#and the fact that i wish i were one of them in this situation preferably tommy

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (3)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

word count | 3.7k words

summary | calm before the storm. the queen forces you to go to the targaryen-hightower supper where you finally sit face to face with aemond, (whilst getting interrogated by prince daemon as well.)

tags | reader is just here for the targ drama tbh, fluff, small angst/but reader comforts,

note | I just realised that both rebekah and reader fall for boys that they technically watched grow up (not really, but really tho, also would you consider this pedophilic, since rebekah and reader had mere platonic feelings, while marcel and aemond were already obsessed)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

It had been a moon's turn since your return, and Aemond had taken to shadowing you through the sunlit halls of the Keep, his presence felt like a specter lurking just out of reach. Instead of confronting you directly, he observed, his violet gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, the currents of Targaryen drama began to stir anew, this time not over the succession of the Iron Throne, but over the shores of Driftmark and the title of the Lord of Tides.

Lord Vaemond Velaryon was set to make his case, summoned to the court to argue vehemently against Lucerys Velaryon’s claim to the ancestral seat, while the King deliberated on who would wear the mantle of the next successor.

Your mind, however, was torn asunder by the weight of the situation. It was as clear as the midday sun that Rhaenyra's three sons bore the mark of bastardy, the truth hanging in the air like a bitter fog. Yet, despite their dark hair and brown eyes, they were still Princess Rhaenrya's sons, making them true Targaryens, and as long as the crown acknowledged their legitimacy, they had every right to embrace their heritage.

Yet, the specter of justice loomed heavily. They bore no true Valaryon blood in their veins, a fact that rendered their claim to Driftmark similarly disquieting. If they were to inherit such a coveted title, it would be naught but a dagger to the heart of the Velaryon legacy, erasing centuries of honor and heritage in one fell swoop.

But who were you to cast judgment on the matter? You were, after all, a bastard yourself in your own right. With no discernible features from either your father or your mother, the only tether to the Mikaelson name was the multitude of witnesses who could attest to your mother birthing you into this world.

Soon enough, the matter erupted into a grand spectacle, as the Queen had relayed with a glint of grim madness in her eye. Viserys, frail and near death, had heaved himself from his sickbed, a ghost of his former self, to proclaim the legitimacy of his grandsons. That proclamation, laden with tension and bitter truths, secured their claim to Driftmark—an act of desperation that would surely echo through the halls of history. It was not long after this madness that the Prince, Daemon Targaryen, wielded his fury like a sword, severing Vaemond Velaryon's head from his shoulders for daring to call Rhaenyra a whore.

To your great displeasure, Queen Alicent had insisted your presence at the supper of Targaryen and Hightower—a feast destined to spiral into a night of revelry or ruin, most likely the latter. You preferred the shadows, where the light of their self-destructive feud would not touch you, allowing you to observe from afar rather than be ensnared in their political webs. Yet, refusal was a luxury you could not afford.

As the time of the supper approached, you dedicated a substantial time deliberating over your choice of attire. The vibrant hues of black and green were decidedly unfit, signifying discord and allegiances you wished to avoid at all costs. Instead, you selected a gown of soft pink silk, its flowing fabric draping elegantly over your form, a symbol of innocence amidst the clamor of tensions. You wove your hair into intricate braids interspersed with delicate pearls that caught the flickering candlelight, culminating your preparation with a cherished pendant—a family heirloom adorned with the Mikaelson crest.

Stepping into the grand dining hall, you were met with the scrutinizing gazes of the Blacks. Whispers and curious glances darted in your direction as you approached the long table, poised and unwavering, choosing to disregard Aegon's lecherous leers that felt all too familiar. A frown tightened your lips when you spied that both seats beside Helaena were occupied. Resigned yet resolute, you claimed the next available chair—seated close to Aemond.

"My prince," you intoned softly, offering a nod of acknowledgment.

Aemond's violet eye bore into you, a swirl of unspoken thoughts birthing an electric tension between you. Time seemed to stretch as he regarded you, his expression inscrutable, before he replied, "My Lady," his voice low and controlled, yet laden with something you couldn't discern.

With practiced grace, you settled into your seat, the heavy air thick with unspoken politics. You leaned slightly forward, attempting to listen as King Viserys, broken and weary beneath the weight of his crown, delivered a grand speech. He spoke of unity and the bonds of family, though in truth, all you wished for was the freedom to roll your eyes, a habit you had long restrained. His words felt hollow, a poignant irony given his role in fracturing his family as much as he sought to mend it

From what Queen Alicent had confided in you, you were painfully aware of the King's heart-wrenching choice—his decisions that saw his first wife deprived of her future and life, all in favor of the male heir he hoped for. That tragic episode echoed through the halls of the Red Keep, leading to not just his wife but both her and their son's death. And now, as King Viserys eagerly sought the son he so desperately desired, he had all but disregarded Aegon, neglecting the boy from the moment of his first cry.

As the King’s voice echoed in the hall, you caught sight of Helaena, Aegon, and Aemond—each face twisted in quiet agony, a poignant testament to the empty love their father bestowed upon them. In that moment, you felt a surge of empathy and support for them — even Aegon. With a discreet but deliberate motion, you slipped your hand beneath the table, gently covering Aemond’s tightly clenched fist.

He tensed at your touch, but after a heartbeat of hesitation, Aemond relaxed and opened his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. A small squeeze passed between you—a silent token of gratitude that spoke volumes in contrast to the empty words spilling from the King's lips.

As the evening wore on, the air thick with unwelcome tension, your mind began to drift, thoughts becoming a haze as the speeches droned on around you. It was only when Aemond's hand slipped from yours, his presence withdrawing as he rose to his feet, that your gaze sharpened. You found him casting a fierce glare at Jacaerys, who was regaling the gathering with yet another toast.

However, it was Helaena's gentle voice that truly broke through the fog enveloping you. She stood, her lovely countenance illuminated by a warm, sugary smile as she raised her glass high. "I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena," she declared, her tone carrying a dreamy lightness, "They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you... except when sometimes he's drunk."

Her words pierced your heart, the bittersweet truth laced within them shattering whatever sympathy you had harbored for Aegon. With a mixture of sorrow and indignation igniting within you, you cast a venomous glare towards Prince Daemon, who, aflame with mirth, laughed at Helaena’s toast. Yet you were not as discreet as you’d hoped; the piercing gaze of Prince Daemon met yours, a knowing smirk creeping upon his lips.

“I do believe I am yet to have the distinct pleasure of being introduced to our guest,” Prince Daemon declared, his voice tinged with the kind of arrogance that could curdle the blood of the unwary. The room fell silent; all attention was drawn to you, as if you were a curious creature caged among the dragons, and you suppressed the urge to sigh at the mischief brewing in his expression.

Queen Alicent cleared her throat—a notable attempt to extricate you from Daemon’s merciless gaze. “She is one of my esteemed ladies, Prince Daemon,” she interjected, her tone hinting at a subtle warning, though the sharpness of the prince’s wit remained unyielding.

“A lady, indeed?” Daemon’s voice was laced with mockery, his eyes flickering over you as if you were an intricate puzzle, “Yet here she sits, so comfortably, as if she belongs to the very blood of House Targaryen.” Daemon replied, the cunning glimmer in his eye only intensifying. He leaned forward, every inch the contemplative predator. “What is your name, my lady?”

The warmth of the hall contrasted sharply with the coolness of his gaze, yet you met it with unwavering resolve, the remnant courage of your lineage steeling your heart as you told him your name and lied about hailing from The Reach, your voice steady, resonating amidst the stillness.

"Mikaelson?" Daemon mused, his smirk as sharp as Valyrian steel. His silver hair framed a face both youthful and hardened by conflict, and his voice dripped with the playfulness of a cunning predator. "And yet you're no son."

A tight smile graced your lips, the playful banter igniting the spark of your short temper. "My father has enough sons, I assure you, Prince Daemon," you rebuffed, your tone dipped in irritation.

"How old are you? Six and ten?" he pressed, his gaze unwavering, while you caught sight of young Jacaerys approaching Helaena, asking her for a dance. If only irony were not woven into the very fabric of their fates—how you wished Queen Alicent had seen fit to unite them in a more harmonious bond than the betrothal she made with Helaena and Aegon.

But also at that moment, you recognized the precariousness of your own web of lies. Since your arrival at King's Landing, you had deceived the queen into believing you were six and ten, which in truth you were. Oh, how the centuries rolled by, yet your vampiric nature kept your visage untouched, a fragrant bloom eternally in its prime. It was a game of wit and veiled truths, and you knew well how to play.

You met Daemon’s piercing gaze anew, your expression turning steely, tinged with an edge of irritation. “No, your highness,” you replied, your voice as cool as ice. “I am three-and-twenty.”

Prince Daemon raised a silver eyebrow in surprise. “My, my, even older than Prince Aegon,” he drawled, the words rolled off his tongue like honey laced with venom, aimed to sting, "And unmarried, I presume?"

Though you longed to retort with the truth, that you were even older than him, a creature of darkness preserved by the very essence of your nature, you instead offered a demure smile, saying, “Yes. But I prefer it that way. Much more preferable than marrying whilst I was a girl." Your words, though soft-spoken, held a steel beneath their surface—a blade forged in the fires of countless unsaid anger at the world around you.

Daemon’s lips curled into an amused smirk, and he shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “And yet, that is the world we live in.” His tone was laced with the disillusionment of a man who had seen much—his own brand of charm wrapped in an air of indifference.

“Indeed, a world where old men prey upon young girls,” you countered, your voice steady and unwavering, “but I daresay you are no stranger to such tactics, your highness.” The look of amusement that had brightened Daemon’s features dimmed, his smirk wilting like a flower in winter, which you took great satisfaction in.

You jolted in your seat, when Aemond, seated beside you, suddenly slammed his fist onto the table. The cacophony of music and chatter in the hall fell silent as he rose, his goblet held aloft like a rallying cry. "Last Tribute!" he announced, a boldness in his voice that demanded attention.

You glanced around the room, and the unease reflected in the faces of his kin did not escape you. Aemond continued, "To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… hm… strong."

A faint gasp escaped your lips as you caught the veiled insult aimed at the Velaryon boys' bastardy. The shocked expressions of the Targaryens around you were a clear indicator that Aemond’s words had struck a nerve. Queen Alicent, her composure straining against the affront to her family, attempted to intervene. "Aemond," she cautioned, her voice taut with concern.

But he paid her no heed, raising his goblet higher, a wicked gleam in his eye as he spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come… let us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys," he declared, the words echoing through the revelry like a distant thunderclap.

The hall fell silent, eyes turning to Jace Velaryon, whose face had flushed a deep crimson, betrayal etching lines into his young features. He advanced on Aemond with the fury of a dragon, fists clenched tight. "I dare you to say that again," he challenged, his words barely concealing the tempest of wrath within him.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond retorted with a smirk that could cut glass. "Do you not think yourself Strong?" The taunt flew from his lips like a well-bred serpent, and before the words had fully settled in the air, Jace's fist met Aemond’s cheek with a resounding smack.

Yet, to Aemond, it seemed naught but a gentle breeze, his expression barely shifting as he staggered back only a pace. His pale violet eye sparkled with mischief, unfazed by Jace's sudden fury.

In a swift motion, you rose from your place at the table, the wooden chair scraping against the stone floor as you moved to intervene. Aemond, with a dismissive shove, pushed Jace down, the young prince hitting the hard ground with a thud.

Without thinking, you stepped towards Helaena, and gently took her by the arm. “Come, boys are such immature creatures, yes,” you said softly, guiding her away from the escalating chaos that threatened to engulf them both. Her wide eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she leaned into your touch, casting a sorrowful glance back at the scene as you ushered her away.

You watched as Aemond stormed out the dining hall, his anger crackling in the air like the storm clouds that often loomed over King's Landing. As chaos settled around you, you felt an impulse, a momentary lapse in resolve, and left Helaena's side to pursue him.

He strode fiercely through the halls of the Red Keep, the glint of his silver hair catching the flickering torchlight. You hurried to match his pace, concern fluttering in your chest. "Aemond," you called out softly, "are you alright?"

The scent of his wrath surrounded him, palpable as the incense in the court. He did not glance your way, his voice a frigid whisper laced with venom. "Absolutely splendid."

Your brow furrowed at the sharpness of his words, and with a hint of naïveté, you responded, "I sense a trace of sarcasm in your tone."

Aemond exhaled sharply, quickening his steps in a feeble attempt to distance himself from your probing presence, but your determination was steady. "Did my mother send you to chastise me?" he snapped, the words like arrows loosed from a drawn bow.

"No," you responded gently, your eyes softening with empathy. "I am here of my own accord, wishing only to know if you are truly well."

His stormy glare wavered for the briefest moment, as if the floodgates within him were on the verge of breaking, as if realising it was you he was talking to. But just as swiftly, he clamped down on it, his demeanor hardening once more. Suddenly, he halted and turned to face you, the tension palpable in the air between you.

You lifted your chin defiantly, unwilling to cower beneath the intensity of his stare. "Knowing," he began, his voice low and resonant. "And yet I find I do not know you at all."

Your brow furrowed, a hint of confusion playing at the corners of your lips. "I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean."

He raised a hand, holding out three fingers as if counting off a point. "Three things," he affirmed, his tone matter-of-fact. "I now know three things about you: your name, your home, and that you have brothers."

You paused, gazing at him with wide, innocent eyes, your voice a gentle whisper, "You seem troubled by this knowledge."

He exhaled heavily, pressing a knuckle to the jagged scar that marred his skin, perhaps seeking solace from its lingering pain. A part of you longed to ease his suffering. "It is only my frustration that weighs heavily upon me," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of irritation and longing. "You hold the knowledge of my life in your hands, yet I know naught of your story."

You crossed your arms defiantly, donning a mask of indifference, "I do not understand the depth of your frustration."

Aemond's singular violet eye bore into your soul with an intensity that made your heart race. "I suspect you do. You are well aware of the affections I hold for you."

A sharp breath caught in your throat as you shook your head, dismissing the peculiar warmth blossoming within your chest. "Those were mere whims of a boy, your grace," you retorted, attempting to cloak your uncertainty in bravado.

His gaze remained unwavering, a storm of emotion swirling within that piercing eye. "Yet here I stand, no longer a boy, and the flames of my desire for you still burn fierce."

"You mustn't speak so," you urged, desperation threading through your voice like a fraying rope.

"Why ought I to remain silent?" Aemond shrugged, a hint of defiance lacing his words. "This is but the truth of my heart."

"Which is wholly improper," you retorted fiercely, the tension between you thickening in the wake of your words.

An awkward silence enveloped you both, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until Aemond cleared his throat, shifting the fragile atmosphere. "You held your own remarkably well against my uncle's incessant probing," he remarked, seeking lighter ground.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as a tendril of chill from the nearby window touched your skin, though the coolness hardly bothered you. "There is only one man who may speak to me in such a manner," you replied with a touch of defiance, "and that is my brother."

“Mhm,” Aemond murmured, his gaze locked onto yours, an intensity in his violet eye that seemed to pierce through the very air between you. “Pray, tell me more.”

You stifled a roll of your eyes, at once annoyed and amused by his insatiable curiosity. "I am the youngest of six," you said, your tone now lighthearted yet elusive, "and my favorite color is pink. Might that suffice for your unquenchable thirst for knowledge about me?"

His lips curved in a smirk, his gaze unwavering. "No," he replied, his voice low and firm. "It shall never be enough."

With a genuine exasperation, you rolled your eyes this time, a small smile betraying your annoyance. "Well, if you must know—"

But your words were abruptly stolen by Aemond’s boldness. His strong hands cupped your face, his touch igniting a warmth that seeped through the layers of silk between you. In an instant, his warm, soft lips met yours, and time seemed to freeze. Your heart raced, an unexpected firework of emotion exploding within you as you instinctively leaned into him, responding to the kiss despite the whirlwind of confusion in your mind.

Yet reality came crashing back as your senses settled, and you hastily broke away from him, breathless and bewildered. The air in the room felt charged, and you glared at him, regaining your composure and a semblance of control

The fool wore a dopey grin, that infuriatingly charming smile that only deepened your ire. You shot him a withering look. “I was speaking,” you pointedly reminded him.

His brows knitted in confusion, a flicker of surprise on his face. “What?”

You planted your hands defiantly on your hips, your indignation brewing like a storm. “I was speaking, and you interrupted me! Not only that, but you did not seek my permission to claim my lips.”

Aemond’s laughter rang like the chiming of bells, an amused glimmer in his eye as he observed your vexation. “Very well, my lady. May I kiss you again?”

Your irritation flared, your cheeks warming with a blend of anger and embarrassment. You took a deliberate step back, confusion simmering just beneath your skin. “No, of course not. You have already stolen a kiss from me, but I shall not so easily grant you another.” You held back the childish urge to stomp your foot in frustration. With a petulant huff, you turned on your heel to storm away, your voice carrying a wisp of indignation. “This is most improper and indecent! Good night, your Highness.”

“Good night, my Lady Love,” Aemond murmured, his violet gaze lingering on you until you vanished around a distant corner. His heart swelled with an unexpected mix of hope and affection, the chaotic Targaryen supper and the impending shadows of war fading from his mind. With a tender gesture, he brushed his fingertip against the spot where your lips had just brushed against his, savoring the memory.

And as you stalked off into the dimly lit corridors of the castle, the weight of his gaze lingered, leaving you with a tumult of emotions swirling in your mind, an echo of the kiss that you could neither dismiss nor desire to forget.

[myunconquerablesoul]

His Favored.

r.sukuna x fem!reader

Warnings: historical au, mentions of violence (towards an OC, but never us. Not even Sukuna is allowed to abuse us!), mentions of blood, mentions of wanting to kill someone, mentions of someone hanging, nudity (reader is a concubine), it gets steamy in the end, but nothing too detailed. (I think) Sukuna is soft(?) in this one.

Wordcount: 3.445 (I would like to say I'm sorry, but I'm not)

Fanart

The servant lays in a bloody mess before you. He was not dead, but you were sure he wished he'd be by now.

Sukuna is staring directly at you. His attention was no longer on the poor soul.

His hands grip your cheeks, and the others hold your wrists. 

"I told you," Sukuna says, voice low, "to not speak to that servant, or there would be consequences."

He lost his temper today. He has seen you talking to that lowlife, hidden in one of the many hallways in his estate. And as if that wasn't enough, that peasant tried to pull you into his embrace. Forcefully.

Looking back, it was a miracle for him to be still alive.

"Now, why would my concubine disobey my orders just like that?" It was simply inexcusable to him for anyone else to speak to you the way he did when it wasn't any secret that you were, clearly, the curse's favorite.

"The servant... he..." He saw your eyes drifting to the servant again. Nervous. You were in an inner battle with yourself. He had secretly planned to whisk you away from Sukuna's estate so you could have freedom and independence.

You'd felt his kindness and sincerity toward you in the short time you'd known him. You knew he meant well, but it was already too late.

Sukuna, on the other hand, felt that you were hesitating to tell him. Not only that, but you were trying to protect that poor excuse of a man.

It made him want to kill him right on the spot. 

Then he abruptly let go of you and turned his attention back to the poor soul. You felt the shift in the atmosphere immediately. You knew that if you did not do anything right this instant, the man's head would be rolling around the floor within seconds.

You were trying to figure out what to do. 

If you asked for it to stop, your master would get the wrong idea and kill the man without hesitation. You were sure of it.

"My lord," You had to try to defuse this situation. "may I ask for us to speak privately?" If not for the sake of the man on the floor, then for your sanity. 

"I will tell you everything, but please... alone." Sukuna stopped in his tracks upon hearing your request. 

If it were anyone else's request, no, others would not dare to. They only dare to speak to him when he addresses them. But you, you were always a particular case for Sukuna. 

For a moment, you were met with nothing but silence. You feared that you had made everything worse and sealed the servant's faith. 

But then, without warning, Sukuna turned back to you, grabbed you by your wrist, and led you out of the throne room.

You did not dare look back to see if the servant was alright. Knowing it would end in unwanted bloodshed.

"Uraume!"

You haven't even noticed Uraume standing there. But you weren't given the time to properly acknowledge them, as your shared master dragged you forward.

"Ensure that the filth's wounds are taken care of, and lock him in his room until I decide what will become of him!" He spat.

Sukuna leads you to his room.

It wasn't the first time you were here, but the first time you didn't know the outcome of what would happen. 

The curse let go of you after sliding the Shoji shut. He leaves you standing in the middle of the room. Sukuna's dark eyes meet yours.

"Explain." He didn't yell. 

For a moment, you believe you would've preferred if he did. It was a painful reminder of how patient he was with you. Of how much you could get away with.

"The servant wanted to take me away from here. I told him that I wanted to stay. But he kept pressuring me."

Sukuna leans against the wall, staring at you with a dangerous, hungry light in his eyes. The fact that you wanted to stay was good. He likes it when you're obedient.

"I never wanted to leave you, my lord." You got down on your knees and bowed until your forehead touched the ground. "Please, you have to believe me."

Sukuna looked at you for a long moment. He lets out a low growl, stepping up to you so that he towers over you. "Prove it, concubine."

"He wrote me letters. I can show you." You were still looking at the floor. You knew you had to be careful. If you say something wrong, misstep, or accidentally anger him more, the servant won't live to see the next day.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at that, curious. "Show me."

"They are in my chambers."

Sukuna steps back, ordering you to stand and lead the way to your room.

"Here."

Sukuna sat on your bed as he took the letters and unfolded them. But before skimming each word, he takes a good look at you. 

You stood there with all your might. There's not a bit of fear in your eyes, just concern. 

Ever since your village offered you as an addition to his harem, the curse felt that there was something about you. Sukuna felt a strong pull toward you, an attraction he had never felt for someone else.

"The servant, Yuto, told me a week ago that he fell in love with me and asked for my hand." You studied Sukuna momentarily, wondering if mentioning his name was wise.

Sukuna, however, didn't pay any mind to that. Instead, he tried his best to conceal his surprise. 

He thought that you would try to protect the lowlife. Try to convince him to let him go, but you tell how things were - nothing but the truth - without concealing anything.

"I told him that I didn't feel the same way. But he wouldn't give up. I didn't want to cause too much attention towards this."

You didn't feel alarmed per se. It was just very out of character for the curse to react the way he currently was. He was too calm about all of this newfound information.

Sukuna chuckles at that. "Or were you too afraid?" tone mocking.

"I was afraid of what you would do to him." He raised a brow at that. So, you elaborated a bit more. "He does not deserve to die because he fell in love."

When he hears your words, his eyes darken again. Sukuna eyes you, and you can tell that his thoughts seem elsewhere.

"You're right." As you watch him, he gets up from your bed and approaches you to stand directly before you, towering over you.

"One does not deserve to die for simply falling in love, dear concubine."

Standing before you, you could now practically feel the bloodlust radiating from him. 

"But trying to steal someone else's property, especially when said property belongs to me, the king of curses, is where every human with minimum survival instincts may draw the line." he spat, full of venom.

You averted your gaze from him. You knew he was right. You, too, could not understand where Yutu's boldness came from.

But then again, love does blind people.

"That bastard deserves to perish for even thinking he had a chance to get away with it." now that was more like the Sukuna, you know. 

You felt smaller with every passing second, and you could no longer think of a way to save the servant's life. 

When you looked down on one of your master's hands, you could see the letters in a tied grip. The papers were utterly wrinkled. 

Not that it mattered.

"Or is it perhaps that my dearest concubine grew close to that poor excuse of a man and began to like the idea?" 

Your eyes snapped to him in an instant. "I didn't grow close to him. I didn't even like him." you desperately needed him to believe you.

"If that were the case," Sukuna counters, "why did you keep these letters?" 

You immediately began to shake your head. "I never let him believe he had a chance. I always told him that I belonged to you, my lord." The way Yuto kept insisting the past week made you uneasy; even remembering it made you feel uncomfortable.

Sukuna then gently stroked your hair - a silent apology after noticing your growing discomfort. 

He didn't mean to talk to you in that tone, but the mere thought of you being possibly interested in someone other than him-

"I kept the letters because I wanted you to believe me when I told you."

The curse nods, seeming to accept what you're telling him. It pleased him that you were thinking about telling him. "Good girl." His fingers slip down to your chin, stroking it gently.

"I wanted to tell him to stop today, but then you saw us, and- you know the rest."

Sukuna nods, his fingers still caressing your chin. "Indeed... but I want us to go over our boundaries again, dear concubine. I should not have to remind you what happens when you speak to other men besides me."

"No, my lord." you felt the room lighten up again, and for a moment, everything seemed to return to normal. "You should not worry; I will never accept a man who claims to love me. I know my place." you tried to brighten up the mood. But then-

"And if I was the one who loved you?" he asks, tone turning dangerous. "What if I was the one who desired you? Would you have given me your hand?" Sukuna looked at you with his intense eyes again. Something hidden behind them, something you could not read, but your heart answered before your mind could comprehend what was happening.

"I would."

Sukuna considers you for a long moment, his gaze boring into yours. 

"I know you to be loyal and obedient, and because of that, I am not as concerned... but I need you to make this promise regardless." Sukuna leans closer to you, his eyes dark and fierce. "If another man speaks to you, you will tell me. No secrets, no hiding that from me."

You nod at that, still not trusting your voice enough. The thought that the king of curses could be jealous and possessive of you made you smile a bit.

Sukuna smiles at you and strokes your cheek and hair. "Good girl, you look beautiful when you smile."

He still didn't know what to do with the servant, but he knew he had had enough of this useless conversation.

His tone shifts again, voice low. "Let us not dwell on this further. Shall we go to bed?"

"Whenever you please."

Sukuna laughs softly, his tone playful and flirtatious. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," he teases you as he pics you over his shoulders and takes you back to his chambers.

Of course, he could stay here and take you right then and there, but he wanted to spend the night in comfort with you. 

"Here, let me help you out of these things."

"Yes, my lord."

Sukuna removes your dress, leaving you in a thin chemise. He moves behind you, his hands slipping to the laces of that piece of clothing, his breath warm on your skin.

It feels all too domestic to romantic. And somehow, you can't seem to shake something off your mind. You weren't sure what would become of the servant. But something about your conversation with your master seemed to be off. 

"My lord, may I ask something?"

Sukuna hums. "Ask away, dear concubine."

How should you put it? This road you were taking could lead to death, but on the other hand, you needed to know. So you took a risk.

"You asked me if it were you who'd love me."

Sukuna momentarily stops what he's doing. "Yes, I remember..." a dangerous glint enters his dark eyes again for a moment, but it vanishes as quickly as it does. "Continue, dear concubine."

"I- if.. if it's not too bold of me to ask."

The last concubine who dared ended up hanging in the backyard as a reminder of your status - a reminder never to seek more. It would be best never to forget that your only purpose was to satisfy your master's needs.

"Speak. I'm listening," Sukuna tells you softly, hands returning to work on your laces. His eyes trail down the curve of your neck to your back, lingering momentarily.

He knew where this was going. Today was indeed a day full of surprises. 

"Do you?" there it was. a silent question. He never thought that you would pull through.

Sukuna's fingers freeze on the remaining laces of your clothes, his hands stilling. "... Do I what?" he asks cautiously.

"Do you love me?" The curse didn't know what to say first. He could deny it and proceed as if nothing happened, but the way your voice calls to him like you were hoping for some miracle.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally replies to you. "...I do."

"You- you Do? But- you have so many beautiful concubines at your service. So many women who'd willingly offer themselves to you…" your voice lost confidence, turning smaller with every passing second.

"None compare to you," Sukuna promises, voice soft and genuine. "None have a hold on my mind like you, my dear concubine. I do not feel for them what I feel for you."

Sukunas's hands slip to your waist and work on your laces again. "Do you think you could come to love me as I have you?" he asks.

It takes you a moment to respond. Sukuna is uncharacteristically patient with you. 

"When that servant first told me about his feelings for me, I told him that my heart already belonged to someone else." you reply breathlessly.

"And who, pray tell, would your heart belong to?" Sukuna murmurs, voice low. The laces are almost finished, the thin chemise the only thing separating you from Sukuna's touch.

"Can I be so bold?" 

Sukuna hums, a low grin curving his lips. "Yes."

He pulls the last lace free, the garment falling at your feet. "Tell me, dear concubine, whose heart do I have?" he questions eagerly, turning you around and looking straight at your eyes.

"Mine."

Sukuna smiles at you, his eyes shining brightly. "You are truly a good girl," he exclaims, a voice full of affection. "But that answer proves what you knew all along, doesn't it?"

Sukuna begins to move against you, his hand now caressing your cheek, and he leans down towards you as if expecting you to kiss him. His dark eyes are locked on yours as if looking for your consent.

You give a slight nod.

Sukuna cups your face in both hands, his fingers gently pushing your hair out of the way. He moves slowly, not breaking eye contact until your noses and lips are all but touching. His breath is warm against your skin, your heart racing.

"Is this what you want, dear concubine?" he whispers, low and sultry, full of desire for you.

"Am I allowed to speak what I truly want?"

Sukuna chuckles in response, voice low and breathy. "You do know that I allow you to say whatever you'd like, don't you?" he questions you, still close to you that the two of you are almost kissing. "So, speak your mind, dear concubine."

"I- I want to be more than just a mere concubine to you, my lord."

Sukuna stares at you for a long moment, eyes heavy with consideration. "And what more would you like to be to me, dear concubine?" he whispers, looking down at you. "Do you wish to ascend past this place of yours... to be on equal footing with me?"

"I would never dare to ask such things."

"But, if I were to offer them to you, would you accept... dear concubine?" Sukuna's voice is low and husky.

There's promise there, hope, and a little bit of lust. You've been a good and loyal concubine, not one to ever ask for more than what you've been given, and he rewards loyalty.

"What if I allowed you to become my equal?" it all sounds too good to be true. 

"Then- then I would be selfish and accept."

"There is nothing wrong with being a little bit selfish," Sukuna reminds you, his fingers running through your loose hair.

"You deserve this, my dear concubine. You have been loyal and obedient for as long as you've been here. You deserve to be treated as my equal."

Sukuna's eyes gleam, his gaze lingering on you in a way you hadn't known him to do before.

"You are more than just a servant," Sukuna says, voice low.

"I'm willing to give you a new title, my dear concubine..." he pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues.

His gaze is locked on yours, his eyes sparkling with love and lust. "I want to make you my wife."

"W- wife? As in- in your lady?"

"You will be my lady, yes," Sukuna tells you, voice huskier as he speaks. "My dear, loyal wife. And I will be yours. You will be queen alongside me."

"Your body belongs to me," he adds. "But in every other regard, you will be my equal. We will walk among the humans together, as their rulers, in love, in trust. And I will grant you anything you desire... no matter how dark."

"I- I don't know what to say."

"Then do not say anything," Sukuna tells you. He lifts your face towards him until your lips are almost touching. "Show me with your actions how you feel about this, dear concubine."

"Show me what you feel," he adds, voice low. His gaze is heavy with desire for you, and your heart pounds in your chest, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

Sukuna is kissing you passionately, his hands tangled in your loose hair and pulling you closer. You can feel the force behind the kiss, the want and need from the curse, which sends your body into chaos. He moves a hand down, driving up your body with purpose. They continue moving upwards, over your ribs and chest, to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently before they caress you.

"I want this. Everything you're willing to give. I want to be selfish. I want you, please…"

Sukuna responds to your words by deepening the kiss and pulling you even closer to him. He's no longer in the mood for words, his hands sliding up your curves to your neck, pinning you to the wall. 

He's gentle, despite the force of his kiss, and he makes sure he doesn't hurt you — but there's no denying he wants you, and you can feel the lust spilling from him as he pushes his body more and more onto yours.

Sukuna groans into the kiss. Your mouth is against his, your lips and his moving back and forth to satisfy this thirst between you two.

He breaks from the kiss and stares at you with soft eyes. His smile is heavy and filled with love, and he leans to press another kiss against your lips. "Then, from today on, dear concubine, you will be my wife."

"You are mine," Sukuna says to himself, too lost in this moment. "My wife, my love. No longer my concubine, my subject, but my equal."

He trails more kisses against you, those of love rather than lust. They are soft and gentle as if he's promising you only the best.

When the two of you are breathless, Sukuna carries you toward the bed. Your heart flutters within your chest as if you're in a dream come true. He lays you upon the bed, and his lips are again moving against yours, soft and gentle, full of love, as if he's worshipping.

He pulls back to look down at you, his eyes heavy. He is long gone. Body and mind filled with nothing but pure ecstasy. "Mine."

"Always yours, my lord." The curse's tone was possessive and full of devotion. It made you breathless to think that was all for you.

Sukuna's eyes locked with yours, his every movement designed to be as erotic as possible. His kiss is heavy, and how he moves against you is enough to force a moan from your lips. His fingers explore your body, moving lower slowly so that you are practically panting by the time he reaches his destination.

"Let me love you in every way possible."

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hi hello! Idk if your request is currently open or not, but I'd like to request a fic where the Reader is a member of the Smiling Critters, they're still alive due to Catnap's fondness of them. They're on his side but hate it, only doing it in exchange that Dogday wouldn't get hurt.

With Catnap's permission, they would visit Dogday and give him whatever food they could find ( let's say Catnap still has some fondness for Dogday inside of him ) but with limitations.

You can change the idea into how you prefer! Thank you in advance :D

Ps. Mind adding a scene where Dogday calls the Reader " Angel " and reminisces about Catnap's fondness for both of them? I hope it makes sense, I just melt seeing Dogday calling us Angel :'D

Here We Stay

Note || KSJSJSJD I loved writing this, everything makes sense :D My apologies I took so long to write this! Kinda short too but UUHHHHH-

WC || 1,176

Sypnosis || being a member of the Smiling Critters meant you would’ve died one way or another, but you didn’t. Now all you can do is hope for the best.

One of the worst possible things could be corporate greed, even just having good intentions yet the worst execution is a plausible answer. Just how could you be forced into this situation? Trying to make things worth Catnap’s while is harsh, the only reason you knew you were alive right now was merely because he was particularly fond of you and DogDay alike. He wasn’t the same after the fact the Prototype’s reign began, you weren’t aware of much yourself, so all of this was just plain scary to you.

All your friends just disappeared and died, some of which you didn’t know was happening. You only got all that information because of DogDay.

You hated the circumstance he was put in, it seemed so painful for one’s legs to be severed and just hung up there the way he is now.

Repeatedly however, DogDay has assured you he didn’t mind being like this so long as you were in good health. He couldn’t bear knowing he wouldn’t be able to do a single thing for one of the only friends he has left. So many of his friends were gone already, DogDay would elect to die for you if it meant you would live.

Truth be told, you had only exchanged the peace you had before so that DogDay would not get hurt anymore then he already has. Catnap had full will and the power to completely end your life otherwise, you just were scared. 

Sometimes when you could, you would take a look at the broken clock that had somehow still worked like normal–and think about what time it would be in the day–Is it nighttime? How about daytime. Oh how you wished you weren’t subject to things the way they are now, all because of the wretched rules of humans and even the abject rulings of the Prototype himself.

Why would Catnap even view that silly toy as a god anyway? Perhaps that was for him to know, and for you to find out. Once, your life isn’t in any danger any longer. Just maybe it will be possibly any hour now, one can only hope. 

Trying to scrounge the Factory for any possible food was getting harder and harder every hour, one could argue it may be the stupid little mice stealing those last precious crumbs away. You would argue it would be the little Wuggies, those small toys were objectively brisk–and limpid too (colors so closely related within the walls of the factory, you forget sometimes they are even there).

You try hard to not forget where you are, in order to get back to DogDay with food for him. That was the only reason you were even anywhere else and away from your sunny friend, you would still be close to him any chance you get on account of Catnap’s permission. 

You wished otherwise.

“Ugh!” Groaning, you step over the possible weak spots that would have you falling through the floor. “There has to be food around here somewhere..” You mention, notioning to the fact you had now stepped into an office. There would be bound to be food here!

With an ounce of hope, you began scrounging the office for any possible heaps of food that you find. Ruffling through any drawers and papers, this office seemed to be a mess. You paid no mind to the messes anyway, there are bound to be messes since the last ten years in Playtime Co. 

“Success! Haha!” You triumphantly hold a bundle of donuts in your hand, “Take that Hour of Joy!” 

Winding down from your self inflated permeated success, you began making your way back to DogDay. You’d have to speak to Catnap to get to him first unfortunately, you always hated this part. Nonetheless, it was necessary.

You picked up the phone, already dialing Catnap to inform him of current conditions. You carefully had curated your words, you always did this when you spoke to him which ever way.

His deep voice rumbled soundly in your ears, “Food, for him?” 

“Yes.” You silently groan, kicking a benign rock stubble as you stand around while awaiting his confirmation. Why the hell was he so scary to you? Though, Catnap’s voice was oddly reassuring when he spoke without malcontent. For a moment, there was a long pause. 

You swore you could hear someone screaming and pleading to the giant purple cat; you felt bad for the unlucky victim that had crossed paths with Catnap.

“...” Then the phone hung up, you sighed a breath of relief that you could visit DogDay. Many things you would do for him just aside visiting, was having to loop in Catnap on whatever the contents of the material you would bring in hand with you. You knew the cat well enough his pause of silence meant yes. 

Well, you can go now at least. You don’t even want to recount the last time you had brought something to DogDay without telling Catnap. 

You stepped over the rubble that had led up to the heretic altar, you recognize he is one of the many dubbed a heretic, you truly wished he wasn’t in so much pain this way. Though immediately another thought crossed your mind.

This hallway needed some serious cleaning up to do.

A strained voice pulled you from your thoughts, “You didn’t have to bring anything my friend.” DogDay was being positive about you as per usual, you sighed as you stepped up to him then sat down as your legs were weary and tired. 

“DogDay we are friends, I’d do anything for you.” You motion, taking out a donut so you could feed it to him. Though in a rare few circumstances you were allowed to free DogDay’s hands so he could eat himself. Unfortunately it was not one of those circumstances. He took a willing bite, chewing it up as he savored it. 

For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to articulate anything, “Do you, remember how he was before… Angel?” DogDay was still mournfully thinking about Catnap’s old self, which he had every right to do. Knowing someone for as long as you would, then that someone changing so drastically–especially not in a good way–can be startling. 

You fed him another bite of the donut you held in your hand, “How could I forget? He was quite silent, sure enough. But he was always considering each and every one of us.” You nod with a tilted head. Oh, if you had the chance to turn back the clock and change things, you would’ve done it all in a heartbeat. 

Sincerely, you were scared. Scared for Catnap, scared for DogDay. All your possibly living friends you know are still alive. 

You grin slightly, wanting to alleviate the conversation and change the subject, “You might need a cleaning.” DogDay couldn’t help but bark–reminiscent of laughter–at your words. He shifted himself noticeably, most likely to bear the weight from one end to another. And remove the discomfort for a little bit before it would dare come back. 

“You may be right, my angel.”

"One can only hope."

[signedkoko]

Hi hi! I want to request a gn reader who is the closest thing Alastor has to a best friend, right hand man type feel. Like Reader is a sinner and had to make a deal with Al for their soul, but Reader is so honest when they talk and act that Al is all "they aren't so bad." Alastor calls on the Reader first almost everytime and Reader is like, "This is the least worst situation. Let's not screw it up" as they throw their all into whatever Al needed them to do. So when Alastor tells them to get a job with Vox to spy on him, there's a groan, then a fine.

Sorry if it's a bit jumbled, I had a thought and ran with it. Also, could I be 🗑anon

Alastor X Reader [Platonic]

In which you are the only person Alastor might consider a best friend. Reader is genderneutral.

While you'd sold your soul to the demon a long time ago, you certainly had perks that most others under his control did not

In fact, you didn't even act as if Alastor 'owned' you; you did your own thing and respected his wishes as best you could, and Alastor just never seemed to mind

Perhaps that was a front; no one was certain; all they could tell was that Alastor certainly favoured you

Anytime an issue arose and he was busy, he would leave you in his place, and by god, you never did disappoint

Actually, most people prefer it when it's you; you are far less worrisome to be around and a lot less mysterious about things

The only thing you didn't talk about was yours and Alastors history

Whether that was part of some binding agreement or you were just scary good at diverting the topic whenever it came to what you did in the past

Typically, Alastor's duties for you include watching over his other souls, going to the tailors, or doing 'whatever Charlie asks of you!'

Otherwise, you'd be at his side, usually the two of you watching the rest and making bantering commentary about the hopelessness of the people in the hotel

Unfortunately, being so close meant that Alastor really trusted you with difficult tasks

Were you capable? Absolutely!

But did you want to? No.

Because he tells you so much, he probably goes to great lengths to make sure you aren't accidentally 'letting things out'

Which means no technology when working with him

You found that out the hard way

" Oh yes! Do you have a phone I could borrow? "

" Uhh - yeah, sure. Here. "

He crushes the device instantly

" What the fuck. "

The one thing about you is that you prefer the easy way out, and as Alastor puts it, you have hidden talent that you are 'too lazy to use', but you couldn't care less

You'd do anything he asks, both because he is your friend and because you technically have to, according to your soul binding

But you will be grumpy about it the entire time

Being so close with Alastor means you also hate Vox by proxy, so any mission involving him is just miserable

Fortunately, Vox doesn't know you, though, so you really were Alastor's best bet when he wants a spy on the inside

" Do I have to? "

" Of course you do, deary! Now pick up that smile and get marching! "

Author's Note - He is such a menace to his friends, I love writing for platonic Alastor. Thank you so much for requesting, and welcome to the blog, bin anon!

[thunderstomm]

Is “Prime Meridian Love” Forshadowing for “Battle of the Big Wand”?

With the most recent episodes of “Fairly OddParents: A New Wish” airing, everyone, myself included, is buzzing over what’s going to happen in the big season finale, what exactly is going to happen, and what’s the future state of Hazel and Dev’s friendship? There are many theories going around, but I want to pitch my own!

“Prime Meridian Love: Romance Cruise Ultra” is foreshadowing towards Hazel and Dev’s conflict and plot. Obviously, the show has drawn us a parallel here before, Duckworth looks like Dev. But rewatching the episode “Prime Meridian Love”, along with the context from new episodes and the description for the finale has me thinking that we may already know what’s to come.

Read the rest under the cut ! This post includes the episode description for “Battle for the Big Wand”, so if you want to go into that episode blind, don’t read further !

Starting with the most basic- Duckworth and Kennueth are stand-ins for Dev and Hazel. Duckworth is literally designed to look like Dev, and while less obvious, Kennueth seems to share a basic colour palette with Hazel, his skin and amulet being the colours of her shirt. There’s also the fact that Duckworth and Kennueth are described as “rivals”, and Hazel calls Dev her own rival.

This is where the backstory / history between Duckworth and Kennueth becomes relevant. The amulets are the one thing they share, and what’s something magical that Hazel and Dev have in common? Fairies!

The story goes that Kennueth and Duckworth were once friends, their friendship cemented by what bound them together. But Duckworth became jealous of Kennueth once he got promoted to captain. Sounds familiar? Hazel and Dev became friends, and shared the secret of having fairy godparents. They fell out over Dev’s jealously of Hazel, and that his dad seemed to care more about her, even if in an unconventional way.

Duckworth retalliates by stealing the magical pearl from the ancient sea temple, hoping for the power to overthrow Kennueth. Which brings me to my theory about the series finale, “Battle of the Big Wand”. Teaming up with Irep, I think Dev’s jealousy of Hazel having his father’s attention, as well as having two fairies while he only has one, will motivate him to steal the titular “Big Wand” during the takeover of Fairy World, hoping that it can grant him unlimited power, in his fleeting pursuit of satisfaction.

While the story of “Prime Meridian Love: Romance Cruise Ultra” goes on to say that this event cements their rivalry, the episode has Hazel and Kennueth stop Dev, and Hazel encourages Kennueth to re-write the story, and make things right with him, which he does !

I think the finale will follow one of these two beats. Hazel, Cosmo, Wanda, possibly Jorgen and Peri, and maybe even the citizens of Fairy World will all help to stop Dev and Irep, and we’ll either see Hazel and Dev’s bond cemented as a rivalry, or we will see Hazel reflect on the situation, and write her own story, and actually TALK to Dev about what has been going on. Personally, I would much prefer the latter. Dev is still a kid, and he’s a product of his environment. He deserves a chance to change and grow, and have good people by his side who actually care about him, to help him do so.

The only thing that I’m still unsure about is how Hazel’s rule free wish will tie into this all, but I do think she will use it like many of her other wishes, and do so selflessly.

What do you all think of this theory? I’m so excited (and nervous) for the big finale next week !!

[infernalwitxhcraft]

All About: House Spirits

Well, it's about time I brought them up once again, in their own post. This guide may be on the lengthy side, but it's here to explain what they are and how to begin working with them.

What the hell is a house spirit?

House spirits come from all different cultures and folklore. Known as, you guessed it, guardians of the home. They protect the house itself, the land around it (they get along with the land spirit(s) most of the time), and they also protect the family if treated right. A home certainly doesn't feel like one without these presiding spirits helping. In fact it gives the home a life of it's own.

What do they look like? Are there types?

Across many cultures, there are these spirits and the folklore varies for each. In my tribe, we consider them to usually be little dwarves or goblins that must be appeased, otherwise they will cause bad luck or even resort to curses. Regular offerings are required. Then there are the land spirits, which is a whole other topic. If given regular offerings and respect, we believe that they will not only generate good luck and events for us, but protect us and help with our daily lives. For the witches of the tribe, they will often assist in rituals and spells. That all being said, this has carried over into my personal beliefs. Many cultures describe house spirits assisting with the same things and if they are displeased, bad occurrences following. As far as looks go, it depends on the folklore surrounding your area and your cultural background(s). You may believe in one or two types or an entire spectrum of house spirits from the realm of the fair folk. You could have one house spirit or twelve. It's entirely up to your home. In some cultures, there are door spirits (yes, that guard the doors) and ones that work in the kitchen, among others for different functions of the home.

Okay so, I live in an apartment building. Can I still work with them?

Yes. When I used to live in apartments, I found it was an either/or situation regarding how many were there. Some buildings have only a few that roam around, sometimes only one that protects the entire building, or there may be multiple hanging out in one apartment. Most complexes have multiple however. And then for the lucky buildings that have one for each apartment...those are nice. I've included a short offering ritual at the end of this post, which you can use to ask questions about whatever you wish to know, including how many there are in the building.

What kind of offerings do they like?

Milk, honey, bread, and herbs are a safe bet. They especially like bread baked by you, as they see it as a labor of love and that your energy is in there. Taking time to tend to the garden and taking care of your property & home in general are things they like to see. Don't leave the house a huge mess, as many prefer a tidy atmosphere. Not an offering per say, but important to mention nonetheless.

What should I put on their altar?

I keep my altar for them in the kitchen, as it is in a place that is undisturbed and can't be torn up by my land shark (aka, my dog). I also feel that most of the house spirits I have worked with in my life enjoy hanging out in this area of the home. They seem to like assisting in kitchen magic and cooking in general and the warmth of the stove. You may also want to include a small area near the front door if you believe that there are separate spirits for there. I'd recommend a shelf, as it won't take up as much space in the entryway.

Okay, back on track. Plants (if the space gets enough light), a cauldron, candles, offering bowls, a chalice, glass, or mug of some sort. A special spoon to stir the drinks or potions with. Decorative pieces from nature. Things you craft by hand.

How can I begin working with them?

Anytime, in reality. However, you do have to develop an actual relationship with them. This can take time and the more you speak to them, give offerings, and invite them in as you cook or clean, the more they will be willing to help with your spellwork, wards, and healing. Try the introduction ritual I've included. See what happens. Document it. Try again another time the following week. And just...keep going. Make sure that they know you haven't forgotten about them by leaving a small nightly glass of milk out before you head to bed. It doesn't have to be filled to the rim (hey, cost of living is ridiculous right now). It can be a splash with a squirt of honey added. Or a sprinkle of herbs on their bowl. Or maybe a small helping of what you whipped up for dinner. Point is to show them that you acknowledge and respect their presence. That will be the biggest component. Do the ritual once a week until you start seeing signs of contact. Once you do, make your own ritual with them. Incorporate them into your daily life. Ask them to help with blessing your cooking. Ask them to make sure your wards are in tact. Ask the door spirit to purify the energy of anyone that walks in & make bad people resist coming by. Start seeing if they'd like to sit in on a ritual, if you feel comfortable with that idea. Ask for a blessing when you clean the house & to assist you in removing all the bad energy.

Brief introductory ritual

To introduce yourself to your house spirits, I recommend sitting in your kitchen. If you consider your hearth to be the living room, you can choose to do it there. Make sure to bring offerings with that you feel will be applicable. Freshly baked bread (from your own hands) and some milk with honey stirred in would make a wonderful first treat. I usually introduce myself in a new home by bringing these treats to the location of choice, and start by speaking my intention aloud which goes something like:

"Spirits of the home,

Guardians and Protectors of this dwelling,

Please come sit with me and enjoy these offerings.

I wish to have a working relationship where we can honor, respect, and help each other."

I usually spend about ten-twenty minutes meditating after this is spoken aloud. Sometimes you will feel a strong presence. This is the time I take to set up my kitchen altar as well. If there is a place that I am able to create a mini-altar by the front door, I do so there for the door spirits. The land spirits get their own little thing out in the backyard. I've found in the many places I've lived, they almost always work together and some house spirits spend quite some time out there too!

From here on out, you'll develop your relationship with regular offerings and take it from there!

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (28)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of masturbation, public dirty talk, sexual tension, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Even though he had expected nothing else, his wife's reaction completely devastated him anyway − her words cut through him like daggers, showing him his own face in the light of the truth.

What should I do now?

Divorce you?

Not speak to you for eight years?

He didn't know what he should answer.

The realisation that he was constantly searching for fault in her because he felt guilty himself, that he was accusing her of betrayal because he had betrayed her himself, caused him to no longer know who he was anymore. He felt so lost and heartbroken that he had simply burst out crying in front of her like a child scolded by a parent.

He just wanted her to forgive him.

When she told him what Alys had seen in her dream and informed him of her conditions, even though he was dying at the thought of spending even one more day in this fortress, he sat down at her oak desk the next morning to write a letter to his brother-king.

My King, our half-sister has agreed to our terms, however, she makes her own demands. I have decided, in order to alleviate the situation, to travel with my wife to Dragonstone, where we are currently staying. We want to try to convince them to change their minds − one order from you is enough for me to return to King's Landing. Your loyal brother

His niece was furious with him − he had never seen her like this before and preferred not to address her at all when she spoke to him knowing that he would only make matters worse. He hoped that his conciliatory attitude and the fact that he had fulfilled her wish would make her calm down.

The thought that he wasn't her prisoner didn't comfort him, because he felt like one anyway.

Wherever he went he might encounter someone he didn't feel like looking at, so he preferred to stay in her chamber and bear it somehow.

As soon as she had left her quarters he rose from his chair and began to walk around her room, looking at the various objects on the shelves and bookcases − he looked through the books she was reading, finding with satisfaction that most of them were also in his possession in King's Landing.

He spotted her embroideries in one of the drawers, including those he remembered well from his childhood, and smiled involuntarily at the thought, wondering if she had kept them for the sake of memories.

He shuddered as the door to the chamber opened suddenly and he slid the drawer back in, turning with a rapidly beating heart − Daemon stood with his hands folded behind him, sighing heavily.

"− come, nephew − we must discuss many important matters −" He said with a kind of boredom, as if what he was speaking of was a duty he had no desire to perform at all.

"− I will not go anywhere with you, uncle − I am quite comfortable here −" He said lowly, looking away, frustrated.

Why did he always feel like a little child in his presence?

Daemon chuckled at his question.

"− it wasn't a request − come, let's have a walk −" He encouraged him in a ferocious, mocking tone from which he felt rage and a clench in his stomach.

He knew he couldn't refuse.

Daemon led him out of the fortress through one of the side entrances − he checked a few times before the sound of the sea surrounded them that the dagger he always carried with him was strapped to his belt.

They stepped out onto a gigantic white beach seeming to stretch on endlessly to him, with only the water to their left and high rising rocks and mountains to their right.

They were completely alone.

His uncle finally stopped and turned to him, looking at him for a moment without a word.

"− why did you suggest you spend the night in Dragonstone? −"

He licked his lips, feeling his heart stop at his question.

"− that was her wish −"

"− don't fucking lie to me or I will pierce your skull with my sword −"

He looked at him in disbelief, his jaw clenched so tight he felt like it was going to burst, his fingers involuntarily tightening into fists.

Silence fell again, the sound of the waves around them, their hair and tunics blowing in the wind.

It seemed to him that his uncle's gaze was piercing him to the core.

"− Larys Strong had his own plans for you − I couldn't let that happen −" He muttered at last.

"− does she know about this? −" He asked coldly.

He swallowed hard at the thought that he was referring to his wife.

"− yes −"

"− did you tell her before or after we came here? −"

He lowered his gaze already knowing what he was leading up to, he felt like his whole body was quivering.

"− after −"

Daemon snorted in annoyance, shaking his head as he looked out at the sea stretching before them.

"− you fucking cunt − I was supposed to personally deal with his rats overdue in the Eyrie, but you ruined my plan − though surely that's good for you −" He confessed looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

He felt a powerful, cold shiver run along his back at the thought that he knew everything.

He knew that they were about to be murdered.

And Rheanyra?

Seeing that he couldn't force out the question that was pressing on his lips his uncle laughed out loud.

"− the rider of the world's greatest dragon since Balerion's passing is unable to get a word out − shame has taken away your speech? − where is your pride that you always boasted so much? −" He continued, provoking him to explode, his heart pounding like mad.

What should he do?

How should he behave?

"− you are exactly as I assumed − you are still a boy who has lost an eye and who is waiting for his betrothed to come to comfort him − you are like a stone, unable to move on − my daughter has sacrificed everything for you, and you stand before me like some fool −"

"− what do you want from me, uncle? −"

"− no − what do YOU want − are you able to name it in your head, or are you like a child in a fog without your mother? −" He asked in a raised voice, frustrated, making him feel a hot wave of humiliation flowing through his body.

"− I want her to be safe −"

"− what happened in King's Landing? −"

"− I −"

"− fucking speak − and you'd better say the truth −"

"− your spies in the Red Keep didn't report it to you? −" He hissed, his uncle taking a step towards him, looking him straight in the eye.

"− you're trying my patience −"

He pressed his lips together feeling his heart rise to his throat, cold sweat running down his back.

"− my mother gave her moon tea without my knowledge − she wanted to be able to pact with you and give her to Lord Arryn's son −" He said dispassionately feeling, however, that his voice trembled. Daemon looked at him wordlessly.

"− and what have you done to punish those who wronged my daughter, and your wife? −"

He looked at him feeling his whole body freeze.

"− what would you have done to her if she had been the one to fail your trust? − if she tried to fight for her freedom, if she stood up to you and threatened your mother? −" He asked, stabbing his words into him like daggers.

He didn't know the answers to these questions.

He never wanted to ask himself them.

"− I did everything I could − she is my mother − you would expect the same from your daughter yourself −"

"− and yet she was the one who came to beg her own mother to surrender her claim to the crown when yours was encouraging your brother to steal the throne that never belonged to him − gods, Viserys has taught you nothing, has he? − you see nothing but your mother's skirt to which you have always been clung −" He muttered with some kind of disgust from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver and discomfort in his stomach.

"− I regret − I regret that, seeing this, seeing Viserys fail you, seeing Otto make you his pawn, I was not a fatherly figure for you to follow − I did not, though it was my duty −"

He looked at him in disbelief, feeling with horror the burning under his eyelids. He laughed and shook his head, wishing he could somehow control what was happening to him − he hid his hands behind his back feeling how much they were trembling.

"− are you remorseful, uncle? − do you see that you yourself also contributed to the division of our family into two separate parts? −" He asked with mockery and regret in his voice feeling that he was weak.

What had happened in the last few days had completely destroyed him.

"− I want to hear the truth and I will ask for the last time − what do you want? −" His uncle asked with emphasis on the last sentence.

He shuddered, realising that deep down he knew what the answer was.

He always knew.

"− I wish it was all over − I wish I could take her to Essos, as I promised her − I am tired, uncle − I have been tired all my life − I only rest when she is by my side −"

Daemon looked at him for a long moment and let out a loud breath, looking out to sea. They stood like that, not speaking to each other.

"− is there anything else you have hidden from her? −" He asked coldly, and he felt a squeeze in his throat at the memory of the Witch of Harrenhal's words.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He raised his eyes to his uncle and met his gaze, proud and distrustful, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"− I −"

"− speak −"

"− there is − there is a woman in Harrenhal, called by some a witch − she came to me last morning and −"

"− did you take her to your bed? −"

His voice stuck in his throat at his question, so he shook his head quickly, horrified.

"− no, but she said − she prophesied to me that this would happen − that − that I would put my child inside her −" He muttered, feeling with what difficulty those words left his mouth. Daemon raised his eyebrows in disbelief and rolled his eyes.

"− and? − if she said so, now there's nothing left for you to do but put your cock inside her? − don't make me laugh −" He sneered, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"− she can predict the future − I −"

"− are you listening to me, or have you not only gone blind but deaf? − if she told you that you would run away with her to Essos and beget twenty children with her would you believe her too? − she told you exactly what she wanted to happen − she hopes to still use you in the future by doing so, and you reflecting on her words are doing exactly what she wants − I don't know any man who would put his cock into a woman by accident or by fate − pull yourself together −" He said impatiently, causing a warm wave of embarrassment to surge through him.

He thought he really was a fool.

How could he have believed her with such ease?

Though he didn't want to admit it to himself, his words brought him relief.

"− do you have anything else to convey to me? − this is your last chance −" He asked coldly, and he shook his head.

"− very well − I'm glad we've got it behind us − you may leave −" He said dryly; he pressed his lips together at his words and simply walked away, swallowing his dignity and pride.

As he stepped into his wife's chamber he noticed her seated figure out of the corner of his eye, but he did not say a word to her − he felt humiliated and tired and did not feel like making conversation.

He also recognised that she certainly still hadn't forgiven him, so they might as well keep quiet.

He therefore sat down with one of her books by the fire, trying to concentrate on what he saw before him and not on his uncle's words.

I regret that, seeing this, seeing Viserys fail you, seeing Otto make you his pawn, I was not a fatherly figure for you to follow.

Though some part of him did not want to admit it, he knew that subconsciously he had been waiting for those words, for any praise or appreciation from him, the Rouge Prince himself, the greatest warrior and dragon rider he had seen in his lifetime.

So why did he feel so bad about what he had said to him?

You are still a boy who has lost an eye and who is waiting for his betrothed to come to comfort him.

My daughter has sacrificed everything for you, and you stand before me like some fool.

He swallowed hard, knowing that there was partly truth in his words.

For some reason though he wanted to, he couldn't completely free himself from the past and move on.

"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −"

He lifted his gaze to her from his book thinking he had overheard himself. He felt a wave of anger and disbelief surge through his body when he noticed in her gaze that she wasn't mocking him.

She meant it.

"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, getting up from his seat, throwing his book on the table and leaving immediately thinking he was going to kill this fucking bastard with his own hands.

When he finally walked into the right chamber he breathed heavily and grinned, feeling as if all the frustration, the things that had been happening to him after his conversation with his wife and uncle were going to find release at this very moment.

Jace stood up from his chair, pale at the sight of him, clearly knowing exactly what awaited him.

"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −" He murmured teasingly, feeling the presence of his niece beside him, the scent of vanilla filling his lungs again.

"− Aemond −"

"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered, cocking his head to the side, resting his weight on his right leg, watching curiously as his nephew turned all red with embarrassment.

"− Aemond, that's enough −"

"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela growled, his smile widening even more at the sight of her, her lips tightening into a thin line.

He thought he would love to hit her in the face again before he remembered that she was a woman.

What a pity.

His wife appeared suddenly in front of him, looking at him warningly.

"− we are leaving −"

He felt like laughing at her words.

Her brothers were getting away with far too many things.

"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −" He said sweetly, looking his nephew straight in the eye thinking with amusement that this time would be different.

"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"

"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He muttered in a voice filled with challenge and poison seeing that Baela looked at her betrothed in disbelief.

Always pretending to be so righteous, so wronged.

He was nothing more than a pathetic brat who was once again reaching for what didn't belong to him.

"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela thundered, clearly wanting Jace to stop being a scared cunt, which unfortunately he was unable to do.

He could feel his own heart pounding fast, his hands clenched into fists, his breathing quick and deep.

He was ready to attack him, he was ready to rip him to shreds.

Some part of him wanted to do it.

A fucking would-be King.

You'll never sit on the throne − he thought with satisfaction − and in my wife's eyes you were never a man she could desire.

"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He mumbled in horror as he looked at his niece with pleading eyes.

Did he really think that he would let him hide behind her skirt like a coward?

That he would allow him to escape the consequences of his foolishness again?

"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" He hissed grabbing her cheeks, heard her draw in a loud breath, shocked, as his lips pressed against hers in a hot, aggressive kiss − she moaned quietly as his slick tongue forced its way deep into her throat with his low sigh of delight.

He pulled away and met her simultaneously terrified, enraged and thirsty gaze − she only mewled when he turned her with a confident tug with her back against him and pressed her figure against his chest, gripping her neck with one hand, the other sliding down her lower abdomen.

He involuntarily licked his lower lip when he felt her fingers tighten on his wrist trying to stop him from doing what he wanted to do, her mouth parted in disbelief.

"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out, not really understanding himself what he was actually doing, focusing more on her than on them as he dug his fingertips into her womanhood lying beneath the material of her gown.

Her head was tilted back, her thighs clenched, her lips struggling to hold back the moan from which his erection slapped impatiently against her buttocks in his breeches.

He thought he will fuck her with his fingers in front of his eyes.

"− u-uncle − stop −"

In fact, he had to stop when Daemon walked into the chamber − the ashamed, horrified expression on Jace's face who couldn't even look at them and the accusing look his betrothed turned towards him was reward enough for him.

He wanted to watch his world, everything he desired burn and fall apart in his hands.

He wanted him to know what it felt like.

He knew his wife enough to know that her rage was mixed halfway with the desire and tension he himself felt. He wanted to respect her request not to take her and break it at the same time, feeling that he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so he did something that stopped halfway between both, coming with a sigh of relief on the material of her nightgown when he heard her moans of sweet fulfilment.

He wanted nothing more after this than to lock her in his arms and fall asleep.

"− let me embrace you −" He muttered.

"− no −" Her frustrated, trembling voice answered him.

He huffed loudly, heartbroken, at the same time understanding her and longing to take refuge again in the warmth that the closeness of her body gave him. In a gesture of desperation, he simply pressed his face against her neck, taking in her scent.

"− move away, uncle −"

"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"

"− your wife does not wish for this −"

"− sleep −"

He heard her sigh heavily, annoyed, but said nothing more. When he finally felt she had fallen asleep, his hand slowly touched her waist and slid to other side, taking its place on her warm lower abdomen.

"− no −" He heard her quiet, unclear mumble, her body stirring in his embrace.

"− shhh − let me −" He whispered in her ear, his lips placing a soft, warm kiss on her cheek.

"− mhm −" She muttered, twisting towards him immersed in a deep sleep − he sighed heavily as her body involuntarily clung to his, her face sinking into the hollow of his neck.

He swallowed hard, feeling the squeeze in his heart and the tears under his eyelids that, one by one, began to run down his cheeks as his hands wove through her hair and the material of her nightgown at her back, pressing her close to his body.

He thought that for some reason during the nights he spent with her he was most vulnerable and weak, her presence, the warmth of her flesh, her closeness made him feel as if something was melting inside him, not allowing him to pretend that Daemon's words had not hurt him.

Despite repeating to himself that his uncle's words meant nothing to him, as a child he had looked up to him, dreaming of being like him − fearless, ironic, intelligent, confident, proud of his family and his heritage.

I regret that, seeing this, seeing Viserys fail you, seeing Otto make you his pawn, I was not a fatherly figure for you to follow.

He pressed his lips together at that thought, at his words, which cut into his heart like a sword, because although he had tried to find his pattern of masculinity in his father, in his older brother, in his grandfather, in Ser Criston, it was his uncle that his gaze had always followed, it was his uncle's reaction that he looked at when he and his father watched them duel.

He never heard a single warm word from his lips.

The fact that he was his mother's son had crossed him out in his eyes, and he had no intention of apologising for anything.

So what was he to do with his words?

That he did not know − nor did he know what purpose the conversation had served or why he had told him about the Witch of Harrenhal. He thought with shame that guilt and fear had crushed him so much that he had to get it off his chest, and he had chosen the worst person to do so.

What if he uses this against him?

Poison his daughter's thoughts with words that her husband feared that he would betray her in the future, beget a bastard child with another woman?

He felt a cold shudder run through his body at the thought, but for some reason he had a feeling that this would not happen.

She told you exactly what she wanted to happen.

She hopes to still use you in the future by doing so, and you reflecting on her words are doing exactly what she wants.

He was right.

This woman, whoever she was, was playing with him and his wife.

He thought she was hoping to frighten them both and lead them to lose trust in each other.

That this was perhaps also part of Larys' plan.

He had no intention of killing his wife.

He wanted her to do it herself.

That thought, that realisation flashed through his body like a flame, his fingers clamped down on her flesh as he swallowed hard, feeling some kind of indescribable relief, finding meaning in it at last.

They knew that if his wife disappeared, he would join the war.

He sighed quietly, thinking with surprising calmness in his soul, stroking his wife's soft, dark curls with his fingers, that he would cut off the heads of all the vipers plotting against her, one by one.

He intended to personally inform his brother what their grandfather and Lord Strong were planning to do behind his back.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about Old Man Price… giving a bjob for the first time 18+

Pairing: John Price x Male reader

Cw: bjobs, jealousy, age gap,

Series/One Shot: Old man Price trying….for the first time | i,ii,iii.

There were three things in life Price knew like the back of his hand.

First being that he prefers a good pint over tea

Second being the routines that had been drilled into him since he first signed up for the army.

Third being the fact that he knows without a doubt when a man is interested in someone.

But a pint tastes like shit when you’re not up for a drink. Yet he’d agreed to come to the bar with 141 because you’d be there as well.

The routines that had been drilled into him, he’d recite to himself when he needed to cool his head.

Price recites one when he notices you giving looks to another man across the bar, he recites another when you decide to approach the older gentleman, the third one slips past his lips as he watches you walk out with him.

At that very moment, he so badly wishes he didn’t know when a man is interested in someone because now he’s fully aware of the fact that you and the unknown man will spend the night together.

He downs his drink, storms out the bar without even notifying the rest of his team and swiftly makes his way over to base.

He had no intention of walking to your room, really. You had company after all and he shouldn’t be bothering you. Yet he finds himself standing in front of your eerily quiet room.

For a moment he allows himself to believe that the silence must mean that the man chose not to spend the night. Maybe Price had mistaken your interaction for something more, seen attraction where there was none.

Or maybe you’d chose to go to his place, not wanting to disturb the old man rooming next to you because at the end of the day that’s all Price is to you, a sad old, well a sad and perverted old man who was lusting after a 20 something year old but you didn’t need to know that.

When he realizes he’d been standing there for too long, he turns on his heel but just as he’s about to walk away, your door opens behind him.

“Captain,” you say, surprise clear in your voice, eyes wide as you lean up against the door. “What are you doing here?”

In that very moment Price finds himself at a loss for words because what is he actually doing here?

Oh just wanted to check if you really went home with the other man?

He almost scoffs at the thought, awkwardly shuffling in place while scrambling for something to say.

“Do you want to come in?” You say, giving him a way out of the situation.

He really should say no, should make up some excuse about how he has to go, yet he does the opposite instead, regrets it as soon as it slips past his lips.

“Yeah alright,” he nods to himself, and walks into your room before he can change his mind about it.

As he walks past the threshold he’s hit with the sickly sweet smell of cologne , clothes are strewn about on the floor like someone had been in a rush to get them off and with you standing in the middle of it all, hands buried in your pockets, eyes avoiding his own “sorry about the uh mess,”

It’s clear you brought the man back home but it’s also clear that he’s already left seeing as the room is empty and the clothes on the floor are your own. Although Price feels jealousy brewing in his gut he can’t help but also feel a tad bit of satisfaction.

“So did you need anything?” You say pulling him out of his thoughts and and as he meets your gaze he sees the confused look on your face and Price can’t blame you for it. He’d probably react the same if you showed up to his door unexpected:

“I see you lucked out tonight,” he say with a strained smile, but just as the words leave his lips, he wishes he’d never said them.

A flash of surprise crosses your face before you respond with a shrug, mirroring his own strained smile.

“What? Didn’t go well with your new boyfriend?”

A bastard.

That’s what he is.

If he could punch himself im the face he’d do it in an instant.

Your brows raise past your hairline ”boyfriend?”

“The man from the bar?” This time he clenches his fist, nails digging into his skin while biting down on his bottom lip.

Why why why is he still talking?

“Oh,” is all you say, awkwardly clearing your throat “that was just..” you trail off hands flailing in the air sounding unsure as ever as you try to explain “not a boyfriend”is all you end up saying with a small smile on your face.

“Hook up then” he nods to himself, confirming what he’d already suspected.

“Yeah…”you trail off before you speak again. “Captain I don’t mean to sound rude but did you need anything because it’s late and..”

He doesn’t hear the rest of your words, eyes instead trailing down to your lower half. He hadn’t notice it at first, too surprised at being caught standing outside your door but looking now he can see the boner protruding through your sweatpants.

It’s clear you haven’t gone far with the other man, not by the hard on you’re sporting, not by the clothes strewn all over the room, not to mention the stranger must’ve left not too long ago.

The jealous that had been brewing in his gut disappears and instead it’s replaced by something else, something he’d done his best to suppress.

Desire.

And while standing here in your room, with you half naked and hard in front of him, he finds it difficult to ignore the feeling before he can register what he’s saying, words are tumbling past his lips.

“I could,” he clears his throat and swallows hard, “help you out,”

It’s in that moment the both of you realize what he had said, what he meant and it takes you a moment to respond but when you do so he hears the strained tone.“Captain how many drinks have you had today? How about I help you to bed?”

You must’ve thought he was drunk

Must’ve thought it was a joke.

And maybe he should leave, take the excuse that had practically been handed to him on a silver plate. He had no business being here anyway no business offering anything like this. You weren’t even interested in an old perverse man like him.

However the many years he’s spent on earth hasn’t made him any wiser because before he knows of it he’s repeating his words.

“I’m serious” Price says, avoiding your gaze and shrugging as it his words didn’t hold that much weight.

He thought he’d be able to say this in a much more eloquent way. Instead he finds himself fumbling for words, shuffling in place, much like his very first girlfriend did when she asked to give him a blow job.

He wouldn’t be surprised if you laughed in his face, told him to leave or straight up kicked him out of here but you do none of that.

Instead you approach the older man, slowly and cautiously, eyes locking with his own.

“Yeah?” You croak out, now standing chest to chest with the older man.

Price can feel your body heat licking at his skin as your hand hovers over his hips and the desire from earlier becomes all consuming,

“It wouldn’t be my first time. I’ve done it before,” he doesn’t even register his words, finds himself being a bit too honest from the fear that you’ll tell him to leave any moment now.

You hum in response, hand clasping onto his hips, calloused thumb caressing clothed skin: “How much did you get to do?”

“Not much” he croaks out, licking his lips as he peers at you through his lashes.

He doesn’t share how it all ended awkwardly. It was back in the day when he had decided to brave the waters, found a man and invited him to his room but had chicken out in the first five minutes.

He never thought he’d get another opportunity to do this again, never thought he’d want to do this again, but here he is doing everything - saying anything in hopes that you won’t reject him.

“I can learn though” he says almost in a whisper. He may have backed out the last time it happened with someone but you weren’t someone. You were you, the man who came stumbling into his life and stole his heart without even trying. He may be an old perverted man for wanting you in this way but he couldn’t care less, not if you were willing to give him a chance.

“How many drinks did you have?” You say hot breathe washing over his neck.

“One, not even that, left the bar when I saw you walking-“

Before he knows it you’re crashing your lips onto his, and he finds himself moaning into the kiss, tasting the liquor along with something else on your lips.

It has desire bubbling in his gut, tongue licking into your mouth as he pulls you impossibly closer.

It’s everything he’d dreamt of and yet it comes nowhere near to how he’d imagined it would be. It’s so much better, and he loses himself in the feeling

However soon you find yourself breaking the kiss, lungs burning for oxygen but even then he’s blindly reaching out, hand curling around your neck and searching for your mouth. Something akin to a whine escapes his lip but he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not even when he hears the chuckle escaping your lips.

He drowns himself in the smell of your cologne, once again crashing his lips onto your own in an attempt to memorize every corner, every grove of your mouth with his hand leaving your neck to instead wander all over your body.

His boy he thinks to himself as his hand drags along your chest, memorizing every scar ever mark left on your skin.

His boy, Price thinks to himself as his hand brush over your happy trail, coarse hair tickling his fingertips

His boy, he thinks to himself, hand slipping into your pants and smiling against your lips when he hears your breath hitch.

However you’re quick to pull his hand away and he almost whines in protest but instead you sooth his worries when you shuffle your sweats down your legs, before discarding them somewhere on the floor.

Price cant help but trail his eyes along the lower half of your body, gaze locking on your impressive lenght that’s hard and weeping.

Fuck.

If Price had any doubts before, he sure knows now.

He wants you in every way and any way there is, would take scraps from the ground if you threw them to him, would devour you carnally if you allowed him.

“Still good?” You say, voice breathy and strained. You must’ve taken his silence for something negative and he quickly realizes he has to speak.

Price nods his head in response, squeezing his thighs together to relieve some of the pressure before he readies himself to kneel down.

“Wait wait” you say, and for one second he feels heat creeping up his neck ears and cheeks, wondering if he’d been too eager to drop to his knees.

“Pillow for uh your knees” you say looking bashful as ever for someone who’s standing naked in front of him while fishing out a pillow from the sheets.

He almost makes a joke about how he isn’t that old, his knees can take the fall but there’s a warmth curling in his stomach at how attentive you are.

“Thank you” he manages to croak out taking the pillow and placing it on the ground before he kneels down:

Being this close he can see the coarse hair at the base of your cock, the prominent vein protruding along your shaft, and the way your cock weeps in front of him.

You’d probably been worked up since you left the bar with the other man but he likes to think he played some part- a big part in getting this reaction from you.

Because truth be told Price had thought you’d be grossed out by having an old man at your knees, cock going soft at having unexperienced hands on it. Yet there’s only desire swirling in your eyes and precum dribbling down his knuckles as he wraps a hand around your cock“hard already?”

“Fuck what did you expect?“

“Language” he chids with a small smile on his face, curiously thumbing at the tip and spreading precum all over it.

“Shit, don’t ah- don’t tease please! You say through gritted teeth to which he only hums in response before he starts stroking your aching dick.

Although Price has never slept with a man, he knows how to give hand jobs, has spent enough years jerking off to not mess this up or so he hopes.

He continues stroking your length, setting a steady pace til you’re begging and pleading for him to wrap his lips around your cockhead.

But as soon as he leans in he feels the confidence from earlier diminishing, pulse roaring in his ears and hands shaking where they’re resting against your bare skin.

His eyes flicker up to yours, expecting to be met with the same worried expression but as he meets your gaze he only sees a relaxed look on your face “You don’t have do this you know” you say while carding your fingers through his hair

But he wants to, wants to taste you on his tongue, wants to have your cock in his mouth, wants you so carnally he might very well be a perverted old man.

So he swallows down any remaining worries bubbling up in his gut before he nuzzles into your touch“Want to”

“Alright” you say with a soft smile on your face.“You tell me if you want to stop, is that clear ?”

He nods his head in response before he leans back in again.

Price takes a deep breath, licks at the tip, eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you on his lips.

He can taste your tangy taste on his tongue, can smell your musky scent, can even feel coarse hairs tickling him.

Fuck

Why hasn’t he done this before?

You smell of a man, taste like a man, and he loses himself in the feeling.

His enjoyment must be obvious because he hears you chuckle but he can’t get himself to stop, lapping along the length your cock, whines and whimpers escaping his lips, almost nuzzling your shaft, with your pubic hair brushing across his cheeks.

It doesn’t take much before he’s eagerly wrapping his lips around your cock head, the bitter taste intensifying as he slowly but surely sinks down on your length.

But as soon as he feels your tip hit the back of his throat, he gags and pulls away from your cock,

“Ah fuck- are you okay?!” you say voice breathy and strained, shaky hand brushing away any stray hairs from his forehead.

He feels heat creeping up his neck ears and cheeks, but he manages to swallow down the embarrassment to nod in response to your question.

“Good” you say with a small smile on your face “please don’t push yourself okay? I’m happy like this - this is good” you say sounding once again as bashful as ever and Price cant help the wave of warmth that washes over him,

Price gives another nod in response before he sinks back down on your cock. He is sure he must look like a mess with drool dribbling down his chin, and with tears and snot all over him yet you look at him like he’s the prettiest thing “So so good feels so good, doing ah- doing so well for me”

With his lips wrapped around your tip, and his hands stroking where his mouth can’t reach, it doesn’t take much before you’re inching closer to your release.

“Fuck- stop- stop- going to cum-“ you try to warn him but instead of pulling away like you had expected, your words only seem to encourage him, a determined look painted on his face as he vigorously sucks on your lenght .

“Jesus Chris” you grunt out, before you tip over the edges, ropes of cum spurting all over his tongue with Price swallowing it down easily.

It’s not a unpleasant taste per say,if anything he finds himself enjoying it as he meets your proud gaze.

“You’re fucking amazing” you say,eyes half lidded and mouth agape, running a shaky hand through his hair.

In that very moment Price is sure he’d be willing to do this over and over and over again especially when you pull him in for a kiss, pleasantly surprising him.

[harleehazbinfics]

Pleasure to meet you! Cannibal Overlord! Reader x Alastor [cannibal chef! Reader Spin-Off]

Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

a/n: tadaaaaa~ new banners. unwindingggg ive been using too many formal words frying my brain

"Hello?" Vaggie answers the telephone drily causing the others look at her.

"Who'sat?" Angels slurs.

"It's for you," she passes the phone to Alastor.

"Hello!"

"Alastor! Darling! Where are you?!"

"Madam! I'm currently at the Hazbin Hotel. I've been meaning to call you for a while but was unable to--"

"OH ALASTOR, SWEETHEART! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! YOU LEFT WITHOUT A TRACE I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD," you screamed hugging him and peppering his face with kisses.

The others looked at your flabbergasted. One, how did you get here so fast. Two, you knew Alastor? and Three, WHY THE HELL WHERE YOU KISSING THE SHIT OUTTA HIM?!

"Well, we are dead, madam," he answers without much resistance towards your affectionate behavior. I think he went on for 7 years too long without them.

You pinch his cheek for his smart retort and finally set your eyes on the princess and apologize, "I'm sorry for the sudden visit but when I heard my Alastor here finally came back. I couldn't help but rush to meet him. I'm (Y/n) by the way, pleasure to meet you!"

All of them (aside for Angel) looked at you like you were some sort of mythical being making you tilt your head. "Why? Is there something on my face? Do I have something stuck between my teeth?" you ask then asking Alastor beside you.

"Nothing at all. I think they're more concerned of the fact that you're here, Madam," he replies not even bothering to wipe your lipstick marks on his face.

"You're the Cannibal Chef Overlord! I- uh- it's nice to meet you in person!" Charlie greets recovering from her shock.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine! Meeting the princess and all is no simple occasion! Alastor, be a dear and call the restaurant to prepare something for us and let them bring it here. We should celebrate!" you announce joyously.

"As you wish," he replies before snapping his fingers and a few moments later the doorbell rang.

NIffty opened it, only to be shoved to the side as your staff to prepare the wares and food in the middle of the room.

"Now, tell me. How are you? Where you've been? I expect a full report on your situation. You disappeared without a word. I though you were running away from me," you ask mood getting dangerous with the glint in your eyes.

"Of course not! Just caught up with some matter is all," he explains.

You gave him a toothy smile and answered, "Good. Everyone! Please dig in! I didn't know your preference so please help yourselves to anything!"

🔗Cannibal Chef! Reader Taglist:

@bonnie-02 @marxo5 @whaatttlaufey @froggybich @rybunnie @midorichoco @lucifers-silhouette @kimmis-stuff @bontensbabygirl @janey @akiqvq @wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @roboticsuccubus83 @atlas-rin @yuriohoe04 @azullynxx @milk-bulb @rainynyy @s2tng @aria-tempest @speedycoffeedelight @0strawberrysorbet0 @amitiel-truth @corvid007 @kaminarithebest @enby-goblin @whydosnakesnotdance @wtvbabes

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

By fire and heart.

Daemma Targaryen. Second daughter of King Viserys and queen Aemma, you're the living portrait of your mother with the character of a true dragon, as a second daughter you don't have right to the throne but certainly, you will protect your sister's succession by heart.

(You are one year younger than Rhaenyra.)

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to! Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe this won't be good enough but In my head the story was a good one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Pt.2 is here

You're smart, brave and pretty, agile with swords and archery, you have interests in medicine and history, you feel proud of who you are, the confidence and self-esteem are one of many attributes. You always thought you didn't need no one else but yourself, you're good with it, for you that's more than enough.

You never complained about being the second child or about the preference of your father for Rhaenyra, for you it was fine, after all she was the first born, and your father's desire to have a boy helped to not feel this favoritism.

Your mother didn't have favorites, she loved her daughters, your relationship with your sister wasn't the best but it worked, you always thought Alicent was like her father, your uncle Daemon said it a thousand times «he's an arsehole» and you agreed, you never understood why your father couldn't see it in that way.

Daemon is a great uncle, your favorite person in the world but he always looks more interested in your sister, with you he was like the kind of father you wanted, fierce and protective, teaching you to fight and follow your own ambitions, you were good with the sword thanks to him, you were a good Dragon rider thanks to him, much of the things you like is because of him, your father is not really there for you, your poor mother was always in bed with her pregnancies, and Rhaenyra always with Alicent, you even take your classes with the septa alone, not with them.

After your mother's dead you for the first time felt weak, fragile and alone, the anger started to burn your inside, you were angry with your father, his wishes to have a son took your mother's life away, the poor newborn was alive for less than a day. Poor little thing, his little nose would never inhale the fresh air of the morning, his little mouth would never suspire and his eyes would never admire the majesty of the world or a dragon. Then your uncle making those comments about your baby brother hurt you, but you still admired your uncle more than to your father, in fact you were sure all this situation could be avoided if your father simply named your uncle as his heir.

- DAEMMA! You have to understand! I'm the king, it is my duty to bring heirs to secure the Targaryen bloodline on the throne.

- You already have an heir! Now leave, I don't want to see you, for me... You murdered my mother!

Were lonely nights and days, you rarely left your room, you were sad, angry, depressed. Your uncle was sent to go back with his wife, Rhaenyra was living her own duel, you didn't have a shoulder to cry in.

One night your father requested your presence with urgency. You arrived just in time, Rhaenyra was already there talking with your father.

- What's the meaning of this familiar reunion?

- Daemma, come here. I... I thought about what you said to me a few nights ago.

Your father looked tired and unsure of what he was saying but you were also tired, Rhaenyra is not understanding yet, but you, you have a presentiment.

-You were right, I want to apologize to you, my girls, all this time I wasted trying to have a son and named him as my heir... But, Rhaenyra, you're my first child, all this time you were the answer to my pleadings. I'll name you my heir.

Rhaenyra and you looked at each other in shock, what did he say?, without wasting time both spoke.

- But Daemon!

- Daemon was not made for the crown, but I think you are, Rhaenyra, I believe you would be a good queen, your mother would agree with me.

Rhaenyra is in silence, you're too since you're thinking about Rhaenyra as the first woman who will sit on the throne. Would the council accept this?. You were lost in thoughts that you didn't feel your father taking your hand in his, you realized it until he spoke.

- Daemma, you're my second child and I know you and I have our differences but... Promise me, you will support your sister, swear over your mother and brother ashes that you will always be at your sister's side.

For the first time in years, you and Rhaenyra had a connection, none of you say something, but both understood each other. Both nodded in silence, accepting what the destiny was putting on your shoulders. The three of you held hands while your father explained about the secret passed from the king to the heir, you went back to your chambers, that night you couldn't sleep you had nightmares about fire, blood and wars.

The next day, while your sister was getting ready for the ceremony, you were just there, observing her and Alicent, both were in silence, when your guard knocked on the door.

- Princess Daemma? I have the information you require this morning.

You stood up from your seat and left them, your guard told you about your uncle leaving the castle, so both are running to the dragon pit, he won't leave without saying goodbye, at least not without saying bye to you.

He's with a woman you never saw before, he's allowing her to touch Caraxes.

- Daemon... Leaving without saying goodbye is not what I was expecting from my uncle.

- Daemma...

He approaches you and gives you a hug, caressing your hair.

- The King sends me away, Otto Hightower, that poisonous snake convinced him.

- I thought it was the fact you celebrated while my family was suffering the loss of my mom and brother.

He steps back and simply looks at you and smiles, then takes your hand in his.

- Take care of them and take care of yourself, get stronger Daemma.

You nod in silence while he walks back at his dragon, in a blink of an eye Caraxes Roars and disappears with your uncle. You went back just in time to the ceremony, you were the first one to bend your knee and swear your loyalty to your sister, the future heir.

[nebbyy]

Lester Papadopoulos/Apollo x reader - It's Over, isn't It?

A/N: okay so a few weeks ago I was listening to the song “It’s Over isn’t it” form the Steven Universe series and this scenario came to my mind, so I thought I’d just make it a fic! For this piece I didn’t see a point in assigning a gender to the reader, so we go with gender neutral all the way😎😎(neither your godly parent is specified since it doesn’t really add anything to the plot, so you can choose whichever you prefer)

PART TWO IS HERE

Warning: insecurity, jealousy, angst (WITH comfort tho), mentions of suggestive activities

Word count: 3209

You kinda hate yourself right now, and you hate yourself because you are so angry right now.

Well maybe angry is an exaggeration, but still, you’re really, really upset.

And you know you should be anything but upset right now. I mean, the love of your life finally has the chance to go back to his home in the Olympus, regain his honor and his status as a god. Those were all good things that you should be ecstatic about, right?

Well, wrong.

Just thinking of it made you feel like you could throw up at any moment. Thinking about the fact that Apollo. Because, what will be of Lester, your Lester?

Your whole relationship had started because he wasn’t Apollo. He wasn’t the tall, tan, handsome and all mighty God of the Sun; he was just a normal teen, whose only things that made him stick out were his acne, his clumsiness and a somewhat nice voice. His mortal condition didn’t even give him a single chance to act in his usual exaggerated, narcissistic self. He had to start off from the start, build a personality that wasn’t based on his godly qualities, but on something more real.

And in that situation he found himself in, with his new eyes he had seen you, and you truly seemed like a deity to him. 

How could you be anything less to the rest of the world, he thought. You were your godly parent’s greatest hero, you were liked and admired by most campers both because of your victories and your looks. And he spent oh so many nights fantasizing about taking you back with him in Olympus, giving you the godly status that should be rightfully yours. But hell, with the body he’d found himself in he’d barely the courage to come up to you to talk.

He told you so many times how absolutely surprised he was when he found out that you actually liked him back, even if he looked like any 17 year old loser, his actual words. And you remembered too, how his voice was so shaky as he tried to muster up a coherent sentence, how his cheeks shone a bright red, how his hands were trembling as you took them into yours and his palms sweating. But in your mind, that was more beautiful than any sonnet, any haiku, any poem, any grandiose, Apollo-like gesture. Because that was Lester, not Apollo; and in your eyes, Lester’s awkwardness was what made him stand out, because it was purely genuine.

Now ever so often you wonder, if he used to feel like you’re feeling right now, like you’re no match to the person you love. You look at your reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, and the mean joke that played your mind made you highlight all the flaws you could spot in yourself. All things that a god could never accept in their lover. You feel so wrong, so flawed that you just wish you could turn yourself into mud and reform your appearance completely.

Gods, you’re being ridiculous right now, you think, you just want to slap yourself in the face and yell at your reflection to get a grip goddamnit! You’re one of the greatest heroes of your time, you survived two wars, you can’t possibly draw the line at a failed relationship with a god. 

At one point someone might think: but why are you so opposed to the idea that your boyfriend is finally becoming a god once again? How ungrateful can you be??

But the point is, you know damn well that the whole point of the creation of Lester was forcing Apollo into a form that would’ve been the total opposite of who he is.

Because Apollo is naturally flirty and superficial, he loves to love and be loved, and he pursues anything and everything that he finds beautiful. But he got bored easily of his love conquers, hence why he has so many kids. So in your mind, it was only natural that as soon as he was back to normality, he’d grow tired of you and move to the next mortal that piqued his interest, maybe even leaving you a single parent to a new demigod.

That’s why you couldn’t stop that nagging feeling deep into your core, as you walked out of your cabin, hearing all the girls already speculating about how beautiful, handsome, shiny and dashing Apollo will be once he goes back to his form. “And who knows, maybe he’ll set his eyes on some of the friends he made in here” squealed a girl, from which cabin you did not know nor care. Her friend replied: “Yeah I mean, ain’t no way he’s gonna keep staying with the same partner forever. I mean, come on, he’s Apollo!” They both giggled like school girls, then kept gossiping about something else, but you did not care enough to keep eavesdropping their whole conversation.

You really hated yourself for being like this right now.

Of course, you know that those two girls meant no harm, it wasn’t their fault if they knew just as much as you did about Apollo’s tendencies. And about that you’re already came to terms with, but there’s something else you hate yourself for…

You stopped reaching out to him. Or even worse, you even started to avoid him. 

Not also him, but your friends and siblings as well. You closed yourself off of everyone else in your life, opting to spend your free days in Camp by yourself, whether it is in your cabin, sparring or all alone in your favorite spot in the forest.

Which is exactly where you’re directed to right now, as you put your headphones in your ears, wasting no time to press play and then abuse the volume up button to muffle any sound from the outside. You walk past the two girls, past another group of guys that were training with one another, and past your friends too, who you didn’t noticed as they were calling and waving at you to join them for a quick snack, leaving them rather confused and preoccupied as it seemed that you were stuck in a trance, locked out in another dimension of your own.

You didn’t even see Lester excusing himself from the group to subtly start following you wherever you were going.

It’s a quiet place, the one in the forest, protected by a thick layer of trees and bushes that makes it hard to reach it; but it’s worth all the climbing and scratches for the beautiful sight of a clear waterfall that fell right into a circular body of water, surrounded  by a rather big field of moss, so soft and fresh to lay on during the hot summer nights.

And so you did, letting yourself fall on that natural mattress, then closing your eyes to feel the light breeze on your exposed skin, and let the words of the song that’s blasting at full volume at the moment fill your ears, although you can barely focus on what they’re saying

It really seems unfair, all of this. That you thought you had fallen in love not with a god, but with a boy. Somehow forgetting that boy and god mixed in Lester, two sides of the same coin.

And maybe he forgot too, because every time the two of you were together, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to think of the responsibilities that were waiting for him. With you, he forgot about his lost and very much missed abs and tan, he forgot about his chariot and his comfortable place in Olympus. Hell, you even made him forget about all his old lovers. It was really only you in his eyes, just as he was in yours. If only he’d ever told you all of this though…

Your mind keeps swirling in a million thoughts, until it fixates on one memory in particular.

You and him, alone on that very same spot in the forest. In a similar situation as you were now, too, with your crappy phone playing music softly in the background, as the the two of you laid together, one next to the other. You turn around to look at him briefly, only to find him already looking at you. “What, do I have something on my face or..” he just shake his head with the most lovestruck eyes you’d ever seen, batting his eyes slowly before looking at you once again, “I just really want to kiss you right now”.

Your eyes widen. His eyes widen. Did he really just say THAT?

Neither of you were sure how or why, thinking back to it, you wonder if it was his godly charm poking at the back of his head. But that didn’t matter at the time, the future in which he came back to his godly state seemed so far from you, it wasn’t even an option in your head.

Nevertheless, after the initial shock from his words, you silently answered him with a slow, almost numbed movement of the head, nodding slightly, almost scared that if you moved to fast you would’ve whisked him away, or that he could’ve changed his mind already.

But that nod was all that he needed before crashing his lips against yours, one of his hands flying to grab the side of your head, while the other stayed put on its place against the ground to keep him from falling on top of you.

The kiss was an absolute mess: teeth clashing, nose bumping against each other,... but it was perfect that way to you. You broke away from each other for a brief moment to catch your breaths, and you just look into each other’s eyes. With chests heaving, breaths mixing, you both started laughing, if only for a moment, a laugh of disbelief at what had just happened.

But that laugh didn’t last long before he moved his head closer once again, this time more slowly, more confidently. The kiss was in fact much less messy, your lips found their place against each other, the panic from before had morphed into pure butterflies in your stomach and fireworks in your eyes.

After a minute at most, you broke apart once again, but only for Lester to reposition himself on top of you in a more comfortable position. Your bodies closer than ever, you could feel everything of him….

What happened after still makes your cheeks flush red at the mere thought, but it also causes a frown to form on your face. Those times, when it was just the two of you are over. Maybe it was just a time of crisis that brought you two together, the shock from a morta perspective might have caused him to cling onto the closes person he could find. You can’t help but imagine Leste- Apollo in that moment, laying in the clouds of Olympus in a much similar scenario, maybe with a beautiful nymph or a smaller deity, or a mortal he laid his eyes on while he was on this earth-

“There you are! I should’ve known that if you’re not around you’re definitely in here.” If it were a normal, mortal voice, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the deafening high volume of the music blasting in you ears. But it wasn’t a mortal voice.

It was loud, it was melodic, it resonated in the air like the echo of the most beautiful of songs,…

You wouldn’t even need to turn around to know that that voice came from no other than Apollo. That’s right, he probably came back to his true form already. You can’t even imagine what a scene that would’ve been, to see the handsomely perfect god walking around Camp Half Blood, how many boys and girls had probably followed him around drooling over the sight of him. 

You wish you could just stay put, coldly dismiss him and let him go for what probably is the rest of your life and his eternity. But, curiosity gets the best of you, and you can’t help but turn around tentatively, eager to see what your boyfriend really looks like.

Your mouth quite literally hits the floor at the sight. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always found Lester really attractive, but this.

This was something beyond the concept of handsome or beautiful.

This, him, was beyond what humans can perceive and comprehend.

Yes, you knew that his skin was tanned, but as he stood in front of you it seemed as if his body was made of bronze.

And yes, you also knew that his hair was blonde, but that didn’t make them justice. They flew, like rays of sun through a clouded sky.

Of his eyes you knew nothing about, but you were pretty sure at this point that no description could really depict just how deep, bright, captivating, alluring, even, they really were.

Your mouth quite literally hit the floor at the sight. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always found Lester really attractive, but this.

This was something beyond the concept of handsome or beautiful.

This, him, was beyond what humans can perceive and comprehend.

Yes, you knew that his skin was tanned, but as he stood in front of you it seemed as if his body was made of bronze.

And yes, you also knew that his hair was blonde, but that didn’t make them justice. They flew, like rays of sun through a clouded sky.

Of his eyes you knew nothing about, but you were pretty sure at this point that no description could really depict just how deep, bright, captivating, alluring, even, they really were.

Your throat felt tight, your mouth dry, and your whole body gives you this tingly sensation. With all of your strength, you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down, before mustering all of your strength to speak without a pathetic shaky voice. “I thought you were going back as soon as you got your body back.“

“Ain’t no way that I wasn’t coming to kiss my beautiful partner goodbye.” He grinned as he swiftly took a seat right by your side, propping himself on his elbow, his eyes never once leaving yours. You swore his smile was intoxicating, you’d say contagious even if the thought that this might’ve been your last moments together didn’t fill your mind with sorrow.

You wanted to protect yourself from this, detach your mind and heart from him before he does it first, leaving you with an aching heart and moving on with his eternal life.

You felt a hand come up to your cheek, holding it softly as the sweetest melody came from his lips, “I’m gonna miss you madly once I’m back there, you know?” At that, you can’t help the deep anger that fills you from inside, a feeling that expresses through icy, stinging words, as you turned your head away from his touch, “I’m sure you’ll move on in no time.”

He frowned. That wasn’t the reaction he expected from you at all, but he didn’t really take it personally, it was so obvious that there was something troubling you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” your voice is louder, a mixture of frustration and anger. But also so much sadness, that can be felt by just how strained the sound that came from your throat is, almost as if you were fighting back tears. You swallow hard, trying to recollect yourself, “I mean that you are a God, I am just a mortal. One of many. I’ve got nothing special to be remembered for, to be remembered by you for the rest of eternity. And Im okay with it, really. Our destinies were never meant to combine, I was just another one of your lovers.” As you spoke those last words you couldn’t help but let the tears flow from your eyes, those who always looked at Lester with a mix of love and mischief, now only filled with a never ending sadness.

Slowly, as to avoid scaring you off, the renewed god took your wet face in his warm hands, pulling you closer and wiping your tears off at the same time. Gently, he spoke: “My love, you couldn’t have said anything more wrong. You are special to me, and I could never forget you. In thousands of years that I’ve existed, no one had ever treated like you did, like I wasn’t a god. Sure, it was temporary and you knew I could’ve incinerated you as soon as I got back to… this.” He looked down, gesturing at his body, a sight for sore eyes that could’ve really made you unfocus on anything were you not so taken by your talk with Apollo at the moment. “But that didn’t stop you from treating me like we were equal. And I hated it, at first. I thought it would be part of my punishment. But as time passed, I realized that being your equal was the highest of honors I could ever get. You’re… you’re crazy strong, incredibly smart, unbelievably beautiful, way too kind for your own good, especially with those brats of the kids in this Camp.”

You giggled at his words, a consistent contrast with your tearful eyes and quiet sobs, “Some of those brats are your children too, genius.” “Well then it must run in the family.” You laughed again while shaking your head, but only for a moment before returning your full attention on the boy in front of you. He took the sign to continue.

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think I could ever be able to let you go. Over all the lovers I had through the years, which I’m sure you know are many, you’re the only one that saw me and treated me with true love and care. Not with fearful devotion, never fearing what I was capable of. I only ever saw this kind of love in Sally Jackson, and I mocked Poseidon for letting a mortal like many treat him so casually. But now, now I get it, and to be honest I can’t help but think that you’d deserve to be called a deity far more than many others who already are. Maybe even more than me. So I refuse to ever let go of this blessing that fate has given me. And if in order to do so I have to take your soul and put it on the sky above, to rest as a star forever by my side, so be it. But trust me you’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

You crumbled like a sand castle at his words, that he spoke with the very same tone, on the very same spot when you still called him Lester, and you promised to stick by each other’s side for the time you had left, only a few months before this whole encounter. You let your head fall into his broad chest, sobbing softly as you desperately clung to him. Your tears weren’t of sadness anymore, but of relief, for you had just been given the confirmation that your lover was still yours.You spent the rest of the night there, cuddling as close to eachother as possible as you rested in peace. 

The morning after, at dawn, when he had to officially go back to his daily duties, he begrudgingly got up from his place in your arms, placing butterfly kisses on your arms and neck, careful not to wake you. He left a little not right next to you, one that read: 

“I had to go, didn’t want to wake your pretty face this early in the morning.  Meet me here at dusk tomorrow, Forever yours,  A.”

It made you smile, seeing that note as soon as you opened your eyes, almost made you forget the lack of your boyfriend next to you,… and the yelling of your friends and siblings calling for your name in the distance.

You wasted no time walking towards those voices, and when they asked you just where the hell have you been all night, you just smiled and brushed it off, but everyone noticed how your usual bright self had mysteriously came back after days of brooding.

Hours later, you were calmly eating dinner with the other campers, laughing and talking and eating seemingly decent food. You were totally clueless as to where exactly Apollo was, but you guessed he was on his chariot, on his way to let the sun set and go to your secluded spot. But little did you know, he was in neither of those places. He was actually walking up to Zeus’ throne, tall and proud as he respectfully bowed to his father. “Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” “Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Type of men I think MK1 men are; (ft an ooc Shang Tsung.)

Tomas is the type to…hold you after a long, strenuous day.

Or recharging as you jokingly called it while combing your fingers through his silver hair, your form of method as to getting him to relaxing quicker. Too tired to argue against this, Tomas would ignore it by burying his heavy head deep into your neck as his eye lashes brushed gently against your skin, tickling you into laughing with their tender kisses; a sound that Tomas always found heavenly, he smiles softly before drifted off into a peaceful slumber with you following suit.

You looked like two kittens or otters cuddling up to one another…it’s too cute, especially when your foreheads were touching.

Raiden is the type to…stare at you longingly from across the room as though there was no one else beside you and you alone.

The way he would look at you was as though you were the one to pin up the stars against the blackened night sky, it was such a sweet and wholesome look that it was near enough impossible not to feel slightly exposed underneath his adoring gaze. But it was a nice feeling, a warm feeling that didn’t fail to make you smile, it was amazing with how much this man could make you feel some many things with just his gaze alone.

Raiden is also the type to lay his head into your lap, the first time he does, he was a little awkward and stiff but was quick to find himself becoming comfortable in laying upon your lap, feeling as though it was a blessing from the gods that he was able able to be so close to you, getting to admire you and engrave your facial features and imperfections as though he would a masterpiece.

Liu Kang and Kuai Liang are the type to…dedicate themselves to you.

These men would wait on you hand and foot for all eternity if they could but they show their dedication in other ways, whether that be helping you make the bed, breakfast, making you something to drink, help prepare dinner, help clean throughout the house, take care of you while your sick, injured, or even helping you through your rehabilitation but the most importantly and their most favourite task of all; keeping you warm during the cold nights.

They both know that they ran warm, warmer then most men and they know you knew that also. So they would take advantage of this fact and would have you cuddled up against him protectively, softly kissing your forehead before adjusting you into a more comfortable position. Blankets are not required since they’re so fucking warm, but they wouldn’t mind if you one draped over you for even more comfort.

As long as they get to provide for you and keep you safe from all harm, you could get away with asking anything of them -within reason- because after all they’re dedicated to taking care of your every need.

Bi-han is the type to…prefer less occupied spaces over loud, rambunctious ones, especially when he’s spending time with you.

He wishes for all of his attention to be directed towards you but found it near enough impossible when in social situations, where both of your attentions is dragged in every which way, every which way except each other.

So when given the chance to be alone with one another, Bi-Han finds himself able to breath properly and clear his head of all daily distractions to focus on the here and now. You could be taking a walk, neither one of you wanted to ruin the peaceful silence that hung between you two by speaking, and instead take comfort within each other’s presence and how your hands and shoulders would brush against one another.

You were both safe, alive and just being within the others lines of sight was all either of you needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

Bonus character;

Shang Tsung is the type to…know the smallest, most intimate details about yourself. So much so that he might as well have an entire part of his mind dedicated to each and every one of your facets that he was acquainted with.

He knows you inside and out but lives to know more because Shang Tsung is a firm believer in knowledge being power and all that. It’s up to you to decided whether or not it’s for a manipulation tactic on his end. He’s not exactly an trustable character…unless your dream was to have man as foul as him to know your person on a personal level; perhaps it’s in hopes of finding common ground? Or something else entirely.

Shang Tsung is the type to… spoil you rotten.

Speak upon whatever your heart desires and he shall make it become reality tenfold. Nothing was too big or small was much trouble for Shang Tsung. He lives to give you gifts and thrives off of the reactions that you’d give upon receiving them. Not only was it served as a reminder to you that even the things you believed were unobtainable were easily accessible to someone like him, but also a mere showcase of his seemingly endless capabilities.

[devoutekuna]

Family vacations

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He didn't care for vacations, he didn't care for much stuff, even if it concerned you and his daughter. Taking you to a private island was the maximum he was doing, sat near the pool as watched over you two Sat on the other side of the pool as you dipped her legs in the water, splashing about as a stimulation method for her. Giggles filling up the gaping silence. "Would've been better if uraume was here", talking about the fact that his favourite cook wasn't there with him, meaning he couldn't eat humans for the next 2 weeks, you knew that when he got back to Japan he would be going on a rampage, ending an entire village for the freshest of meat.

"Let them rest, you make them cook for you everyday" trying to defend his cook as you carried on playing with your daughter. Your daughter grabbing into the top of your shirt as she pulled down on it, clearly wanting more of your attention. "Yeah yeah, you humans don't know anything about proper food"

Nanami-

He knows you'd have a hard time communicating with the locals in Malaysia so he opts out of that trip and takes you to the countryside, his second favourite vacation destination. Living in a rural area was a dream of his, getting to sit down at the bay window reading a book as his daughter played beside him, he was waiting for you to wake up so that he could take his daughter on a walk around the field.

"Mama!" Slapping your sleeping form awake, head still resting on the pillow as you gained awareness of your situation. "Me and papa are going on a walk!" Noticing her attire, pink floral dress to match your favourite flowers, her hair typed up into two pigtails. Nodding in response as you wished her a good time.

Your husband and daughter walked along the path after around 25 minutes, coming back with freshly picked strawberries and tulips, his daughter sleeping in his arms as he carried the basket in his other, head resting along his clothed shoulder with her hand gripping along his collar.

Geto-

He doesn't mind where you 3 go, but he would prefer somewhere hot, walking along the beach in the evening, sun setting along the beach as nobody was in sight, daughter trailing behind him, always reaching towards the water every few seconds since she saw something pretty. "Daddy I want that!" Pointing to the red seashell which washed up. Stopping in his tracks as he held your hand, waiting for you to stop walking. "Can I grab it?" She had asked that since last time she touched something on the beach it was a jellyfish, fortunately it didn't sting her.

Nodding his head as he held your hand tighter, squatting down as your thumb rubbed against his knuckles. Slowly sundress touching his shoulder slightly. "Look mama and papa!" Holding the shell in her small palms, tracing the details with her chubby fingers. "It's very pretty sweetheart!" Rubbing her hair gently, not enough to mess it up though.

Gojo-

He loves hot countries, getting an excuse to flex his body off. Sat in a bathing suit at the side of the bed as you picked out outfits for your 2 year old daughter, "Hurry up Y/N!" Laying down on the bed, stretching his slender arms out, hitting the edge of the bed. Giving him a glare back as your daughter sat on the armchair beside you, kicking her legs as she picked out an outfit. "Shut up Satoru, you come help our daughter then" defending your actions as you showed her a few more options, you didn't even know why she had so many bathing suits if you were just there for a week. "I'm good" a smile being heard in his voice as he checked up on you two.

"That one mummy!" Pointing at the light purple bathing suit. "Took your time" throwing a pillow at him as he gave you attitude.

Toji-

He didn't care much about where you went, as long as you 3 were together. Wandering around the city, you had dragged him out of the hotel room at 8pm, since you wanted to visit a local restaurant, scowl on his face as he held his daughter in his arms, hands gripping onto his hair as she looked around. "Are we almost there daddy?" The small girl eyeing all the food stands you walked past, peeking her face into his eyesight as she tugged further. "Ask ya' mother" pointing towards you and how quick you were compared to him, you clearly were eager for the restaurant.

Sat down at the booth as he placed down his daughter. "Was it really worth coming out at 8pm for this?" He wasn't in the mood for your stuff, especially since you had told him not to eat today since the food here was so good, he hadn't even seen the menu yet he was already annoyed, daughter laying on his torso as she tried not to fall asleep despite not doing any walking if her own.

"I told you it would be good" watching your husband stuff his face as your daughter tried your food, dipping her spoon into it. Smiling at him as he gave you an acknowledgement glare.

[akutasoda]

hallo !! >o< i dun know if ur reqs are open but may i req er bsd (any character, probably preferably 15 y/o dazai n chuuya if u cud) x reader that has like the same personality as madoka kaname or mami tomoe? thz u !! if i requested at the wrong time then sorry t-t

joyful madoka!

synopsis - when they meet someone who has a personality like madoka kaname

includes - 15!dazai, 15!chuuya

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, maybe ooc??, wc - 489

osamu dazai ★↷

↪even though he didn't show it, he was quite taken a back by how openly cheerful and positive you were. a part of him was skeptical about you in general, he wasn't exactly convinced that you were being genuine and that you had ulterior motives.

↪he thought you were a bit weird for being so caring toward anyone, especially when you were so willing to comfort anyone who you felt needed comforting. dazai just didn't understand what you stood to gain for being so nice to everyone.

↪although he did like how you were so confident in your actions and didn't hesitate in most situations, rather admirable in his eyes. he was almost envious that you had such a strong sense of courage.

↪it took him a while to get used to your upbeat self and even now he doesn't think he can ever get used to you. it did help that he, himself could be quite 'playful' or 'childish' sometimes when he got closer to you, and that proved easier to believe that you were just genuinely a kind person.

↪eventually he did get used to you showing genuine care toward him and he secretly indulged in it. and you may have been quite the influence on him..

chuuya nakahara ★↷

↪you reminded him an awful lot of some of the members of sheep. a few of them were extremely cheerful and caring and you held those exact qualities to the same degree - it made him feel a bit conflicted originally, by no fault to you.

↪in fact, you're cheerfulness and natural kind personality was quite welcome after everything - you were a much better companion than dazai at most times.

↪chuuya enjoyed spending time with you, your positive nature was certainly a comfort and it made him feel safe. it was rare to find someone with such a kind heart and he wanted to enjoy you're presence.

↪he admired how courageous you could be and your mental strength was one that he wished he had aswell. you weren't easily scared and were always so head-strong in your decisions.

↪you always wanted to help him if he was feeling down and chuuya greatly appreciated all your efforts, he tried to be there for you to.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @vi-chan07

reminds me of this specific image haha...

[nthspecialll]

Dutch Van Der Linde as the saviour and his early crime life.

Dutch Van Der Linde and his early life beyond the fact that his father died in the war and he ran away from his mother at the age of 15 is a mystery to us as players, however due to the fact he prefered a life of petty crime we assume that his mother was a terrible person, something that might not be true.

Unlike the majority of the gang Dutch does not have evidence of a terrible childhood, he was not orphaned, he was not fleeing from the government, he did not fear for his life and we cannot say that his mother was abusive, almost quite the contrary.

In Dutch's own words, he ran away because he and his mother "did not see eye to eye," and while this can indicate abuse the fact he follows up with "I was not always an obedient child" very much makes it seem like it was his own fault. He continues to talk about how they both loved one another in their own ways, meaning he ran away not because he had to but because he wanted to, especially as the reasons he was "not an obedient child" could very well be because he was young and rebellious.

What makes this even worse is that Dutch mentions having had a price on his head for fifteen years while he actually has been on the run for 29 as he is 44, this means for 14 years he committed crimes, did not have a price on his head, and had the choice to turn back to a "regular life." Now he might just have said 15 as a "about this many years but not the exact" but you don't get it wrong by 14 years.

Dutch mentions that he did not know that his mother was burried in Blackwater but was only told a few years later by an uncle. His mother died in 1881 (her grave can be found), he met Hosea in 1876, met Arthur in 1877 and had been on the run since 1870, meaning he was still in contact with his family at least in 1884, seven years after meeting Arthur.

Milton talks about Dutch being a Messiah, a savior for the people, and Dutch keeps saying "we" this and "we" that but the truth is he is nothing like them, Dutch chose his situation and had many chances to turn back but didn't, while the others in one way or another was forced into it. He also has many advantages, such as being in contact with his family, something which a character like Javier is forced not to and we only see one other character cannonically do, Pearson. Not only that but Dutch often reinforce his role as a boss by having his own tent, having expensive clothing, telling Molly that she doesn't need to work for the mere fact that she is his girl. He does not need to do this, everyone is already loyal to him, yet he does it for nothing more than to serve his own ego.

Now some would say he ran away to make a better world, but there is something wrong with that theory.

Dutch's favorite author is Evelyn Miller who is based on the real romantic/transcendentalist writer Henry David Thoreau. Romanticism is a philosophy that dislikes the wealthy and the industrialization and wants people to embrace a more "authentic" life, which is why Thoreau as a more wealthy man wanted to do an experiment for two years where he moved into a cabin. He wanted to, for the experience of it, live in the woods, such as Dutch did not run away from his possible rich life because he needed to but for the experience of it.

Dutch did not spoil his chance at a normal life for love, he didn't spoil it for "a better world," he didn't spoil it for necessity, he spoiled it for fun, for the experience.

Imagine being Javier, hearing the man who claimed to understand you, say that he still is in touch with his family while you don't know if your sister is even alive. Imagine being Arthur, hearing the man who claimed to understand you, say that he chose a life of crime as an experience while you were forced into it to survive and now hate yourself for it. Imagine being Charles, hearing the man who claimed to understand you, say he chose to hurt for fun while you wish you had another way.

Based on conversations I had with @werewolfarthurmorganenjoyer and @heavenlymorals.