#but his pointed feet and pathetic noises are killing me

[captain-flint]

i've never seen a man look so sexy and stupid at the same time, i'm laughing at him and biting his forearm

[cowyolks]

HER MAJESTY,

PART TWO OF KING AU (Read Part One Here)

Prompt: King! König x Female Reader

Summary: Your King indulges you on your wedding day. For you are his new wife and queen.

Words: 6.3 k

Warnings: Fingering, Oral (f receiving), Spit, Voyeurism, Public Sex (Bedding Cermony), mentions of running a train, P in V Sex, Cum Eating, Creampie, Slight Breeding Kink. Please note that these are inaccurate scenes of Weddings, Bedding Ceremonies and Coronations.

A/N: Whew! I had to take multiple breaks with this one guys. Please enjoy and tell me what you think! Part Three?

“Pst,”

“Pst!”

Your eyes flickered around the warm halls of the keep, several torches illuminating the corridors as the sun set through the stain glass windows. Still, you could not pinpoint where the calling noise came from.

Your fingers reached for the singular dagger you had secretly hidden against your thigh. Even in your wedding dress, you didn’t like being defenseless, perhaps it was the General in you.

Before you could brush off the odd pestering, a warm hand fell over your mouth, halting and muffling your yelp all in one motion. With a tug, you fell backwards, darkness invading your senses as you scanned the familar room you were pulled in.

An opposite hand held onto your wrist, stopping you from using the dagger clutched between your fingers. You released the weapon once you heard the familiar chuckle of your promised.

“Easy, Maus.”

You whirled around, the sound of your heels echoing in the empty room.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you!” You whispered harshly into the darkness, only the shine of your earrings, the white of your wedding dress and König’s crown glinted against the pitch black.

“I suppose I am… lucky that is,” his words were filled with pride and satisfaction, you imagined his pupils blown out and hungry looking. Like a wolf stalking upon sheep.

“Why’d you pull me in here? I’m supposed to be meeting in the throne room shortly.”

His hands weaved around the middle of your back, pulling you tight against his chest. His form massive and daunting as he enveloped you. He smelt of cherry wine and sage, a combination that made your legs weak.

“It’s the last time I’d see you before you were my wife, I wanted to leave this part of us on a good note, ja?”

You couldn’t help the little smile that flew upon your lips. It’s a word you’d never grow tired of, his wife, the queen.

“Whatever you plan on doing, we don’t have time.” You scolded, although your hands were already betraying you, your palms slowly sliding down his chest, the softness of his cloak like velvet under your skin.

“How do you expect me to simply act as a King when you’re dressed like a Goddess, hm?” He leant forward, his mouth chasing downwards to your own lips, catching them in a mouthwatering kiss.

He pulled away briefly, one of his canines biting harshly upon the flesh of your bottom lip. You whined at the painful sting, relishing in the feeling of arousal building under your dress.

“We don’t have time.” You practically whined, thighs rubbing together almost pathetically.

“I know.” Your King whispered into the dark, the intention in his voice the exact opposite of what he said. His tone was needy, desperate.

Quicker than a flash of lightning, he flipped you, your ass pressed harshly against his growing length in his trousers. His chin pressed down against your collar bone, his body morphing into the unintentional arch of your back. His foot kicked your ankles apart, spreading your legs so he could fit his feet between your hunched over form. You shouldn’t, but you will.

Anything for the king.

König tilted his head, his lips greedily sucking upon your pulse point, quickly you jerked back, eyes narrowed as you looked him in the eyes.

“No marks…” you sounded, you did little to hide the disappointment in your voice, your body yearned to be painted in bruises and lovebites of your King’s doing. But alas, you had a reputation to uphold.

König pouted slightly, a rumbling chuckle vibrating from his chest, the vibrations filtering to your back. “I suppose you’re right.” He kissed your temple, before reaching back to your hips, his fingertips squeezing the soft flesh beneath the white lace.

“We have to be quick.” You sighed in defeat, although this defeat reaped plentiful rewards. Rewards in the form of your monstrous fiancé.

“I agree, although you deserve more than a few moments, I’ll promise you more time later tonight.” He vowed, lips finding the soft flesh of your shoulder again.

You reached behind your back, gently palming upon the hard length of his clothed cock, you heard his shaky exhale, just the same as the first time you held his cock. With a nimble finger you twisted upon his belt and buttons.

König hummed, “Cheeky girl, so eager for my cock.”

“Can’t help it.” You found yourself pouting, even more so when König pulled away to inch his trousers down enough for his cock to spring free. Your mouth watered at the sight in the darkness.

“Don’t have time to warm you up. Think you can take it?” He cooed, his large hand pumping his shaft slightly.

You nodded, already beginning to gather your wedding dress to pool around towards the front, revealing your bare back to him, ravishing in the purr that escaped his body.

His hand reached upwards, palm engulfing upon the whole width of your neck, pulling you impossibly close to his body. His other hand guided his cock against your semi-wet cunt, a teasing dance that had you squirming.

“I need words, darling. Tell me you can handle it?”

You squirmed again at the feeling of his spit falling down between your ass, coating your cunt and his hard length in extra slick. It was enough to make you gasp.

“Yes! I’ll be good, I can handle it.” You pleaded, cheek nearly smacking against the stone wall near your head when he pushed inside your walls in a painful stretch. He groaned at the tightness, just as your vision went black from the stinging pain and fullness you felt when his cock tore into you.

One of his long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you down impossibly deep upon his length, enough to make you squeak pathetically.

“That’s it darling, stay standing for me.” The King whispered in your ear, it was then you noticed just how little feeling you had in your legs, his arm holding majority of your weight. So much so that the tips of your toes were the only thing brushing against the cobblestone floors in each wicked thrust of his hips.

It was pathetic how much you unraveled around him. How each snap of his hips and scorching kiss amongst your neck brought you to oblivion.

It was delightfully sinful, having your soon to be husband ravish you in the innocent white of your wedding dress.

At the rate he was going, you wouldn’t last much longer, he seemed to pinpoint this too. König pressed his thumb to your clit, adding delightful pressure all the while still holding you up.

“Can’t take… much more,” he whined pathetically against your shoulder, getting himself lost in the tightness of your soppy cunt. It was simply enchanting watching such a giant fold to you.

It didn’t take long for you to see stars, hands reaching back to hold onto him as you clenched in preparation, with a few more feral thrusts against your walls you released with a moan, only able to savor the feeling for a moment before König took the liberty of burying into you.

His arms flexed against your middle, pulling you in a vice as he filled you, his panting the only thing that could be heard in the silent room. Warm seed ran down your thighs, making you snap out of the blissed out sensation and focusing on the chiming of wedding bells.

Your own wedding bells.

“Fuck, We’re late!”

It was delightful how easy it was for König to put on a show. While he didn’t necessarily like the attention, he was never shy to show you off, or his kingdom.

The palace was decorated in the most lavish of gems, diamonds and gold. Among with the hundred of white roses and tulips that happened to be your favorite.

He always knew. He always did.

Hundreds upon hundreds of voices chatted through the large doors that would open in a couple of moments. Several civilians, nobles, your knights, and even other kings and queens awaited for this day. A day so incredibly special to you.

A day you’d become the King’s wife.

“Ready?” Your second in command asked from beside you, someone who would stand position to you against all your other knights on your way to the alter.

The knights represented a move of power towards the King. All your ranks and achievements would be flaunted all the while as you wore a white dress.

With a nod of your head, your second in command opened the large oak doors, the swinging of the hinges alerting the people that you were coming, and with a small inhale you began to descend alone, head held high as your searching eyes found your King.

He was there, a small smirk upon his lips as his eyes drank you in. The darkness of his chambers didn’t do him Justice, now in the warm setting sun, shaded by the beautiful gleams of stained glass did he look truly ethereal.

His auburn hair the color of flickering candlelight and warm cider parted for the iron-clad crown proudly displayed on his temples, the crown held no jewels, simply a testament to his power, made strictly of steel.

He was dressed in the colors of his nation, robes of red and white adorned his board shoulders and chiseled chest. His trousers were a dark color, that matched the black sigil illustrated on his cloak.

Your steps were sure, even with the thousands of eyes upon you. Your King’s eyes twinkled as he took you in. His gaze was the only thing you saw.

König reached out, his palm open to you, open to your new union. You took it with greedy hands, a smile upon your lips as you thought of how he was yours. Yours, yours, yours.

The officiants speech were blurred, a messy contraption of words you were too occupied to hear, until a heavy cloth landed upon your shoulders. The familiar black material that smelt like cherry wine and sage covered your dress. It dwarfed in comparison of your body, as most did when it came to the King.

“May your bride be forever under your protection. For she now carries your Sigil and name, for this day until the end of her days.” The officiant’s voice boomed in the silent throne room.

With those words, you turned to König, whose gaze was nothing short of undying affection. While he was a ruthless king in battle, he was also a ruthless lover. Never one to settle for less than perfection.

“Exchange rings.” The officiant ordered.

A small smile crossed your lips, as you pulled the ring out from your awaiting palm. The ring you would present to your King was something you had been pleased to make yourself. A band of gold, heavily intricate with weaving vines, a maze that encircled the entirety. You placed it upon his ring finger in pride, just as he planted an exquisite ring with a beautiful ruby rhinestone. Simple, yet elegant.

Then a ceremonial dagger was placed between your hands, the gold of the shaft glimmered and the hilt felt heavy in your hand.

You knew what to do as König offered his palm out to you. No hesitation in his mind as you gently held his wrist, hand strong and unwavering as you slid the dagger across his palm, a small dribble of blood pooling around the inflicted wound.

His face remained stolid, eyes only twinkling in affection as you passed the dagger to him. You presented your hand to him, just as his gaze bore into you, the crown making him seem even taller than he already was.

The cold metal stung against the crease of your palm, yet you couldn’t break away from his stare as you refused to flinch. Only looking down when the warmth of your blood fell from the wound.

König nodded to the officiant, then back to you. He held his hand out, offering you a permanent bond by his side. Offering you him.

You took his hand without question.

The officiant stepped forward, wrapping a soft ribbon upon your conjoined hands.

“With the bond of blood, man and woman become one, one unit, one nation, one love. I present to you husband and wife.”

The nation wept in happiness, loud applause drowning out from your ears as König bent down, attaching your lips in such a sweet and delicate kiss that it hurt your very heart.

Your Husband. Your King. And soon you’d be his Quee-

“Among with the wedding of your King, he has requested a coronation for his wife.”

Your breathing hitched, you did not think that your coronation would come soon. Maybe a week after your wedding, but now? Not that it mattered too much, you’d had time to gather yourself for your new rule as Queen Mother. Now it was only time to fulfill your promise to König. Your husband.

With a steady hand, König unwrapped the ribbon that created your bond, instead settling to create another one. Husband and Wife. King and Queen.

Your second in command ascended again, holding a velvet piece in his hand, something that protected a crown made of the same iron material that König’s was made of. Yours however was designed thinner, the rungs were taller and slender. A crown of simple elegance.

König nodded towards your captain, taking the crown gently in two hands. His body ascending in front of his people as he faced the crowds. You maneuvered as taught, back towards your people as your eyes fell to the King.

You dropped your knee, falling in front of him as your head tilted up. Awaiting your new position.

“You swear to uphold this Kingdom? Cherish it as one of your own, to protect them, shield them, and bear their burdens?” His deep voice rumbled over the kingdom, almost enough to shake the walls of his keep.

“I do.”

“And do you swear to serve the King? For his council is yours, and your council is his. Do you swear to rule together as one single force?”

“I do.” You vowed, head dropping slightly as your hands shook at your sides.

Fingers traced against your jaw, before a heavy object was placed against your head, the weight of the crown finally sinking in.

“Rise, my love.” His soft voice lured you to stand. To turn towards your people with a look of great pride. With his aid, you stood tall.

König took a step forward, his chest puffed up slightly as his eyes burnt towards his kingdom.

“For all to witness, here is my wife. Long live the Queen!” His voice boomed, just as the crowd chanted the words over and over again.

You gulped when König dropped to a knee, his eyes soft and dark at the same time as he took you in like a Goddess to be worshipped. The chants of “Long live the Queen!” vanishing as you gestured for him to stand beside you once more.

You stood shoulder to shoulder, hands intertwined as the two of you took in your kingdom.

Chatter rang throughout the large dining hall in merry celebration. Your lips were likely stained with the most lavish of cherry wines that König had been saving for this special date.

Now the two of you sat upon a large table overlooking the nobles and councilmen that took turns singing and dancing while feasting upon the layouts of roasted hog, breads, cheeses, and fresh fruits that heaped in surplus.

“You look divine in that dress.” Your husband’s voice broke your concentration away from the flickering lanterns of the hall.

“I bet you want nothing more than to take it off.” You teased lightly, only picking at your food as your gaze looked else where. Towards five approaching men coming to your table. Many had come, but only to lay gifts on the oak table with a gentle bow, these men however waited for König’s concentration to break from you.

Finally, his stare followed yours, settling upon the men that looked to hold shocking power. Perhaps Kings of their own nations?

“Ah, Welcome!” König voice was tight, a teasing notion that you noted. What was he up to?

The men all bowed slightly as they exchanged pleasantries, then their eyes left König and settling on you.

“This is my Wife,” König introduced you by name, just as your lips curled upwards in a greeting.

“Maus, these are the Kings of our bordering nations. I invited them as a hope to become allies”

They all were tall, one being taller than the rest and gloomy looking. He wore all black robes and kept his face covered much like your husband did in battle. His eyes were fiery as he squinted up at you. Carefully he placed a golden necklace next to your table, a gift you supposed.

His companion next to him was the opposite, instead dressed in a Scottish styled kilt and a smirk upon his face. You assumed this was John of Clan MacTavish, who graciously supplied the feast.

Another stepped forward, an impressive beard upon his face as he nodded to König. Before turning to you. “Simon and Johnny spoke of your beauty, I had to see if the rumors were true. They do not disappoint. You may call me Price.” His lit was elegant and precise.

Yet his eyes were nothing of that matter as he raked you up and down.

Another stepped forward, who offered the King pleasantries and you a simple nod. He offered you his blacksmiths who would make you a new sword fit for a general. His eyes never left your plush lips. Gaz he’d called himself.

Finally the last ascended, settling upon a gift of gems of every cut and size. His smirk never left his face as he bluntly disregarded König, instead going to your side.

“You bring every woman to shame with your beauty, cariña.” His lips found your knuckle, just as König cleared his throat in warning. Alejandro he’d called himself.

“I thank you for the gifts.” You muttered, feeling hot at the stares of all the kings. They departed, eyes still glancing at you occasionally from their designated seats.

A warm hand fell to your thigh, making you snap out of your haze and away from the gloomy stare of the king known as Simon. Instead, your attention settled back to König, whose fingers were digging slightly into the flesh of your leg, dancing dangerously close to your core. It made you shutter out a sigh.

“They’re right you know.” Your King’s voice was low as he continued his onslaught from under the table. His other hand holding onto his fork as if he was unbothered. Almost bored.

“Hmm?” You found yourself drunkenly leaning closer to König, just as his fingertip gently traced over your clothed clit. You jolted, alerting the other King’s attention from afar. Subtly you tried to control your flushed face and crossed your legs, smooshing his palm to get him to stop.

“That you’re the most beautiful woman in the kingdoms.” He leant to you, placing an innocent kiss upon your cheek as his warm breath fanned across your ear.

“I don’t care if they stare or compliment you. Hell, I don’t even care if they all take turns fucking your pretty cunt. Just as long as you know who you truly belong to.”

You shuddered at his words, shifting slightly in your chair as you imagined all of those men taking their turns ravishing you. König’s finger hooked along your chin, pulling you to face him.

“You do know who you belong to, right Maus?” He cooed, looking every bit the conquerer that you knew. You gulped, reaching up to twine your fingers.

“You, Your Grace. It’s always you.”

“Good Girl.” He smirked, dropping his hand to your thigh again. A sudden clatter made you jump, just as several councilmen stood up.

“It’s time for the King and Queen to indulge in the bedding ceremony.”

Your eyes skittered to König, who was back to rubbing his thumb amongst your leg. He had a relaxed smile upon his face, just as he stretched like a satisfied cat against his chair. He pushed it backwards, standing tall as he offered you a gentle hand.

You took it, standing tall as you eyed the foreign kings one last time before applause erupted through the hall as König led you down the halls and to his chambers.

Some of the councilmen followed, obviously to witness your matrimony and union as the both of you would try to produce heirs.

You weren’t particularly nervous, it wasn’t something the councilmen hadn’t seen before. Or at the very least heard. But you felt the pressure to please your husband, for this would be the first time you slept together since taking your vows.

Your King pushed open the door, and gestured you in first. Your steps faulted at the sudden transformation of his chambers. Soft candle light painted the walls a warm glow, and the air smelt faintly of summer cherries and scented wax. Petals of white roses scattered across the floor and on his furs, something that almost made your eyes roll in amusement.

König maneuvered past you with a brush of his hand, his touch lingering for a moment before he stepped towards his vanity.

He reached up, pulling the heavy crown from his wavy hair with a sigh. You felt the burning stares of the councilmen as you shuffled closer to König’s side, happily basking in his warmth as he removed his cloak, only left in his slightly unbuttoned under shirt and trousers.

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer into his side as he preoccupied himself with pouring cherry wine into a cup. He took a large drink, before passing the goblet to you.

Your fingers snaked around the cool metal, eyes falling from your lover to the red liquid instead. You sipped upon the bittersweet wine, happily feeling the burning in your chest as König silently turned to face you.

It was much too silent. It made you itch.

His large palms reached upwards, cupping your cheeks in a cradle of security. His fingertips danced against your scalp, nails raking slightly in a calming gesture that you much appreciated.

You placed the goblet down, not sure if you were really supposed to touch him yet. The one thing you’d hadn’t prepared for was the bedding ceremony. You figured it would be König that made the first move, but he did little but relax you into his touch, distant from his warm furs of his bed.

“Are you waiting for me to start us off?” Your tone was soft as he lifted up on your own crown, discarding the steel material next to his as he went back to clutching your cheeks, this time his thumb brushed across the slight pucker of your lips.

He shook his head, a look of adoration crossing his features again. His stormy eyes were swirling lazily, if you looked closely the little freckles upon his cheeks seemed to glow in the candlelight. “No, I’m waiting for the rest of the council.” He admitted, maneuvering his large hands to your waist, flipping you so your back was turned to him and towards the entrance of his door. You avoided the stares of the council, instead focusing on the cinching sensation at your waist. “Everyone is here. Who else are we waiting for?”

König worked quietly, fingers threading through the ties of your corset. Occasionally he would press a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to fly against the contact. You shivered at the intimacy.

“On them.” He whispered against the lobe of your ear, nipping at the flesh. Glancing up, your heart rate picked up at the sight of the five kings from earlier, all eyes upon you and your husband.

König chuckled at your reaction, “if they’re so easy to praise your body with words, I’ll show them how I can praise you with my body and words.” He lowly spoke, so only you could hear. “They’ll speak compliments on their tongues, I’ll taste you with mine.”

Your breath hitched, all of this process was non traditional. Most of the bedding ceremonies in neighboring kingdoms just decided on a quick fuck, never bringing pleasure to the wife. Your husband was never one to follow tradition. He’d make the councilmen squirm as he ravished you with no shame.

The thought made you quiver.

“Shut the door.” Your King ordered, with the click of the hinges, you reveled in the feeling of his touch. His hands had finally tore apart the dreaded corset, his warm hands falling to the curve of your spine, until he dipped to your shoulders, pulling the dress down to your waist.

The air was cold upon your breasts, but the burning stares of the Kings seemed to set you on fire. You maneuvered in a trance, only being guided by your husband, who lowered you down upon the furs of your shared chambers.

He was grinning, obviously enjoying the ongoing attention as he hovered over you. He pulled you into a shuttering kiss, almost humming as you bit upon his lip.

His hands reached low, tugging upon the leftover material of your dress and discarding the white on the edge of the bed. Your eyes found his, he was a storm, the dark pupils nearly engulfing the rolling clouds of grey iris. Your bare legs wrapped around his torso, sinking him down further.

His tongue was hot against your lips, you welcomed him in open arms, loving the taste of the cherry wine leftover from his indulgence.

“So beautiful…” König paused, kissing innocently upon your nose, before shifting backwards and pulling off his shirt.

You bit upon your bottom lip, drinking in his pale skin covered in constellations of freckles. He was built, from all his years of wielding a sword and axe, yet still lean enough to move with great speed and precision.

Enchanting.

He lowered himself upon the furs, obviously enjoying the little hitch in your throat as he blew warm air upon your open and weeping cunt.

Not only were you aroused by the feeling of your King marking you as his, you were squirming at the feeling of eyes taking in your very naked form. Without thinking, your gaze shifted to the dark stare of Simon, who looked on with heavy eyes that were lidded in lust.

Your eyelashes fluttered when you felt the steady pressure of a kiss against the warmth of your inner thighs. König’s sharp canines nipped at the scorching flesh, definitely serving as a reprimand when he observed your wondering eyes.

“Is he holding his cock, Maus? Does he know you’ll only be filled by me tonight?”

You hummed, gaze falling back to your husband, who also looked at you in a hooded stupor, a look that made your insides jelly and your cunt to soak like a broken dam.

He watched you as his biceps entrapped the crease of your knees, prying you open, you faintly heard MacTavish and Gaz curse, for they got a full image of your arousal.

König must of heard, because a ghost of a smirk crossed over his lips before he buried himself against you. The wetness of his tongue against your opening was enough for you to let out an airy noise and drop your head against the silk pillows of his bed. The eyes watching were wiped away from your mind as König’s nose brushed against your aching clit, it was just enough pressure to have you chasing him, hand flying to the soft waves of his tousled auburn hair.

He hummed at your taste, pulling back for air. You could tell he was restraining himself, attempting to stop the vile sayings that would usually slip out of his mouth. You nearly purred when you spotted the slick upon his lips, watching him lick them clean before he dove back for more.

You squirmed as his lips pressed to your clit, sucking upon the bead of nerves in desperation, as if he was starving.

“Oh God…” you moaned softly, attempting to be silent enough for the council not to hear, but your King seemed scoff at that reaction. The cheeky bastard wanted you to scream, to embarrass yourself by squirming and screaming his name.

He was doing a well enough job, a loud moan falling unconsciously from your lips as a thick finger breached your hole, pushing snuggly against your walls.

König cursed at your reaction, still suckling upon your clit in soft slow pressure. Your eyes wandered again, catching on Alejandro, who was obviously glancing at your open breasts, bouncing slightly with each push of your husbands finger.

König looked up, seeing again that your eyes had wandered, with a amused huff he added another finger, this time watching you gasp at the fullness. Yet, it wasn’t just the width that made you cry for air, but the cold metal of his wedding ring pressed against the opening of your sex, the change of temperature sending you over the edge.

He spread his fingers, delightfully stretching your opening, his quick thrusts and licking tongue had you seeing stars. The knot in your stomach twisted and with a rather deep thrust, you whined spilling on his fingers as you rolled your eyes back, reveling in the feeling of a delicious orgasm.

With a sudden burst of need, you maneuvered König up, smiling drunkly when his fingers left your hole with a satisfying squelch, that had Price growling lightly in the corner, making a silent chuckle fall from your lips.

“You like them watching you, don’t you? Like them to see what I do to you, Maus?” König teased, pecking lightly on your lips, you hummed at the taste of yourself.

“What you do to me?” You found yourself becoming bold, likely too bold for a bedding ceremony, but you simply didn’t care as your legs wrapped around his waist, using enough momentum to flip your husband on his back. He looked far to irresistible under your mercy.

And he was enjoying it. You could tell by the darkening of his eyes, his pupils taking a majority of his iris, even with the candles lighting his handsome features.

You leant low, chasing after him in a drunken bliss, he hummed against your lips, hands falling to your hips. He desperately dug into your skin, maneuvering you to roll against his trousers. The catch of the material rubbing slightly upon your sensitive bead.

You pried down his trousers, happily nipping at König’s jaw when he hitched his hips up to help you rid them.

With lusting eyes you lowered your gaze, falling upon the hard and unwavering length of him. He twitched as you settled over him, the shaft of his cock sliding against your folds in a teasing notion. It physically pained you to not be full of your husband, but watching his forehead wrinkle and lips part open in sexual frustration was almost more delicious then being speared on him.

You rolled your hips down even slower, the head of his cock slightly breaching your entrance before you pulled away, you bit back a gasp, attempting to not let your husband know how much he effected you.

He cursed, a low hiss leaving his throat at the sudden movement.

“You wickedly divine woman,” he shunned, obviously taken with your little stunt.

A giggle escaped you, after all you couldn’t help the pleasure you received from teasing your King. Although, he seemed to be the most impatient tonight.

His hand found the plump curve of your ass, he lifted you with one arm, his other hand wrapping around himself. He gave himself a few pumps from his own hand, before lining his throbbing cock in one try.

Oh, how he memorized every curve of your body. How he adored every freckle, every blemish, every mark, and every limb. How he thought of kissing every worry from your mind, and fuck you like you were the only thing he’d ever worship.

Your palms lay flat on his open chest as you slowly settled down upon his tip, nails scratching against his firm muscle as your cunt swallowed him whole. Your head flew backwards, just enough for your breasts to bounce and throat to bob at your arousal.

The Kings all purred at the sight.

“That’s it, Maus.” König airily spoke, his fingertips digging so hard against your hips they would likely leave bruises.

You heaved yourself up again, his cock barely inside you before you let yourself fall back, filling completely. König twitched under you, the violent motion causing him to groan.

He was always one to fall apart when you were on top of him.

You bounced shallowly, reveling in the feeling of him sliding against your very womb with each bob of your hips. It had tears welling in your eyes, especially with the enormous size of him stretching upon your gummy walls.

“You like me hugging your cock? I bet the Kings wish they were here under me.” You whispered the vile words, enjoying the way your husband’s eyes flashed at such revelation.

His arm snaked around your back, allowing him to pull you closer and for him to rise up to meet your every move. You moaned at the jerky movement, allowing your walls to clench even tighter against him. König’s hands roamed your back, pulling you against his chest when he sat up, you ground down against him, appreciating his closeness as his lips nipped at your neck, now definitely leaving marks of purple and red.

You didn’t care. In fact, you clenched tighter at the thought of König taking you as his in front of everyone.

As it turned out, your King was relishing in that aspect too, his chin cradled against your collarbone as he eyed the kings from over your shoulders. A smirk plastered to his lips as he bucked his hips upwards, making a musical moan fall from your throat. Seeing the men so tore up with need for his precious wife only made him more smug.

He’d ruin you for any other man. No one could please you as he did.

He drew back, his mouth shining and bruised from your kisses. König’s lips pressed against your ear, “I bet they do wish for you. How could they not with your pretty little mouth crying on my cock?”

König bit the lobe of your ear, before squeezing his hands onto the backs of your thighs. He used his brute strength he only reserved for the battlefield to raise himself up, his cock still speared inside you.

You’ve seen him break backs over his knees, crack necks in his bare hands, spill guts with his sword. Now he used his strength to pull you into him, your legs wrapping helplessly around his waist. He used his strength to drop you onto your back, your head falling back onto the soft pillows once more.

You gasped hard, when he began to take control, pistoning into you at such a rapid speed you found yourself unable to control the cries of pleasure that left your throat.

He was sloppy, thrusting into you like a boy instead of a King. His large palms squeezed at your breasts as he ravished, your clenching cunt almost spent at the pace he was going.

His fingers rolled against a nipple, before he pinched upon the bud, making you cry out in painful delight. He was enjoying this, he was enjoying plowing into you and spreading your legs out wider to go deeper.

“I can’t…” you whimpered when he dug deep, his very tip hitting harshly against your womb.

“You will.” He growled, teeth clenching down as sweat began to slick onto his forehead. “Come on my love, just cum one more time for me.” He pleaded, kissing your lips as he rutted into you.

Those were the only words you needed, before you did as told. With a cry of pleasure, you clenched at the near euphoric sensation, your arms finding closure around his torso and legs wrapping around his waist as you shook.

“Fuckin’ Hell…” you heard one of the Kings loudly grunt, although you paid little attention as your eyes rolled backwards as König sloppily thrusted a few more times before he to, let out a grunt. He silenced himself by clenching his teeth down on your shoulder.

The warm feeling of his seed painted against your walls, a feeling of such deep devotion it had you thinking you could stay like this forever. Forever pierced on your Husband’s cock as he caressed your face sheening in sweat.

With a sigh, you unwrapped your legs, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay like this forever. People were watching after all.

König dropped away from you, not without burying his seed one more time into your aching cunt. Whispers broke out into your shared chambers, the councilmen seemingly pleased that there was a guarantee for heirs. They left, satisfied with your activities.

Yet, the eyes of the neighboring Kings were still glued to your body. König rolled over, sitting up into the furs and looking the Kings dead in the eyes. He looked playful, yet determination glittered in the storms of his iris.

With a cool finger, he traced your hipbone, before dipping lower. You gasped when his fingers dug near the entrance of your used cunt. He dug them into his cum, scooping out just enough for all of the observers to see.

“You’ve served your purpose. See that my seed is taken by my wife. She’s mine.”

Your face reddened at his vulgar point, just as he brought his messy fingers to your mouth.

“Open.” He ordered, before having you suck his fingertips in obedience. He was bittersweet on your tongue, but ever so exquisite.

“You may do what you like with her if she allows it. But I want you all to know, her cunt only belongs to me.”

“My wife. My Queen.”

Tags: @soapyghost @downbadformaskedmen @brainlessgf @uriahs-sketchings @mykneeshurt @lenafisher @idkthefuckimdoingwithmylife @keiva1000 @imtherain @purple-crying-out

[onakomiyaki]

just a silly crush (not) pt.1

pairing : daniel ricciardo x childhood friend-brabham!reader ; lewis hamilton x reader (implied, platonic relationship)

summary: even after two decade of constant battle with his own silly first love slash crush and manage to almost win the fight, you're still the one who manage to knock the breath out of him. and yet, here you are, still oblivious to his feeling.

warning: unedited and rushed work (I GOT INSPIRED AFTER TWO CANS OF REDBULL RAAAAAAHHHH), harsh words, childhood trauma (kinda), slowburn (we're talking about 20 years of pining from danny)

a/n : this is set in 2021, so papaya daniel :D

"c'mon danny, you never say no to a good party!" lando whines as he follow the irritated daniel around like a puppy.

the older man let out a sigh before continuing what he left behind; wiping his helmet. lando stomp his feet once–then let out an exageratted sigh as he sat down beside him.

"just leave your helmet and go out with us!" he insisted.

"lando, no." he sternly said.

"you never say no to a party! especially monaco party."

its true, daniel would never refuse an invitation to a party. in fact, most of the time he would be the one who send out the invitation to everyone on grid. but it's different. today is different.

"it is (y/n) brabham we talked about dan! don't you want to go to her dope party?" lando reason.

if only you knew that is the reason why i refuse to go, lando. daniel thought. "so? why do i have to come along?" he asked, finally facing the young brit.

"uhhh, because it is y/n? she's like a hot topic and the it girl of the paddock right now? daughter of david-fucking-brabham? and maybe i want to know her more?" he answer as if the answer he said is the most obvious answer.

"and i heard from max that she is your friend! so maybe you can-"

"was." daniel stop him.

"damn, okay. she was your friend, whatever. and maybe you can introduce me to her." lando scoff.

your name is still a sour topic to him, leaving a bad taste in his mouth and saying that word killing him inside. yet, he doesn't have the courage to elaborate more to the poor confused lando norris.

(y/n) brabham, the famous australian model turn to actress and daughter of david brabham–yes the david brabham, become the hot flaming topic on the grid after her unexpected debut on the paddock at bahrain gp as lewis hamilton's plus one.

maybe because she was also known for her controversial on stating her dislike over the motorsport that his father (and his family) was famously known for. it was not her cup of tea, she said back in her 2019 famous vogue interview.

and maybe because his father insisted on pushing it to her and her younger sibling. and of course their famous leaked dispute over the death of brabham motor company. either way, (y/n) and formula one has never seen in the same sentences. it is just an unwritten and unspoken rule at this point.

while other drivers didn't think about it a lot, daniel feel like he's about to passed out right then when he saw y/n walking beside lewis, in black mercedes polo—matching with the man beside her–while laughing and waving at the media crew.

max–being the only person who knows about daniel's pathetic one-sided first love– was there to hold daniel's body, giving the poor man some reassuring pats on the back. "mate, if i were (y/n) i would also choose lewis." he said, and daniel swear he's about to knock the blue eyed dutchmen out.

although lewis officialy stated that you were just his friend and fellow ambassador for tommy hilfiger on interview for a few times now, daniel can't help but to get jealous at the 7 times world champion.

because of course you would show up as lewis hamilton's plus one rather than his, despite your history. and after many attempts of invitation and bribery that failed, he just stop asking.

"danny, i hate loud noises and i know how loud those cars are. and also, you know how i feel about the sport"

loud noises his ass.

lando leaning in closer now, shoulder touching his as he stare at the older men with those disgusting puppy eyes. daniel push the younger men on the forehead, as he shake his head.

"oh c'mon now! don't make me call for reinforcement to get you out of here!" lando said as he grab his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, and typing furiously.

"what reinforcement?" daniel asked, eyebrow raised in question.

not even a minute later daniel's motorhome door open, then, enter max verstappen along with carlos sainz and charles leclerc.

"that." lando simply stated as he point to the trio.

max watch in amusement, folding his hand in front of his chest.

"get 'em boys." he said.

"wha-"

"sorry cabrón, we have to get you outta here." carlos said as he walk to his direction, holding his left arm.

"what he said." charles said, grinning as he hold the opposite arm.

"seriously? you're gonna drag me out of my own place?" he asked as he forced to stand up from his seat, not even resisting because god knows how strong these two people are. especially the spaniard.

"yep."

"yeah, pretty much."

"uh-huh."

lando, carlos, and charles said at the same time.

daniel then turn his gaze to the dutch, annoyed at how his smirk seems to speak a thousand words despite being the most silent out of four.

"i expect these three gremlins to be the one who did this to me, but you?" he said, eyes glaring at the dutchmen.

"well, beat me for wanting a good source of entertainment for free, ricciardo." max said, shrugging his shoulders.

"i am going to kill you all, with my own hands."

the–clearly exclusive–club where your party was held is amazing to say the least. it would have been a big fat lie if danny said he was not impressed by the place. he walk through the sea of human, heading straight to the bar as he scan the room.

he already lost lando, carlos, and charles the second they enters the club and god knows where max and kelly are. the lovebird seems to be touchy even before entering the club and now danny needs a glass–or two, of the strongest liquor they legally able to serve.

"oh?" a familiar voice interrupt his train of thoughts as he turn his head to the source.

"they did manage to drag you out of your fortress, i thought carlos was joking. huh, impressive." you said, occupying the empty seat beside him.

"that, they did." is the only response he said as he shot you a thin smile.

"you look good, ricciardo." you smile at him, squeezing his shoulder in friendly manner.

"and so are you, brabham." another dry response from him.

"ugh please, i want to get married just so i can get rid of that cursed last name." you said, rolling your eyes. god you do hate your last name.

"right." he coldly stated.

you nod your head as you brought the martini glass close to your mouth. ah, he's mad at you still, you thought. and he have every right to do so. showing up at the paddock out of nowhere after rejecting his invitations since 2012, without telling him first, was a jerk move.

so, you did the right thing you know.

"sorry about bahrain. i- it was for work purpose." you said, facing him with guilty eyes. you knew this would hurt him.

"its alright, y/n." he answer, refusing to face you because–oh god you look and smell so good and he didn't want to let his wall down. and he knew if he face you, he won't be able to stay mad at you.

you are his kryptonite after all, always have been. but tonight he want be strong. he want to be pissed at you.

"well, enjoy the party i guess. and thanks for coming." you chimed, sliding out from the seat as you rub his shoulder.

daniel's fast reflex is both curse and blessing for him. and boy do he feel like it was a curse. because before even his mind processing what is happening when her hand touch his shoulder, his hand was already firm on your wrist, refusing to let go.

you watch him with a mixed of both puzzled and surprised look.

"danny? you need something?" you asked.

his mouth agape, seems to be clueless and surprised at how fast his hand reacted. damn his good reflex.

"oh–um. no, sorry." he managed to say as words seems to be tied inside his throat, unwiling to spilled out as he stare at you blankly.

"oh-kay?" you said.

he let go of your wrist, as if your skin burn him. as if your skin a flaming fire. "sorry."

you open your mouth to say something, but-

"daniel!" both you and daniel whip your head to the sound.

max is waving his hand at him while kelly was nowhere to be seen. but from the goofy smile, max's disheveled hair, and his flushed cheeks, danny might have some ideas about her whereabout.

"i thought you run away or something." the blue eyed dutchmen said as he approach his former teammate with a smile.

"speak for yourself max, i've been here all the time. where have you been?" daniel said, amused look on his face.

"oh! just–uh–dancing with kelly." he speak, trying to clear his throat.

you let out a giggle which causing max to raised an eyebrow at you. that cause you to start laughing.

"uhh, what so funny y/n?" he asked.

daniel roll his eyes as he pointed max's neck and collarbone. "seems like a good dance, look at you all flushed and littered with lipstick stains."

max turned pale as he hide his neck with his hand, immediately buttoning his shirt up to hide the evidence.

"i'm–ahaha–i'm not... you know what? i'll just go..." he said, quickly turn his heels to walk away from the embarrassing situation he's in.

both you and daniel watch as max trying his best to hide himself in the crowds. and when he is out of sight, daniel let out a holler.

"that little rascal," he said, downing his whiskey "oh right, you were about to say something. what is it?" he asked, turning his body to fully face you now. thanks to max, daniel feel a little more calm now.

you give him a smile, shaking your head. "i forgot about it," you simply said with a shrug "it was nice talking to you daniel, really. i have to go and greet another guest now and um–sorry, again. hope we're cool now?" you said, offering a hand for him to shake.

daniel stare at your awaiting hand, finally giving you that sunshine smile before taking your hand in his, shaking it. "we're cool, brabham," he said "only if you come to spa as my plus one."

"oh... but–i have a catwalk on the race day." you said, opening your calendar app on your phone.

"hmm, zandvoort then?"

"photoshoots."

"alright. monza?"

"ah another, photoshoots."

"oh."

"but i can come. the photoshoot will be held in monaco anyways, so it's not that far." you said, showing him your–packed to the year end–schedule.

"really?" daniel said, voice full of hope.

"its only fair if i come to your race since i came for lewis's," she said, smiling at him brightly. "but–"

daniel expression fell, anxiously waiting for what you have to say next.

"you have to win."

he let out the breath he's been holding on, wiping his face before chuckling.

"you have yourself a deal, brabham."

"win that race, ricciardo." you said, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

daniel's grip on your hand loosen as he gave you a warm stare, caramel colored eyes staring at your orbs with some unreadable expression.

"oh i will win this battle, brabham. just wait." he said with more of certainity in his voice now.

prev || next

[lanitalay]

In the Woods Somewhere

Lucien x reader 

A/n: I am a Hozier girly and this song just screams Lucien to me. Enjoy.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1.1k

When I awoke

The moon still hung

The night so black that the darkness hummed

A gasp broke through the delicate quiet of the night. Clutch your chest, heart pounds. Shallow and jagged breathing cloud your ears. It's all you can feel. All you can hear. You don’t know how long it's been since you were unconscious. Or how you ended up in the middle of the woods. 

I raised myself

My legs were weak

I prayed my mind be good to me

Calm now, you were calm. Check for wounds. Assess the situation. Feel around for your weapon. Find the dagger next on the ground. Sticky blood coating the blade. Slowly stand, try to avoid rustling any leaves. Feel trapped. Caged in by the walls of darkness, the moon a spotlight on your worst nightmare. They were getting closer, closing. The darkness now comes from above as a dense cloud blocks the moonlight. A coffin. The forest would be your final resting place. It was fair, you thought. The forest provides life but it also takes it. Eats up everything within, eventually. You feel wiggling underneath and over your feet. Worms. 

An awful noise

Filled the air

I heard a scream in the woods somewhere

He had heard the scream and ran towards it. These were his woods, his forest. But they were also his brother’s. His father’s. The scream reminded him of nights spent being flogged, blood splattered on maple trees and sadistic, power hungry laughter. So he ran, dodging trees and boulders and low branches from memory. He and the forest were one and the same, an extension of one another. 

A fox it was

He shook, afraid

I spoke no words, no sound he made

Dagger points in the direction of the rustling. The sound of crunching leaves nearing you by the second. You took a defensive position and hoped it was an animal. The noise stopped as quickly as it started. The lid from your casket lifted and the moon soaked the male face in front of you. 

He raises his hands “I mean you no harm”, he says in a low voice. The dagger stays in place “where am I?” 

 “This is the Hickory Groves”

“What’s your name?” 

“Lucien”. Vanserra. He didn’t have to say it and you knew enough of the High Lord’s heirs to know you were in danger. Killing him was not an option. Running would make it a chase. So you  standstill. Knife pointed at his heart. 

“I mean you no harm” he repeats, low, gentle. 

The Hickory Groves… the part of autumn that borders Spring. Where females of all ages get discarded by their families, elders or, in your case, lover. The top of the coffin gets brought down again. You gulp. Foxes like to play with their food. If he was here it was for no good reason. 

A small flame appears from one of his raised hands and you can see him again, more clearly now. He was handsome. At least you’d die at the hand of a pretty bastard. A miniscule mercy. His claws and fangs more preferable than the other creatures that stalk these woods. 

I saw new eyes were watching me

The creature lunged

I turned and ran

To save a life I didn't have

Lucien remained still. You had not moved an inch in what felt like an age. Slow, calculating steps circled you. He extinguished the flame. You had seen enough. When the steps sounded like they were right behind him you turned and ran as fast as you could in the opposite direction. Leaving Lucien in between you and the creature. 

Deer in the chase

There as I flew

Forgot all prayers of joining you

As you ran you heard the sound of a struggle. The thud of a fallen body. Then more steps racing. You zig zag and try to lose the hunter. The first rays of sun guide you towards the edge of the forest. You run and run and promise yourself that when you reach the valley whatever is following you will disappear. A pathetic wish of a desperate girl. But when you see more rays, the sky littered in pink and peach hues you run faster. The valley looks endless, mist coats the furry hills, green leaves fade to red in the distance. The steps had ceased, you notice but half way through a sigh of relief a towering figure appears next to you. Your heart stops.

“You’re a fast runner” 

“I thought you dropped dead”

“That was not me, to the dismay of some” 

“What is a lordling doing in the Grove of Rejects?” He snorts at the question “Is that what you call this place?” You shrug “everyone in my village knows that if you want to get rid of someone you send them here”. 

“You were sent here?” 

“Scrapped is more like it” 

“By who?” 

“Curious? I think it was a male from my village. He thought me too poor to marry but good enough to bed”

“Why bring you here?”

“I have a bit of a reputation for having a… temper. He must not want to face my wrath. Not that he had anything to worry about, I thought him too much of a brute to marry. Now though… I’ll gut him for this”

I clutched my life

And wished it kept

My dearest love, I'm not done yet

Warm skin presses against your back and drapes across your waist.  

“What did you think of me when we first met?” 

“I was sure you wanted to kill me”

“You were the one with the knife” 

“You were chasing me” 

“I’m still chasing you”

“You have me” 

“Do I really?” You tense. Lucien had taken it upon himself to deal with the male that dropped you in the middle of the woods that day. Ever since he had visited you under the guise of a routine check up on one of the more isolated villages of the Autumn Court.

He visited frequently enough that you became friendly. He stayed late enough that you became intimate. 

Turn to face him. Graze his cheek with the palm of your hand and savor the warmth that radiates within his caramel skin. Raw eyes pierce your own. He wants you. He wants this and he wants more. 

“A bride of Autumn has no happy life” he knew it. He saw his mother cry.

“We could leave it all behind” you place a shaky finger on his swollen lips. 

“One day, my love, but not today” 

How many years

I know I'll bear

I found something in the woods somewhere

[oneatlatime]

The Siege of the North Part 2

Last episode of the season! I'll post some season round up stuff over the next few days.

The last episode ended super abruptly, so a refresher: -Aang and Zuko are in a snowstorm and Aang is currently hypnotised by a Yin Yang fish -Katara, Sokka and Yue are in the spirit oasis moping about losing Aang to Zuko -There’s a big fuck off Fire Nation Armada parked out front -All current trends point to the Northern Water Tribe being a finely ground and toasted paste by the end of the day

Episode Time!

I don’t know, did Katara really do everything she could? She could have called for backup. Although given Zuko’s track record with taking out scores of guards when the plot requires (hello Blue Spirit episode), I guess it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.

Ignore Momo for a minute and look at this grass texture. I can't decide if I like it or not. It's certainly doing... something?

Is this the spirit world? I'm loving the colour pallette. Since Aang's dreams tend to be sepia-toned, does that mean he dreams in the spirit world?

This monkey guy has so much personality. I love how our first look at this sacred, spiritual, mystical place is an antisocial jerk. Lovely subversion of expectations.

Roku has unparallelled jumpscare abilities.

I have to say the sound design on the ice cracking under Zuko's feet is spot on. That oddly hollow yet muffled thud is exactly the noise ice sheets make when they go.

Poor Aang getting dragged like a kitten. He's got to have frozen skin by now. Should have taken Iroh's advice and covered his ears.

I don't think Aang moves once during Roku's speech about the spirits crossing over. I think he's a freeze frame of animation, something which this show usually avoids.

Judging by the musical sting it's supposed to be a serious line, but the way Roku feels the need to clarify that the Face Stealer will steal your face got a laugh out of me. Was anyone expecting him to do anything else?

"They call him Coe, the Face Stealer. Be careful, or he will validate your parking."

Where did he get fuel to burn? And why does he feel the need to monologue? And if struggling and fighting is what made you into who you are, maybe you should give being lucky a chance, because you're not exactly well-liked or very good at what you're supposed to be doing.

Inclusivity win! These non-benders get to torch the water tribe too!

Ballistic water canon portholes - that's neat.

Those long range grappling hooks are probably the fire nation's most effective weapon.

Please die please die please die please die please die please die

How rotten do you have to be inside, that when you find a giant underground hidden library, you use it to find out ways to wipe out civilisations? And celestial bodies? Zhao is honestly so pathetic. Ruthless, and somewhat effective sure, but you're gifted a giant underground secret library and all you can think to do with it is use it to kill people? Pathetic.

This spirit world stuff is so neat. The scale, the lighting, the animals, everything is slightly off in a way that feels deeply alien. I like.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

The squealing strings in the spirit world are fantastic. The composition of this shot, also fantastic. The colour pallette; fantastic. I would love to live in the spirit world if I wasn't in danger of losing my face.

The face stealer recognising the avatar is chilling. Really adds a sense of the ancient. And whoever is voicing him had the time of their life. Deliciously evil moustache twirling stuff, but still with an underlying very real threat.

I love Sokka's logic here. Co-opt enemy's strength; make it serve you. Zuko being persistent means that there will still be an avatar to save once Sokka catches up to them.

This whole encounter with the face stealer is a cut above. They really pulled the stops out for this finale.

I don't think this is the Blue Spirit, but it's close.

I KNEW those fish were thematically relevant. What a completely unexpected reversal too! Those spirits you're asking for help? Actually, they're asking you.

It pays to be nice! This is why Aang has to stay such a nice boy! See? It pays off!!!

Looks like someone was a little slow with the whole 'conquering the enemy before their main source of power turbo charges them' thing. We've got floor is lava: tank edition, ice machine guns, and Poophead turning a whole row of soldiers into popsicles. Good stuff.

I absolutely hate Poophead but I have to admit it's satisfying watching him go 1 v dozens in tornado mode and kick fire nation butt.

That panda has some powerful breath. And I love that morphing effect between big cuddly guy and horrors beyond description.

"Oh No! Where's my body?" That's pretty funny. I don't think it's supposed to be, but it is.

Forget about the panda, Aang has powerful breath. He just wallpapered Zuko to the cave wall and travelled like 100 feet in the opposite direction.

Keep inching along buddy.

"That won't be enough to escape" "Appa!" "That probably is."

Forget about Aang wallpapering Zuko, Katara just turned him into a floor mat from 40 feet up. How many concussions has Zuko had in the last week?

If that rope is so quality, why did you cut through every loop rather than untie it and save it for later?

Of course Aang has to bring Zuko back. Aang is a nice little boy. That's what nice little boys do, and they get repaid for their kindness down the line with things like rides from giant pandas.

Imagine if Zhao had grabbed the wrong fish? It's a good thing that the moon spirit has a built in indicator light. What would the ocean do if it was in trouble? Get more blue?

Yue exposition. Yue is a moon horcrux. Oh this won't end well.

How long do you think Zhao spent composing his little speech? How many crumpled up parchments did he go through before he had the words just right? Do you think he practiced in the mirror while holding up a sock in place of the moon fish?

Get his ass Momo! I love how the guard in the back is like "nah, I'll let the lemur do his thing. Dude deserves it honestly."

Could we have some more specific examples of consequences beyond "balance" and "Chaos" for killing the moon? I don't think Zhao the asshole is going to pay attention to consequences unless they directly affect himself.

Zhao is way too fond of the word traitor. That's two people he's called traitor who are actually just people he personally dislikes.

You know you done goofed when kindly tea uncle promises to beat your ass. Zhao, meet consequences that directly affect you.

The face of a man realising he has, in fact, done goofed.

That's twice now these fish have yanked Aang around. Powerful fish. Did the fish call upon the Avatar or was Aang so angry that he went glowy and the fish took advantage?

FISHMAN

oh boy these guys are dead. So dead.

Tired of failing at capturing the Avatar, Zuko instead turns to trying to kill Zhao. Brightest idea he's had all season.

"Then at least, you could have lived!" Bold talk for someone who's already lost one duel to this guy and is currently losing the second. Unless you meant to flop backwards off that bridge?

Ooof. But she was always on borrowed time, wasn't she?

He just batted them away like balls on a pool table. So casually cutting through tonnes of steel and people. Fishman is killing thousands. I bet Aang's not too happy about that.

Ouch. More Sokka trauma!

Fish spirit dropping Aang off like he's bumming a ride to school, not killing probably 10 000 + people.

How am I supposed to take this seriously when Zuko's doing silly little summersaults?

Zhao is such a baby. I sincerely hope he's dead now too.

Bit of an abrupt tonal change. And yes, it's LONG past time you helped out the south. I hope Kanna is informed in exacting detail of her grandaughter's Pakku-bahsing exploits. She'd be so proud.

This scene should have come before the scene with Katara and Poophead. Would have avoided the tone switch. Also is that a tree to the right?

"So proud. And sad." OUCH.

Not-fun fact: there are four humans in this screenshot.

I'm guessing that was the firelord? I suddenly see where Zuko gets his muppet voice.

Mark Hamill?!?!

Final Thoughts

Where is the line between self-sacrifice and suicide? Because I have to say, Yue was very determined to do her duty. I guess that's one way to get out of an arranged marriage.

So glad to not see her fiance again, because then I can pretend he drowned. I bet he and Zhao are having fun out asshole-ing each other at the bottom of the sea.

Sokka!!! Somebody needs to give him a hug and get him into the care of a trusted adult immediately because the last thing he needed was MORE duty-related trauma. I bet he views what happened as him failing in his duty to the northern chief. He pretty much says as much when Yue chooses to save the moon. Obviously, there was rationally no way out of that one, but since when are emotions and trauma rational?

Yue describes her saving the moon as her duty, but it was also her choice, and I bet that's the first free choice she's ever gotten to make. Sokka didn't prevent her; he let her choose to do her duty. He definitely had objections, which he voiced, but he let her go once she brought up duty. It's so awful that Yue's first time having her choice respected (dare I say, having her own agency respected) is when she chooses to die.

She is dead, right? Her body evaporated and she's in the moon now. On the moon? Is she the moon? Did she replace the old moon? Or did the moon let her have a few seconds as a ghost for closure before she went to the afterlife? I don't know the mechanics of this.

Poor Aang just killed thousands of people, even if he was fish-possessed at the time. Katara's about the only person who emerged from this episode ok. She got to one-shot Zuko.

Fish possession-induced mega-fishman is not a solution I could have ever predicted to the problem of a whole fleet that needs getting rid of. It totally fits, despite it being a strange idea to contemplate in isolation. Aang pulls (rather, the fish pulls) a move straight out of Pacific Rim and it works.

The spirit world was really capably done. Creepy yet alluring, seemingly detached and untouchable yet both in tune with the real world and vulnerable to the things that go on there. And how clever was it to have Aang go to the spirits for help, only to find out that the spirits need his help? I love that reversal. It really ups the stakes. In any other fantasy story an appeal to the council of higher beings of whatever would either result in help or a refusal. Imagine calling up your godly bosses with a problem only to have them beg you for help? It's kind of chilling. Both in how close things came to disaster, and in the fact that humans in the real world actually have the power to pose that much of a threat to the spirits. Again you see why it's important to have a bridge between the real and spirit worlds: because traffic either way poses a threat to both sides.

What is up with Zuko? He failed the whole season at capturing the avatar (a task at which he was outclassed by episode 3), and now he doesn't have the resources to even try. So he's no longer a villain (not the he was ever good at it), he's no longer even a threat. He's a concussed vulture's meal on a raft. Is he even going to be in the next season of the show? What role could he possibly fulfill? He'll be just... there.

I had tone problems with this episode. A couple of places where I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to laugh, I did. And there were a couple of pretty corny set up lines. Yue discussing how there was no hope gave me Helm's Deep flashbacks. I think maybe this episode should have been a little longer in order to make the tone switches more gradual. And I get that, as a kids' cartoon show, they have to end the season on a happy note, but was there anyone in the main or background cast that didn't have a reason to end this episode seriously bummed out? Momo maybe. Appa's empathetic enough to be sad that Aang is sad. Yes, the North is saved, but the princess is dead, there are presumably thousands of enemy corpses bobbing around beyond the wall, and who knows how many water tribe people got crushed by fireballs.

The last three episodes have really been one big story. Katara's part was really over by the opening scene of the siege of the north part 1, which is about where Aang's part began. The real through line that ties these three episodes together is Sokka and Yue. These last three episodes have been low key Sokka episodes (and Yue episodes by extension). I think it's a sign of good writing and engaging characters, that the season finale of a show named after its main character can put a huge amount of focus on someone who isn't the main character and still have it feel natural.

Turn Sokka into a girl and beat him down with the expectations women face in a patriarchal society, and you get Yue. They are each others' mirrors, which is partially why they connect (the other reasons being Sokka is a breath of fun fresh air and Yue is gorgeous and desperately lonely). While I would give an arm and a leg for a version of the show where Yue joins the Gaang and travels around the world with them, being exposed to opportunities for growth and adventure and becoming her own person rather than an extension of her tribe's will, I think it also makes sense that Sokka and Yue ultimately can't be together. I'm having trouble putting this into words, so bear with me, but I think because Yue and Sokka are mirrors, and largely mirrors of the more burdensome aspects of their lives (ie duty), then wouldn't them getting together limit them? Halt their growth as characters? Would they not drag each other down? Under the right circumstances (like peace) they could help each other grow, but in war time it's probably not a good idea to have two self-sacrificing members on your team.

I know Aang had some crazy stuff happen to him this episode (and last episode too), but so much of what happened to him literally happened TO him. He had no say in the matter. He got yanked around by spirits, fish, and Zuko. Which is why the Sokka x Yue storyline was more interesting to me. Poor Aang may have a hell of a time processing all that yanking around, but that's not in this episode. Sokka and Yue actively making choices are in this episode, and their storyline has had three episodes to develop, so the payoff feels more earned.

The soundtrack was great this episode, especially in the spirit world. Deliciously creepy stuff.

Visuals were gorgeous. I especially liked the beige palete of the spirit world and grey-blue palette during the mega fishman scenes. The creeping blue veins were a good way to express the scale of mega fishman's power without just colouring the whole frame bright blue.

Zhao honestly got exactly what he deserved. It must have been a fitting end for his character because it left me highly satisfied.

Yue deserved better, but if the chief is to be believed, predestination is both a thing and unavoidable in this world, so she got the only end she could ever have. I love characters with quiet strength, but I love them more when they don't have to die.

Overall a good episode! It had to wrap up so many storylines that it ended up going all over the place, with some necessarily expository dialogue that felt clunky. Poor Aang featured surprisingly little in his own show's finale, if you discount when he's fish-possessed. Sokka got his heart ripped out and stomped on, as did the chief. Pakku has hopefully set himself up for a hearty slap from Kanna. Zuko and Iroh survived, but that's about all that can be said of them at the moment. I feel like maybe Katara will be carrying the Gaang for the next few weeks.

[h-harleybaby]

vampire cartman obsessed with randomly marking his gf through out the day 🤭🤭

Omg yesssss

I’m taking this as a sign to give Vamp Cartman hcs because I wanna so bad 👉👈

For the purpose of writing she’s gonna be human because why not

Btw it’s probably gonna be in a different color than normal BECAUSE TUMBLR IS BEING WEIRD AND I CAN’T SEE SHIT

NSFW CONTENT (because I suck and my brain stopped working)

Vampire!Cartman x reader

• You have marks ALL over you because your stupid vampire bf can’t keep his lips to himself. Your friends are super confused too, they keep asking why you have lil dots all over your thighs when you wear shorts. I mean they know why you have bite marks but why’s there dots?? You know why and it’s so embarrassing

• Cartman found it really cute that when he first starting biting you and stuff you would cry or your eyes would water

• IT WAS LIKE, THE CUTEST THING TO HIM! He loved it when you did that (Cough he’s into dacryphilla cough) so ofc when you ya know, stopped doing that he got kinda sad

• I mean you were getting used to the feeling, and it was hot-

• But anyways, he got kinda pissed about it and started biting you harder just to see you cry a bit. He felt kinda bad but meh, you would’ve stopped him if you didn’t like it. He gave up at some point but he did sulk for a while

• I mean Cartman eventually got over it, he can make you cry in different way anyways. And that's good enough for him

• Never letting go of this, you have to pry it out of my cold dead corpse hands. HE LICKS YOUR TEARS AND HE LIVES FOR THE CUTE FACE YOU MAKE WHEN YOU CRY. EVEN IF YOU THINK YOU LOOK UGLY HE SECRELY THINKS ITS CUTE AND HE'LL LITERALLY NEVER TELL YOU

• Now you're gonna question me on this- YOU'RE GONNA QUESTION ME AND THE PERSON WHO GAVE ME THE IDEA, BUT HE LIKES TO EAT YOU OUT ON YOUR PERIOD

• I MEAN BLOOD- AND YOU??? HELL YEAH HE'S GONNA LOVE IT

• Might be a smidge grossed out at first but then he's like "welllllllll-"

• Anyways, he loves teasing you and biting your chest and your thighs. It's like, the best thing ever for him

• Because he's a vampire I guess he's technically undead so- no babies for y'all. WHICH IS KINDA GOOD THAT MEANS HE GETS TO CUM IN YOU ALL HE WANTS AND NO RISK

• Tbh, your blood is the sweetest to him and that's kinda what attracted him to you. Pretty lady and good tasting blood?? Hell yeah

• If you get high a lot expect him too also, bro can just t a s t e the weed in your blood. Dude gets high off your blood and that's just his favorite way to now

• When he gets high off your blood he gets so impossibly horny and he's so desperate. He's willing to sub when he gets like that because just wants you so so bad

• Please for the love of god overstim him he's gonna cry under you and it's so pathetic and adorable ahhhhh

• He probably has vampire strength and man handles you on accident all the time, and YOU FUCKING LOVE IT (kicking my feet while thinking about being man handled because I have problems)

• For a vampire, he really likes biting. And when I say that I don't mean he bites you (I mean yeah but I'm not talking about that rn) he loves being bit it's so weird but he melts when you do

• He's definitely the type just bite you anywhere and everywhere if he's ya know, not gonna be killed for being a vampire

• He probably bites your shoulder all the time because he likes when it's out of nowhere and you make that cute noise you make when you get surprised

[anystalker707]

Be good for me

Pairing: Gerard x Vampire! Reader Word count: ~ 1 400 Genre: Light angst / Comfort / Intense Summary: In the light of all the murders that have been happening lately, (y/n) decided to pay Gerard a visit. Kind of content: Blood play / Religious themes / Gaslighting [a/n]: Not proofread.

Gerard was far from being the best person, and that’s exactly what had sweat trailing down the back of his neck as he read the first pages of the daily newspaper issues sprawled over his desk. The last one, which had been delivered to his front door that morning, had a picture in black and white of the police leaning over a body covered by a white sheet while the big, black letters above it read SIXTH BODY FOUND THIS WEEK.

The press was going to play dumb, of course, none of them wanted to receive a death threat attached to their desk with a pocket knife. Either way, Gerard was aware. He knew that pattern of killing very well—the way the bodies lacked some organs along with blood, with precise wounds—, and it was clear someone had bothered the vampires yet again. It alone made him think over and over about all the favors and connections he ever had with them. Maybe he had helped rival groups without knowing? Or didn’t do something right?

A shaky breath escaped his lips as he tried not to overthink it, muttering critics towards the others—who did The Used think they were to mess with the Deathwish gang, after all? It was no surprise one of their men showed up dead across the sidewalk without any blood in their veins. Gerard chuckled while lighting up a cigarette he stuck between his lips.

All that calmness lasted until Ray’s voice rang in the back of his mind. “I heard something regarding Deathwish,” he had said during dinner, “but keep it low.”

God help him it hadn’t reached their ears.

The church wasn’t far from the house. It only took him a cigarette and a few minutes of walking before he found himself inside the holy and quiet place, only accompanied by God, his angels, and saints. It was all silent, with barely any noise coming from the outside, and that lack of noise made the place more comfortable along with the dim lighting. Only the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling kept the place alive, summed up with the yellow lights of the candles burning with a favor someone asked from God. It almost had Gerard listening to the quiet prayers people would mutter under their breaths, mumbling into their praying hands.

He had been close to that ambient once, truly close. He could still remember the name of each of the images that sat behind the altar, fragments of long prayers, but instead of being a comfort, it was much more of a weight in the back of his mind. Ironically, the church still felt like a safe place. Whether it was because of his family or the rumors of vampires being weak before holy symbols... he didn’t know.

“Thought I wouldn’t find you?”

Gerard’s blood felt cold. His eyes widened and he swallowed dry. Anything he did could send him not six feet underground, but straight to hell.

They sat a pew behind him, leaned forward so their elbows rested above their thighs, their steady and deep breath hitting the back of Gerard's neck. Even from that distance, Gerard could smell the fucking blood.

"Why would I hide from you, (y/n)?" Gerard sounded tense. Jesus, that anxiety would get him into actual trouble at some point.

"I don't know, you tell me," (y/n) scoffed with a chuckle. "A church would be the first place I'd head to if I needed to protect myself from a blood-sucking demon."

"I keep my faith alive."

"Sure you do," they hummed, reaching out a hand to Gerard's shoulder. "But you needn't be so tense. All I wish from you is a favor." Their fingers found his dress shirt's collar and pulled it down just enough to trace their cold fingers against his skin, feeling it rise with a shiver.

Gerard wishes he could feel nervousness, to be afraid of (y/n)—it would be a lot less pathetic than wanting more.

"What would it be?"

"I need to know where Ray is." (Y/n)'s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, sinking into the skin just at the same moment Gerard tensed up and gasped. "I know he's one of your close friends, practically family, so—"

"I can't!"

"—so that's why nothing too bad will happen to him. With respect for you. All I need to know is where he is, hm?" Their words were muffled against the back of Gerard's ear. Fuck.

"S-Sorry," his voice trembled, and for a second he wondered what his friends and subordinates would think if they saw him in such a state. "But I can't. Ray is like a brother to me."

A gush of air hit him, even making the flames of the candles tremble, and (y/n) now sat by his side with their forehead almost pressed to his. "Look, let's not make it harder than it actually is, hm?" They had an arm around Gerard's back, their other one held his face so he wouldn't look away—Gerard groaned softly as he nuzzled into their hand. "I need to know where Ray is. He won't be the tenth person. He won't be on the next newspaper cover, baby. Don't you trust me?"

Only lost bits of words escaped Gerard's mouth, no thought being allowed to be completed because what if (y/n) didn't like his answer? What if he said the wrong thing? What if he said where Ray was and the others found out?

"I trust you," Gerard's voice was small and trembling. "But..."

"Shhh, it's fine," they whispered and let their lips trail down to his neck, bending his head to the side. "I'm not forcing it out of you. Just relax for me.”

Gerard couldn’t help but comply, pressing his lips together as he let himself go in their arms with a shaky sigh. A shiver ran down his spine with the light touch of their lips that eventually opened up as their touches turned into open mouthed kisses that now and then had a breath caught in his throat. His hands sought for something to hold onto, anything but not (y/n)—his hands balled into fists around nothing by his thighs, letting his nails pierce into his palms, only not painfully because of how short they were.

(Y/n) tugged at the thin skin with their teeth, having fun in how easily Gerard reacted, something they’d extend for longer if they weren’t so anxious. They wouldn’t drink blood from anyone and subject themself to drain the blood from men with rotten bodies; they’d only get the best from the best, and the best included Gerard.

A squeal came from Gerard at the same time (y/n)’s teeth pierced through his skin, escaping his throat as much as he tried to muffle it down, but soon the pain turned into a discomfort he was already used to and allowed him to relax into their arms. (Y/n) had to bring an arm around his body in order to hold himself up properly, all of that without ever disconnecting their lips from his neck.

No matter how much they wanted to, Gerard would never serve as a proper meal—a dessert, maybe, a snack, but not a meal. Firstly because (y/n) didn’t want to risk losing him, and secondly because he wouldn’t be so special if they kept drinking from him as if he were cheap wine.

(Y/n)’s tongue dragged against the punctures, catching the most of the blood they could before the tip of their tongue pushed into one of the wounds. Gerard hissed as his hand found (y/n)’s thigh and his fingers sank into it with a strong hold, but according to how they kept their motions, he was forced to let go of the breath he held, eventually whimpering. They could almost catch their name among the mess of sounds that escaped his lips, almost sobs, something that just had the feeling in their stomach bubbling up.

That couldn’t last long enough, it never could. (Y/n) was panting when they pulled away while Gerard leaned against their side, seeking comfort in the cold and bloodless body of the creature. He buried his head in the crook of their neck, taking deep breaths.

“The south house,” Gerard said quietly, almost muffled. “Near Delaware. Ray is there.”

(Y/n) thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to get there or how to bring Ray here as they licked their lips clean, then cracked a grin. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” They chuckled, and pulled away just enough to press their lips to Gerard’s, letting him taste his own metallic taste on (y/n)’s lips.

[twilightknight17]

"Guys, holy fuck" - Part 2

Hit the image limit on the other post so I broke it up so I could scream more. XD

So where were we?

Right, right, Shadow Toshiro.

Once the shadow goes down the first time, he goes one-winged angel and turns into a god damn horror monster version of Eri that is GIANT. And that, my dudes, was a fight. That thing had so much health. It was great. :D

Now for some info:

Okay, that makes sense.

Yep, all that, we’ve seen and understood already. Still good.

But why, though? What makes her different? Why can she switch forms? Why is she still basically a separate entity from him? Did you just not want to lose your new character? I almost feel like I’d rather have had a P4 boss fight that ended with Toshiro getting his persona, and have Erina just be his cognitive Eri, based on his memories. Because this is… confusing. Nothing has worked like this in the past, unless I seriously overlooked something.

Yeah, I know, Aki and Mai and Ideal Maki were a thing, but Maki was a Wild Card and also had the DEVA system bolstering her cognition. No one else’s persona has been able to turn into a person and just chill with everyone after their awakening. Erina is basically her own fully-formed person. Like… I don’t know. It’s weird. I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.

All right, yeah, let’s go with that for now.

There’s like, a slight implication here that Toshiro’s shadow wasn’t actually his shadow, but just something pretending to be his shadow? Especially since he never like, reconciled with it. After the giant Eri, it just disappeared. But I only pinged that after the fact, because while we’re just standing here trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Erina, god shows up to yell at us.

“Be not afraid” and all.

I kid you not, I was internally screaming, “YALDABAOTH? IS HE POSSESSED BY THE REMNANTS OF YALDABAOTH TRYING TO SEIZE POWER AGAIN?” But no, doesn't have Yald's stupid feet. This is:

Who the fuck is you, and why does it look like your head exploded off your neck? Are you sure you’re not Yald?

Anyway, this bitch keeps calling us “children” and “lambs” and “pathetic” while it explains who the fuck it is.

I don’t like it, and it doesn’t like our persona abilities. It calls them a “mask of madness, one which will assuredly drive man to ruin.” So it offers a deal: It can remove our powers, and along with them, our memories of this whole horrible adventure, and in exchange, it will put us safely back in the real world. It’s nice like that, even though we’re “infidels who had the audacity to defy a god.”

Hey. You. Got some bad news about all the other gods I’ve met. Wanna know what happened to them? :3

But we shouldn’t answer now! We’re high off a lucky win and our emotions are compromised. We should think it over and tell it our answer when we’re ready. And then Salmael fucks off into the sky. Are we sure that’s not a weird misspelling of Samael? Are you connected to Shido somehow?

Toshiro gets like a thousand points for being completely chill about a god falling out of the sky to tell us we suck. Zenkichi was a lot less calm about the whole thing. XDDD The Thieves, Toshiro, and Erina agree that they’re not giving up their powers, so we’re gonna have to kill god again. But how? How do we follow god into the sky? Whatever shall we do?

Oh, guys. Do you hear that noise?

CHOO CHOO, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Lavenza is here in the Velvet Room Train to pick us up and take us to the sky. No, she doesn’t know why it’s like that all of a sudden. We DO NOT CARE. THIS IS GREAT. Toshiro almost manages to offend her, but we’ve got things to do, so we just put another pin in that.

And that is where I had to stop. It asked me if I wanted to save and I was like “yes, I cannot handle any more Epic right now.” My GOD. I’m so excited Lavenza gets to be more involved, because that’s how I tend to characterize her. She wants to be more hands-on than her siblings or Igor. And she’s not afraid to snark at the others. It’s nice to have the whole team in the Velvet Room again. ^_^

Never change, Yusuke. :P

Actually, isn't this a good thing? If Akira's Velvet Room is now manifesting as a train, maybe that symbolizes him moving forward into the future? Scramble put him back in prison, but this game hasn't. Maybe this is the Velvet Room's final form for him?

Next time: Into the goddamn abyss to once again dethrone god, I guess????

Final note: I’m constantly amused by the one-off poses the sprites have. One single use of the sprite where Makoto’s hugging Morgana. One of Toshiro holding Erina/Yuki. And now apparently one of Makoto throttling Ryuji so he can’t interrupt Futaba and Toshiro. X’D Wow. Pls stop picking on Ryuji, Atlus.

[bloody-trio]

TW! BLOOD, DEATH THREATS, TALKS OF DEATH! DEATH!

The moon has set it, shining bright in the sky as the manor residents all slumber to prepare for another day of ruthless matches.

That's what the informant strived for, dragging his feet through the empty halls of the manor to make his way from his dear sisters room, he grunted. The corridor seemed so long to his sleep deprived eyes, fake glasses hanging from his shirt as he walked as slowly as possible to not make any sound.

That's when he heard something, a faint noise, something clicking and something sliding, weird, who's awake at this time? He knew of a few night owls but theyvwould stick to the library, the lounge room or maybe the kitchen, mayve even outside their rooms but here? No one should be here at this hour.

That's when he tought as a shadow loomed over him, only noticable because of the moonlight seeping from the open curtains as the only source of light, he turned around as he saw her, pale dead skin shining as those empty eyes glared at him with so much hatred he tensed up, heart almost stopping as Gabriel's mouth went agape at who was there.

What was a hunter doing here? Her of any of them? They never staid down for long, always coming back to haunt him. Ginger hair framed her figure, blood dripping from her missing arm and running down her missing leg, that same blue dress now stained with it.

"Mario Parker", Lisa spoke, a voice he once rememberd as soft and velvety now sour and raspy as she pronounced one of his many names, he just couldn't help but stare, he couldn't react and even if he could, what could he do?

Lisa Montag had alwaya been taller than him, even when alive but now? She stood a whole meter above him and he craned his neck up to meet her sunken eyes, gasping as she suddenly put her hand around his neck and holted him up into the air, now face to face with the one he killed.

"You bastard, look at what you've done to me." She spat, eyebrows furrowing in pure hate as she looked at him, gripping tighter.

"I trusted you, I trusted in you both! You stupid bitch! For what, why did you do it?! To get a bigger cut between you and your asshole sister? I WON THAT, IT WAS MINE! YOU DID SHIT, IT WAS ALL ME!" Laura now held him with her both "hands" the blood that formed her left one leaving a trail of blood running down his side, almost suffocating him even more.

"I—Lara'- Let me ex—" A squeeze to his neck "You knew to much—" More force came to him.

"And you decided killing me in cold blood was better than just stop being greedy and pay for silence? You knew I would accept, money is why I even let you into my life, Parker!" The hunter cried, anguish and despair in her voice.

"My hatred for you has bringed me back to life, you are lucky i'm not allowed to kill outside of this stupid games because if not i'd kill you here for everyone to see how stupif your limp body looks in the floor, you'd look pathetic just like you do now."

She spat, stopping the assault on his neck and dropping him to the floor beneath her, leaving the informants view black doted and gasping for air, before he could get back to breathing properly she stepped her pointed heel to his chest and pressed.

"I'll do it, don't you dare try and escape because I know you will, I know you better than anyone here. I'll follow you until you pay for what you did to me, for leaving me this" And with that, she dissapeared into what? He couldn't care less, he felt like he was about to pass out, and pass out he did, now laying bloodied on a hallway in this god-forsaken manor.

He did look pathetic.

[bluepandastarfish]

Heartless

(This was kinda dark, found it in my notes app)

Warnings: kinda graphic violence, child murder, normal murder, shooting of crowds, swearing.

Its funny really.

I never thought a person could be so fucked in the head till now.

Sure, that kid was a liar. But he never deserved to die. Not like that. Not infront of his friends.

I could bearley hear anything. My heart was pounding in my ears. The kid was limp on the ground a few feet away. But Jack? He was laughing. Manic, insane laughter. Derek looked shocked, he couldnt move.

I could move. I could run to the boy. I could help him. I could try. He was already dead, there was nothing i could do

And then my heart wasnt the only thing i could hear. A voice. A sweet voice. It's words like a song in my ears. The screams of the 'audince' could be heard faintly. The voice was like a siren.

"Kill him."

"He deserves it."

"He killed a child"

"Do it."

And the voice was impossible to ignore. And the hammering from my heart only grew, to the point where i threw my hands over my ears in attempts to silence it. There came no silence. Just brutal noise. The crowd's protests escilated. The security had to start shooting oncoming mobs.

Loud, endless, rythmitic hammering in my scull. It was painful. Defining. Gunshots joining the painful rythum as more lives were lost below us. Disgusting laughter joined as a chorus. It was suffocating.

All at once it stopped.

"You're a coward" "just do it" "end him" "for the kid" "pathetic" "get up" all screamed at once.

I let out a gut renching scream that was drowned out by the still screaming crowd. Jack was still laughing. He was laughing. Laughing at a dead kid. He killed a kid. He killed him. He dosent seserve to live. I should end him.

I stood silently. My wings grased the floor as i walked. Jack diddnt notice me. Derek did. Derek stared at me. I could feel it.

Jack was right there. Red faced. Cackling like a madman.

Which side of the chest is the heart on? Ill try both.

I grabbed his neck and violently lifted him in the air. Security was running up to stop me. I flapped gigantic wings over and over again, it blew them back. I threw jack up a bit and let go of his throat quickly shoving my hands into each side of his chest. He instantly stopped.

He was still, like the boy. The crowd was silent. I wanted silence. I ripped my hands out pulling something from each side with them. He dropped to the floor, blood went everywhere. It ruined my lovley trousers.

I honestly diddnt expect him to acctualy  have a heart.

[gcnedark]

Bitten.

Characters: Miles Ive, Sev Voorhees, Rose Leo, Warburton Colt

No cw/tws

•

•

•

•

•

This was fucking agonizing.

Miles could swear that he was heating up from the inside, it burned, he craved for some kind of relief to his pain. And that's why he had practically started to race back to home base when his bite mark started burning.

He'd been bitten before, they all had! It was practically impossible to not get bitten at some point in the apocalypse, but this was different. His bites hadn't made him feel like he was running a fever, he damn near passed out on his feet in the gas station he'd been ransacking.

There was no car he could even use to get back, so he just ran. Down the street, past the undead and up the hill to the church. Warburton was the one who saw him through his sniper scope, his initial reaction had been a slight hint of joy. Ive hadnt gotten himself killed, but as he got closer and he could get a better sight on him, he was filled with dread and worry.

"Miles is back!" He called out, catching the attention of Sev first. Warburton knew the moment Sev saw Miles like this, bloody and clutching his shoulder as he ran, that he'd go into a panic... Not like there was any way around it. "The guy looks fucked up! Damn near stumbling, someone get out there and help him, will you?!"

He didn't even need to finish that sentence before Sev burst through the gate, normally he'd be cautious of the noise it'd make but at this moment all rational thought had been tossed out of the window. He ran as fast as he could down the trail to get to Miles, nearly tripping and falling himself.

"Mierda- Qué diablos te pasó?!" Sev yelled out, getting close enough to Miles so he could wrap an arm around him, "I.. I dunno what you're sayin'.." Miles mumbled, struggling just to keep himself up at this point. Sev grumbled before speaking again, "I said, what the hell happened to you?"

"You think this is bad? You should see what I did to those zeds.." Miles wheezed out in a pathetic attempt of a laugh, he had wanted to try and calm down Sev just a little bit, but it very clearly didn't work. If anything, it caused him to panic more. "Whyre you holdin' your shoulder like that, doll?" Sev asked as they went through the entrance, catching the attention of the other survivors.

Miles didn't want to show what had happened, he was terrified to do so. Sure, he was one of their leaders, but the keyword there was one. They could be fine with just killing him for most likely being infected, and just letting Mac take over fully. And sure, that thought was probably a mix of paranoia along with the stress of being fucking bitten, but it was still something he thought he should be genuinely concerned about.

He was so lost in his own thoughts and paranoia that he didn't notice he was already being laid down on a bed in the infirmary, a part of the base he always hated but knew it needed to be there. It wasn't that he didn't find it useful, it was just his fear of infirmaries, hospitals, etcetera etcetera.

"Miles," Sev spoke up, getting Miles back into reality. "Put your hand down." It wasn't really asking him to do so, it was more so simply telling him flat out. He was barely thinking as he lowered his hand, Sev squinted when he saw the bite mark. "..okay, y'got bitten." He shrugged, seeming a lot less tense. Sev attempted to step away before being stopped.

"Wait, wait-" Miles grunted, reaching out and grabbing onto Sevs wrist. "A blood plague one got me.. I feel like I'm running a damn fever here, nearly passed out..." As he explained just what he was going through, the worry and panic in the shorter male spiked back up. "Shit, why didn't you say that in the first place?!"

"I didn't.. I'm- I was..." He tried to say that he was scared of what the others would do if they learned, and considering how small this place was? He had to guess that the others already heard what was going on. But something in him wouldn't let him say what he wanted to, it pissed him off.

"What, you were what?" Sev pulled over a nearby chair to sit down, it dragged and squeaked against the floor as it moved. He was going to attempt to squeeze out the information that he could from Miles, but he was stopped by Rose, who grabbed onto his shoulder to make herself known. "He's infected."

That wasn't something either one of them wanted to hear, but it was the blunt truth. "What do you feel, Miles?" She asked, stepping next to Sev and crossing her arms. "Fever, shaky, I've been pretty outta it since I got bit.. my blood feels like it's on fire.." He whimpered, glancing down at his bite mark.

Silence.

"Am I really infected?" He asked softly, looking up at Rose. "Yeah." She nodded, the look of fear in his eyes was enough to even make her feel bad. But Rose knew she couldn't just bullshit him right now, he needed to know what was happening to him. "Well, why didn't the other bites do anything?" Sev questioned, looking over to her.

"They did," Rose began. "If it's from a zombie who's got the blood plague, their bites and scratches infect you overtime. And since Miles here has been fighting them constantly... This bite was just the thing that did it in, the infections working at him as we speak."

"I'm right here, y'know.."

"Listen, there's good news to this." Rose started, moving over to the table in a corner of the infirmary. "There is a cure for it. I've been infected before, Red Talon had a lot of stuff-" "That should be shared with the survivors down here." Sev spat, furrowing his brows.

"Trust me, I know. But, there's a cure. I'm still in contact with Red Talon, I might be able to get us a drop of a few vials. It's essentially a fix-all to Miles problems here." There was silence, cluing Sev in on the fact there was something else to it. "But...?"

She sighed, "But, it would take around thirty minutes to get here." Sev was confused for a moment, smiling even. "Well that's good! When can you call it in?" He asked her, standing up. "Sev, he probably only has maybe 20 minutes, 25 at best." She told him, taking out a needle filled with morphine. "..c'mon, there's gotta be something we can do!"

Rose shrugged, "I mean, if you're able to get some samples off of plague samples, I can make an antidote myself. They taught us that back in boot camp, keep yourself alive and all of tha-"

"How many do you need?" Sev cut her off, "I'd need 8, I get that and I can mix it with some of the medicine here to create a cure for him." She explained, moving over to Miles, "Arm." Rose stated simply, prompting him to raise his left arm to allow her to inject him with morphine.

Voorhees nodded, "I'll go see some of the survivors in town, they're trying to experiment with that shit- they'll have enough." There was a slight hint of optimism in that sentence, something that had rubbed off on him from being so close to Miles constantly. "You keep him comfortable, I'll be back."

Rose didn't have another moment to speak to Sev as he stormed off and out of the base, leaving her and Miles there. "..you think he'll be able to get what you need in time?" The brunette asked, "He seems pretty hellbent on keeping you here with us, Miles. I wouldn't doubt him."

"..yeah, alright... Hey, wait, you said you've been infected before-"

"Long story."

[hisashi-monogatari]

Here’s a story excerpt I wrote up, ~1,000 words. Only female mosquitos drink blood, and only male mosquitos make noise, but I wanted the yokai to be a male mosquito because his whining had the potential to make him a very annoying yet funny character. I’m currently undecided over whether mosquito boy drinks blood like a vampire, only eats food, or both.

Daniel is a placeholder name for the character.

___________________________________________

It was the height of summer. The cicadas were crowing, the heat was sweltering, and the AC was working intermittently. Daniel and Hisashi lounged on the floor of the apartment, fanning themselves and wishing they were someplace cooler.

In the silence of the day, a mosquito whined in Daniel’s ear. He shooed it away. It came back again and whined in his ear. He shooed it away more insistently.

“Hold still,” Hisashi said behind him, having come up silently, and down his hands came, trying to smack the mosquito into oblivion.

“Hey!” a voice shouted from the air, “You’re trying to kill me!” There was a poof of smoke, and a young man in muddy green kimono landed in a heap on the floor in front of them.

“Drat,” said Hisashi.

“You were very obviously trying to kill me now, weren’t you!” the young man shouted hysterically, and burst to his feet. “Don’t even try to deny it!”

Hisashi gazed silently at the man, disdain writ on his face.

“At least deny it!” the young man says, sounding on the verge of tears.

Daniel, once his mouth started working again, asked “Who are you?”

The young man placed a hand on his chest with a flourish and smiled. “I am but a simple traveler, I, the humble, mild, innocent mosquito you so ruthlessly tried to kill just now, and you ought to feel ashamed of yourselves if I do say so myself! Here I was, doing nothing but minding my own simple business, and out come your hands for to squash me! For shame!”

Daniel’s mouth hung a little farther open, unable to process what was going on.

“You were going to suck his blood,” Hisashi said.

“I was not!” the young man cried indignantly.

“You’re a spirit right?” Daniel asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” the young man said with a huff, “I was on the tail of a very pretty lady, but she gave me the slip, and I got lost in this strange forest of buildings you have around here. So until I find her again, I was hoping I could stay here for a few days—”

“Out,” Hisashi demanded.

“—or maybe a week or two?”

Out.”

“Oh, come on!” the young man shrieked. “I just need a place to stay, and I won’t even need a lot of food since I'm on a diet and all, and I’m all alone in the world, all alone with no home and nobody to care for me—”

“Out.”

“—and it’s so hot out there, I can’t stand it! I’m on the verge of heatstroke! I really am!”

“Out.”

“And go out there and die!? That’s it, you want me to die, don’t you!?” the young man cried, on the verge of hysterics. “That’s what you want! Don’t deny it!”

“I’m not denying it,” Hisashi said evenly, face and voice dripping with disdain.

The young man gave a hysterical shriek, and crumpled to the floor with a groan. “Woe is me, nobody loves you when you’re down and out,” he moaned in a pitiful voice.

Daniel took all this in silently, trying to process what was happening. He studied the young man closely. He was medium in height and very slim, with pleasantly ordinary if angular facial features, except for a long, straight nose that drooped a little at the tip, and sharp-pointed canines that flashed in the light when he spoke. His hair, which was probably about shoulder-length, was gathered into a messy ponytail at his nape and his bangs hung loose in thick, tangled locks. His body gestures were erratic, suggesting a high-strung temperament Daniel thought, and his appearance was disheveled, though not dirty. Yet his face had an honest, open look to it. Altogether the man had an air of profound patheticness, but not untrustworthiness, and Daniel’s heart softened a little despite himself.

Hisashi, reading Daniel’s emotions through his face, instantly went on the offensive. “No,” he said emphatically to him.

Daniel bristled. “I didn’t say anything!”

“He’s going to make a pest of himself.”

“Oh, like you don’t?”

Hisashi gave him a sneer that made his blood roil, then turned to the young man, who had pulled himself together and was sitting cross-legged before them. “Out.”

“You get out,” Daniel said to Hisashi, incensed.

“Later, Daniel,” Hisashi hissed, teeth gritted.

“No!” Daniel said, working himself up. “You’ve been living with me for months now, mooching off my food and taking up my space! How about you leave and take him with you!”

“I can’t leave, in case you’ve forgotten,” Hisashi hissed, his eyes darting at Daniel before turning back to their guest.

”That’s what you say,” Daniel spat at him. “At any rate.”

The young man stared at them with a taken-aback expression. “Perhaps I should leave, after all,” he said uncomfortably, and began rising to his feet.

“No, stay!” Daniel blurted out, the familiar feeling of abandonment rushing up within him at those words he’d heard so often. “Stay!”

The young man settled himself down again, with a concerned expression writ on his face.

“Actually, maybe you can tell me something,” Daniel said, suddenly desperate as a lightbulb flashed above his head. “See, this is something that’s been bothering me for a while, and I’ve never had anyone I can turn to and ask for clarification for it.”

“Daniel—” Hisashi said, looking suddenly panicked.

Daniel didn’t see his expression, his vision tunneled by his roiling emotions. “See, this guy here shows up in my life one day, saying that we’re bonded—”

“Daniel!”

“—and we have to stay together, that we can’t be apart or it’ll harm my soul or something.”

The young man heaved a gasp in front of them.

“I wanna ask, is something like that even possible? Does that exist? Because it sounds like a lot of FUCKING NONSENSE to me, honestly!” Daniel’s breathing was heavy.

Hisashi looked pained.

The young man’s eyes darted between the two of them. “You mean you two spiritually bonded!?”

There was a beat of silence.

“We would be honored if you would stay with us,” Hisashi said to the young man, his face pinched.

“Ah, thank you,” the young man said faintly.

______

[Scene change: that night]

“So! Where will I be sleeping?” the mosquito asked.

Daniel looked chagrinned. “On the floor, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, that's alright. I'm only a guest, after all. May I have some blankets?”

Daniel at least had the decency to look sheepish. “...There aren't any.”

The mosquito looked blankly at him. “...What?”

“Well, I only have one spare futon, and Hisashi's using it. I don't have anything else. I'm sorry.”

“Oh, I see,” said the mosquito, looking crestfallen. “Well, that's alright. I'm only a guest. It's just—”

“Just what?" Hisashi asked, staring him down.

“Well, it's just, I thought that, as a guest, I might—but no, I don't want to trouble you. It's just—no, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't say anything.”

“As a guest, what?” Hisashi asked.

“Well, I thought that—but of course I shouldn't, I don't want to impose, it's just that—well, I was hoping I might take the bed?”

Daniel didn't speak.

“But of course I don't want to impose—I just thought that, as a guest, I might have certain privileges, if truth be told. But again, I don't want to impose on your hospitality, I'm only a guest, after all. And if there's no bedding, it simply can't be helped, I suppose. I'm only a guest, after all. And I suppose sleeping on the cold, hard floor is welcome enough too, in a rustic sort of way. It's true, guests are at their proprietors' mercy, and I mustn't complain, as you've already been generous enough to lend me your floor for the night, and I appreciate it, I really do, although I must confess that I'm rather weak-boned, and delicate, and I bruise easily, if truth be told, it's an affliction I've had since young. It's these joints, you see, I'm really quite fine-boned, and so delicate that the slightest breeze could blow me away! It's true—”

The man's whining was like an irritating buzzing in Daniel's ear. He wanted to tell him to shut up, but guilt and good manners held him back.

“—I'm rather like a flower that way, a paltry, humble bloom lacking fragrance, but a bloom in all delicacy. But if there's no bedding to be spared, then there's no bedding to be spared. As a guest, I must submit to the limitations of the house in which I am staying. And please don't think I'm complaining, because nothing could be further from the truth! Far be it from me to complain, as a lowly guest, and bring such rudeness upon you! I graciously accept what bit of floor space you can provide me with, and will sleep as well as I am able. I am only a guest, after all.”

Daniel wanted to cry, and was about to beg the man to shut up, when Hisashi burst in. “You can have my bedding,” he growled.

“What?”

“I said, you can have my bedding for the night.” A vein looked ready to burst on his forehead.

The mosquito gasped. “Oh, thank you, sire, thank you ever so kindly! Oh, I promise to repay this kindness one day, you can be sure of it! Oh, I am ever so thankful—”

“For the love of Buddha, stop talking," Hisashi snapped.

______

[Scene change: A few days into his stay, the mosquito boy brings a lady friend home to Daniel’s apartment - a very pretty, very giggly girl - along with several bottles of wine, and the two of them get smashed at dinner.]

“Ooh, I wish I could drink your blood,” she moaned. “You smell so sweet. If I could drink your blood,” she said conspiratorially, leaning across the table to give Daniel a seductive gaze, “I would fill myself up with it, and then I would lay so many eggs in it.”

“Isn’t she sweet?” [mosquito boy’s name] slurred, grinning, sloshing his cup with a swing of his arm.

Daniel blanched. Hisashi stared at the pair of mosquitoes with a dead expression as he nursed his cup.

[Scene, continued: Mosquito Boy goes to the bathroom. Things escalate, and the girl pounces on Daniel, drunk and intent on sucking his blood. Hisashi grabs her and yanks her off, then throws her across the room. She cries out in rage and pain, then gathers herself up in a huff and storms out of the apartment. Mosquito boy comes back from the bathroom to find her gone and starts sobbing from loneliness.]

[erodasfishtacos]

I wanna see gang yn tell Harry she’s pregnant- or see little moments between them while she’s pregnant, like finding out they’re having twins. 🥺

okay but I imagine this.

tw: violence, blood, weapons, smut

-

There is currently three dead men in their warehouse.

Harry has another one tied to a creaky old wooden chair, interrogating him with a sharp knife on his cheek, “Where the fuck is Richie? I know you killed one of my men.”

The man spits at Harry, leaning away from the blade, “Fuck you. I’m not talkin’.”

YN is watching casually from where she’s sitting on a countertop, a iced coffee in her hand, and she’s just admiring how hot her husband is.

His long hair is pulled up in a bun, his sharp jaw clenched, blood on his white shirt that’s clung a bit to his body with sweat and other fluids.

He’s so lean, muscular with bulging biceps, abs taut under his clothes. Her name tattooed proudly on his neck, little beads of sweat.

Harry slices down his cheek, tearing the skin open, “Tell me right now or I’m goin’ t’kill you. This is your last warning. I am about to show you why they call me Diablo,” Harry seethes, the knife dragging down to his neck.

He refuses to speak, Harry gets impatient and pulls out his weapon of choice - his desert eagle and delivers one resounding shot.

Harry looks unsympathetically at the rival gang members, his own men sitting back and letting the leader work.

The associates began to scuttle around to begin the clean up process.

Her husband tugs off his shirt and then shimmies out of his tight black jeans - tossing them carelessly by the bodies so his men can dispose of them.

Just in his tight briefs, his intricate morale of the depth of hell and the devil decorating his whole chest and stomach.

Then he’s trailing over to his wife, grabbing her jaw and searing their lips together for a long kiss as she runs a hand over his tensed abs.

It’s not the right moment, well it wouldn’t be for a normal couple but they weren’t any normal couple to start off with.

“I want to have a baby,” YN blurts out as her husband’s hands grip onto her thighs to pull her center against his.

Harry doesn’t look surprised often.

His mossy green eyes widen, puffy lips parting, as he searches her relax, open face, “You want me t’put a baby in you?”

She nods, feeling a nervous fluttering, they’d been married for three years - it had been on her mind a lot.

“If you aren’t - I know we’ve been talking about it. But if it’s not some-“ She stutters out as she observes Harry’s stoic face.

He leans forward, cupping her face, and telling her firmly, “I will give you whatever y’want, sweetheart. If y’want me to make y’a mommy - I’ll do it right now.”

By this point the men had dragged the bodies out to a nondescript van and were pouring industrial grade bleach on the tiled floor.

Harry turns around and booms, “Get the fuck out, right now.”

The associates pause, confused, Greg speaks, “But we just start-“

In true Harry form, he grabs his gun next to his wife, and fires at warning shot at their feet, “Fuck off or next time it’s going to be y’leg.”

They run out like there’s fire under their arses.

YN shouldn’t get wetter at that but she does.

He turns around after the leave, wastes no time to in yanking her shirt over her head, bra, and then roughly stripping off her legging, and panties

“Fuckin’ look at you, made you my wife, now m’make y’the mother of my babies,” Harry hisses when YN sneaks her hand in his briefs to tug his thick length out.

“Remember when we first met. You told me you never wanted to even have a girlfriend, let alone a wife. You told me you didn’t want kids,” YN murmurs as she pumps him with a firm grip.

Harry groans into her mouth, “Baby, jus’ like tha’. All that changed when I fell f’you.”

YN swipes her thumb over the tip before tugging the fabric down his narrow hips and guiding him right into where she’s so warm and ready for him.

“You told me love was made up by pathetic stupid people who were too dumb to realize it was a scam,” She reminds him, breath hitching when he stretches her perfectly.

-

As they’re waiting for drinks, Harry scoffs at a young couple kiss and cooing at each other on the other side of the way.

It was a really shady bar.

They were there to do business together - Harry and YN - nothing more than that.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” He shakes his head, swigging down his whiskey dry as soon as it’s placed in front of him - he doesn’t even flinch.

“They’re in love,” YN defends with a small smiles as she watches the man make the girl giggle with glee - just happiness.

“So y’a fucking idiot too?” Harry asks meanly, giving her a glance over with a pursed lip, “Guess y’beauty and no fuckin’ brains.”

“You have a real way with women, charmer,” She replies sarcastically, sipping her whiskey sour.

Harry laughs with a tinge of arrogance, “I don’t need charm. Any women and most men in this bar would fuck if they had the chance.”

“Well I’ll be one who won’t,” YN says haughtily.

His jaw clenches subtly, “Don’t be bitter, darling. Love is made up. It doesn’t exists. It’s for weak-minded little sheeps like you.”

—-

Harry takes a deep inhale, eyes dark as night, teeth bared as he tells her, “Our love isn’t what other average people have. I still believe all of that. My love f’you is s’strong I’d fuckin’ die for you this second.”

YN moans when he fucks in hard enough to make her skid back on the counter - he grips her harder and anchors her back down.

“D’you think any other man would do tha’ f’their wife? I mean truly do that? No. I’ve seen men let their wives die to save themselves,” Harry grits out, tugging her legs around his waist.

She is panting, not able to get a word out between breathes, he’s giving it to her so fucking well. Her nipples brushing against his sweaty chest, making it feel so much better.

Her grips her jaw hard, “Answer me.”

“Baby, I know, I know. I love you, please,” She begs loudly, whining when he wraps his hand around her neck.

“Open,” Harry orders, hand forcing her mouth open before spitting and then chasing it with his tongue into her mouth.

“H, m’coming.” YN warns him, pushing her hips into his until their skin is slapping and making noise in the room.

“Y’get so sweet when I’m fuckin’ you,” Harry praises, tweaking her nipple as she wets his cock even more than before.

He speeds up, sweat beading down his temple, he curses and grunts, “Gonna give y’a baby, give you anythin’.”

And when they finally slow to a halt, catching their breath, he whispers in a syrupy soft voice, “You’re my everything.”

[omgreally]

I’ve been reading mandos intergalactic taxi service and UGH✨💕 the pining and fluff with the intimacy smut is just chefs kiss your writing style is amazing🤌🏽✨ I’ve been in such a Din mood lately, could your write like a confession drabble where the reader and din are pining for each other and din is dropping hints but the reader is like really not a hint taker lol pretty please with a cherry on top 😭💕 smut or fluff your choice I know you’d write it so well!!

BLESS YOUR HEART @liltangerineart and thank you! Next chapter of Taxi Service should be up tomorrow I hope!

In the meantime I hope you like this? Not a confession as such and more, uh, top!Mando than I intended, but he is bad at dropping hints. I like to think he would be very...straightforward 😎

Din Djarin/F!Reader - E - 1624 words - Oblivious!Reader, Infatuated!Din, frustrated yearning, angst and, of course, smut.

It's getting ridiculous.

He is a Mandalorian, one of the most fabled, the most feared warriors in the galaxy. Rumour and danger follow him as he charts a path through the galaxy that blazes bright, leaving behind myth and legend - people whispering things like 'I heard he killed a whole troop with his hands tied' and 'I heard he was eight feet tall, made of steel'.

He is a Mandalorian, who has never had to rely on anybody but himself - and yet here he is, sweating beneath his cowl whenever you brush too close, trying too hard to inhale the scent of you through his helmet's filters, memorizing the sound of your laugh.

It's like he's a foundling again - uncertain, insecure, nervous. And they’re not butterflies in the pit of his stomach - they’re bullets from an ancient slugthrower weapon, and he can taste metal at the back of his tongue whenever he tries to talk to you.

“Do you have someone, back home?” A clumsy overture, as obvious as it is stupid; Din winces beneath the helm but you don’t seem to notice - you just shake your head and shrug.

“No. Just me. I wouldn’t have left otherwise.” Loyal, he thinks, and the bullets in his stomach sting just that little bit harder.

He tries asking you more about yourself. How you became a bounty hunter. How many weapons you’ve handled. The different kinds of ships you’ve flown. Places you’ve been. But you never give up anything truly personal about yourself - you’re a cypher.

Maybe that’s why the Mandalorian finds himself strangely drawn to you.

He doesn’t know how to navigate this - not really. He has no experience with this kind of thing. It’s always been about the next quarry, the next job, and then it was about the kid, and now…

And now he’s stuck.

He wants to hit something, break something, feel the impact of his fists against flesh and bone. He settles for balling them up whenever you’re around, biting his tongue, and waiting til later to jerk himself off in pathetic, clench-jawed silence in the refresher.

“You slept late,” you point out the next morning as he emerges, stiff in more than one way, from his bunk.

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” he says, and he’s so tired, so frustrated that he adds, gruffly: “Bed was too empty.”

“Probably need more pillows,” you muse as you wander off to the kitchenette. “Cup of caf?”

“Extra strong,” he grunts as he leans a shoulder to the wall, and you’re oblivious to his glower.

“Coming right up.” A minute later, you press a mug into his hand. “I’ll leave you to it. No need to go hide, I’ll go find a bulkhead to look at while you take your helmet off.”

You grin at him, and he stares at you. You’re just about to turn away when he reaches up, and you go still, your smile slackening in shock as he thumbs the release latch under his chin.

The helm’s pneumatic seal hisses as it lifts, just enough so he can get the rim of his mug up and to his lips. He takes a long, slow pull, and while his vision is eclipsed by the rim of the helmet at the moment, he knows you haven’t left.

As he expects, you’re still there - staring at him as he lowers his helm back into place. Your mouth is even slightly open - lips parted - and he watches the dart of your tongue as you wet them before swallowing hard.

“I’m just...I’m just gonna,” you say, abortingly, and start to back away. You jump as your shoulder hits the hatchway. Din watches as you turn, hesitate, then hurry away, your shoulders squared defensively as if you can feel the force of his gaze on your back.

Alone, the taste of caf hot and bitter on his tongue, Din Djarin grins.

After that, he starts to notice. He starts to notice how tense you are when he’s close.

At first he’s not sure - but then, once, he deliberately brushes your waist as he moves past you in the cockpit to take the pilot’s seat, and you’re still standing there, frozen, when he glances back at you. You brush it off, but it happens again when you bump into him coming out of the fresher. When he reaches over your head in the kitchenette to fetch a ration bar from a compartment. When you lean over his shoulder to point out the coordinates to a refueling station. When he catches you yawning, falling asleep in the passenger’s seat.

“I’m going to hit my bunk,” you say, rising to your feet, your arms stretched above your head. Din turns slowly, and he catches the glimpse of a sliver of flesh as your shirt rides up. The words escape him before he’s even conscious of their existence.

“Want some company?”

Dank farrik, he’s been dropping hints and touches for ages - and he knows you’re affected by his presence, he’s sure of it now. They might be closer to butterflies for you, but his bullets are bouncing around in his gut right now.

“What?” you ask, half-laughing - as if it’s all some grand joke. “You gotta stop with the innuendo, Mando. I might get the wrong idea.”

“And if it’s not innuendo?” He’s flicked the ship to auto-pilot - on his feet - looming towards you. You’re caught in the hatchway, unable to step backwards to fall down the ladder, unwilling to turn your back. "If you've got the right idea?"

“What?” you repeat - licking your lips again. Your eyes are flicking back and forth from his visor to his hands. It’s almost like you're expecting a fight.

“I want to fuck you.”

The words are matter-of-fact but delivered in a low baritone, a gravelly rasp that lifts the hairs on the back of your neck. You stop breathing for a second - he can see it - and your leg twitches, just half a step backward - but then you swing it forward again, swaying towards him. Like he has you in his gravitational pull.

It’s all Din needs. He closes the distance between you, his gloved hands closing around your biceps, the leather worn and warm through your shirt.

He says your name, once, in a digital growl that curls your toes in your boots. And then it’s like an explosion - it all happens so quickly; there are hands and clothes everywhere and then on the deck, and in the aftermath you are in the Mandalorian’s arms, naked, your legs around his waist as he presses you up against the bulkhead.

His chestplate hits the deck - his flak jacket lifted above his head when you let him stop touching you long enough. You barely have time to appreciate the feel of his naked hands on your skin, cupping your breasts in his broad, smooth palms, thumbing your nipples all-too-briefly before he’s sliding down the zipper of his flight suit and baring a V of muscled flesh all the way to his groin.

“Mando,” you gasp as he frees his cock, as he maneuvers the throbbing, purpled head to drag through your slit. He finds you open and wet, lips parted for him, and he groans as he nudges against your fluttering hole. He doesn't hesitate.

He pushes in slow, for he’s a lot to take, thick and hard and the stretch is almost too much. You whine, your voice high and tight in your throat, and he soothes you with soft little noises and praise that makes you feel light-headed.

“Shhh, that’s it,” “You’re so fucking tight-” “Made to take my cock, mesh’la" and other words you don’t recognize. Eventually, he’s all the way inside you, his pelvis flush to yours, the scratch of hair at his pubic bone pressing into your mound.

You pant in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, a thin resin of sweat risen on your brow. “Move,” you order through clenched teeth, and finally you open your eyes to meet his visor and demand, “Fuck me, Mando.”

And he does - withdrawing his hips from the welcoming cradle of yours, his cock dragging back through you, and you can feel every ridge and vein before he’s spearing back in, jarring your back against the bulkhead. It’s a shock right through your system, and you can feel adrenaline flooding your veins, your blood pumping faster like you’re fighting for your life. You might as well be, for he does it again, and again, and soon he’s setting a punishing pace that hits against something soft and devastating deep inside you.

Your orgasm hits you like a blow you fail to dodge - winding you, knocking the air from your lungs - and for a moment all that matters is the blinding flash of pleasure through your nerves, the rolling wave that makes your cunt flutter in rippling spasms around the pulsing rod of his cock. He pins your hips with another vicious rut of his hips and then he’s coming, too, releasing into the impossible grip of your body, groaning with every spurt of spend he fills you with.

“Fuck,” Din summarizes, once you both can catch your breath - once your legs start to loosen, jelly-weak as he pulls out gently, lowering your feet back to the ground. He’s suddenly nervous - worried he’s fucked this up, done the wrong thing, lost patience and paid for it with your scorn.

But your smile is brilliant as you beam up at him - your face radiant - flushed and sweaty. You are beautiful.

“Next time, don't waste time dropping hints,” you tell him, and then you reassure him with a laugh, and the wonderful feeling of your arms around his neck.

For a while, he just holds you close. And for a while, the bullets in his stomach are gone.

[muffindaddystyles]

Keep holding my hand.

Harry was in an emotionally abusive relationship before y/n, something happens that makes his insecurities float back.

Impetuous reel of dithery thoughts rapidly bustles on the wall, Harry stares at it blankly – he stares and stares and stares ..... yet it does nothing for what he wishes.

His stomach fills with acid and his mouth burns with foulness with each painful beat his heart gives realizing maybe this's the end ---- he doesn’t spare a glance to the dinner wafting off he cooked with much happiness looking forward to tonight.

Where did I went wrong?

Did I hurt her in any way? What if she didn’t like me popping up at her studio that day to remind her of tonight

Well Keat didn’t like it ..... She used to hate it Infact,

No! She’s not like keat —--

But, then why isn’t she picking your phone? She knew, promised and she still didn’t came tonight?

What if she’s sick? Fuck, then I should go to her.

He shuts his screaming conscience down, shoving the heels of his palm against his pop-sockets wearily to make him feel something --- to escape the hurt that’s looming around him, crushing and squeezing him to death.

He blows off the candles, melted to their base from being sorrowfully lit from three hours atleast --- mocking him and his sincerity.

You deserve this.

Why did y’think ye' deserved anybody’s love?

She doesn’t love you anymore --- just like keat....

The corners of his glossy eyes prickles with pearly tears and it drops down his clavicles, with blurry vision he dials her one last time and it goes straight to her voicemail alike past three hours.

Hiya, Y/N here! Leave a message ‘cos I mighty be busy or maybe lazyin' round the farthest corner of my home .......

He tosses and turns, does it manifold times --- his sleep betrays him too and he’s angry soaring with venom, if he could scream from a cliff and throw stones down the pound furiously he'd instead his eyes runs droopy.

His shuddering breath sulks to tranquillity, all he could hear’s a screech of wind that’s hitting the window and his guts.

His body jerks at the chirp of voice he’s oh so familiar with —- other days he'd be submerging in the honeyness of it but at the moment he bites down his wrist to keep him wrenching his empty stomach out.

“Happy anniversary, bub!” His brows clinches down into a grumblish frown and he presses his hand between his thighs turning his back upon hearing the careful steps treading in.

The creaking stalls and she stands at his doorway with heavy heart, her throat —-- uff her throat feels like as if someone punched it several times.

Not letting her tongue to utter any word —- anything that’d assure him and her, everything’s alright --- it’s not a big deal.

Ofcourse, it is!

Little things matters most to him – told you —- he .. — he told you himself and you hurt him, you hurt him just because you couldn’t stand to your boss.

She wanted it to be perfect for him, for them — winded up the work her boss hoarded on her mercilessly last minute demanding her to wrap it up in an hour --- felt giddy and motivated to do it speedily looking forward to their celebration. Bought his favourite chocolate moose cake standing in the line of his favourite bakery, since he doesn’t like any other flavour.

She stands at the side bed looking down at him, heartbreaking in million pieces seeing him torn, all teary cheeks and this stoic for the first time they’ve been dating.

“’M sorry -- I –- my boss trapped me and – ‘n I really wanted to call you —-- then it took me forever at your favourite bakery, I’m so sorry baby.” She rambles nebbish-ly and catches onto his shoulder when he tries to face away from her.

He mutters, “Forget bout it. Go back home ‘s getting late.” Though, his heart lurches forward to embrace her and shower her in kisses telling her “it’s totally fine.” And that “how bout we celebrate now,” but being an emotionally sensitive person has it's very cons and one of it is requiring space and time to recover for better thinking.

His eyes slips into abyss and he holds back a sniffle when he feels the mattress dip behind him, she sighs, coos in the softest voice she only keeps it for her lover, “Oh baby .... you’re my home.” She's well aware of the anxiety he goes through. He feels like everything crumbling but she's there to catch him and she rubs his back.

The many many reassurances he needs from his lovie to keep going for them, the praises for him for treating her like the most precious daffodil —- because he never got praised before; even though how much of the world’s luxuries he'd lay at his ex's feet was never assured that how much she loves him (because she never did).

Y/N would never want his insecurities to float back and sting his scars, she'd never want him to ever go through from what he did in past —-- to be used like a toy and manipulated, might sound weird and whumpy of her but she’d kill many dragons to keep him protected at any cost.

He sleeps with her body cocooning him from behind and his erratic breath syncs to her calm ones.

..

His dreams full of suffering, void and darkness violently clashing and swirling against eachother as the ugly creature takes Y/N away from him, leaving him in prison of his own pathetic head.

Fear of loss —- he fears loosing her and does it make him toxic? He was snubbed so many times – being told his behaviour was toxic that he’d hesitate before doing anything precisely very fondly caring —- but then Y/N came in his life and she'd tell him how much she appreciates him, how he’s like the best sundae in hot summer and he felt like she’s the sunshine he was waiting for in the never-ending rainy days.

Y/N stirs from her light sleep on hearing the broken whimpers, the valley of her chest moist as he cries into her and she cups his cheeks gazing down at him concerned, “What happened sunny .... baby talk to me ...” Her voice groggy and on verge of tearing.

She sits back a little with him still between her legs and wipes his tears away gently, “I’m so sorry ...” He mumbles –-- eyes bloodshot and she shakes her head pulling him closer, if she’d be able to cradle him in his lap she'd but apparently he’s too big.

Queasy hiccups, “f – fo'--... d —- dou...” sad sniffles and hiccups that tightens his chest.

She tenders his wobbly lip kissing his temple, “shhh. shhh, puppy I should be the one apologising yeah?”

“no .. I didn’t gave another thought before doubting --- that –-- that you’re about to leave, no person in right mind does this – I —-,” His body trembles with blue sobs.

“Harry ...” she tries to gain his attention and when he still doesn’t listen, “I know I don’t deserve y'n – ‘n maybe you don’t want me anymore —--” she raises it a bit, “Harry!” he falls quiet --- nibbling the corner of his cheek to hold back hiccups.

“Look at me puppy, yeah? Shh hold my hand and take a breather.” She smiles. Takes his sweaty hand and aligns his palm to her mouth for a deep kiss – then squeezes it.

“Keep holding it baby, keep holding my hand, you’re going to be fine --- we – see us here,” she points between them with gleamy eyes and he nods timidly wiping his nose with his sweater paw, “we are fine baby –- we are okay..”

How could someone be this dreamy? This gentle and sweet? What did I do to deserve my lovie?

“Better?” She inquires. Little worried that he'll fall back into rabbit hole and tucks his head under her chin, keeping him warm against her chest and he clutches the hem of her shirt nuzzling into her.

“Did you really think, I’d leave you and that on our first year anniversary? Sorry to tell you .... ‘m stitched to your hip for life time, there’s no exchange policy puppy how much you grump.”

She grins. Happy to earn a feeble chuckle from him and scratches his head, looping his curls around her fingers.

“I love you.” She startles when he speaks hoarsely after the longest time and it’s not like he's saying it for the first –-- but it still doesn’t fail to engulf her in warmth, so much of it.

“I love you too, you’re my only puppy and very loved one.” His eyes crinkles prettily at that and she kisses the tip of his nose.

“You want to rest? We could eat the dinner you dearly made for me and oh we got moose cake in fridge too, what a coincidence!” She giggles. The room fills with wet treacly noises of smoochy kisses she’s patching on his cheeks and his jaw.

Without a word he holds her finger and leads her to kitchen, she creates proud noises of “ooh!” and “ahh!” trying to sneak a glimpse from over his shoulder but he'd shoo her away as he heats the food; she gets out gorgeous smiles from him she cherishes so much.

“You did all of this for me?” She gasps sweetly, hand over heart to accentuate the love she's feeling and walks towards him when he nods timidly rubbing his socks feetsies one over the other.

His cheeks blazes peach and she giggles pinching them, “You’re so cute aren’t you?”

“Okay then. Let’s eat!” she claps her hands together and pecks his lips before pulling her chair beside him rather than opposite to him and his heart flutters at that --- each pore oozing with deep love for her and every insecurity and anxious ideas completely drains out of him when she pats his seat and wiggles in her own --- anticipated to taste what he made.

“Hmm. This tastes so good, H! Your hands are really magical, huh?” She passes him a smirk pecking each of his knuckle to make him feel better about himself and his lips quirks up softly, “Thank you – d’ya w'na umm eat the moose here o'in bed?” Her face beams at that, him speaking more than two words and looking forward to spend the night with her.

“On bed, please –-- would you like tea? Think ‘m running out of if —- proper jello ....” She cleans the table and raises her brows when he gazes her adorningly as she’s the nymphs of stary oceans.

He shakes his head, nose twitchy as she nudges him teasingly and he takes her off-guard --- hugging her by waist and kisses her soft tummy.

“Nothing just love you bleedin’ much.”

..

[llamagoddessofficial]

Happy (late im sorry) birthday @aka-indulgence !!! I wrote you a special thing... with one of your special boyos whomst you managed to convert me into loving. I hope you had a fun day!!

Tw; caves, broken bones

You’d stopped screaming a while ago.

There were a lot of reasons- for one, the air in the cave was damp, thick, choking... screaming required you to take a deep inhale of the stale smog and your lungs were already starting to reject it. It was borderline unbearable and you were pretty certain that if you survived this, you’d be choking and coughing for a week at least.

... But that wasn’t the biggest reason. That wasn’t the most important reason you were keeping your mouth shut tight, as you laid on your back in complete darkness, eyes darting around as fast as they could and leg numb with agony.

By this point, screaming was a critical danger that would get you killed.

... The cave just behind the cliff was rumoured to be impossibly deep, to have once contained some kind of legendary terrifying monster that reacted violently to intruders and killed those who didn’t heed its immediate warnings to leave. Of course, there were no modern sightings of this mythical beast, and it definitely sounded less like fact and more like some urban legend designed to keep people away from a dangerous area. No one had ever mapped it... no one wanted to, even the most intrepid of local explorers. The stories (and a healthy serving of common sense) seemed to have prevailed long enough for that particular entrance to just be left alone.

...

So of course, your study group decided it’d be such a good place to spend a Friday night, armed with nothing but half-charged torches, rucksacks full of drinks, and borrowed walking shoes.

You could feel tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, gravity dragging them down the sides of your face as you stared upward into the total blackness. It was stupid to come down here, horror movie levels of stupid- but you just couldn’t say no to them. The study group was the closest thing you had to friends, and you let them lure you into coming along, you’d allowed yourself to be led by your terror of being left out.

... You had no idea how long you’d been lying on your back in total darkness with your immovable leg throbbing with pain, but it was getting clearer and clearer no one was coming back for you.

... So I guess you’ve been left out after all- left out in a cave to die. 

...

A noise. You turned your head, quickly- a familiar blood red colour standing out against the black, closer than last time. Panic jolted through you once again and you grappled with your flashlight, turning it on and pointing it directly at the red; a harsh white circle of light appeared and illuminated a section of the cave. You saw bone and a wide maw of terrifying teeth for a split second before it retreated quickly from the glow in a flurry of movement, disappearing back into the nothingness, an aggravated snarl rippling through the cavern.

...

Your friends, if you could even call them that, seemed to have followed the philosophy of ‘don’t outrun the bear, just outrun the slowest person’. When the monster had attacked your group in the dark, everyone panicked and ran for the exit... and when you stumbled, falling down a steep shaft into what was most likely going to end up being your grave, you became the slowest person.

And the ‘bear’ focused on you.

... It was hanging around in the darkness surrounding you. You could hear it, scuttling, waiting, the terrifying sound bouncing off the walls and coming from every direction at once, you hated how your panic and the enclosed space worked perfectly together to fuck with your hearing. Your only hope was the flashlight you clutched in both quivering hands.

...

You turned to the left, and caught sight of the red again. An engorged, blood coloured orb, slowly moving closer to you like a stalking wolf- it paused when you raised the flashlight, ready to recoil, and you jammed your clammy thumb onto the on button.

...

Nothing.

...

“... N-no.” You said, tiny, voice cracking, shaking the device and mashing the useless button over and over. Suddenly, just like that, the darkness around you had swallowed you completely whole. “No, no, no...”

... 

The monster made the same realisation you had. The flashlight was out of battery. The bloody red eye contracted a fraction... and then, upon realising your only line of defence was gone, advanced toward you.

...

You screamed as loud as you possibly could. You screamed with your whole chest, so hard it ricocheted across the walls and rang in your ears, you kicked your good leg against the ground in a desperate attempt to push yourself away but your heel just slipped on the floor. The sound didn’t deter it- and the eye got bigger and bigger, coming closer by the second, the true scale of the thing hunting you was dawning alongside the panic.

It’s gonna eat me.

The eye was the size of your fist. You could smell something, something warm, its breath, you were seized with unparalleled fear and you blindly swung the useless torch like a weapon. To your shock, it connected- landing squarely on what must’ve been a cheekbone. But it did about as much damage as a pillow would to a rhino and the flashlight shattered into pieces upon impact, with the monster not even so much as flinching.

It was definitely breath, you could feel it in your hair. It smelled like blood. Giant hands moved around your torso, under your arms, and picked you clean up off the ground- and the oh-so-familiar heavy ‘scuttling’ sound of him moving filled your ears. 

S-someone help me!

You punched at his ribs, still ‘screaming' (it was hardly screaming anymore because it was punctured by cracks and thin breaths), the world was beginning to drown out. The sounds and smells and pain were all so overwhelming, the dark and red of his eye were already eating you before he’d even opened his mouth, all you could think about was how no matter how much you didn’t want to you were going to die.

...

Light. Light that wasn’t his eye. It was enough to distract from your shouting, pathetic attempt at making noise catching in your throat. Little glowing rocks- crystals, maybe, they dotted the floor and walls, creating a faint white that was just enough to see by but still filled the world around you with wriggling shadows.

... It was enough to, for the first time, properly see the creature that was taking you.

He was huge; a skeletal upper half, barrel-chested, shoulders twice the width of your own and a heavy sternum with ribs like prison bars. The size of his jaw and thickness of his teeth told you he wasn’t the kind of predator that wasted any time with theatrics; there was no serration, probably no venom, he wasn’t going to be using valuable time to suffocate victims. With a mouth like that he would get right to the point- crushing straight through bone like eggshell.

He was staring ahead. Concentrated.

... Your eyes darted past his skeletal body to the main thing you'd been afraid of seeing; his lower body was a centipede. Giant scar-mottled gleaming brown carapace, trailing off into the dark, massive hooked 'feet' working in perfect undulating tandem to move him effortlessly across the uneven cave floor. You had absolutely no idea how long he was, you couldn't even hazard a guess. No wonder you'd heard his scuttling all around you in the darkness, it wasn't your mind playing tricks on you, he'd literally been all around you- you never stood a chance, did you?

You'd wedged your arms between yourself and his massive ribcage, shaking hands pushing as hard as you could. Despite how obviously little it was counteracting his hold, it was your last way of feeling like you were fighting. Your face and neck ached, your chin was wobbling, your head pounded.. you were a melting ice statue ready to shatter at the slightest push.

You were running out of fight.

... He carried you up, over a lip, into a small alcove. A recessed section of rock, a cave within a cave- a slightly more concentrated cluster of those glowing stones revealed the interior was lined with furs, rags, chunks of sleeping bags, old and well-loved blankets. Some kind of nest.

I’m... am I hyperventilating? you thought, feeling disconnected and dizzy, mind retreating further and further away from your body as a final defence mechanism. Everything’s spinning. 

...

Softness. At first, you thought you’d just gone completely numb... but when you concentrated a little more, you were surprised to find you were staring up at the glow-dotted stone ceiling. 

...

... He’d... put you down. On his nest of blankets? He was hovering over you, breath still brushing your cheeks and forehead... that terrible eye shifted its gaze down your body, you felt like a dinner being surveyed.

... You couldn’t even bring yourself to try and wriggle away. What chance did you stand? Further and further into numbness... am I going into shock?

...

He reached toward your broken leg. You didn't even want to look at it; it hurt so badly. You squeezed your eyes shut, suppressing a sob.

...

Warmth.

A pleasant kind- like you'd just laid the broken limb beside a fire. Tingling faintly... magic? Healing magic? You couldn’t look, you didn’t have the stomach to see just how mangled the leg was, that’d just make it hurt even worse. But it was... 

... Nice.

The warmth was like an eraser. It floated over the leg, fuzzy and comforting, and wherever it floated the pain just... ebbed away. 

...

You opened your eyes again. When he stopped, there was no more pain in your leg. None at all. And he was just... sitting there. Staring at you.

...

“Y-you...” You croaked. The hole in the centre of his eyelight shrank a fraction. The magic felt like it was doing something to you; you could feel your shoulders slowly unwinding, chest relaxing enough for you to take breaths that actually filled your lungs, throbbing head settling down. “... You healed me?”

... Was clubbing him with a flashlight the wrong idea?

...

... He made a sound. Several sounds, actually... soft, throated, deep and staggered... chuffing, like a tiger. Such a gentle noise, for such a giant monster...

...

He seemed to make a decision. With one last little chuff and a nod to himself, his socket lidded... and he laid down next to you. One of his thick-as-your-head arms gently looped over your middle; you were vaguely aware of his centipede body gathering itself into the little alcove, some of it draping lazily over your lower legs.

... Keyword ‘vaguely’ aware. You were so tired, so tired and sick of being in pain, that you barely even wiggled in response to his strange cuddle-like gesture. He was... actually pretty warm... and he smelled like amber and campfires.

...

You were asleep before you could remember you needed to be scared of him touching you- that claws carding lovingly through your hair wasn’t supposed to feel nice.