#have i already used that tag for this game?

[m0onlustre]

Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: somewhat enemies to lovers, smut, porn with oc plot, angst

ᯓWord Count: 5,8k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries. 

ᯓ Notes: Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3

Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.

You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.

The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.

You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.

With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.

So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.

While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.

No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.

Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.

That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.

His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.

You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.

Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.

Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.

Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.

His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.

The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.

Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.

“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.

“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.

“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”

“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.

As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”

Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”

You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.

“Sylus.”

He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.

“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”

“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”

His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”

Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”

“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.

“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”

“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.

You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?

Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?

Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.

When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.

You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.

Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”

You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.

“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.

“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”

His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.

Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.

When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.

Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.

You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.

After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.

Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.

As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”

You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.

Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.

“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.

You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.

“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.

You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”

His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.

“I did.”

“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

 “What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”

Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”

“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”

“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”

A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.

“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.

Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”

A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.

Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”

“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.

“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."

By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”

Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.

Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”

“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”

His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.

The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.

As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”

“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.

“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.

“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.

“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”

“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”

“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.

When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”

You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.

Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.

Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?

“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.

This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.

You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”

Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.

“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.

“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.

Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.

Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.

His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.

The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.

Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.

You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.

“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”

Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.

“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.

He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.

His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”

You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.

The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”

Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”

“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”

“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.

Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”

You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.

The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.

Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.

You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

ps; this story has the potential to delve into other parts, either of Sylus and reader in the future or of their shared past from the moment he found her. You can always comment and let me know if you'd like to see something more from this fic:))

[rpftourney]

Best RPF Ship - Round 1 Match 1

Propaganda under cut

Phan Propaganda

they are (dan's words, not mine) "actual soulmates" and their relationship (again, dan's word not mine) is "more than just romantic".

they live in a house together which they call "the phouse" and share the mortgage, they've been together for 15 years, they are both so insanely stupid that no one else could ever put up with them.

also! they've both said that rpf is fine and dan tagged phan here on tumblr last week so I think by definition we win rpf <3

+

adies, gentlemen, those that lieth betwixt... how many of your rpf ships can you confidently say have won? in which both parties are still together, working and living together, openly affectionate, zero evidence of other partners / potential for other partners, and have longevity and a committed community to boot? while yes, many a bandom ship and youtuber pairing has paved the way for us, not many can say they have definitively won, the way phan has won. they literally live together in a fuckass shiny modern home somewhere in the middle of london with a gay little nerd shrine shelf dedicated to the first video game series they ever bonded over. they not only think rpf is fine, they encourage it, they write their own!

to my fellow rpfer's: i admire your efforts, but phan already won.

[jetii]

hello lovely!!! if you have the time for it with your follower celebration, i’d looooove #21 with hunter 🤭 or if you get too many reqs for him with howzer or wolffe! tysm, and congrats on this big milestone!!!! 💗💗💗💗

okay so i got a lot of requests for #21 so i'm trying to do something different for each! also a slightly different style than i'm used to with some slightly more unhinged smut. @a-cryptid-called-magetha come get your man

A Game

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader

Words: 5,049

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, smut, friends with benefits to lovers, Frat Batch era Hunter, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, underwear kink?, the most dominant Hunter I'll ever write, he's still a simp tho

Prompt: 21. “Moan a little louder, cyare. Let all of 79s know who’s fucking you.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You’ve played this game a hundred times, so you know that when Hunter meets your eyes across the bar, you have a choice. You can walk over and talk to him, or you can ignore him. 

The first will take you on the route of the seducer. He’ll buy you a drink, and you’ll let him. You’ll let him slide his hands up your skirt, and you know where it ends.

You can already feel him behind you, his breath in your ear, his lips on your skin. You can hear him say the things he always says, the words that’ll make you feel like there’s no one else who has ever made you feel the way that he does. He won't be wrong.

Or, you can look away, and let him come to you. The seduced. It isn't like he won't find his way over. It isn't like he isn't always there. You'll pretend that you don't see him until you feel the heat of him right behind you, his presence filling the room, his hands on the back of your chair.

You'll pretend you're not thinking about him and what you could do with him. You'll pretend not to want it, because you know the game, and you know how to play it well.

You can tell yourself that you aren't going to give in. You're not going to let him kiss you, and touch you, and fuck you. But it's a lie. You are going to. And it infuriates you that you're still doing this. It makes you angry, and you can't quite figure out why.

You don't look at him again, because if you look at him, you'll be done for. It's not that you haven't had this conversation a thousand times. It's just that sometimes it feels like it's not a game anymore. It feels like something real, and you hate the part of you that wants to believe that. You hate the part of you that still lets you think that there's a chance.

So you don't look. And, even though he's the hunter, it's you who waits. It's you who watches. You don't have to turn your head to see him. You don't have to watch. You already know how it will play out. You're only here for the ending.

Hunter doesn't come to you right away. He takes his time, talking to his squad, pretending that he isn't watching you, pretending that he doesn't know exactly where you are. You know he can see the tension in your body. You can see it too, because you can't stop the way your hands clench, the way your thighs shift, the way your back straightens. You can't keep from turning your head to look at him.

It's then that he makes his move. He crosses the room to stand beside you, and the rest of the bar fades into the background. He doesn't touch you, doesn't even come close. Instead, he leans in and speaks, and his words are the ones that make you weak. "Let me get you a drink."

The thing is, you shouldn't let him. This isn't supposed to be happening. You aren't supposed to be here. Not with him.

"No." You shake your head. It's the first time you've ever said it, and you aren't sure how it feels. "I'm not interested."

He gives you a look, like maybe he doesn't understand what's happening, like he didn't expect to have to try this hard. Then, he looks down, and when his eyes meet yours again, you feel something shift. He knows.

His voice is different when he speaks, and he's so much closer now. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You nod, and it's not the first lie you've told tonight, but this one feels better, and so does the next one, the one where you tell him, "I have to go."

You leave the bar, and he doesn't follow. Not this time.

It's a good start.

The second time, you're not going to give in.

You don't know if you can say no again, but you have to try. Because there are things that matter. Things like love, and trust, and respect. There's a future.

You want that future. You want it more than anything, and that's what you have to remember.

Hunter walks in, and you think maybe he's going to ignore you. He’s talking with one of his brothers, the one that joined the Batch a few months back, and they seem engrossed in whatever they're talking about. You feel a flood of relief, and maybe a little disappointment.

But then, Hunter meets your eyes, and you realize that he hasn't forgotten. Across the floor, you're frozen in place, and all the things you should say, all the things you should do, have left your head. His eyes are dark, and the room is crowded, but somehow, it's like there's no one else here.

When he looks at you, it's like the whole world is falling away.

You're the first to break the contact, looking down and away, pretending you didn't see him. You feel a flush creeping up your neck, and you hope no one notices.

You can't do this.

You shouldn't do this.

It's the only thing on your mind as the music pounds through the speakers, and the crowd surges around you. It's all you can think about, and it's distracting, because you keep seeing him in your peripheral vision. It's like he's everywhere, and you can't escape.

You know that if you turn your head, he'll be there, and if he's there, then this will all be over. He'll come to you, and you'll let him. It will be like every other time, and you'll wonder why you tried, why you thought you could say no, why you thought it was worth a try.

He'll be there. You know he will.

You keep your head down, and your eyes averted. You focus on the lights and the music and the crowd. You focus on your feet, and your hands, and the glass in front of you. You don't think about Hunter.

Someone else approaches you. Not Hunter. Someone you don't know, and it's nice. This is the kind of thing you came here for. This is the distraction you needed.

You aren't sure why it makes you feel worse.

You go home alone.

The third time, Hunter comes to you, and it's over.

He doesn't wait. He doesn't ask. He's already got his arm around your waist, and his lips are pressed to your throat, and you've got no choice. There's no way to stop this, and no way to walk away.

"I missed you." He breathes the words into your ear, and there's no one else, not for a single moment, who could ever matter the way he does. You can't even remember what your life was like before him.

"You saw me a few days ago."

"It's not enough." His hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. "Not anymore."

You have no answer to that. There's no reply.

Hunter pulls away, and he's still holding you, and when he speaks again, the words are low and urgent. "Don't make me beg. Please."

Your hand is on his chest, and you're not sure if you're trying to push him away or hold him closer. You've never heard him sound like this before, and it's something new. Something terrifying.

Something hopeful.

"Okay," you tell him.

Hunter exhales, and his arms tighten around you. He rests his forehead against yours, and there are a million things you want to say. You could say them. He might listen.

"Come on." He doesn't kiss you. He doesn't even let go. He just takes a step back, and you can't stop yourself from following. You know what's going to happen.

This is the part of the game you can't stop playing.

You aren't surprised when Hunter pulls you into the nearest darkened corner. He isn't gentle, and he doesn't stop moving. When you're alone, it's like he can't get close enough, can't touch you enough.

It's like this time, he wants to prove that he's still got a hold on you. That this hasn't changed.

It hasn't.

His lips are against your neck, and his fingers are digging into your hips. He's everywhere, and all you can think about is how this was a mistake. You knew it would be.

It's just that it's so hard to remember why.

“Hunter...” Your voice sounds strange, and Hunter lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are so dark, and the light from the main room glints off his tattoo.

When he meets your gaze, he stops. You see the realization cross his face, and it's not what you expected. You thought he'd keep going. You thought he'd push. You didn't think he'd care.

He doesn't speak, and neither do you. You're not sure how long you stay like that. Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

You don't say anything. There are no words. There's just him, and you, and the fact that, after all these months, the rules have changed.

For a moment, he almost looks scared, and you don't know what to say.

"I don't..." He looks away, and you can tell that he's struggling, trying to figure out what's happening, and what he's supposed to do. It's the first time you've seen him this unsure, and it's your fault.

"Hunter." This time, when you say his name, his eyes meet yours. He's not hiding anymore, and he's still touching you. You can still feel his breath on your face.

You've played this game a hundred times, but the stakes have never been higher.

"I can't."

Hunter frowns, and the confusion on his face is obvious. He doesn't understand. You're not sure if it's because he never believed that you could stop, or because he never expected that you would.

"You said—"

"I know what I said."

He takes a step back, and the space between the two of you is wide, and empty, and cold. The air is different without his hands on your skin.

"Did I do something?"

"No,” you say. You shake your head, and then, because there are some things you can't deny, you add, "Yes."

"Tell me." He's still standing so close, and when his voice drops, your breath catches. He puts his hand on your arm, and when he slides it up to your shoulder, his thumb grazes your collarbone. "Whatever it is, I can fix it. Tell me."

He's not listening, and he doesn't hear you. If he did, then this wouldn't be a problem.

"I don't want to do this anymore."

His hand freezes. "You don't want..."

"This," you say. You gesture to the space between the two of you. "This thing where we pretend that nothing's happening. It's not just sex anymore, Hunter. I'm not some random stranger. This means something."

He's still frowning, and you're not sure he gets it. "Of course it means something."

"No," you say. You're getting frustrated, and he still isn't letting go of you. "You don't get it. You need to take a step back, and we have to figure out what we're doing here. Because I can't do this, and—"

"What?"

"I can't have a casual relationship." The words are rushed, and quiet, and everything comes spilling out at once. "I can't have a sex-only, friends with benefits, no strings attached relationship. Not with you. I want more. I've wanted more since the day I met you."

Hunter opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He looks like you've hit him, and you want him to say something, to say anything. But he doesn't, so you speak for him.

"I can't keep pretending that it doesn't matter. I can't keep lying. It's too much." You take a deep breath. "So, no. I can't. Not anymore. We can't."

Hunter doesn't move. He doesn't say anything. He’s preternaturally still, and there are so many things you wish he would do, but this is not one of them.

It hurts more than you could have imagined, and it's more than you can bear. You feel like you can't breathe, and like the only thing holding you together is his hand on your arm. He's staring at you like he doesn't recognize you, and you have to look away.

It's only a moment, and then Hunter moves. His fingers drag up to your chin, tilting your head up so you're forced to meet his eyes. You're caught. Held in place by the intensity of his gaze.

"You really don't know, do you?"

You blink. You aren't sure what to say, so you don't say anything.

"This isn't casual. Not for me,” he says, his voice rough, and his eyes search your face, like he's trying to make sure that you're understanding what he's saying.

You're not sure you are.

"I haven't touched anyone since the day we met." He pauses, and the words are like a blow, knocking the wind from your lungs. "Not anyone. Not ever."

He keeps talking, and you're not sure what's happening.

"I didn't lie. Not ever. I never told you how I felt, but that's not because I didn't care."

"Hunter..."

"You're not the only one who feels something," he says, and his voice is low, and desperate, and full of all the things you've never allowed yourself to believe. "There is no one else. There never was. Just you."

He's not playing the game anymore.

"I'm not pretending," he says. "This matters."

You can't speak. Your throat is tight, and your heart is pounding. You want to believe him, and it's almost too much.

"You—"

"Yes," Hunter says. He nods, and then he smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

He leans in, and you're frozen. You can't move. It's like the world has stopped.

"Do you understand now?" he asks, and he's close. So close.

"Yeah," you breathe.

Hunter's eyes close, and he exhales. "Good."

Then, his lips are on yours, and this isn't like any other kiss you've shared. This isn't a game. It's different. Everything is. It's like the first time, but better, because this time, you both know where you stand. This is a beginning, not an ending.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, and his lips trail down your neck. "I thought... I didn't know."

"Me too," you whisper. "I didn't want to hope."

"I know." Hunter's hands slide under the hem of your shirt, and his fingers dig into your hips. His mouth is against your ear. "But, now, I want to know what else I've been missing."

"Me too," you say. "Stars, me too."

"Yeah?" He's still smiling, and he's not stopping, and you've never been more turned on. "You gonna show me, then?" 

"Oh, yes," you say. You guide him back with a gentle shove of his shoulders, but you don't let him go far. The door to the women’s restroom is right behind you, and without thinking, you grab the lip of his chest plate and drag him inside. He laughs as he follows you in, and the sound makes you smile, but then, he's not laughing anymore.

Hunter slams the door shut behind him, throwing the lock into place. You don't waste any time, pushing him back against the door, and he groans. He's already reaching for the hem of your shirt, but you've got other plans.

It's easy to slide to your knees, and when you reach for the buckle of his belt, Hunter's eyes are wide, and dark. His breath catches as you unlatch his codpiece, and toss it to the floor. You don't wait, pulling his cock free, and Hunter's head thunks back against the door.

"You don't have to—"

You take him into your mouth, and his words dissolve into a moan. It's been too long since the last time, and the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of him, is better than you remember. The thick vein that runs along the underside is throbbing, and you press your tongue against it, feeling him twitch in your mouth.

He's already breathing hard, his hands on the door behind him, as though he's not sure what to do with them. He's got one foot braced against the tile, his hips shifting restlessly, and when you glance up, his eyes are closed, his mouth open, his face slack.

He's beautiful.

You don't have time to think about that, not with him filling your mouth, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat, his fingers threading through your hair. His hands are gentle, guiding, not pushing. You can feel his restraint, the way he's trying to hold himself still, the tension in his thighs as he rocks against you.

You hum, and Hunter gasps, his hips bucking, his cock thrusting deep. He hits the back of your throat, and you moan, and it's the first time that he tightens his grip, the first time that his voice breaks. "Oh, fuck."

His hand is cupping the back of your head, holding you close, and when he pulls back, the drag of your lips over his cock is obscene.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—"

You cut him off with a lick along the slit at the tip, and Hunter moans. He doesn't seem to be able to look away, his eyes glued to the sight of you on your knees, and the way his cock disappears into your mouth.

"Fuck, I've missed you."

You laugh, and the vibration of it makes Hunter shudder. He's shaking, and when he meets your eyes, his own are burning. "I mean it. You don't know what it was like. Watching you walk away."

You take him deeper, and his words come faster, like he's finally getting it out. "It's always like this. Every time I'm close to you, I can't think. The way you look, the way you feel, fuck, the way you smell."

His cock slips from your mouth, and you suck a line down the length, and then back up. He's leaking, and you lap at the salty tang of his release, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head. 

"All I can think about is burying myself inside of you, and fucking you until you're screaming. I don't know what you do to me, but it's too much."

He's rambling, and his fingers are tugging your hair. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he's shaking. "It's too much. It's always too much, and it's never enough."

You know exactly what he means. You can feel it every time he's near. It's a pull, a draw, and a need. There's a part of you that is always searching for him, that needs him closer, and closer still.

It's maddening.

"I can't stop wanting you."

You've never heard Hunter talk like this, and it makes you moan. The sound is muffled around his cock, and it's like the last of his self-control evaporates.

"Get up here."

He tugs your hair, and you can hear the urgency in his voice. He's not waiting. Not anymore.

His cock slides from your mouth, and his hand wraps around the back of your neck, hauling you to your feet. His lips are on yours, and the kiss is rough and biting, his tongue thrusting deep. You can taste him, and you can feel the way he's shaking.

You've never seen him like this, and it makes you want more. It's intoxicating, and addictive, and all you can think about is how much more he's going to give.

He doesn't give you time to catch your breath. He's spinning you, and you're facing the sink, your hands gripping the edge. He doesn't ask as he rips his gloves off and tosses them into the sink, but you can see the question in his eyes. He doesn't have to.

You nod, and it's all he needs. Hunter's hands are on your waist, and then he's yanking your skirt up, and his fingers are sliding between your legs. He curses, and when he pulls his hand away, his fingers are glistening with your wetness.

“All this from my cock in your mouth, and I've barely touched you." His words are a low rumble, his breath warm against your ear. "Is this what you wanted? Me to take you hard and fast, so that anyone who walks in can hear how good I make you feel?"

Your thighs clench, and Hunter groans, his voice cracking. "Do you have any idea what it does to me, knowing that I'm the only one who can make you come like this?"

"You're the only one I want." Your voice is breathy, and uneven. You can't seem to get a full breath, not when he's looking at you the way he is, his fingers sliding between your folds.

He brings his hand to his lips, and licks his fingers clean, his eyes closed. He looks like he's savoring it, and you're transfixed. It's not until his hands are back on you, hooking into your panties and pulling them down, that you take in a gasp of air.

You watch as he kneels behind you, dragging your underwear down to your ankles. He lifts one foot, and then the other, pulling the soaked garment off. You don’t see where it goes, but you don’t hear it hit the ground. He doesn't drop it. Instead, he stands, and shoves it in one of his pockets, and when he looks at you, he smirks.

You aren’t sure what to say. It shouldn't turn you on. It does.

Hunter leans forward, and his cock slides along the cleft of your ass, and then lower. His lips are on your neck, and when his cock brushes against your clit, you gasp. You can't take much more of this.

You try to turn, but his hands are on your hips, and he's not letting you. His mouth is hot against your neck, and his lips are pressed to your ear.

"No." His voice is a rough growl, and you can hear the smile in his tone. "Stay."

It's not a request.

You freeze, and his teeth sink into your neck, making you cry out. He doesn't speak, and the only sound in the room is your breathing, and the soft, wet sounds of his cock sliding between your folds. He's rubbing the head against your clit, and it's almost too much. You can't stop moving, but the pressure on your hips keeps you still.

"Hunter,” you whimper, and the word is half plea, and half command.

He doesn't answer, and his breath is coming fast and shallow. His fingers are digging into your hips, and he's pressing his cock lower, and lower. You can feel him notch against your entrance, and he pauses, the both of you held in limbo.

"Please."

The moment stretches out, and then Hunter's hand is on the back of your neck, pressing you down. Your forehead hits the cool porcelain of the sink, and you can feel his fingers flex, and then his cock is pressing forward, and stretching you open.

You moan, and it's all you can do not to move. He takes his time, easing inside, and the feeling of him filling you, the sensation of being stretched and filled and claimed is exquisite.

It's not until he's seated inside you that he lets go of your neck. His hand is on your shoulder, holding you in place, and his hips snap, driving him deep. You gasp, his name a strangled cry that tears from your throat, and you can feel his lips brush against your skin.

"That’s it,” he grunts, his breath hot against your ear. He's barely pulling out, fucking you with quick, sharp thrusts. “Moan a little louder, cyare. Let all of 79s know who’s fucking you.”

You don't know what he's doing to you. All you know is that you want more, and you're desperate to obey. You can't help the noises spilling from your mouth, and if you weren't so focused on him, on the way his cock felt inside of you, you might have been embarrassed.

But all you can think about is the way his fingers are gripping your hips, and the way his body is pressed against yours, armor cold and unyielding against your back. You can hear him breathing, and the quiet grunts and moans that fall from his lips are driving you mad.

“Hunter—”

He's not waiting for you to finish, not even bothering to let you catch your breath. You feel the way he responds to the sound of his name, the way his hips jerk, and the way his cock thickens inside of you. His arm slides under your body, wrapping around your stomach, and his hips are moving faster, his thrusts rougher. Hunter fucks you like he's trying to claim you, and in a way, he is.

His mouth is at your ear, and when he speaks, the words are a rough whisper. "Tell me you're mine."

You're shaking, and it's not from the force of his thrusts. It's from the way he says the words, the way he breathes them into your ear, like a plea and a prayer.

"Tell me, and I'll let you come."

You don't know how he can keep talking. You can't form the words, and he's relentless. The way his cock fills you, the way his hips snap, the way his mouth is pressed against your neck, his lips leaving kisses and marks that will linger, and remind you that you're his.

"Please," you manage, the closest your fogged mind can get.

"Say it."

"I'm yours," you whisper, and the way his hips jerk is telling.

He doesn't speak, his hips shifting, and when he drives into you again, it's all you can do to hang on. He's hitting the perfect spot, and when he fucks into you, he stays there, the head of his cock grinding against the most sensitive parts of you. His hand finds your clit, his thumb circling, and it's only moments before you're coming undone.

The force of it hits you, and the noise that escapes is not quite a scream, and not quite a moan. You're shaking, your vision going white, and your entire body is clenching, tightening around him. It's only then that he lets go, the sound that spills from his lips making you shudder.

You can feel him coming, the heat of his release flooding your core. It's a sensation that will never get old, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the way his hand tightens on your hip, the way his mouth opens against your neck. The way he gasps, and sighs, and whispers your name, like you're the only thing that matters.

It's always like this.

He holds you close, and neither of you speaks. It's just the sound of your breathing, the quiet rustle of his armor, the gentle hum of the music from the club outside the door.

There's a knock on the door, and Hunter curses, his hands tightening. His voice is rough, but quiet, and there's no mistaking the warning in his tone. "Go away."

You're frozen, and there's no reply, just the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway.

"Fuck," he groans. The sound vibrates through your body, making you shudder.

"You're gonna get us thrown out,” you tell him, and Hunter laughs.

"It wouldn't be the first time." He pulls away, and it's an unpleasant sensation, the drag of his cock leaving your body. You can feel him leaking from between your legs, and you shift, trying to find something to clean yourself up with.

"Here." Hunter pulls a towel from the rack, and he's gentle as he runs it over the inside of your thighs, and between your legs. He cleans himself and tucks his cock back into his blacks, and the whole time, he's got a hand on your waist, like he's not ready to let go.

You adjust your clothes, and when you turn to look at him, Hunter smiles.

"I've been thinking," he says, and he's reaching for you, pulling you close.

"That sounds dangerous."

"Maybe." Hunter dips his head, and he kisses you, his hands cupping your face. His mouth is warm and soft, and it feels like an apology. When he breaks the kiss, he's still holding you, and the next words out of his mouth are the last ones you expect.

"Do you want to go to dinner with me?"

You blink. Hunter's eyes are serious, and his hands are on your shoulders like he's bracing himself.

"Like, on a date?"

He nods, and he looks so nervous, it's hard not to laugh. The two of you have been having sex for months, have done things that would make most people blush, and he's nervous because he wants to take you to dinner.

"Just the two of us?"

Hunter nods again, and when you smile, his own lips curl up.

"Yes." You wrap your arms around his waist, and he looks relieved, like he didn't think you were going to say yes. "I'd love to."

Hunter smiles, and it's brilliant. It makes his eyes shine, and you can't help but grin.

"Good," he says. "That's good."

“But you’re going to have to give me my panties back."

Hunter raises an eyebrow and dips his hand between your legs, the touch light, but firm. His fingers glide through your folds, and the sound you make is high and strangled. He's still wearing a smirk when he pulls his hand away, and when he licks his fingers clean, there's no mistaking the way his gaze darkens.

"I think I'm going to keep them," he says without a hint of remorse.

"But—"

"Consider it a promise." His smile is wicked, and his voice is low and rough. "For later."

Your eyes widen, and Hunter chuckles.

"Now," he says, his hands sliding down your arms. He interlaces your fingers with his, and pulls you toward the door. "Let's get out of here."

This time, you follow him without question.

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[novaursa]

Crown of Fire

- Summary: Aegon didn't conquer Westeros because of the prophecy. He did it because of you. And it started as a child’s game. 

- Note: Events that transpired in this short story happened before The Broken Crown.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

The sun was high in the sky, casting warm, golden light over the cliffs of Dragonstone. The air was filled with the sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks below, mingling with the calls of seabirds that circled overhead. The children of House Targaryen played in the castle’s courtyard, their laughter bright and free as only youth could be. Visenya, the eldest, was a blur of silver hair and dark armor as she sparred with one of the guards, her movements fluid and fierce. At fifteen, she was already a formidable warrior, wielding Dark Sister as if the Valyrian steel blade were an extension of herself.

Aegon, at fourteen, watched her with his usual calm intensity, a faint smile on his lips. He was tall for his age, his face still carrying the soft lines of boyhood, though his violet eyes spoke of a seriousness beyond his years. Rhaenys, all of thirteen and full of boundless energy, had draped herself dramatically over the carved stone bench nearby, pretending to swoon at the sight of Visenya’s prowess.

But it was you, the youngest at ten, who caught Aegon’s gaze more often than not. You, with your bright laughter and infectious spirit, darting around the courtyard like a flame that couldn’t be contained. Your silvery hair whipped around your face as you twirled, a makeshift crown of wildflowers slipping down to rest lopsided on your brow. You had always been their little sunbeam, the one who could draw a smile even from Visenya’s stern lips and make Rhaenys’ endless schemes seem tame in comparison.

“Aegon, come play!” you called, running up to him and tugging at his sleeve. He looked down at you, a rare, soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he set aside the practice sword he’d been holding.

“And what game would you have us play today, little sister?” he asked, his voice gentle in a way that he used for no one else.

You grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s play kings and queens!” you declared, hopping from one foot to the other. “I’ll be the queen, of course. And you all have to be my subjects.”

Rhaenys laughed, clapping her hands. “I shall be your loyal knight, Your Grace,” she said with a mock bow, her face alight with amusement.

Visenya, pausing in her training, raised an eyebrow. “And who do you imagine will be your king, then?” she asked, her tone teasing.

You pursed your lips, pretending to think deeply. “Hmm… I suppose I’ll have to marry one of the kings of Westeros.” you said, a playful glint in your eye. 

Rhaenys burst out laughing, and even Visenya cracked a smile. “Which one, little sister?” Rhaenys asked, her eyes dancing with amusement. “The fat one in the Riverlands, or the one in the North who always looks like he swallowed something sour?”

You thought for a moment, then raised your chin, mimicking the haughty tone of the court ladies you’d seen at Dragonstone. “Maybe the King of the North! They say Starks are very handsome.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you felt the air change. It was subtle, but you noticed. Aegon’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. You were too young to understand the depth of his feelings then, but you knew how to get a rise out of him, and his reaction made your heart beat a little faster.

“Why would you want to marry a Stark?” he asked, his voice a touch too steady. “The North is cold and bleak. You wouldn’t like it there.”

You shrugged, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But if I’m to be a queen, I must marry someone important, no?” you said, your tone light and teasing. “Unless… unless you mean to conquer the kingdoms yourself, brother. Then I would have no need to marry anyone else. I could be queen, and you could be… king.”

There was a pause, a moment where the world seemed to still around you. Aegon’s gaze locked onto yours, something fierce and unspoken flickering in his eyes. He reached out, almost unconsciously, and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.

“Maybe I will, then,” he murmured, so quietly that only you could hear. “Maybe I will conquer them all. So that you’ll never have to leave.”

You blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice. It was a game, wasn’t it? A child’s dream, nothing more. But something in the way he looked at you made your heart flutter strangely, a feeling you didn’t yet have a name for.

“Don’t be silly, Aegon,” you said, trying to laugh it off. “You can’t conquer the whole world just for me.”

But the look he gave you then was one you would remember long after, a look that promised he would do exactly that, and more, if you asked it of him.

“I would conquer it all,” he said, his voice steady, “just to see you smile.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your blush as you spun away, your laughter echoing around the courtyard. “Then I’ll be waiting, King Aegon,” you called over your shoulder, skipping away to join Rhaenys in her dramatics.

But even as you played, your words had already taken root in Aegon’s mind, planting a seed that would one day grow into a fire that would consume the Seven Kingdoms.

He watched you, his little sister, his beloved Y/N, and knew, even then, that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side. He would break any betrothal, defy any tradition, and, if necessary, lay waste to the entire continent, just to make sure you were his and his alone.

The game might have ended that day, but Aegon’s resolve had only begun to form. And though you couldn’t know it then, your innocent words had set in motion a chain of events that would shape the history of Westeros forever.

Aegon I Targaryen, the first of his name, stood atop the hill, surveying the devastation below. The smell of smoke and blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the cries of the wounded and the dying. His armor, blackened and scorched, bore the marks of battle, but he felt no pain, no weariness. Only a cold, relentless purpose.

He had begun this conquest with fire and blood, and he would end it the same way.

The Seven Kingdoms had once seemed so distant, disparate lands ruled by petty kings and warlords, their power fractured and fleeting. Yet now, as he gazed across the smoking ruins of Harrenhal, the shattered stronghold of House Hoare, he felt the inevitable weight of destiny settle upon his shoulders. This was his, all of it, as he had always known it would be. And he would bind it together under one rule—his rule.

But even as he claimed victory after victory, his mind kept drifting back to a single thought, a promise made long ago in the carefree days of childhood.

You.

He had known since that day, when you had teased him with talk of kings and queens, that he would never let you go. He had watched you grow from the lively, carefree child who danced through Dragonstone’s halls, to a fierce young woman whose spirit shone brighter than any flame. You were his joy, his anchor, the one thing in this world that made him feel truly alive. And he would not let you be taken from him—not by anyone, not even by duty.

The other kings of Westeros had fallen one by one before him. The Reach and the Riverlands had bent the knee. The Ironborn were broken. Dorne remained stubbornly defiant, but they would come to heel in time. Yet the North… the North was different. Stark men were proud, unyielding. Torrhen Stark had sent word of his intent to negotiate, to discuss terms, and with it, a reminder of the betrothal promised long ago—a political arrangement meant to solidify alliances.

Aegon’s grip tightened on Blackfyre’s hilt at the thought, his knuckles white beneath the leather. Torrhen Stark, King in the North, dared to speak as if the arrangement still held weight, as if he could claim you as his own. The very idea made something fierce and possessive rise within him, a dark flame that burned hotter than dragonfire.

He remembered your face the day your father had first mentioned the match, the way you had looked at Aegon, eyes wide and uncertain, seeking his reaction. He had said nothing then, merely turned and left the hall, his silence a mask for the storm raging within him. He had known even then that he would never allow it, but he had let the betrothal stand for a time, waiting, biding his moment.

That moment was now.

Aegon closed his eyes, the din of battle fading to a distant hum as he focused inward. He saw your face, your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke of dreams and adventures. He remembered the softness in your voice when you spoke of the future, how you had confided in him your fears and hopes. You were not meant to be some lord’s prize, bartered and traded for power. You were meant to rule, to stand beside him as his equal, as his queen.

His resolve hardened. The North would bend, just like the rest. Torrhen Stark would come before him, crown in hand, and he would kneel. But not as a suitor. As a subject. He would relinquish any claim he thought he had to you, or he would face the wrath of Balerion’s flames. There was no compromise, no room for negotiation.

The betrothal would be broken. You would not be sent away, not to the frozen wasteland of the North, not anywhere. You would be here, with him, where you belonged.

And then, when the last of the kings had bent the knee, when the Seven Kingdoms were his and his alone, he would turn to you. He would take your hand and look into your eyes, and you would see that this—all of this—had been for you.

He could already imagine the scene, the way you would look at him, the disbelief that would give way to understanding, to the same fierce love that burned in his own heart. You had resisted him for so long, pushing him away, keeping him at arm’s length even as you had grown closer to his sisters. He knew it was because of that broken promise, the shattered dream of freedom that he had taken from you. But he would show you that this was the only way, the only path that would ever make sense.

The thought of you—of your stubborn defiance, your laughter, the fire in your eyes—gave him strength as he turned back to his men. The conquest was not yet finished. There were still battles to be fought, crowns to be claimed, and a future to secure.

But soon, soon he would return to Dragonstone, to you. And when he did, he would take you in his arms and tell you the truth of it all. That every kingdom he had claimed, every battle he had fought, had been for you. That he would burn the world itself if it meant keeping you by his side.

He mounted Balerion with a fluid grace, feeling the great beast’s muscles coil beneath him, the heat of the dragon’s breath warming his legs through the scales of his armor. The conquest would go on, and he would crush any who stood in his way. But his heart, his mind, his very soul, were already set on the moment he would return to you, victorious.

He would place the crown upon your head, not as a gesture of power, but of devotion. He would marry you, not because of duty or tradition, but because you were his, and he was yours, bound together by a fire that could never be quenched.

And if anyone tried to take you from him—be it Stark, Lannister, or even the gods themselves—he would unleash hell upon them all. Because you were his queen, his beloved Y/N, and he would let the world burn before he let you go.

[cluelessteam]

Whispers Through Time: {~Revealing the Truth~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1106

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 7 ---

The candlelight flickered over the faces of the trio, casting long shadows that danced across the cold stone walls. The weight of the moment settled thickly in the room, silence punctuated only by the soft crackle of the fire and the distant clatter of footsteps outside. The air between them felt charged, every breath heavy with anticipation.

Rhaenyra stood near the hearth, her hands clasped in front of her as she studied the reader with careful eyes. There was warmth in her gaze, but it was edged with something harder—uncertainty, perhaps even suspicion. Daemon lingered closer to the door, his presence as commanding as ever, though his expression was more relaxed. The subtle tilt of his lips suggested he found the situation amusing, though beneath the surface, he was every bit as alert.

The reader, caught between them both, felt the gravity of the moment. She had been careful, incredibly so, but now, the game was up. They had found her notes, pieced together the warnings and advice that had seemed to appear from nowhere. Rhaenyra had demanded this meeting, and Daemon, loyal to his wife, had come with her. Now, they wanted answers.

“You've been leaving us... these,” Rhaenyra started, holding out the parchment that contained the most recent warning, her voice calm but edged with steel. “Your words have proven to be true so far, but you’ve been hiding your intentions.”

The reader swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. She had expected this moment to come eventually, but not like this—so sudden, with both of them confronting her. She tried to keep her face neutral, though she could feel her pulse quicken under Rhaenyra’s sharp gaze.

“I had to be cautious,” the reader said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “You would not have believed me otherwise.”

Daemon moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her, though his tone was teasing. “Oh, we’re well past the point of disbelief. You’ve proven yourself far too knowledgeable for a simple midwife.” He tilted his head slightly. “What exactly are you?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered to Daemon briefly before settling back on the reader. “You claim to be a seer,” she said, her tone careful. “But your warnings, they seem almost too precise. Almost as if…” She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

The reader took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. She had to choose her words carefully. “I never said I was a seer,” she corrected gently. “That is what you assumed.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tightened. “Then what are you? How do you know what’s coming?”

There was no easy answer. The reader had thought long and hard about this moment, about what she could say if they ever confronted her. She couldn’t reveal the truth—that she was from a world far beyond theirs, that she knew their history because it had already been written in her own world. It would make her sound mad. So, she offered them the best version of the truth she could manage.

“I have dreams,” the reader said softly, her eyes locking with Rhaenyra’s. “Dreams of things that have not yet come to pass. They are vague, fragmented, but I see enough to understand that some events... can be prevented.”

Rhaenyra seemed to consider this for a moment, her brows furrowing. “So you dream of the future,” she said slowly. “And you’ve used that knowledge to warn us?”

The reader nodded, feeling the tension between them ease slightly. “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice calm and measured. “I’ve only ever wanted to help.”

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he crossed his arms, leaning against the table. “And why help us? What do you gain from this?”

The reader hesitated. She couldn’t tell them the real reason—that she was trying to survive in a world that wasn’t her own, that she had no choice but to align herself with them because they were her best chance at safety. Instead, she chose the safest explanation.

“Because I believe in your cause,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “I believe that you are the rightful rulers of Westeros. And I believe that the Seven Kingdoms will suffer if your enemies succeed.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened slightly, though there was still wariness in her gaze. “You could have come to me,” she said quietly. “You could have told me the truth from the beginning.”

The reader dropped her gaze to the floor, guilt gnawing at her. “I didn’t know if you would trust me,” she admitted. “I thought... if I could prove my knowledge first, if I could show you I was telling the truth...”

Daemon let out a low chuckle, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve certainly made an impression.”

The reader’s heart ached with the weight of her lies. She had never meant to deceive them, not really. She had only wanted to protect them from the terrible fates that awaited them if they followed the path history had laid out. But now, standing here in front of them, she realized how tangled things had become.

Rhaenyra moved closer, her expression softening as she placed a hand on the reader’s arm. “I understand,” she said quietly. “But if we are to trust you, there can be no more secrets between us.”

The reader nodded, meeting her gaze. “No more secrets.”

Daemon, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, finally pushed off the table and moved to stand beside Rhaenyra. “You’ve earned our trust,” he said, his voice low. “But make no mistake—we will be watching you closely.”

The reader felt a shiver run down her spine at the weight of his words. She had gained their trust, but it was fragile, precarious. One misstep, and it could all come crumbling down.

Rhaenyra’s hand lingered on her arm for a moment longer before she stepped back, her gaze still intent. “You will stay by my side,” she said firmly. “I want to know more about these dreams of yours.”

“And I,” Daemon added, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “We will unravel your mystery, one way or another.”

The reader nodded, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with danger. But for now, she had bought herself time. Time to figure out what to do next. Time to find a way to prevent the future from unraveling before her very eyes.

As she left the room with them, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their trust—and the danger that came with it—pressing down on her like a cloak of iron. There was no turning back now.

[abyssal-ilk]

I really wish a Dalish Elf could point out to Vivienne that the only reason Clans keep minimal mages is because they want to avoid Templars pulling up and massacre-ing everyone for harboring a bunch of apostates. I wish I could know what her reaction is to that particular detail she leaves out. She would probably have a new excuse locked and loaded but I wish I could hear it.

going to use this ask to complain about the treatment dalish mages get in dragon age inquisition, because the idea that the dalish cast out their mages when there are "too many of them" is something bioware completely pulled out of their ass for dai. in previous games and dragon age media, the dalish are shown to be nothing but accepting and protective of their mages, no matter how many mages there are in a single clan. the idea that the dalish would cast out a young child (in the case of minaeve, the creature specialist in haven) or an adult mage (in the case of dalish from the bull's chargers) because there are supposedly "too many mages" in one clan is. ridiculous.

i do fully agree that the dialogue options an elven inquisitor are given during that conversation are like. extremely bad, though. bc they are. but it's such a break off from the already established lore of how the dalish treat the mages in their clan that i can't get past it long enough to genuinely pick apart vivienne's reaction to it because. that's just. not how dalish mages were treated previously. but yes, the dialogue options should of been different.

edit: this was originally just in my tags, but i figure i'd add this bit too incase this is reblogged

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 14

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

New book new book! Can you believe I am on book three already? Holy heck, time has flown by.

I thought I would switch up my tea process today with a new cup but also I wanted to show off my collection XD We bought some new and some refill teas from the ren faire yesterday (one of our favourite localish tea blenders) and what a collection my partner and I have amassed. I didn't realize how huge it was until I snapped the pic- it feels very at home apothecary LOL

I went with a lady grey latte and instead of my heart mug I was feeling the spooky vibes and and using my mug by Jaxx b. I have a few other handmade mugs I might start featuring because they are fun as heck!

I've rambled enough about my tea and mug let's get into this chapter!

okay right away bless MXTX for doing such a good job immediately place setting. We are in the demon realms! p9

oof. the energy between Luo BInghe and Shen Qingqiu is so uncomfortable right now. Neither of them saying anything. I am intrigued to see how they sort through this. I know they are end game but like- this is so awkward. p9

oh gosh. Luo Binghe 10000% modeled the room he is basically locking SQQ in after the Bamboo House. Yes SQQ, there most definitely is meaning in it being familiar. p10

So. LOL SQQ's rationale. Instead of "looking too much like a respectable woman kidnapped by a ruffian" p. 10 is to essentially play gay chicken?

RIP well, luo binghe did find out about the blood. so sexually charged though in the way he decided to find out. p11

How is Luo Binghe even surprised that after SQQ being treated this way that he requests that Luo Binghe never see him/see him as little as possible? What did he even expect would happen here?? p12 There is a lot of trust broken between these two.

oh? System feature upgrade? p13

LOL "luxury edition" p14 There must be fanfics about SQQ kept trophy husband

omg what kind of novels was SQQ's sister reading XD those are some wild fantasies. pp14-15

SQQ: "I will not have stockholm syndrome" okay buddy, we will see what happens with your 'luxury edition' p15

oh luo binghe, that sweet baby boy is having them plant bamboo and is cooking SQQ's meals.p16 this would be even cuter if they talked about things instead of having such a weird dynamic.

Jesus Christ. Shang Qinghua enters again. How does this man stealth so well when he is kind of an idiot? I feel like terrible decisions and bad luck follow him everywhere- but he is just slippery enough to get away. p17

LOL SQQ: Your protagonist turned gay. Shang Qinghua: eh, it's fine as long as I'm not the love interest. sucks to be you. p18

okay but I want to know how deep the info of this world goes. Where does it pool the information to generate everything- just published content OR is it everything and anything Airplane thought about or created (ie the lost computer files about Luo Binghe's dad) p19

uuuugh not another interruption- I feel for you SQQ, I too want to know what he was going to say about your tragic backstory in the original edit. p22

Airplane really said 'no homo' "That man of yours is here. Let's do it later- wait, I mean let's chat later" p22

okay okay okay! The boys are talking for real about their mutual deception of one another. Is this the path to them figuring their shit out?? Maybe they will talk about their trust issues. p23

Okay I am with Luo Binghe on this- it did feel as though SQQ completely did a 180 on fundamental life beliefs RE: no one is inherently evil because of their race. p23. So I understand Luo Binghe here- I am glad they are talking.

OMG pp24-25

well. that escalated quickly LOL pp24-25

Luo Binghe probably "hit me harder daddy shizun" p26 +500 satisfaction points.

is Luo binghe going to assault him 😭😭😭😭 this is not it. that was not cool that entire part was so gross "If shizun see's me as no better than a beast either way, I might as well live up to expectations" p27

thank fuck all of that was interrupted, but also now i'm deeply concerned for SQQ!!!! is it the other demon blood? Is it past (young SQQ) trauma?? What's happening?? (no one actually answer this I 1000% know it will be resolved in due time, but I am having a panic about the guy).

Well that's not good at all

this was one rollercoaster of an opening act omg. Not a good time for everyone involved at the end there. I am VERY glad SQQ was not assaulted but I am SRESSED now for other reasons.

[grimmtells]

Why greetings, fellow person ! I am Grimmtells, owner of this humble blog filled with the contents of my brain rotting interests. Hope at least one of ‘em catches your eye ! Naturally, anyone is welcome to call me Grimm ! Shorter, sweeter and faster to type !

A fair warning, my humour can be very horny ! Will come up completely randomly, so if you don’t enjoy these sorts of jokes, be forewarned that some posts may give you the ick !

I’m gonna use this Introduction to make knowing me and navigating my blog easier for you ! So just follow my lead, and you’ll never be lost ✨

✦ MOST IMPORTANT, OF COURSE - ME !

✦ FANCY TAGS |

grimm arts - For all polished art pieces !

grimm comics - For all comics ! Includes answers to Inbox asks that I have answered with comic !

grimm doodles - For all silly pixel/greyscale doodles ! Includes answers to Inbox asks that I have answered with a doodle.

grimm tells - Pun intended. For any written/ One shot story posts I make ! They’ll be pretty sparse, I’m more of a visual guy, but one already exists so i’ll tag appropriately !

grimm answers - For Inbox asks ! Will include both written and visual answered asks !

grimm reblogs - For the things I reblog ! Check them out, it’s only cool stuff !

grimm rambles - For all random tumblr posts I make that are just me speaking into the void. Feel free to respond to my theatrical monologues.

✦ FANDOM MASTERPOSTS |

KRBAY Masterpost (LINK TBA) - Kirby anime-centric, but I might cross things over with the games if I feel so inclined. It’s also my own interpretation of many things, my own headcanons, whilst staying as true to the canon as I can ! There’s a lot of my OCs there too.

TADC Masterpost (LINK TBA) - A lot of Arlekin content too, way more than the canon characters honestly ! Sorry, I love this jackass a tad too much. 

✦ MEDIA I LOVE |

Kirby series

Kirby Right Back at ya

Super Mario series

Super Paper Mario

Mario and the Music Box

Hollow Knight

Sky Children of the Light

Undertale

The Amazing Digital Circus

Overlord (Anime, haven’t read the light novel !)

Creepypasta

Harry Potter (Fuck JKR though, obviously !)

Genshin Impact

Aside from that, I like to think I’m quite approachable ! So don’t hesitate to comment or send an ask, be it for me or one of my OCs (or even the canon characters of the Media you currently see my indulging in), I love answering all these ! <3

Ciao~

-Grimm

[game-boy-pocket]

Well. I've lost count of the times I've finished this game. I keep telling myself I've gotten all the enjoyment I can possibly get out of it and I should stop replaying the vanilla version of the game. I tell myself "play a randomizer, or at least Master Quest, or better yet, play something new!" and I never listen to myself. I think playing Banjo Kazooie the Jiggies of Time gave me the urge to revisit the source material yet again, I actually put Banjo on hiatus to finish this so I don't explore any areas with Banjo before I get to them as Link.

I'll say this is still one of my favorite climaxes to any game ever. Yeah it's very standard stuff with the hero storming the tower to foreboding music, fighting the bad guy, escaping a crumbling ruin with the princess, and then slaying a giant beast with thunder and lightning in the background, and then the whole kingdom celebrates like the end of Return of the Jedi or something. But it's just done very well and is always a treat to go through, even if Ganon himself is fairly easy.

I don't need to go into detail about this game, everyone knows it already unless they're avoiding it on purpose or just flat out don't like Zelda. I think it's good reputation is well deserved, I know there's been a lot of people who think otherwise but nuts to them.

I will say I'm not exactly playing the vanilla version of the game, I haven't done that since the 3DS version came out. I'm actually playing Ocarina of Time Redux, which just makes the game a slight bit closer to perfection by mapping the ocarina, iron boots, and hover boots to the D pad, speeding up the rate at which Link pushes blocks, giving the bunny hood it's Majora's Mask abilities, adds an on screen prompt for stone of agony for people who don't have a rumble pak, and not stopping the game when you get a skulltula token. Only change I don't really appreciate is that you get a heart container on the fist try for Dampe's grave digging tour, but I could see why people would be okay with that. There's Redux versions of Majora's Mask and Master Quest as well. I'm using an older version, newer ones update Link's model and I would prefer not to.

[milkywayes]

GARRUS VAKARIAN: DATABASE IMAGE ACCESS. > PT. 1 : 2160, 2166, 2170. > all files backdated according to user preferences: (terran_coordinated.calendar).

[lucabyte]

So does anybody else ever think about how Loop felt the need to demonstrate that the party's deaths wouldn't have any effect on the loops. I know I do but that's besides the point. Anyway I don't think Loop actually needs to bathe, they just like to feel included.

[acianoh]

Zelda Shippūden!

[pl0tty]

✍️ wip snip 💭

i was tagged by @edieblakewrites and @soliblomst to share an excerpt from something i've been working on :') thank you for tagging me bbs!!! <3

this started out as an entry for a fest but is now just a regular ol' wip i sometimes fantasize about finishing heh.

junior auror potter gets saddled with draco malfoy's parole visit one sunny day and has to check out his potions laboratory while he's there:

There was a furious flush on Malfoy’s face. Harry was clutching his throbbing kneecap when Malfoy swiftly levitated the book into the air and, with a flick of his wand, produced several sheets of paper next to it. He flicked his wand again and the book shot across the room, slamming into an open cabinet, its wooden doors shutting and locking in its wake. The papers fell on top of Harry’s head, then scattered around the floor. “Oops. Sorry,” Malfoy said, sounding extremely unsorry. “Well, those are your copies of the ledger.” Harry glared at him. He pointed his wand at the papers, and they promptly gathered into his outstretched hand. “I wasn’t going to duplicate your weird porn sketches, Malfoy.” “They’re not—!” Malfoy looked pained now. “They’re scientific illustrations, Potter. It’s research. You wouldn’t understand, of course, anything more cerebral than Quidditch Through the Ages goes straight over your head—”  “What kind of scientific purpose requires you to analyse the anatomy of an arsehole?” Harry pressed, completely forgetting himself. It was like Hogwarts all over again, the scarlet colour of his robes at the edge of his vision barely tethering him to his painstakingly cultivated adult persona. “It’s not just the—! It’s also the surrounding…!” Malfoy paused, took a few sharp breaths while looking as if he’d really like to be stomping his foot. “It’s for my formula, alright! For my lubrication potion!” He did stomp his foot then. Harry frowned. “Your what?” “I don’t expect you to understand, of course. Hetero Hero of Our Hearts, Protector of the Straight and Narrow—” “What are you even—” “However,” Malfoy went on, looking bored all of a sudden, his annoyance devolving into his usual, devastating drawl. “Some of us are a little bent, Potter. Some of us are very bent, actually, and keen on exploring ways in which we can bring pleasure to our bodies beyond what we get from the very utilitarian Lubrico.” Harry felt the fight leak out of him. “You’re…bent?” “Yes,” Malfoy said, raising his chin. “Are you going to write that down in your little form?” Heat rushed to Harry’s face. “Er, no. That’s. Not necessary.” “Whatever,” Malfoy said. “You can. I don’t care. Write it all down, see if I stop you.” “Of course I’m not going to—” “Please,” pressed Malfoy, voice coming out kind of reedy now. “I can help. The parolee has been spending his time on house arrest renovating his mansion and perfecting his formula for homemade lube. How’s that sound?”

tagging @appleslightning @fluxweeed @itsphantasmagoria @fastbrother @fanarthasmyheart if u wanna share ur lovely sketches/words 💕

[bacchuschucklefuck]

official finish-this-sketch-how-you-want post idk what to call thisSAMPLE TEXT

hi! I miss drawing with people in a café and some folks mentioned they'd like to mess with my sketches themselves and that sounds cool so this is now a thing. if u play gartic phone this is basically the complement mode! but without the fucking ring noise that freaks you out right when you're getting into the flow of it

few things are 1/there's no hard deadline! take this at ur own pace if u do, but 2/I'll also be finishing this sketch and I estimate it to take around uhh 3 to 4 days? from the time this is posted. so if that's a structure u like then let's aim for something done in that timespan as well! and 3/if u finish ur piece and post it and want me to see it the best way to do that is to @ this blog! above all we go into this one determined to have fun and enjoy. I already bought u a matcha latte with oat milk sorry if u don't want that

here I got u today a sketch that's supposed to be Riz Gukgak (SY) (grey bg version and transparent version for ur ease of peruse)

remember to have fun & be urself & finish ur drink & see u in 4 or 5

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[freakinator]

thinking about kab and the thing about her i think is she knows just enough to keep herself safe Generally but not enough to really predict what would happen should something more... complicated??? unforeseen??? idk whats the right word to use but something not covered by someones reputation and/or vids happen, believe it or not this also affects her view of clownpierce (we'll get to that)

for example, mapicc has a reputation for being an violent, angry, & impulsive guy and nothing else which makes sense but is incredibly surface level and something that only really works if you dont have a lot of experience working with him

another is reddoons, his betrayal after the base incident while shocking is not unforeseen but his reputation as being a guy whos seen as being a reasonable person whos fairly loyal to his team made it seem like something he wouldnt do even tho it absolutely is

regarding how it affects her view of clown, since he isnt perfectly aligned with his reputation she instead pivots in the complete opposite direction and forgiving basically every crime he does even tho hes something much more mild and complicated than either his reputation or her view of him will ever be (think madonna-whore complex which is especially obvious when it comes to kabs vs woogies view of him)

another side effect of this Just Enough amount of knowledge aside from being blinded by her own expectations is that it frustrates ppl who think shes oversimplificating things (like me and seemingly several other tumblr users as well) especially when she claims that shes objectively correct and the smartest in the room at any given moment

how this roughness in her analysis affects her in the server still has yet to be fully seen but we do still have at least a couple months until the end but 'til then shes just gonna keep stumbling as more and more complicated situations pop up as is typical in lifesteal to happen and eventually shes gonna have to learn to adapt or else she'll be suffering the consequences one way or another