a piercing roar.

“Ly.. lykirī! Dohaerās!” Be calm. Serve.

Terrax did not. A glow began in his throat, and heat threatened to overwhelm Aemond.

He was going to burn him.

Aemond ran, stumbling in the sand. He had to get away, get out, escape.

“Aegon!” It was both plea and warning.

No answer came.

“Aegon!”

The heat was growing, growing, growing. A whooshing noise chased him.

“Aegon! Jacaerys! Lucerys! Help!”

The tunnel was bright as day now. Sweat rapidly formed and fell from his brow.

The fire was upon him.

He had one last prayer.

“Aria!”

Aria was waiting in the library when Aemond finally escaped the thorough scoldings he’d received from both Elder Dantis, the leader of the Dragonkeepers, and his mother. “Aemond! Come look what Ser Gerold sent from Runestone!”

He should have been thrilled, should have felt excitement rushing in his veins at the prospect of new books directly from Aria’s home. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even heartened by the fact that she’d waited for him for so long. He felt… nothing.

“Aemond?” As he came closer, she seemed to finally notice his disheveled appearance. The ends of his hair had been burnt away, and soot and sand clung to his clothes. “What happened?”

“I…” He took his seat, keeping his gaze on the blank parchment before him. This was what they always did: sit together while Aria read, and he wrote down new words or questions they had. It was his favorite part of the day.

Why did the prospect now make him want to cry?

He shook his head.

Aria exchanged a glance with her guard – Ser Christor always seemed to be on duty while they were in the library. She moved her chair closer to his. “Lēkia?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her voice always soothed him and made him feel happy and safe. But right now, it seemed to echo Terrax's horrible roaring.

A small, gentle hand came to rest on his. The touch… felt good—soft, safe, and cool.

But then she spoke again. “Please, are you alright?”

Aemond managed a slight nod. Terrax’s fire went above him, so he managed to escape without any burns, but his clothes and pride were ravaged. As was his faith in his brothers and nephews.

“Why won’t you say anything?” Damn it all, she was about to cry. He could not stand to hear anyone speaking right now, not even her. Yet he could not stand making her cry, either.

He picked up the quill she’d laid out for him, dipping it carelessly into the inkwell. He wrote, “I am well, but I really badly don’t feel like talking.”

“Oh…” Aria frowned but nodded. Aemond knew not talking would be hard for her; she always had so much to say. But she was willing to be silent for him. He could have kissed her for it.

She moved the book between them and began to open it before shutting it again, reaching over it, and grabbing Aemond’s parchment. There was little ink left in the quill, but she just managed to squeeze out, “Tap my hand when you want to turn the page.”       

It felt like everyone in the whole world was looking at Arianwyn. It was certainly everyone in her world.

The king and queen. Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys. Ser Criston Cole. All her guards from Runestone. The Grand Maester and Orwyle. The other lords of the Small Council. Countless other lords and ladies that Arianwyn had met but did not remember well.

Ser Gerold had arrived only the day before with several lords and ladies from Runestone and their bannermen.

Even Rhaenyra was there, though she didn’t look very happy about it. Ser Laenor was next to her, Jace and Luke in front of them, their dark eyes wide as they looked at Arianwyn and Emrys. She tried not to look at their eyes for too long – it felt rude, considering those eyes were quite the source of gossip.

“Emrys umbā, āeksio.” Elder Dantis motioned toward her now-saddled dragon. “Īlos pradagon?” Emrys is ready, lady. Shall we begin?

“Issa,” Arianwyn replied. She wasn’t quite sure whether she was really ready or not, but she couldn’t disappoint all those who had come to watch her first flight. So, she approached Emrys, stroking the smooth black scales of his snout.

He had grown impressively, now nearly twice as large as the King’s wheelhouse. According to the Dragonkeepers, it was unusual for a dragon to grow this fast away from Dragonstone or Valyria. There was much speculation about why, but Arianwyn didn’t care. She would love him no matter his size, though it did help that he was already large enough to ride.

He grumbled slightly, his icy eyes glancing at the crowd and the scales and spikes along his spine flaring. In many respects, she thought, he was quite like a spoiled cat.

“Hae urnēbosy pōnte daor gaomās,” Arianwyn whispered. Try to act like they aren’t watching us.

His grumbling turned to whining.

“Sepār zūgan,” she admitted, “yn kesir kosti. Īlon kosti gīmin. Ao kostā gīmin.” I’m nervous too, but we can do it. I know we can. I know you can.”

Emrys huffed a warm breath onto Arianwyn, a gesture of affection and conceding, before nudging her toward his side and the ropes that led to the saddle.

He did not like the saddle. That much was evident from the claw marks nearly covering the worn leather and how he would roll over on his back whenever the Dragonkeepers tried to put it on. It always took Arianwyn herself to talk him into letting them. But he was getting better about it. Slightly.

The saddle was not hers. It had been passed down in the family for generations, meant for young dragons who were still growing rapidly. Still, as Arianwyn settled into the ancient, worn leather, she could not help but think it fit her perfectly.

She dared one more glance at the crowd. The king was beaming. The queen looked as though she were about to faint. Ser Gerold and her Runestone guards looked to be somewhere between the two. Rhaenyra wasn’t even looking, though her husband and sons were.

Arianwyn looked last at her cousins. Helaena wore the same dreamy expression she always did, though her lips seemed to be moving slightly. Aegon was harder to read. She had expected him to look at her disdainfully or mockingly, but he didn’t. He looked happy, though it didn’t make much sense.

And Aemond. Her heart ached to look at him. She knew he was happy for her – more than happy, even. But being here today must also cause him such pain, driving home the fact that he still had not claimed a dragon. Guilt stung in her chest. She should have told him she wouldn’t mind if he stayed behind at the Keep.

But then, he smiled. There was still longing in his eyes for his own mount, but he smiled so brightly that Arianwyn soon smiled back, suddenly anxious to show him what she could do. She straightened her posture and grasped the reins.

“Emrys! Sōvēs!”

By the time Emrys again landed in the courtyard of the Dragonpit, he had entirely shed his dislike of his saddle. As he flew over King’s Landing, he had trilled and hooted his delight for all to hear. Arianwyn had as well, shouting and hollering with every move – rising on an air current, diving so low Emrys’ wings skimmed the surface of Blackwater Bay, and pitching around the towers and spires of the Red Keep.

Neither had ever felt so alive. But it was time to return to the ground.

Arianwyn was swarmed the moment she dismounted.

The king reached her first, clapped her on the back, and told her how proud her father would be if he were there. It was meant to be a comfort, but she flinched at the words. If he were there. But he was never there. She was nearly ten years old, but she had never met Prince Daemon, or even received a message from him.

Fortunately, the queen noticed her discomfort and subtly pushed past her husband to embrace her. “You were brilliant, Aria,” Alicent said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Not bad at all.” Aegon, to her surprise, had also approached. He smiled at her. “Might even call it good.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. “How generous of you.”

He smirked. “I’m known to be sincere on rare occasions.”

She didn’t have a chance to snap back at him before she was lifted into the air and spun around. Ser Gerold held her close to his chest, and she swore she heard tears in his voice. “A dragon riding Royce! Who could have ever guessed? Oh, if only your mother could see this.”

“Would she be happy?” Arianwyn was suddenly gripped with fear that her mother would disapprove of her riding Emrys. Perhaps it was too far from Royce tradition for the late Lady of Runestone to tolerate.

Gerold lifted her so she could look directly into his dark gray eyes. “If your mother saw you now…” He really was crying now, but he smiled. “She would be so happy, Aria. She would be so thrilled that she might even ask to ride Emrys herself.”

Never able to resist his smile, Arianwyn smiled back. “Emrys isn’t quite large enough for two right now. But I would take her the moment he was.”

He finally set her down, his eyes flicking away for a moment. “I’m so proud of you, Aria. But I think there’s someone who also wants to say so.” With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around.

Aemond was standing precisely where he was when Emrys had taken flight. He held his hands behind his back and looked away when Arianwyn met his gaze.

She had to push through more admirers – her guards, the Small Council, and other adults she couldn’t recall the names of. But they didn’t matter right now.

Yet when she stopped in front of Aemond, she didn’t know what to say. Talking about her flight might make him feel bad, but she so badly wanted to share her joy with him. Impulsively, she threw her arms over his shoulders and hugged him.

After a moment, he hugged her back.

“You’re amazing, Aria,” he whispered.

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulders. “You are, too.”

Aemond laughed almost disdainfully. Arianwyn held him tighter. “It’s true! One day, you will have a dragon, and I know you will be the fiercest rider our family has ever seen. Then, we can fly together, you and me.”

He let out a shaking breath but held her tighter, too. She could hear the faint smile in his voice. “You and me, Aria. Forever.”

“Forever.”

Taglist: @heartb8k2 @queenofshinigamis @leptitlu @xxxkat3xxx @malfoycassimalfoy @lokiofasgard12

[myjealouseyes]

Request from an anon: can you please!! do an argument one pls where the reader ends up crying or Harry’s mad at her its probably like not their first argument but the biggest one tysm 🎀

A/N— hello Nonnie! I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind (if it’s way off please feel free to request again.) but they do argue and reader does cry. The argument is about reader going horcrux hunting even though that’s not directly stated. One singular use of ‘y/n’ (sorry.)

You can send a request here.

“Oh for fucksake, y/n! Why won’t you just listen this one time?!”

If you weren’t so angry, you’d flinch at the harshness in his tone. Harry had never cussed at you before. Harry didn’t even like raising his voice at you usually. As selfish as it is, you want to hold it against him. Even if you’d yelled at him too. Your hands are shaking as you continue stuffing your small-ish bag with things you’re not even paying attention to anymore. “I’m said, I’m going.” You can guess how he’s going to respond before he even gets the chance to speak, and that pisses you off most.

“You’re not! It’s too dangerous, and I have enough to worry about without having to look over my shoulder for you every other second!” He snaps at you hastily. You clutch your bag before tossing it back to the bed and glaring at him. You can’t help but feel like his enemy right now, although that was far from the truth. You know you love him. Usually, it would make you sick to argue with the person you care about more than anything but the determination and frustration festering in your stomach keeps you from backing down.

“You don’t get to tell me what’s ‘too dangerous!’ I’m just as capable as the rest of you!” You know it’s low of you, bringing his friends into it after he’d done the careful work of avoiding the subject for weeks. Harry scoffs, his next words coming out in exasperated and somewhat sarcastic laughter. “This isn’t about being capable! I know you’re capable! It’s just—I don’t want you to come!”

“Why not?!”

“Because I don’t want you hurt!”

Your breath hitches and suddenly you don’t feel so confident in your stance anymore. Your shoulders as a lump forms in your throat. Your glare softens into something of a sympathetic stare. Harry’s losing some of his attitude too.

“The idea of watching you in pain or worse is—it’s the worst thing I can imagine. I can’t lose anyone else.” In a split second all your resolve crumbles between your fingers. You feel tears slide down your face as you pull him into the tightest hug you’ve ever given. You can’t be sure what you can do to make it better, or even if you can. All you know is that he needs you.

[damned-punk]

What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)

Part Eight

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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment, angst

Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡

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Killer had to work the next day which was why he hadn’t attended the party and while you hated to bother him so late in the evening, you needed to know that Kidd was safe. He answered after a few rings but to your dismay, Kidd hadn’t come home and Killer hadn’t heard from him since he left hours earlier. None of it made any sense, he’d never done something quite like this before and it seemed so strange. Killer reassured you that while he was likely fine, he’d do what he could to locate him and that you should try calling him in the morning. He knew Kidd better than anyone and the fact that he’d told you to trying talking to him later didn’t sit right with you.

Did Killer know something you didn’t? You ran through every scenario of the evening but not even the slightest thing gave way as to why Kidd had disappeared. You’d already been waiting for him to return for just over an hour and since Killer didn’t seem too worried about it, you decided to just go home for the evening. You’d be lying to yourself if you said his actions weren’t hurtful, perhaps there was an unforeseen reason? Nevertheless, you tossed and turned until finally succumbing to sleep sometime in the early morning hours. The first thing you did when you woke up was dial his number. It rang for a little longer than you’d hoped and just as disappointment flared, your call was answered.

“Hello? Who the fuck is it?”, a voice you did not recognize asked, high pitched but groggy from being woken up.

“Who is this?”, you asked, doing what you could to maintain your composure, “Where is Kidd?”

“Still asleep, care to leave a message?”, the unknown person prompted with attitude.

“Are you at his house?”, you asked, ignoring the snarky tone the person had assumed.

“Yeah, I think so.”, they replied as your anger boiled over.

You immediately hung up and pulled yourself together as quickly as possible. Whatever was going on, you needed to see it for yourself. You fought against what would be the worst case scenario, attempting to rationalize that the person could be a friend of his that you just hadn’t met yet. Alternatively, you couldn’t shake the reality that the person could’ve been at the party last night and caught him alone after your heated exchange. You wanted to think that he wouldn’t go as far as to sleep with someone behind your back, but you weren’t sure of anything anymore. The fact that he’d left at all was enough of a problem in itself, made worse by the addition of his unknown accomplice.

And if he had slept with someone else, was it really feasible to be upset? No matter how often you saw each other or how much your time together meant, neither of you had given your situation a title. You didn’t want to overwhelm or press him to move too fast after he’d opened up about his continuous struggle with emotions, but you also couldn’t ignore the intense nausea that came from imagining him with someone else the same way he was with you. As you started pulling into his driveway, relief washed over you when you noticed his car was parked in its usual spot.

That relief was quickly eradicated because just as you stepped out to knock on the door, it swung open to reveal a shirtless Kidd and woman you’d never seen before. She wore a shirt that was very oversized, one that was eerily similar to those you’d borrowed from him. Several deep purple hickeys littered her neck, obviously created within the very recent past. They were talking and laughing far too merrily for your taste, all of it coming to a halt when their eyes fell upon you. Kidd froze in his tracks and felt like he’d been punched in the gut, he could do nothing but watch your eyes begin to water. The woman made her way to his car, slipping directly past you and into his passenger seat where you’d once sat not so long ago as the two of you got to know each other.

Your heart was pounding alarmingly hard and a deafening ringing sounded in your ears, the accumulation of stress and hurt was working against your ability to remain calm. You didn’t want to seem weak and you certainly didn’t want them to see you break down, but something had finally snapped. He’d made a couple mistakes during the several months that you’d been seeing each other, but this was something of an entirely different magnitude. Your face was so hot that you could barely feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, the only indication of your emotions was the shaking of your chest between deeply strained breaths. Kidd didn’t know what to do, he felt like the idea of even trying to begin to explaining himself was off the table which in turn caused his own rage to manifest. It wasn’t what it had looked like, at least not as far as he was concerned, he’d hoped to be able to send the girl on her way and blame his absence on the innumerable drinks he took in stride with his friends.

“What the fuck?”, you asked in defeat, the crackling of your voice serving to substantiate his surmounting guilt, “What the hell have we even been doing all this time?”

You weren’t sure if you were asking him or yourself, all you could really be certain of was the overwhelming feeling of humiliation. So much time and commitment felt like it’d been wasted but even more so than the loss, you felt stupid for thinking someone like him would ever take someone like you seriously. Even as he stood before you, clenching his fists and becoming consumed by wrath with each surmounting second, you mourned the person that you’d hoped he was. Kidd could be good, it was something that you’d experienced many times before and it was great, but it seemed that something like this was an inevitable part of being involved with him. Every incline was met with the eventual plummet, no matter how sublime things had been previously.

“(Y/N), I fucked up and we both know that.”, he said through gritted teeth, his breaths impossibly heavy, “I need some time to think… I don’t even know how to begin to explain this shit.”

“Did any of this mean anything to you?”, your voice raised involuntarily, “We talked about some really serious and personal things, Kidd. You know things about me that no one else has ever cared to know… This is making me fucking sick, I don’t understand why you’re like this.”

You knew you were spilling your innermost thoughts, but the situation was so turbulent that there was no chance in hell you could stop yourself. Grief and its many forms were sinking their teeth into the tattered remains of your pride, working to irritate what was already an open wound. You brought your hands to your face to cover your mouth as tears turned to full-on sobs. Kidd couldn’t take the intense feelings pilling on top of him so he relieved his stress the only way he knew how, carrying himself to the nearest tree and laying a heavy fist on its trunk. The sudden display of violence caused you to flinch, you’d never once feared him but the situation was taking a detrimental turn. He felt like a monster as he watched you tremble, this wasn’t what he wanted and was certainly never something he’d intended to happen. He’d told you time and time again that he wasn’t good with these things, this was the reason no one was ever glad to have met him.

“Of course you mean something to me!”, he shouted far too loudly, “If you didn’t, you’d fuckin’ know it! I wouldn’t waste my goddamn time!”

“Kidd, that’s enough! Get your ass inside and calm down!”, Killer scolded as he stepped out of the house to try and act as damage control, “(Y/N) please, I really don’t think it’s what it looks like. He’s got a bad temper, just give him a second.”

You appreciated Killer’s willingness to jump in the flames for his friend, you were happy to know that Kidd had someone like that on his side. If this behavior was usual for him, he’d need someone like Killer when everything inevitably falls apart time and time again. By this point you were becoming numb, your senses were heightened and you’d been feeling everything so intensely that nothing could register as it had before. It felt like you were watching things happen through a screen, unable to feel your lips moving and only hearing what you were saying.

“I think I should just go.”, you took several strides back to your car, “I’m not welcome here anymore.”

Despite walking through your own front door and seeking the comfort of your bed, you couldn’t recall the drive home. You couldn’t remember a time that you’d driven in silence, let alone a time that you couldn’t remember the task of traveling. To say that you were devastated was an understatement. If the woman was just a friend, why hadn’t either of them just come out and said that from the start? In the most rational division of your thoughts, you knew what the likely outcome was, you just couldn’t face it. Those few fatal minutes you’d spent helping Hip were so much more detrimental than either of you could’ve ever imagined. It wasn’t her fault by any stretch of the imagination, all the same her warning seared through the few lingering parts of your self worth.

Whether you’d listened to her then or now, the damage was done. Your feelings for Kidd had bloomed in spite of her warnings and you were finally paying the price. You wished you could say that you hated him but those feelings hadn’t changed in the slightest. He needed to take accountability for his actions and while you weren’t sure if your relationship was even a relationship to begin with anymore, you admittedly yearned for his comfort. He was somehow the disease and the cure, a twisted dichotomy that had been in motion since the first night you’d met. He hurt you then only to talk his way of it, you couldn’t let that happen again.

You could hear your phone’s incessant buzzing from its place on your nightstand, you certainly didn’t have the energy to answer it. You could see Kidd’s name brandished on the screen, not at all prompting you to answer and instead bringing you to tears once more. What was the point if something like this was going to restart your relationship every few weeks? You had a lot of love for him, but it clearly had nowhere to go.

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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.

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[sneeb-canons]

Don't know if it's needed, but TW for mentions of suicide. (It's not really that big, but I still put it just in case.)

If Sans Undertale were to judge them (plus Whole) based on what happened throughout the series, I think it would go something like this:

Heart: Sans would let him pass, but he's most definitely keeping an eye on him. (Trying to shoot Mind)

Mind: Judgement when completing Pacifist, yet you were rude. (Mocking Heart, yet not really committing any acts that would potentially have him earn EXP.) [Is there even a different judgement for being rude during a Pacifist run? I seriously don't even know–]

Soul: Would probably be given a bad time. (Threatening Heart and Mind, threatening suicide, probably killing the two in a few timelines, etc.)

Whole: Would be given a lecture to STOP RESETTING TIMELINES. (Obvious; he would forget five seconds later.)

Headcanon #230

[suncaptor]

nothing will make you sympathise with conspiracy theorist ideology more than having a seemingly rare reaction to a vaccine lmao.

[dutybcrne]

Me BSing hcs like: The fact that Kae is not only able to create a shield when he is dangerously low HP but also the fact that he is able to regenerate HP when he hits opponents with Frostgnaw is definitely due to him receiving his Vision when Diluc had tried to kill him in their Confrontation...but could it be possible that his familial ties to the Abyss Order could have influenced that HP drain of his-

[eyecide]

Remember when I let someone mention the idea of opening our relationship to me, let him convince me that not only was it was actually totally fine to just do sexual roleplays online with other people when we were long distance, but that he NEEDED to and I DIDNT make that man beg me on his knees for forgiveness for any of that genuinely what was wrong with me

[adanfore]

Something about virgin Choso fucks me up in the head oh my god.

He acts tough. Every time he’s around you, talking to Yuuji, his brothers, he puts on a show as though nothing in the world matters, he’s always calm, layed back. Talking to him, you always got so nervous when he stared you down every time without a care in the world it seems, to you it looked like talking to anyone for him was easy as a breeze of wind, you kind of wished you were like that, like Choso. That also was half of why you were attracted to the man. The other half, well, self explanatory: he was great with his brothers, he was attractive in his own damn way which made your knees weak every time you saw him.

You hadn’t expected him to be a virgin, and a whiney one at that. When you had walked past the bathroom to the kitchen, you heard him in

the bathroom, he was masturbating.. Were you eavesdropping? Yes, but you couldn’t hold yourself from listening in to his beautiful cries of pleasure, whimpering, pleading for some reason, those pretty moans and whines turned you on more than you imagined. Well, the worst part came when you had not realized he was done already, you only realized when he opened the door and stood there, shocked, embarrassement flood over you and you just ran back to the guest bedroom.

If it only wasn’t for you getting carried away, this wouldn’t be happening right now, you and Choso sitting on the sofa, akwardly waiting for Yuuji to come back from the kitchen so the atmosphere turns nice again. You can feel Choso sneaking glances at you, fidgeting with the black silver rings on his fingers. Not wanting to have this continue for any longer, you decided you’d speak up.

“Listen, I’m sorry for yesterday, I just.. uh..”

You couldnt find a explanation for yourself.

“N-No, It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have.. Uhm, I shouldn’t have done it in the bathroom.”

“But I was eavesdropping on you, I need to apologize for that. I just couldn’t help but get carried away from… Shock!”

And as Choso was about to answer, Yuuji suddenly came into the room, having only heard muffles of your conversation.

“Yo, what’re you guys talking about?”

With a panic, you blurt whatever comes to mind.

“ Oh! I was just telling Choso that I’ll be helping him later.”

“Helping him with what?”

“Just washing the dishes, just to repay him for yesterday, I hit him after he scared me in the dark at night!

Yuuji seems content with that answer, and sits between you two. You couldn’t help but notice how Choso looked at you after you said you’ll help him later, eyes a little wide, a deep red spreading on his cheeks. He didn’t know whether to take it seriously or not, well, you were just making an excuse, but still, a gesture like that would blow his mind completely.

After the movie marathon, you both HAD to go wash the dishes, to play some truth into your silly excuse you gave to Yuuji, it was akward, very akward washing dishes with him. But you got to see Choso, the real him, how he was all fidgety, getting clumsy and blushing as hard as a cherry.

“Was it true..? What you said earlier?”

“What are you talking about, Choso?”

“H-How you said you’d help me later..”

“I am helping you thoug- Oh, you mean that?”

You said as the realization hit you, he was hard, and it was all because of your choice of words.

“I-I’m sorry, I am just gonna go, real sorry for thi-“

“N-No, Choso! I- I can help you, if you want me to?”

The sigh Choso gave out was huge.

“Please…”

That was all you needed to hear, proceeding to drag him up to his room at the back of the hall, the location of his room, being secluded and far away from any other room made you so grateful.

You sat him on the edge of his bed, leaning down to massage his thighs.

“How do you want me to help you, Choso?”

Hearing his name come out of your pretty lips always made him want to hold back smashing his face into yours, but now, he was just confused, he didn’t know what would be the most ‘appropriate’ thing to ask. All he wanted now, was to ruin you, to make you his, kiss you, feel and touch you everywhere he had ever dreamed of.

“I.. I don’t know, just- just touch me, do whatever, please..”

When you heard that, you immediately knew that he was a virgin, to your shock infact. Not wanting to torture this poor man any longer, you stopped massaging his thighs for a moment and told him to slide his sweatpants down, all the while looking at the wet spot of precum left on them.

You looked at his length for a second, before actually bringing your hand up to it, to rub and feel it to all of its size, he was huge, possibly the biggest you’ve ever had in a partner. It blew your mind and you wondered how it would feel inside you, how it would fill all of your insides, but, right now it was all about Choso’s pleasure which needed to be fixed.

The pool of precum doubled in size as you continued rubbing it, deciding to finally free it from his boxers, Choso moaned when it sprang up and hit his stomach. That made you look up at him, needing to hear more of his sounds, he looked back at you with a pleading look on his face which just said “please, touch me already”

You grabbed his length with your hand and started stroking it, slowly at first, picking up speed with some time. The moans, whines and whimpers this man put out were sent straight to your core.

“Please, Please, please, go faster, please, I’m gonna cum, Y/N, please!”

That motivated you to pick up speed, also to tighten your grip on his length to up the pleasure for him. His moans were getting out of control until you looked up at him with a strict look, telling him to be quiet. With that sense of dominance, he came all over, all over your hand, his stomach and thighs. His chest heaving, some small moans still coming out as he came down from his high.

You brought your hand up to your mouth, licking your hand and tasting Him before you began to walk out of his room, off to finish yourself off.

“W-Wait, can’t I make you feel good now?”

“I did this as an apology, Choso. Some other time, maybe.”

And with a wink and a smirk to him, you walked off to your room with an almost unbarable heat between your legs, it also had to be fixed.

NOT PROOFREAD ITS FUCKING 5 AM I WANNA GO SLEEP, ILL DO IT SOME OTHER TIME

[tojirights]

Prompt “❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜” with alastor :3

Likke reader has been with multiple people but alastor is the first person to make her cum 0.0

prompt: Hii I really like your work! Can you do face sitting with alastor like reader mentions that she wants to sit on alastor face to angel and alastor overhears or angels says outlook to husk while his wasted thank youu

a/n: combining these two prompts!! ^ thinking maybe alastor overhears you talking with angel about your woes and offers to uhhh assist 👀

"the guys down here suck, angel." you sigh, sitting next to angel in the hotel lounge. you crack open your beer and hand him one as well. "yer tellin' me, babe." he chuckles. "whats got ya worked up this tIme?" he hums, reaching an arm around your shoulders. "thats the thing! nothing!" you groan, leaning into his body. "you know how many times i've tried hooking up with someone just for them to bust in 30 seconds and rub my inner thigh?" angel almost chokes on his drink.

"they're the worst. no one down here has been able to make me cum but myself." you mutter, taking a sip of your drink. "who do you want, hm?" angel asks. "maybe i can hook ya up with someone good." he wiggles his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you. the alcohol is making you feel a little brave, so with a sigh, you let your words free. "y'know who i think about all the time?" angel's eyes widen with interest, anticipation building.

"alastor..." you admit for the first time out loud. angel does choke on his drink this time before he laughs. "bitch! the radio demon?!" he barely contains his cackle. "stop! i mean, have you seen him? god, angel. i'd get down on my knees and bark if he told me to. i wanna sit on his face, hold onto his antlers for support. ughh, he's so hot." you whine into angel's chest, embarrasmemt finally setting in. angel tries to contain himself, but you've never said something so out of pocket but also very relatable.

unbeknownst to you, alastor stands not far behind you, his ears twitching as he listens in. a part of him does feel a tinge of guilt for listening, but you'd be quieter if you didn't want anyone to hear you. "well now, isn't that interesting?" alastor's voice makes you jump, almost tossing your beer straight onto angel. "oh fuck..." angel all but pushes you over in an attempt to get away.

"oh my god. alastor i'm so sorry, i was just-" you scramble to defend yourself, but alastor puts his staff under your chin to raise your eyes to his. "what was that you said about wanting to... sit on my face? about these worthless little demons not knowing how to treat a woman?" the sultry tone in his voice has you clenching your thighs together, which you blame on the alcohol swirling in your gut. you laugh awkwardly, trying to brush this off as alastor teasing you but there's a look in his eyes that tells you he's dead serious. "it's nothing! just venting some frustrations, that's all."

your eyes are a dead giveaway, desire flooding them as you peer up at alastor. "why don't you accompany me to my room for the evening, darling? we wouldn't want these inexperienced fools to try and make a move now, would we?" he extends his hand, and you decide to throw caution to the wind. standing, you let him pull you close. "blow my mind, radio boy." you whisper, watching alastor's eyes darken and his smirk grow. alastor uses the shadows, leading you straight to his room in a mere moment.

your heart rate sky rockets, realization hitting your gut as you start to strip. "how long has it been?" he asks, picking you up with ease and carrying you to the bed. "w-what?" you hesistate, watching as alastor ushers you to climb on top of him. "since someone else made you cum?" you swallow, straddling his chest. "i don't even remember al..." alastor's hands come around to grip your ass and pull you forward. with a gasp, you brace yourself on the headboard and then the feeling of alastor's tongue immediately has your brain turning to mush.

it's dizzying, the slide of his tongue up and down your slit was already far better than anything you've experienced in such a long time. "o-oh fuck." your body shudders, barely being able to hold still. alastor's tongue dips passed your entrance, lapping up your juices like a man starving. you already feel that familiar coil in your stomach forming, threatening to snap all over alastor's face. "that's, oh god alastor, that's so good." you moan, gripping tighter on the headboard as your hips start to stutter on their own.

then, you feel alastor's hands on your ass start to push and pull you, forcing your cunt to slide over his tongue. "y-you, i'm gonna-" you can't even think straight, pleasure blinding you to anything else happening in the entire world. alastor hums against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and that's it, you're cumming hard enough that your vision goes dark and tears well in your eyes.

you're shaking, barely being able to breathe as alastor's tongue runs lazy circles over your still sensitive clit to ride out your orgasm. before you're fully recovered, alastor quickly flips you onto your back and his fingers find your puffy pussy. "you have no idea the honor it is to be the only one to see you like this, my dear. the only one to feel you-" he pauses, pushing two fingers inside your needy cunt so he can hear your sweet moans. "cum. and i will be the only one to continue feeling that. you will cum on my face, my fingers, my cock... anything you please."

the desire burning in your core strengthens once more. not even your own fingers have ever made you cum twice, but alastor is about to pull a second orgasm from you almost completely back to back. "make me cum again." you whine, hips arching further off the bed as his fingers pump in and out slowly. "on your cock, fuck, please fuck me alastor."

alastor chuckles, his free hand unbottoning the front of his pants just enough to free his cock. "how could i deny such a good girl? cum on my cock, my princess." in an instant, alastor's fingers are replaced by the thickness of his cock. the first thrust alone has you teetering on the edge, while his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit.

your pussy clenches around his girth, pulsing with every sweep of his finger. each thrust of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, his cock filling you like no one else could ever. "y-you, gonna cum again." you cry out, spasms wrecking your body as your second orgasm hits even more intense with the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy.

alastlor groans, pumping his cock deeper, deeper until he's cumming as well. "such a good girl." he grunts, pushing each thick rope of cum further inside. "you won't ever have to worry about not being taken care of, my dear." he assures, pulling out slowly even as your cunt tries to squeeze him in. "there's plenty more where that came from, rest your pretty little eyes." he coos, pulling a blanket on your tired body.

you just know this is going to be the best sleep pf your fucking life...

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[cosmojjong]

i feel in a lot of pain but i don't even know where to start from

[steddiealltheway]

It starts out simple. Eddie notices that Steve sometimes spaces out, but no one really pays him much attention. Usually, he’ll try to enter back into the conversation, and he’ll earn a few eye rolls when he has no idea what anyone’s talking about.

But what really haunts Eddie is the way Steve will sometimes be zoned out with his jaw and fists clenched, looking as if he’s reliving the worst of the upside down. He’ll gradually come out of it, and sometimes Robin will nudge him and quietly whisper if he’s okay, but he just shakes it off.

It’s like he has to appear fine in front of everyone, but Eddie gets it. He’s not sure what the group would do if Steve fell apart.

But a few times, he looks like he’s on the verge of it.

One time, he’s far away enough from everyone that Eddie is able to inconspicuously make his way to the former jock and nudge him. “Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie asks.

Steve startles and Eddie watches as the tension in him increases then slowly releases until he appears “normal.”

Eddie grabs his wallet and sifts through it before finally finding what he wants. A single dull penny.

He hands it to Steve who takes it and starts fiddling with it. He glances back at everyone else to make sure they’re out of earshot before he answers, “I’m just scared that maybe this Vecna creep will return, you know? It’s happened four times by now. How do we know it’s over?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. He’s gone through the same thought process of wondering if he’ll be back. If life will return to hell again. But he can’t imagine what it’s been like for Steve whose done it multiple times.

But he’s been able to logic his way out of his anxiety before. “Well, we have Will who has the whole Spidey-sense thing going on, so we’ll know if he’s back but… remember what El said. She felt it. Like it was finished this time. For good.”

Steve just nods and Eddie sees the tiniest shred of anxiety slip away. “Plus,” Eddie continues, “Can’t let our hero boy do all the worrying or his strength might deplete. How about I do all the worrying and standing guard tonight, huh?”

Steve glances over at him for a second, and Eddie almost thinks he’s going to laugh him off or something. Instead, he lets out a shaky sigh, puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie watches as Steve pockets the penny and actually heads toward the group with a smile on his face. He smiles and looks around. Time to stand guard.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie almost forgets about it, but it’s probably the whole not-getting-any-sleep-because-he-keeps-having-nightmares thing. It’s been a particularly bad week when he finds himself in the Harrington home with all the gremlins and other adults. He wants to be all bigger than life / life of the party, but his energy is gone.

He sits at the kitchen island on a barstool with his head in his hands, staring at the granite slab of the countertop when a hand and something slides into his view.

The hand pulls back and Eddie gets sight of a penny. What the-?

He looks up to see Steve sitting next to him with a small smile on his face. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asks.

Eddie stares at him and feels his heart flutter but he wills that to die down a bit. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. Just…” he glances off to see if anyone else is in earshot before continuing, “I keep getting these damn nightmares. Sometimes about… Chrissy… sometimes about random stressful shit, but they just won’t stop. It’s like although Vecna’s gone, he’s always here.”

Steve’s gaze has turned sympathetic as he runs a hand through his hair and looks around before lowering his voice. “I’ve been through the same thing, but I’ve found that it’s easier getting through the night with other people. Don’t tell anyone, but I snuck into Robin’s room for weeks after the whole Russian torture thing. But hey, if you want to crash here with me tonight, I’d be more than happy to have you.” Steve glances away from Eddie and runs a hand through his hair again as a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “Hell, you’d be helping me out too, man.”

Eddie considers it and immediately feels a wave of relief flood through him at the thought. He pockets the penny and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “That’d be great. Thank you. Really,” Eddie says with a smile and eases himself off the barstool.

He hears Dustin raising his voice in the other room and Eddie says to Steve, “Time to ware out the children.”

Steve just laughs and joins him, but Eddie sees another tiny piece of tension leave his body.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It slowly becomes their thing. Eddie finds himself keeping pennies on himself at all times just in case, but by some strange fate, him and Steve always use that same penny.

Sometimes it pressed into Eddie’s palm, Eddie once throws it at Steve yelling, “catch!”, and sometimes it just appears in one of their vision.

The thoughts range from stupid things like Steve trying to remember if he turned off the oven to Eddie’s Dnd campaign to the overwhelming trauma from the Upside Down seeping into their lives.

Along with the penny becoming a regular thing, Eddie sleeping in Steve’s bed becomes a regular thing too. At first, it’s a bit awkward as they try to find out how much space each of them needs, what side of the bed they prefer, what they’re like in the mornings, and overall just how to be around each other when sharing a bed.

It shifts when one night, Eddie notices Steve staring at the ceiling wide awake. Eddie leans over the side of the bed where his pants are and digs into his pocket to retrieve the penny which he gently lays on Steve’s chest.

Steve glances down and carefully picks it up, twirling it as Eddie watches the coin slightly glint in the moonlight. There’s a deep breath and then Steve is saying, “I was just thinking about what if we… I don’t know. Like… held each other? Or rather, I was thinking that it would be nice to be held.”

Steve sets the penny down on the nightstand which indicates the end of his thoughts but he doesn’t dare turn to face Eddie. But Eddie is already scooting closer to press his body against Steve who instantly curls into Eddie’s embrace holding him as if he’ll escape if he tries to let go. But Eddie would never escape.

And every night they hold each other close with no questions asked and no penny needed.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie’s feelings for Steve grow. He knows they’ve been there since the beginning, but with the whole penny thing, it’s like he has the key to all of Steve’s deepest thoughts and desires. He knows that Steve has access to his as well and is just thankful that Steve’s never given him the penny when Eddie’s been staring at him. He knows he can’t lie to Steve, and it may be dumb, but he especially can’t lie with that penny in sight.

So, he says nothing. He keeps holding Steve through the night, comforting him if he’s awoken from a particularly bad nightmare, but usually just laying there willing himself to stay awake as long as he can so he can bask in the sensation of holding Steve Harrington.

Then, one morning as Steve makes them breakfast, Eddie looks at him for a little too long, wondering how he’s been able to live his life without him when that penny is slid into his sight.

Eddie blinks down at it and swallows as Steve looks at him. “You,” Eddie blurts out, “I was just thinking about you.”

Eddie leaves the penny on the table because he knows that’s not enough of his thoughts. Steve turns back to scrape the eggs out of the pan onto a plate and put some butter on their toast before he turns back to Eddie. He doesn’t pry, but through the breakfast the penny stays in sight.

Eddie’s plate is clear when he finally fully answers, “I was just thinking about how much better my life has been since you’ve come into it, and… thank you.” He feels blood rise to his cheeks and finds Steve with a similar blush.

“I was thinking the same about you,” Steve responds and takes their plates to clean them before Eddie can respond.

He knows he’s falling in love with him.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It’s a few mornings later, and Eddie feels someone watching him. It doesn’t feel creepy or bad because he can feel the way that Steve has shifted to lean over him. Eddie opens his eyes slowly and takes in the view of Steve staring down at him with a small smile on his face. Eddie rolls towards his side of the bed, where his clothes are piled up and grabs the penny before rolling back to Steve.

He gently presses it into Steve’s hand who continues to stare down at him with a look in his eyes that Eddie can only assume is reflected in his own gaze.

Steve takes a deep breath and whispers, “I was just thinking that I might be in love with you.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, and he feels Steve’s hand shift to press the penny into his. Eddie smiles and replies, “I think I might be in love with you too.”

Steve smiles all wide and bright in the way that makes Eddie feel like he’s the luckiest person in the world to be able to see it. Then, Steve’s hand is intertwining with Eddie’s and as the penny presses into their palms, they both lean in and kiss, only breaking away when they both break into wide smiles and begin laughing as all the tension drains from them.

Years later, Eddie gets the penny turned into a ring and when he gets down on one knee, all he asks is, “Penny for your thoughts?”

AO3 Link (for @humanityinahandbag <3)

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: NSFW, yandere, suggestive noncon, possessiveness, Sukuna in general

gn reader

Sukuna gatekeeps you – has you in a chastity belt anytime his cock isn’t inside you.

It’s an archaic piece – made from the mouth of some extinct beast – sharp ivory canines making for a painful entry if anyone dared try. 

The key is also gatekept. Close on his person – actually – inside his mouth – one that appears on his body with the small ornate item lying on the wet bed of his tongue. 

He’s strangely giddy when he puts it on you – and when he takes it off – chuckling a bit with a small smile – something playful and perverse glinting in his garnet eyes. More than the obvious arousal – you think he’s happy to assert his ownership.

His habits seem more possessive than protective – like a dragon coveting treasure – lovesick for his jewel and paranoid over someone robbing you from him.

When it’s bad, when you’ve done something or said something that unnerves him, he’ll even put you on a leash and have your legs shackled, too. He doesn’t take kindly to defiance. You’re his pet – and when you forget it, he doesn’t hesitate to remind you.

But he doesn’t hurt you. He has no interest and feels no need to exert pain on something that’s so far beneath him. Fighting you would be a joke at best – and would only result in your death at worst. And you both know this – it’s always been painstakingly clear.

He only levels you with a look – his expression jaded – annoyed – but almost a little bit saddened as well. As though he realizes that no matter how he domesticates you… he can never make you stay out of your own will.

He doesn’t know why that bothers him. It shouldn’t. You’re but a fickle soul among other fickle things at his mercy – your life so trivial it might as well be meaningless. And yet, looking at your face, feeling your touch, hearing your voice…

He’d thought the bitter taste of loneliness would be washed off over time, but it seems the bite never dulls – only deepens its teeth. And you are his only solace.

So he needs to keep you. Whether you want it or not – be it by collar and fear – you belong to him.