#i'm sorry I didn't draw more of the chain

[curseofaphrodite]

prisons & prophets

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!prophet!reader

Oracles were only admired if they were royalty. For a merchant's daughter like you, prophetic claims came with marks of a heretic and "burn at the stake" threats.

You coughed up dust when you were pushed onto the stone floor. There was silence around you, one that seemed more curious than haughty.

You carefully looked up to see Queen Rhaenyra, who looked as if you were a dead lion that just fell from the sky.

"What is the meaning of this?" There was fury and familiarity behind those words, and you groaned as you registered Jacaerys Velaryon in the room. He had his eyes trained on the guards and was intentionally ignoring yours.

Great.

"She's a witch!" The first guard yelled, sounding like he had a personal vendetta against you. It might had something to do with how you kicked his balls earlier to try to be freed from him, but you weren't sure.

Daemon Targaryen laughed. The sound made you look around the room properly. Daemon and Rhaenys were seated opposite each other, both looking more intimidating than the other. There were at least five guards around the room. But perhaps the most intimidating of them all was Rhaenyra herself, who looked fierce and gentle all at once. She gave off a godlike aura, which had you half tongue-tied. Jace stood a few paces in front of her.

"A witch?" She asked, almost exhausted. "How is she a witch?"

"She's from Driftmark—" a second guard said, sounding more civil than the last.

"That explains it," Darmon interrupted, smirking at Rhaenys. The latter rolled her eyes.

"Daughter of a merchant who migrated from Westeros three years ago. Her stepmother wrote to us saying there is a witch in her family, and presented us with enough information that we had no choice but to act."

"I'm not a witch," you sneered. The first guard kicked you down to the floor.

"Silence!" He yelled; and you felt rage and humiliation rising tenfold.

When you could look up again, everyone was staring at Jace. He had his sword out, pointed directly at the chin of the guard. Everyone was appalled. Everyone except Daemon, who looked proud.

"You will not treat a lady with disrespect in Queen's court ever again, or you'll be dismissed," he said plainly.

The guard seemed to calm down considerably. "Yes, my prince."

The prince in question did not look satisfied, but he put away his sword. It went without saying that he still hasn't spared a glance towards you.

"What's this information that convinced you she was a witch?" Rhaenyra asked, skeptical.

As the third guard brought your scrolls forward, you knew you were doomed.

"My stepmother just wanted to ask the palace for money in my exchange!" You cried out. "I'm not a witch!"

No one seemed to have heard your protests. The guard gave the scrolls to Rhaenyra, who took some and gave the rest to her husband. Daemon opened them, his interest evident.

"These are just drawings," Rhaenyra turned the paper upside down, as if they'd make more sense that way. Jace looked as if he wanted to spare a glance, but he hesitated and stood his ground.

"They're her predictions," the first guard answered, almost hissing. "It speaks of many things... including Lucerys Velaryon's death." Rhaenyra paled at the words. You knew the wound about her son was still fresh, and you instantly felt sorry for her. "If she had a hand in his death—"

"I didn't."

"Then it was a concern to not chain her," he finished, triumphant. "Should I bring her to the dungeons, Your Highness?"

Rhaenyra thought for a while before answering. "This seems like not enough proof to force upon a conviction on someone. These scrolls could mean anything—"

"Apologies, Your Grace, this needs immediate attention." Maester Gerardys burst through the doors with a message in his hands. He ignored you, the guards, the scrolls — as if none of it was remotely comparable to what he was going to say.

"Jaehaeyrs Targaryen is dead."

Silence filled the room once again. You felt like you were invading a moment you shouldn't be in. But if Maester saw you, he didn't think you enough of importance so he went on.

"Decapitated... They think you ordered them to do it! That's the news spreading through the streets anyway."

"Me?" Rhaenyra looked surprised at the implication.

"Two," Daemon spoke up, his face buried in the scrolls. Your scrolls. Everyone stared at him.

"What?"

"There are two sketches of funeral pyres. Both look small enough to be children's." Daemon met your eyes. "One has the Velaryon crest, and one has the Targaryen crest."

You closed your eyes, sighing.

--

Even though the dungeon was dark and uncomfortable, you fell asleep the moment dusk arrived.

You weren't even surprised when you dreamt of him; A vegetable stall, and a boy.

A teen with dark hair and brown eyes, seemingly dressed down from the rest of the royals. Even then, his fabric was finer than anything you've ever seen. If disguise was what he was going for, he hadn't done it right.

"Would you like some apples?" you asked on behalf of your father, who was sleeping in for the day. Who could blame him? You were tired in the scorching heat, and it hadn't even been three hours since you started.

"Uhm, yes please. How much for them?"

You named your price and he frowned.

"Am I supposed to bargain?" He asked, blinking.

This earned a laugh. "Don't your servants usually do the shopping?"

There was a pause and he paled under your daring gaze. "How did you-"

"You're wearing a Targaryen ring."

"Who's to say it's not a stolen relic? Or fake?"

"If it was stolen, you wouldn't parade it around in daylight."

"I would if it meant pretty girls mistaking me for the Prince."

"—and if it's fake," you continued, ignoring his comment. Men flirting was as common as fruits rotting. It often had nothing to do with who they were talking with, and more about getting abed. "The guards confiscate any fake things made in the name of the Crown."

"Fine, you caught me," he sighed, taking the ring off and dropping it inside his clothes. "There. I'm off Prince duty now."

"Jacaerys!" A guard with long, dark hair and a matching beard seemed relieved at the sight of the Prince. The latter groaned. You were curious about why he wasn't addressed with formalities. You hadn't guessed there would be friendships between the royals and those who served them. "What have I told you about running off?"

"I thought my younger brother could use a one-on-one with you. I've already mastered my swordsmanship."

"Hardly!" The guard scoffed, then noticed you. "Forgive us miss, we've a long way off the castle so you'll excuse us now."

You were reeling from how polite they both sounded. You nodded curtly. The guard might as well have dragged the Prince by his arms.

"I'll come for the apples another time!" Jacerys yelled behind his shoulders.

And he did.

Again and again.

He soon confided in you that the guard gave him and his brother private lessons in an abandoned ground outside the town, and that it was the reason for his frequent visits. The guard soon warmed up to you too, and he was positively in love with the grapes you sold. He told you his name was Ser Harwin Strong. Jace said others called him Breakbones. You didn't know why because the man had the gentlest eyes.

Then one day, both of them just stopped coming.

No explanation, nothing. It was like they never existed.

---------------------------------------

"Wake up, the Queen wants to see you." The keepsman said, nudging your shoulders. You scrambled to your feet, eyes blinded by the fire lamps lit all around.

Before you could so much as adjust your hair, Rhaenyra briskly walked in. She nodded her head and the guards left the room, closing the wooden door behind them.

"Good wishes, Your Grace." You wanted to look down to the floor, but you couldn't keep your eyes off her. She was wearing black robes with red stones that carved into an intricate design, which looked suspiciously like a dragon tail. She sat down on the makeshift bed, her fingers intertwined.

"You can be honest with me."

You blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I wouldn't hang you or — burn you in a stake," she said firmly. "You can tell me the truth, any and all of it."

"You believe in magic?" you were bewildered.

"In a kingdom ruled by dragons, magic isn't far off the table."

"I'm not a witch," you said, almost stumbling over your words. She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not — I don't know what I am. Someone... something is talking through me. It does the sketches, not me. I'm a spectator to whatever I'm drawing."

Rhaenyra looked like she wanted to interrupt when you started sounding more panicked. But you paid her no heed.

"I say it's nonsense all the time. True, I predicted the storm two summers ago but how was I to know a vision of a tree in the middle of the ocean had any impact on what went above it? Isn't that just pure idiotic?"

"Y/N—"

"A vision once told me I would get married to a red boar, for fuck's sake!"

"Red boar?"

"Another time I saw a goose looking in a mirror and then killing itself. Don't know what that means either, do I?!"

The Queen reached for your hand, bringing you back from the evergrowing spiral inside your head. You realized you were gasping for air.

"You don't have to have all the answers," she said consolingly. "It wasn't fair of me to ask that much."

You nodded, calming down. "Thank you."

She stood up. "I'll make sure you're given dinner after your next visitor."

"Next?"

"How do you know him, I wonder?" she met your eyes questioningly. "My son?"

"I don't," you replied, just as fast. She didn't look one bit convinced but nodded anyway. Then she left without another word.

Jacaerys came in right as she left. He was wearing a different set of robes, but the vest looked the same. His hair had gotten even messier, which you didn't think was possible. Suddenly, you were aware of what you wore. All you had was your white nightgown, which you were still wearing when you had been forced out of bed.

"I want you to be one of the council advisors," he stated, all business-like.

"Uhm, what?"

"You're a prophet," he sat down where Rhaenyra did, though he looked more uncomfortable about it. "You're an asset."

You snorted. It was very much like a royal family to say something like that. "I'd disagree, Your Grace."

"You don't have to do the titles." Then he noted how you looked mad. He sighed. "I'm sor-"

"I'm sorry about your brother," you interjected, and sadness filled his face. But he ignored your comment and looked at his hands instead. He still had the Targaryen ring, along with a few other new ones. You frowned at one of them in particular, but he spoke before you look longer at it.

"Ser Harwin Strong was my father."

So much about the sentence had you in surprise, but only one mattered above all others.

"Was?"

"He died two days after the last time I visited you," he nodded. "Which is also why I never came again. Foul play was suspected in his death, but never confirmed. They found a new guard for me, one who trained me inside the palace walls."

"I'm sorry." You didn't know what else to say.

"I missed you everyday, if that counts."

You smiled. "It does."

"And that skill of yours? Seeing future? Do not push it down." His voice was firm. "Control it. No matter what you think, it's a power. And whoever gave you that power wouldn't have given it to you if they thought you couldn't handle it."

Now you really didn't know what to say.

"I'll have you transferred to a room. A nice one with a view out to the sea." He promised, standing up. "That is, if you agree to my offer to be an advisor."

"And my stepmother?"

"She's banished from the castle, of course. Not a coin given, even though what she gave us is invaluable. She just didn't know it."

"Oh, please." You laughed.

"I hope I'll see you soon, Y/N," Jace said wholeheartedly, noting how his visit was coming to an end. As he stepped out of the dungeon, you were still thinking about his words.

And also his ring, specifically the one that had a tusked animal carved on it, entirely out of pure ruby.

In other words, a red boar.

THE END

-----------

some notes

Ser Harwin dies wayyy earlier but I tweaked the timeline to be aligned here.

the goose killing its reflection prophecy was reference to Halaena's drawings.

which speaks about Erryk and Arwyn's deaths. Goose is their crest.

I'm not sure if I should continue this story 'cause it holds up good on its own as a oneshot! But if you'd like, you can drop ideas for the continuance of this fic or other new jace fics @ my asks!

ty for reading and here's my coffee page if you want to support me :)

[flowersforbucky]

logan howlett x reader

smut, oral, sixty-nining, throat fucking, pet names (sweetheart), language, kind of overstimulation, reader is afab, 18+ only mdni, slightly possessive logan (he really likes seeing you wear his dog tags ok?)

word count: 900 ish

omg i'm sorry if this is your second time seeing this. i posted this a couple days ago and accidentally deleted ☹️

"We really shouldn't be doing this," you moan in a breathy, fucked-out voice.

"We're already doing this, sweetheart," Logan's low chuckle vibrates over your core. You had lost track of time with him nestled between your thighs - drawing more consecutive orgasms from you with his mouth than you thought you were physically capable of having.

"This is a really bad idea, Logan. Our friends are-"

You're cut off by him plunging his index finger inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your fingers instinctively lace through tufts of his hair.

"Our friends are what? Going to hear us?" He pulls his face away from you but adds a second finger, stretching you out with scissoring motions. "Better keep those pretty noises you've been making down, then.”

It's not that you weren't dying to fuck him. It's actually all you have been able to think about for months now. You have imagined what he would taste like, what it would feel like to have his mouth on yours and his hands gripping your thighs. You've pictured the face he’d make when he sheaths himself inside you and the noises that would come from him.

What you didn't imagine was the reaction he'd have to seeing you hang his dog tags around your neck.

You'd found them earlier that day, laying on the countertop of one of the communal bathrooms on the main floor of the X-Mansion. You knew that he wasn't home at the time, so you put them around your neck and tucked them into your t-shirt until you had an opportunity to give them back to him.

“Anyone seen my dog tags?” He bellows as he struts into the kitchen. “Could have sworn that I left them–”

He pauses when he sees you smirking at him from where you stand at the kitchen island, slicing up an apple.

“Oh, do you mean these?” You set down the knife and tug the chain out of the collar of your shirt. The tags settle between your tits.

It just so happens that you weren't wearing a bra. “I found them in the bathroom earlier,” you explain, dropping your gaze back down to the snack you're preparing. “Thought I'd keep them safe for you.”

Fast forward to half an hour later, you're fucking his face and unable to form a coherent thought with how perfectly his tongue feels against your pussy.

“Want you to sit on my face.” He pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling painfully empty at the sudden lack of touch.

Logan crawls out from between your legs, laying down beside you on the mattress. He's still in his boxers, the tip of his cock jutting out of the waistband and glistening with pre-cum.

You position yourself over his body, your knees supporting you as you hover above his face. You’re facing away from the headboard, your position giving you a clear view of the defined planes of his chest and the erection straining against his underwear.

He locks his hands onto your hips, yanking you down the last few inches to his mouth. His lips suction around your clit before he pulls away with an obscene, wet pop and begins to swirl his tongue around your hole. You lean forward, your bare chest rubbing against his as you pull down the fabric of his boxers and free his cock.

Fuck, you really don't know how that is supposed to fit in any part of you.

You start by licking a strip from the base to the tip, trailing your tongue along a thick vein. He groans from beneath you, the new sensation driving him to increase the speed at which he's fucking his tongue inside you. You swirl your own tongue around the head of his cock, collecting the milky liquid dripping out before taking him in your mouth. You've only managed to fit about half of his length when he thrusts his hips upwards, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

He brings his hands up to your ass, digging his nails into the flesh just hard to leave crescent-shaped indentations.

You begin to bob your head up and down, using one of your hands to pump the base of his shaft and the other to massage his balls.

He continues to thrust into your mouth, leaving you lightheaded with tears streaming down your cheeks from lack of oxygen.

There's a warmth pooling in your lower belly - a dam on the verge of bursting. You grind down on his face, chasing your release.

The movements from his hips become erratic - you know he's close. You're preparing for him to spill into your mouth when he suddenly lifts you off of him, flipping you so that you're now underneath him on his bed.

He sits back on his knees, stroking himself in his hand as he looks down at you.

“You’re beautiful like this, you know that?” He murmurs, bringing the pad of his thumb to your cheek and wiping away a fat teardrop. His eyes trail downwards, landing on the dog tags that lay between your tits. He grips each of your ankles in his hands, hiking your legs against his chest and over his shoulders. He nuzzles your calf with the scruff of his beard as he plants kisses on your skin.

“I want to see you with my name around your neck when I come inside you.”

----

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are always very appreciated 🖤

my masterlist!!

[felkithecreator]

(Full-Color Version under the cut!!)

I was inspired by @breannasfluff 's pride DTIYS!! But, well, why draw just Triple Threat when I could draw the entire Chain instead???

Is what I thought, when I started this over a month ago.

Reasons why I should've drawn only Triple Threat, rather than the entire Chain, is that this probably would've taken like, 3 or 4 weeks less than it actually did :D. (..that's not true, more like 2 weeks probably.) Ahaha

Still, I'm very happy with how this turned out!! :D

I'm still so so late though it's not even Pride Month anymore whoops.

The flags that I chose are my own personal head-canons for the Chain. But also I'll list some of my relationship headcanons too for fun.

Warriors: Gay, painfully single. 

Time: Ambiguously queer, for the purposes of this art I thought genderqueer fit well. Ofc he's married to Malon.

Wind: Queer/Gay (He and Tetra are queer platonic besties to me) I didn't really wanna assign too much to him though since he's like, 14, so he just got a rainbow.

Twilight: Pansexual. Used to have a crush on Midna, later develops a relationship with Shad?? Idk, he can do whatever he wants.

Sky: Bisexual, Polyamorous. Man is totally dating both Sun and Groose.

Four: I have no idea what Four is. Vio is gay, Shadow is gay, Blue and Green are not into romance, and Red is pan. Demiromantic I guess, for all of Four? But like Four would never date anyone cuz the colors. So I just went with a rainbow.

Legend: Transgender, gay, asexual. My headcanon says he's married to Ravio. (For tax reasons, ofc.)

Hyrule: Aroace!! (Aromantic asexual). I'm sorry but I cannot imagine this little fae dating anyone. Queer platonic relationships with the Zeldas though? I can see that.

Wild: Bigender. I also headcanon him as polysexual but I forgot that I headcanoned him as that until literally writing this bit so uh... I forgot to add it to the image. Oh well.

This took forever, literally I am dying, and now I can finally move onto drawing a different piece!! ...I still need to finish my Chain as mythical creatures series so maybe I'll get on that

Here's the full-color version:

[shadowandlightt]

Snow and Flame -2- |Cregan Stark X Velaryon!Reader|

Following the death of Luke, Jace and his sister return to Dragonstone. What she doesn't expect is to hear from Lord Stark so soon after her departure. His missive only serves to cause her to fall further for the young Lord, and Jace tells his twin sister not to miss out on this opportunity for happiness.

Part One

A/N: Thank you so so much for your support on my first part. I have admittedly not read the books, almost bought them tonight but didn't want to spend close to $100 on the box set. SO I'm really just going off of the show. I'm sure there are mistakes in this, as I am only human and highly dyslexic. But I appreciate the love and hope you enjoy this nonetheless.

The following days are torture for you. You wished for nothing more than to return to the North where you felt oddly safe, so far away from the conflict. Your stepfather, Daemon, made a grave error in judgment and sent assassins into the Red Keep to kill Aemond, only they didn’t find him, instead killing Aegon’s son, Jeahaerys. The smallfolk started to call your mother a kinslayer and cruel. Though you know she would never order such a thing. 

“Princess, a raven for you.” 

You hum and hold your hand out for the missive, spotting the Stark sigil. A smile spreads across your lips. You can’t help but look around to see if anyone is paying attention to you before you unfurl the scroll. 

Cregan’s handwriting fills your eyes, talks of how he already misses your presence and how sorry he is about your loss. He writes of the summer snow, slowly starting to thicken as winter draws closer. How despite the cold, you might even enjoy Winterfell in it’s natural season. 

The thought of him thinking of you in his home makes heat stir in your belly. You clutch the letter close to your chest, remembering how jealous you were when he and Jace swore oaths to one another and sealed them in blood. 

You thought it unfair that you were excluded. You could understand it now though, why you weren’t allowed. They swore an oath of brotherhood, and you didn’t think of Cregan as a brother. Not with the way desire built up within you during your stay at Winterfell. 

“What are you doing, sister?” Jace calls from your doorway. 

“Jacaerys,” You stand quickly, shoving the missive behind your back, “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Yes, I could tell,” He smirks at you, “What do you have?” 

“No-nothing,” You shake your head, tucking the paper into the sleeve of your dress. 

“Oh, it is something,” He laughs, reaching for your hand, “Come now, since when do we keep secrets?” 

“It’s just a message,” You roll your eyes, “From Lord Stark.” 

“From Cregan?” His eyebrows raise, “Pray tell, why does Cregan write to you and not me?”

“Jealous are we?” You question. 

“Hardly,” He snorts, “So, what does Lord Stark say?”

You take a deep breath and pull the paper from your dress, smoothing it out once more. You recite most of the missive to your brother, leaving out how Cregan writes that he longs for you to return. Longs to see you once more. It makes your heart ache because you long to see him too. 

“You’re falling for him,” Jace points out, noticing how your demeanor shifts. 

“Hardly, brother,” You shake your head, trying to cover it up, “I barely know him. Unlike you who swore oaths in blood upon your first meeting.” 

He lets out a deep laugh, “You were mad that I wouldn’t let you, so you have no room to speak, dear sister.” 

You roll your eyes, opening a box to put your missive in. The box has a lock and you keep the key on a chain around your neck. It’s where you hide all of your important things. You lock it away, a small smile playing on your lips. 

He thinks of you enough to write to you mere days after you left him. The knowledge is enough to ease the pain of losing Luke. Your chest still threatens to cave in, but the pain is more bearable, knowing Lord Stark thinks of you. 

Knowing Cregan thinks of you is enough to ease your aching heart. 

“So if he asked to take you to wife you would say no?” 

“I wouldn’t have a choice, that would be up to mother,” You remind him, “She wouldn’t likely turn down such an alliance.” 

“We already have the North,” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Yes, well, you might as well have married him yourself,” You snort.

He shakes his head, gripping the hilt of his sword. He was older than you, just by a few moments. It’d come as a shock to the Maesters to discover that there were two of you. No one was as shocked as your mother though. The kingdom celebrated the birth of both of you, no one quite as much as your Grandsire, King Viserys. He loved you so. So much that he was blind to the truth in front of him, that his wife, Queen Alicent could easily see. 

You spent your entire life trying to convince yourself that the rumors simply weren’t true. And that you were a trueborn Velaryron, but in your heart you knew. Just as Jace and Luke knew. 

“Are you going to write him back?” Jace questions. 

“Should I not?” 

“Cregan is a good man,” Is his only response. 

You nod, knowing he’s more than right, “I wouldn’t object,” You clarify, “If he wanted to take me to wife.” 

“You’ve never been one for the fighting,” Jace observes, “You’re much like Helena in that way., I suppose.” 

You nod, biting your lower lip, “I hate that we’re at war. I wish it to stop.” 

“You wish for mother to give up her claim?” He questions, misunderstanding you. 

“No, never that. Too many have already died,” Your eyes begin to water, “But…if only there was a way for her to reclaim the throne without all of the bloodshed. At this rate the path will be paved in blood.” 

“It already is,” Jace sighs, “But I understand how you feel. I don’t agree with it, but I understand it.” 

“I wouldn’t want to leave you,” You start, “But I would welcome the opportunity to leave all of this bloodshed behind.” 

“It’s only going to get worse,” He reminds you. 

“My point exactly.” 

He nods and then turns suddenly remembering why he was here, “A council meeting has been called. I was sent to get you.” 

“And you’re only now saying something?” You gasp, moving to your feet. 

He shrugs and usures you out of the door of your rooms. Everyone is already assembled around the painted table by the time you arrive. Your mother, however, is absent. You look around the chambers. The meeting starts without her, word spread that Ser Criston Cole’s forces have doubled, at the very least. 

You listen, saying quiet as they all say a dragon needs to go to war. There is no way around it. Cole will take Rook’s Rest without a second thought. Jace is in the middle of saying a dragon must be sent when your mother, the queen, finally joins the council. 

Jace instantly demands to know where she’s been and a volley ensues. You stay quiet, as you always do, letting your twin do the talking. But even you, in your grief, took note of your mother’s absence. It worried you to no end, not knowing where she had gone or why. But upon hearing she went to King’s Landing, you swore your heart stopped. 

But when she says she’ll be the one to fly to war, you stop breathing. And when Jace urges her to send him, you swear you might faint. The thought of either of them being in danger is enough to send you over the edge. You cannot stand it. Never have been able to stomach the thought. Jace was right, you’re much like your aunt Helena in that regard. 

You’re about to say something, anything to help the fight, when Rheanys speaks up, saying they must send her. Meyles is the largest dragon that you have, and as Rheanys says, no stranger to battle. 

The meeting seems to end then, having been decided who was going to war on your mother’s behalf, you withdraw quietly. So quietly you aren’t sure anyone noticed you even left. You consider it your power, to sneak from a room, or move about the castle unnoticed by most. You’ve always been the quieter one, compared to the temper that fuels Jace. He’s always run hotter than you, ready to act at a moment’s notice. Ready to fly off the handle and do something rash. You’re more cool and calculated, you suspect you’re more like your father in that way. Either one of them. 

You settle at the small table in your rooms and begin writing back to Lord Stark. You find yourself wishing more and more you could return to the North and be far away from this conflict. So you tell him just that. You tell him that you yearn for him as well, and that you were glad to hear from him so soon. You pour your heart into the letter, not sparing anything. You tell him that the war is really and truly beginning, and that there is no avoiding it now. You tell him that you’re scared of it. 

You’re honest with him, in a way that you didn’t expect. And that night, you fall asleep holding his letter. Wanting to feel close to the Northern man. 

News breaks the following morning that Rheanys and Meleys were lost at Rook’s Rest, and that Aegon, the pretender, was severely injured and is on death’s door. Aemond is named regent in his stead, which is more dangerous than having Alicent herself on the throne. Because Aemond knows no end. He will do anything to secure his place. Including as reports say, sacrifice his own brother. 

You feel it in the pit of your stomach, the dread. It fills you as you walk the halls of Dragonstone. The mood has shifted. If the war wasn’t real with the death of Luke, it’s real now. And you find yourself wishing you could just vanish from Westeros all together and avoid all of this. You do not have it in yourself to go to war. Do not have it in you to fight on dragonback as will be expected of you. 

“Where have you been?” Jace questions, brows knitted together. 

“In hiding,” You sigh, closing your book. 

“Obviously,” He rolls his eyes, “I’ve been trying to find you for hours.” 

“Well, you succeeded.” 

“Are you alright?” He asks you. 

“Must I be?” You question. 

“I know how hard this is for you,” He replies, “But we need you, sister. We cannot win this war without you.” 

“You need my dragon,” You clarify, “You can do this without me, but not without her.” 

“No, I need you,” He reassures you, “I cannot fight this without you. I need you by my side, I always have and I always will.” 

“You cannot put this on my shoulders Jace,” You shake your head, “I cannot bear it. The thought of anything happening to you, or to Mother, or our brothers…I cannot.” 

“Nothing will happen to me,” He promises, “I’m quick, and I’m lucky.” 

“And inexperienced, as mother pointed out,” You remind him, “Anyone can be killed. We are not gods, as the smallfolk believe.” 

He sighs and joins you on your seat. There is nothing he can do to put your worries to rest, because he knows there’s a chance he will be killed. There is a chance anytime he gets on his dragon and flies off. He wishes there was something he could do to ease your anxiety. Perhaps he would pay a visit to the Maesters for a draft to help you sleep better. He knows you won’t ask for it yourself. 

“Did you write to Cregan?” He finally asks, seeking to change the subject. 

He notes the way you almost smile, the way your eyes light up a little and your shoulders relax, “I did.” 

“Good,” He smiles, squeezing your shoulder, “I am glad.” 

“As am I,” You admit. 

“Perhaps he’ll petition for your hand,” He shrugs, “Then you’ll be able to get away from all of this afterall.” 

“I’d never wish to leave you, Jacaerys,” You tell him honestly, “You’re half of my soul.”

“And you’re half of mine,” He assures you, “But I would never wish for your unhappiness.” 

You nod, knowing he wouldn’t. Jace might be hot headed, and quick to fly off, but he isn’t selfish. Never selfish. Not when it comes to you at least. He would always put you first, it was his job to protect you and keep you happy. Always had been, ever since you were little. 

He could survive without you, you were sure. But you needed to find out if you could survive without him. You knew, deep within your heart, that there would come a day when you would have to learn to live without him. You couldn’t imagine Jace as an old man, sitting upon the iron throne. You hated that you couldn’t, but it was the truth. 

“I would never wish for your unhappiness either,” You tell him, biting back tears. 

“Should he ask for your hand, don’t turn him down,” Jace urges you, “Be happy with him in the North. Be safe.”

“You’re telling me to leave?” You question. 

He only shrugs and gives you a soft smile, “I’m telling you to be happy, however you need to achieve it.” 

[quintinh43]

All My Heart | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn has been off the ice for two weeks, and he isn't dealing with it well.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety/panic (attack?), general questioning of existence. Feelings, Angst, the whole roster basically.

Notes: yall please be careful reading this one! I did not mean for it to go the way it did but here we are. Please please please keep the warnings in mind, and if ever you need to stop reading please do. Take care of yourselves first loves. More notes at the end!

Wc: 1.6 k

---

Quinn felt like he was going insane. He'd been off the ice for two weeks due to an upper body injury, and it felt as if the restlessness had buried itself beneath his bones. He currently lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes and a mind that wouldn't relax.

His foot shook incessantly beneath the blanket as he tried to fall asleep, but the thoughts kept whirling. He had been having trouble sleeping since he'd been benched. The constant string of anxious thoughts preventing his mind from quieting down enough for him to slip into a blissful sleep.

"Quinn." You grumble, voice laced with sleepiness. His constant foot shaking had been pulling you in and out of sleep since the two of you had settled down for the night. But you had kept quiet in the hopes that he would be able to fall asleep eventually.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispers sheepishly, his fingers start drawing soothing circles into your waist, from where his arm is wrapped around you. "I didn't mean to wake you," he murmers, pressing his lips against your hair in a gentle kiss.

"It's alright, love. But can you please please stop shaking your foot?" You mutter, still half asleep.

"Yeah, sorry baby," he murmers sheepishly. He stills his foot, and somehow, the thoughts become ten times more intense. He's going on a full week with a total of maybe four hours of sleep. It's fucking hell. He's been getting snappy during the day. Although you mostly leave it be, because he usually apologizes right after, and you know he doesn't mean when he says it, and it's just his anxiety about not being able to play.

Deciding that there is no use in trying to sleep, he waits until your breathing evens out into a quiet snore before untangling himself from you and slipping out of the bedroom quietly. Quinn finds himself in the kitchen, with no plan on what to do. It's nearly three in the morning.

He settles onto the floor in favour of stretching. Hoping that it will help calm him at least enough so that he's no longer obscenely jittery. Unfortunately, it does nothing useful for him. His next idea is to watch a movie. Maybe something stupid and mind-numbing will put him to sleep.

He makes himself a cup of chamomile tea and sinks into the couch, turning on the first Despicable Me movie. It's perfectly stupid enough to get him no longer thinking about hockey. Except, then there's a freeze-ray. And then Vector's in-house shark aquarium is reminding him of the Canucks.

He pauses the movie and puts down his empty mug on the coffee table with such a deep sigh. It feels as though his bones are rattling. He presses his palms to his eyes in desperation, wishing oh so terribly that he could be skating and playing hockey. He feels chained, having not been allowed on the ice for so long.

His second home, his freedom. Where it feels like he's flying. Where he feels invincible, like he can do anything. Quinn springs up from the couch, and he's pacing. He paces around the living room with such fervor that he might wear a hole into the floor.

He needs to get on the ice. Now. Or he's going to rip his hair out. And then, on top of being injured, he'll also be bald. Which would be the second worst thing to ever happen to him. The first being the fact that he hasn't been allowed on the ice for two full weeks.

With no coherent plan, he creeps around the apartment, throwing his skating equipment in a spare duffle bag. He's grabbing his car keys and slipping on his shoes when the bedroom door opens with a creek.

"Quinn?" Your voice is tired and confused. You're hugging your arms around your body to protect yourself from the chill of the apartment.

Quinn looks like a deer caught in headlights. His hair is sticking up in every which direction, his eyes are red from exhaustion, and his eyebags are so so dark. He's wearing two different shoes, and for fucks sake he's not even wearing a shirt.

You amble over to him cautiously, gently tugging the duffle bag from his hand. You can see the blades of his skates sticking out of the bag. "Baby, what are you doing?" Your eyes dart over to the time on the microwave. It's 3:47 am.

"Y/n" he breathes, it's desperate and pleading, and all you want to do is wrap him in your arms and take away all his pain and worries. "I need to go- I need to get out. I'm going insane." He whispers. There's a tremor in his hands as he runs them through his hair.

"Ok, my love, we're gonna go. Let's go put on some proper clothes first." You say lacing your fingers with his and tugging him towards the bedroom. He sighs, squeezing your hand tightly. Like he needs the physical reminder that you're with him. Otherwise, you'll disappear.

You successfully coax him into a hoodie and a touqe and pull a pair of sweatpants and one of Quinn's hoodies over your (his) t-shirt. Making sure Quinn is wearing the correct set of shoes, you grab the keys off the hook, sling his duffle bag over your shoulder, and grab his hand. As soon as your hands are linked again, his grip is tight. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

You throw his bag in the back seat and slide into the driver's side while Quinn slips into the passenger seat. As soon as he can, he grabs your hand again. You hold your intertwined hands tucked under your chin while you drive.

"Talk to me, Quinn," you murmur softly, stroking your thumb over the back of his knuckles.

Quinn sighs shakily. He wants to talk to you. He really does. But he's so used to burying everything down, to not be a burden. He's the oldest. He's supposed to be the leader, the strong one. He knows in his heart that if there's anyone he can talk to, it's you. You don't push. You know he'll talk when he's ready.

His leg is bouncing, and he's running his hand through his hair nervously as he formulates his thoughts into coherent sentences. "I feel like i'm going insane," he mutters. "i need - i need to get on the ice. It's my freedom. I feel chained to existence because I haven't been able to skate for so long."

Your heart breaks for him as you squeeze his hand, letting him know that you're listening.

"I'm sorry, that doesn't make any sense," he sighs.

"No baby, it does, I get what you're saying," you say softly.

"It's like, I'm being punished for something. Am I a bad person?" His voice is cracking, and if you thought it impossible for your heart to break further, you were just proven wrong.

"No, Quinn, you aren't a bad person. Injuries are inevitable. You didn't do anything to deserve this. I promise you, my love." You kiss the back of his hand, hoping that your lips can pour all your love and reassurance into him.

"Where are we going?" Quinn asks, squinting curiously at the rapidly passing treeline. You had exited onto the highway a little bit ago, with no plan or intention.

You shrug your shoulders, "No idea, I'm just driving."

Guilt washes over Quinn like a tidal wave. He tugs his hand from yours and covers his face, with embarrassment and exasperation at himself. He sighs into his hands, and all of a sudden, the emotions are too much again.

"Quinn?" You glance at him with concern. He's breathing deeply, trying to keep the anxiety from spiking again.

"I'm so sorry, I woke you up and dragged out at such an ungodly hour. And fuck- you have work in the morning. Baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry -" he sounds like he's on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Quinn, baby, look at me." Your voice is so gentle as you wrap your hand around his wrist and tug it away from his face, "You are the most important thing to me. Forever and always, especially especially right now. Please, please, please, don't beat yourself up about it. I would drop everything for you in a heartbeat, my love."

His breathing is still shallow. You rest his hand on your chest and take deep, slow breaths. "Copy my breathing, Quinn."

It takes a minute for his breathing to match yours, "Good job Honey" you smile, keeping his hand pressed against your chest.

"Can we go home?" He whispers, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Of course, baby, whatever you want." You take the next exit and head in the direction of your shared apartment. The drive is mostly silent, only the sounds of deep breathing and the occasional shuddering sigh fill the car.

As soon as you're back in the apartment, Quinn is pulling off his hoodie and toque, "I need you to lay on top of me," Quinn all but begs.

"Alright, lay down wherever you want." You say, stripping if your own hoodie and sweats. He lays on the floor. The bed is too soft. He can't handle the sinking feeling. You lay directly on top of him, and he let's out a relieved sigh, his arms tightening around your waist.

"Love you so much, Y/n," he murmers into your cheek.

"I love you too, Quinn, with all my heart," you say gently, stroking his hair soothingly. He falls asleep within half an hour, and you pass out right after him.

And when the two of you wake up, if you take him skating. Well, that's no one's business but your own.

---

I know I said I probably wasn't gonna post for like a week and a half cause of school, but the inspiration hit, and I wrote this in like... an hour. So if it's really bad, well...

And just cause I haven't said it before, everything I write is purely fictional! I don't know how the hughes act in real life! I am simply writing them as characters.

I might end up taking this one down, so...

Anyways. Please take care of yourselves, yall. Leave comments! And as always, Love Soph.

[canadianno]

TCOLC AU Bishop refs!

They're done holy FUCK. The art here is kind of old, so some of the proportions are a little wrong, but I don't really mind all that much. 15 hours and 89 layers later, all 5 bishops are done. On one canvas because... I didn't wanna make new ones I'm ngl.

Each bishop has an everyday outfit and a crusade outfit! If you're drawing them at any point (now or in the future) and you have questions about the designs, don't be scared to send an ask my way, I'm always happy to clarify stuff.

(Note: I would greatly appreciate it if people didn't make suggestive jokes surrounding any of the designs, I'm not comfortable with them! Love yall <3)

Ramblings below! Edited note: tumblr likes to completely break my posts when I add a cut sometimes, which happened here, so I'm not gonna put one in hopes that it doesn't kill my formatting again. Hopefully it automatically "read more"s this post. If it doesn't I'm very sorry 🙏

🌿 Leshy: It's to be noted that my Leshy is transmasc, literally just because I think he deserves it, it's cool as fuck. I really wanted to give him the classic top-surgery scars because, I'll be honest, they're fun to draw, but I had to find a reasonable explanation for it because he's not a mammal. Anyway that's how I ended up with an entire evolutionary explanation for why he would have those. I will never be given the chance to explain it in the fic ever, so it shall just be random information I have forever. I love him he's silly.

🍄 Heket: While I am a big supporter of tomboy Heket, I also think she deserves to be cool and wear pretty frills whenever the fuck she wants. She's awesome and her shirt is supposed to look like a mushroom. It's also worth noting that the crosses on the bishops heads are specific, with Heket having two crosses with double prongs. She has them like this in-game and there's probably a cooler explanation for it but. I have my own silly headcanons bc I do what I want! Also, since I can't decide for the fucking life of me if she's a toad or a frog, I've decided she's just. Both. Both of them. Her mom was a frog her dad was a toad. Is this possible irl? No but COTL is a fantasy world I do whatever the fuck I want.

🌑 Narinder: Main thing I note for Narinder is that he has distinct facial markings, you just have to look closely. Another note is that his clothes have a repeating cloud motif because of the fog in the gateway- which, trust, it was his own idea. Lamb doesn't know why he chose it but they're not gonna argue. Narinders' main robes are made of wool, but his crusade outfit is made of cotton so it's easier to repair if damaged. His crusade outfit has the Big Pants because he's mostly gotta fight with his feet now, since most of the time his hands don't function reliably enough to hold a weapon.

🪸 Kallamar: Kallamar is funny to me because he's the only one here who's plantigrade, meaning he's got human-esque legs. Another notable design aspect is that he has a tail, when squids do Not Normally Have Those. That's because my Kallamar isn't fully a squid, and you can kinda sorta blame my mutual for that. Not really it's me who gave him the tail. Anyway, no matter how you draw him or what outfit he's in those 3 dark red jewels on the golden chain thing gotta be on him somewhere- they're sentimental to him. He usually wears them as a crown, but in the crusade outfit they're around his neck to be safer. Also, on the crusade outfit, he has stolen a set of Shamuras gloves. Brat little brother <3

🔮 Shamura: Their main outfit really closely resembles their bishop robes and that is intentional! They made the robes themselves, and it would've been close to an exact match had the Lamb banned them from using golden colored cloth. This is only partially because Lamb doesn't like them, but also because they don't want the bishops trying to start a mutiny, and walking around in bishop robes is a pretty easy way to collect weaker followers like flies. Shamuras' crusade outfit is also pretty unique compared to the others, and one of two reasons is that it's meant to resemble their old crusade outfits when they were younger. The second reason is that they look really cool. The outfit is designed for mobility, mostly, and before you say anything, the hip windows are because Shamura usually holds close range weaponry in the second set of arms and hates the way they snag on fabric when its there.

[tagzpite]

In your idea of Fishysseus, how is Poseidon treated of Odysseus? more like a person/prisoner or with indifference?

I also didn't understand if Odysseus is completely blind or partially.

Anyway I love your drawings and your idea!! I hope you make more drawings or a story with us!! (Sorry for my bad english but I'm italian)

I would describe it almost as if Odysseus was a pet. He often checks in on him, to taunt him and such. All highly depending on his mood, he’s especially displeased whenever Odysseus breaks the chains and attempts to get to Ithaca. He would often cause fish to no longer be near the area, yet letting ships sail past so Odysseus has no other choice to hunt.

He is basically completely blind in a sense! One of his eyes is entirely unseeing while the other can only perceive light and dark, but he can’t see any colours or such. Barely even shapes.

And I definitely plan on more art!! A for the story, some of it is already out thanks to the lovely @prompted-wordsmith who I am collaborating on the project with! While the story is i pires by Epic and the events there, it’s also of course based off of the original book in many cases instead.

[natsunenuko]

TW // mental issues, mental absue, harassment, surgery/blood

I'm sorry this one is so long, but please carry on reading. It's a chance for me to not only speak about the situation but let out some steam too. It is unfortunate this announcement comes at the same time the flood occurs on the south of my home country (Poland) and I'm in the endangered zone, luckily so far safe, as I feel my head can't handle more stress.

It's been so long since I've been this personal online. I realized how I didn't feel the urge to vent for 3-4 years by now which is a sign of improving mental health. But my healing is still a process, and I'm afraid it's too hard to carry this rock alone at this point. I fought my thoughts if I should do this and I think just as deeply as I write right now. Yet, I know it's better late than never and I thank deeply my friends for helping me out recently as well as in the past in my lowest. I wholeheartedly owe my life to you.

I couldn't ask for better friends. As years verified, even long lasting relationships might be nothing but a mask and I had to learn the hard way. I ended a friendship of 13 years at the time over a misunderstanding. Other person I put my trust on was nothing but a groomer with morally corrupted sexual tendencies who would take advange of a group of minors while being the only adult among them, yet acting like a person much younger than all of them and pressuring all their mental issues on children instead of seeking help. The latter, I might speak of more in detail when I'm ready.

Long time ago I tried calling out for help but back then, the intrusive thoughts won; "Others have it worse, just work harder.", "No one will give you anything for free, no one will care.", "What people will think of you?". and I would only speak about these things in a closed circle of my friends.

I tried my best in silence by not giving up on my creative passion, working restlessly for years, improving. Hoping I could reach the point I can sustain myself purely on what I make.

But the problem is not being self-sufficient. And it's not about my art...

All of my life it has been me, my momma and my granny. The other two important figures weren't there for us, by choice. (which is hard to say if losing someone you loved is worse than not being cared for in the first place) My rather young self at the time didn't put much thought about it as I didn't understand it but something always felt wrong; my only issues at the time was being "that weird, quiet kid with little to no friends". But despite the hardships, my momma has always been my hero, working without a time for a break or rest so we could live happily, to afford something special from time to time.

However in 2014 my momma has been hospitalised and almost lost her life to wrongly treated ovarian cyst (cyst rapture), with enough blood loss to require emergency surgery...

From that point on things went downhill and the result of that we feel to this very day. To stay afloat we fell into a severe dept. (We didn't have any savings, could only rely on borrowing money or loans) And since I was a child as all of this happened, I've only learned about it all throughfully as I entered adulthood, so I wouldn't need to worry about anything and "just be a kid". Which I really understand, but it doesn't make it easier to handle.

And by now, for several years I keep on trying to earn money, so I could free my momma from this chain and let her live, not survive. I always wanted to get through this quietly, because I never, ever wanted to burden anyone with my home problems. But it grew to a point I might need to grab anything to climb towards the light

The goal is $10 000... which is scarily large number.

I list all the options but Kofi is preferred to keep track of the funds!

My commissions are HERE! (the sheet will receive a slight update in upcoming days) My Kofi is HERE! (Level 4 Tea is free headshot drawing every month!) HERE's other services I do (adopts, brushes, etc) I plan to do paid requests for my friday streams on occasion! Anything else I come up with I hope to include in here! Every person who donates will be part of "Thank you" list where I hope to shoutout everybody, cause every penny matters. I want this situation to end...

[klaustozier]

uniform ; miguel o'hara

SUMMARY: you and spiderman 2099 are arch enemies, but when you capture him things are different.

warnings: miguel o'hara x fem!reader; you are archenemies; light knife play (there will be NO injuries being done, the knife is for taking off part of his clothes); angry sex; bigcock!miguel; nipple play (in both); light mask kink; again he will swear in spanish; mention of blood (he will bite you a little 😳); choking; degradation kink; fingering; pet names (princess); spanking and slapping; i think i might have a fang kink idk

word count: 2k

english is not my first language, so i'm sorry for any mistakes

the villain is invented for this story, okay? you don't exist in marvel universe, at least not that i know of

have fun ^^

Miguel was trapped. He had appeared in your lair to try to capture you before you destroyed more lives. But he didn't imagine it was just an ambush to capture him. He was in a dark warehouse, bound with chains, mostly on his hands, not wanting to give his claws a chance to help him break free.

"Oh…", you said approaching, wearing a tight black outfit, the beautiful makeup adorned your face, with sparkles on your eyelids and a star under the eyeliner, "You always think that you will be able to defeat me, but we know that is not so, uh?", you approached with knives in hand, your face getting close to his, the mask and a small distance separating them, "You have to remember that I will always, always be one step ahead… Miguel."

His eyes widened, his mask moving in astonishment, "What?"

You laughed, "You don't have to hide from me, I know a lot more than you can imagine…", the tip of the knife passed gently across his cheek, cutting through the mask without difficulty, making him pull back his face, "Calm down, mi amor", you whispered, "Miguel is a beautiful name…"

"How did you find out?", he asked, feeling the cold wind of the warehouse lit by computers cool the skin on his cheek that had been exposed.

You were good with knives so you hadn't cut him because you didn't want to draw blood, and something inside him responded to the thought that you could do as you pleased with him.

"Ah…", you chuckled, "I have my tricks, Mr. O'Hara", the knife slid gently across his chest where the chains didn't hold him, horizontally, the uniform opened, revealing his strong chest. You sighed seeing the delicate nipples prickling, his breathing seemed uneven not out of fear, or out of anger, but for another reason, which made your eyebrow rise, "Oh…", you smirked, positioning the flat part of the knife on his nipple, making him suck in air between his teeth as the cold metal made contact with his hot skin. He groaned and shook his head trying to get rid of that feeling when the thin sharp tip of the knife played with his skin, "What a shame, Miguel. ¿No tienes vergüenza de eso?", you laughed seeing his erection showing in your tight clothes, "You like to be dominated by the enemy, Miguel?"

Your mouth was positioned on his, still covered over the mask, not much contact, just a slight proximity.

"You will pay for this", he whispered.

You laughed, your knife being placed in its holster on your thigh, leaving you free to slide your finger across his nipple, "How? Are you going to lock me up, 20-9-9? You'll never get it and you know it", and you ran your tongue across his lip, the tip of the knife in your other hand playing gently with the skin of his chest, only teasing the delicate skin, not cutting it.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Come on, Spider-Man."

You, again, licked his lip, then biting it, still covered by the thin cloth, your finger pinching his nipple. Abruptly, he grabbed you, grabbing your arms, pushing you toward the center of the room, slamming you against the computers.

Pulling the mask off, baring his massive fangs at you, earning a wry smile, "So pissed off."

"Carajo", he cursed.

And he kissed you. First you were startled, then you allowed it to continue. Your mouth opened to allow his tongue in, kissing him angrily, feeling his fangs rub against your lower lip, scraping as you kissed him. Your hands went to his soft black hair, stroking as you kissed him angrily.

The older one held your face tightly, his lips red from the kiss, panting hard, "You have to learn to shut your fucking mouth."

"If I don't learn, will you teach me, Miguel?", the way you said his name filled him with anger. You took the knife in your hand and started ripping his clothes off, from his neck, down his chest, until your hand was grabbed and the knife was positioned under your neck, "Are you going to kill me, O'Hara?"

"In a little bit", he promised.

And he kissed you again. His hands went to your ass, squeezing through the tight pants you wore, devouring your lips. One of his hands went to your chest, its claws scratching at the tight-fitting black turtleneck you wore, ripping through the material. With the hand that previously ripped your clothes off you, he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed, pushing you against the computer screens, looking at what he had done.

Your chest rose and fell, your lips red from the kiss, your breasts showing through the torn fabric. His free hand went to your breasts, scratching the soft skin over the nipple gently before sliding his thumb over the hard spot making you moan.

"Such a sweet moan, fucking slut", he grinned, letting go of your neck so he could grab both breasts at the same time, pinching the nipples, your back arching in the direction of his touch. Your legs tightened together making him laugh, "Carajo… tan increíble…"

"Miguel", you whispered.

You groaned loudly as you received a slap across the face after he held it, making you look at him, "Don't call me that."

"What do you want me to call you? Daddy?", you mocked, getting another slap on the face.

He laughed, bringing his face closer to yours, "I want you to shut up."

"Whatever you want, cariño."

He smirked and gave you a soft peck, lowering his lips to your neck, scraping his sharp teeth over your skin. Even though it was smooth, a little blood escaped, instinctively, he ran his tongue over the área, tasting your blood, before continuing his way down.

You held your own breasts and offered them to him. The brunette smiled and looked at you as he licked at your nipples before scraping his fangs over them. You moaned and took a deep breath feeling his strong hands tearing your pants, he didn't even use the claws, it was brute force, and that alone made your pussy throb.

He knelt down between your legs, picking one of them up and placing it over his shoulder. His intention was to provoke you, to just lick your thighs, kiss your pussy and lick the wet delicate lips, but you didn't have the patience, so you squeezed his hair and forced his handsome face against your pussy.

His lips sank into your wet pussy and he sighed as he began to lick you with so much lust, his mouth getting all wet. His experienced tongue going up and down with no rhythm, making you squirm and whine, while holding his hair. Miguel's claws were positioned over his thighs, holding them while he sucked your clit.

"Tan dulce", he whispered.

The brunette gently bit your thigh, making you moan and tremble, "Harder", you asked softly.

"Puta", he chuckled.

He bit the thigh a little harder, kissing the área, and soon after, started licking it, moaning low as he felt the taste of your blood on his skin again.

Miguel retracted his claws and took the gloves off one hand just so he could fuck you with his fingers, he needed to feel you, you were just begging for him to fuck you while you moaned disconnected words and begged for absolutely nothing with your mind completely blank. His mouth was experienced, licking you with such precision, making you squirm and moan, gripping his dark hair.

When O'Hara sensed you were close to cum, he pulled away, getting up, lips all wet with your pleasure, the pretty lips glistening, he licked them tasting a little bit more of you.

"No", you whimpered, "I thought you were the good guy."

"You thought wrong, princess", he sighed looking down, "Come on, take off my pants."

You nodded, taking a knife from your boot and sliding the shiny blade down the happy trail area, tearing his uniform, taking his cock in your hands and sighing thinking you could finally suck him off and have your jaw hurt from the effort to suck that thick cock.

Miguel had other plans. He flipped you over on the table, leaving you with your face pressed against the computer screen, your ass facing him. He slapped your ass and positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance. Your legs shook.

"Miguel", you whispered, "please."

"Oh", he chuckled, "are you polite then?"

You wanted to respond, to be rude and smart, but there wasn't time. Miguel sunk his cock all the way into you, his cock filling you completely, stretching you.

"I'll leave you all loose…", whispered the brunette, his body leaning against yours, biting your earlobe, "You'll stay days", and he thrust hard, pausing, "and days" , lunging once more, "thinking of me."

"Miguel."

O'Hara smiled and continued to thrust, making the table move with his movements, the monitors moving with the force he exerted. You whined softly and he moaned low, against your ear, feeling your insides crush him, press on his cock.

He didn't think he was going to end the day like that, fucking his archenemy in your hideout, but he wasn't going to complain, it felt so good. They kissed, the movements didn't stop. At first, as you went, he came back, but time passed and the rhythm was out of step with their desperation, each moving how they saw fit to sick for their own pleasure. His hands caressed and pinched your nipples, which were erect and hard against your digits.

You came first, moaning loudly in agony, your lower lip being bitten as you felt your body being overcome with pleasure.

You didn't have time to compose yourself, Miguel picked you up and put you on your knees in front of him. The thick cock in front of your face, glistening, the tip flushed and oozing pre-cum. One of your hands held the thick base, helping you to suck it while the other went to his ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You had to do it, you had looked at his ass on his uniform far too many times not to feel the need to grab it.

His hands held your hair, moaning low, feeling his cock hitting your throat, "What a loose throat, uh, princess?"

You smiled and licked the base before swallowing all of it again, your hand and mouth making twisting motions, going back and forth to give him more pleasure. His moans made your pussy ache, it was so good to hear, so low and dark, his fangs gleaming in the delicate light.

He pulled you by the chin and forced your mouth open with his hand, his thumb holding your tongue and the other fingers under your chin. He jerked off looking into your eyes, pausing only to watch his cum fall onto your tongue. The brunette held your mouth open for a few seconds, absorbing the image of you like that, the cheeks flushed, the eyes watery, the lips red and the tongue marked with his cum. And after that, he finally released it so you could swallow.

"Puta madre", he whispered as you got on your feet.

"I agree", you laughed while kissing him.

Miguel kissed you desperately, tasting his cum on your tongue. For a second, he wondered what he would do now, with his clothes torn like that, how would he get out of there like that? He needed to change clothes, but what clothes would he put on? Without being able to think of a solution, the brunette felt a thin needle in his neck, letting go of your lips, and soon after his body went limp, fainting.

Miguel woke up in his home, scared. He was wearing his own pajamas and lying on his bed, in the empty space next to him, his uniform was folded delicately with a card and a note on top.

Lost, he took the note and read it, chuckling afterwards.

"2099,

I hope you can pay off the damage with this credit card. We can't let you fight evil with your cock out. It will scare the old ladies.

Next time, you'll end up in a coffin, not in your bed after I blew you oh so gracefully. So be careful.

Signed,

Your #1 fan."

...

well, i hope you liked it <3

please reblog and leave a like if you enjoyed it! and leave a comment with your thoughts, i would love to know!

see ya next time.

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

♡masterlist♡

[factual-fantasy]

23 Asks :)))

Google says that means Hunger in Spanish soooo

Eat up my child

I feel like it would be really hard to mistake Foxy for a dog. "Foxy the pirate Fox" posters are everywhere. Foxy is bright red and has a obviously fox like tail. His name is Foxy.

But there's always bound to be that one parent who doesn't get it, "Sweetie go play with the big dog :}}" But no one would throw a bone at him because they think he's a dog. That wouldn't happen-

Once I'm free from this big project I would like to draw some digital circus. But who knows, my interest in it could die out before the project is done-

@professional-idiocy

Uhg. Always super frustrating. Thanks for letting me know. 👍

Google says that's an economy/nation question. I don't talk bout that stuff here sooo... sorry-

My main headcannon for Sunny is that he is also Moony. He is 1 animatronic with no split personalities. Sunny and Moony are the same animatronic with 1 personality, wearing 2 different costumes.

I don't think taking inspiration would be much of an issue. Just stay away from straight up taking my idea word for word and doing the exact same thing as me. And don't take my idea word for word, add a bit to it and then call it yours.

And as for the offline stuff. Going against artists wishes is still wrong even if I cant see it.

If people seriously cannot interact with me without going against my wishes. Please block me. Stay as far away from my content as possible. That would be more respectful to me and yourself.

@mysteriousl0ser

YEEEAAAAHH!! All good characters. I like Caine for his unique design, plus he's really funny. Same with Kinger, I like his design and he's really funny to me XD Perfectly cut screams are my weakness.

@beryl-shade

Yes! And in the true swap its Bonnie! :}}

@shawnmlinsitly08

Thank you so much! I hope you like the rest of the artwork I have to offer! :}}}

@abaroo

I haven't planned for Seam to get his eye back, no.. <:/

Also-

WAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😭😭

I remember reading about that style of line art and how it was "bad". "Chicken scratching" I think its called. And how people said that its not a proper way to draw and makes the art look bad. But it DOESN'T!!

Controlling lines and getting the perfect shapes is so much easier with chicken scratching. And if you know how to control it and clean it up, its not as messing looking as people think!

I've used chicken scratching for line art becuase its much easier and not as messy as people think. I'm so glad you noticed my line art and I'm honored that you would incorporate it into your artwork! I hopes it helps you as much as it helped me! :}}}

@pinkbomb08

I'm sure Seam and the others would devour anything you gave them. Even if they didn't like the taste. Beggars cant be choosers!

Also thank you so much! I'll do my best! :))

Maybe.? I could see them applying ointment to rags and carefully slipping them under and at first it feels nice.. But then having to take the rags out to apply more ointment could cause more pain and irratation..

There's also this property to the chains where they can get tighter at times.. maybe they'd have rags under the chains occasionally. But due to the tightening and irritation maybe they can only do it for a short time. As to not cause Seam any more discomfort..

@chickenmilk120

I've been hanging in there! :')

Thank you, and I'll do my best! :}

Oh yeah, there would definitely be this "cool down time" after every mirror where Jevil is wiped out and needs time to get his strength back. The natures of these mirrors is still a bit unknown, even to Jevil. So the first time he collapsed out of exhaustion must have been pretty scary for Seam.. who knows what was wrong with him..

As for the darkener thing, my AU functions off of my bizarre headcannon.

In my AUs, Darkeners, lighteners, and Undertale Monsters and humans.. are 4 separate beings with different properties.

A Deltarune Human is different from an Undertale Human. And a Undertale Monster is not a darkener, or a lightener. They are their own category. Not saying I believe any of this is canon to the games, its likely not. This is just the structure my AU is built on.

And I had this idea that Deltarune and Undertale stuff.. doesn't really mix. Or at least it rarely does. The idea is that the magic that makes up these 4 beings are all different. They don't mix usually, they just clash together.

Asgore cant heal Spamton becuase his magic is sooo different from the magic in Deltarune. Spamton's body just rejects this magic because of how foreign/different it is. A darkener could maybe heal him. And perhaps a Lightener could heal him.? But no one originating from Undertale can give their magic to him. They are just completely different.

Its the same when it comes to food. Some food is universal. Its so simple that nearly any kind of magic can break it down. But a lot of the times the darkeners bodies just, cant absorb Undertale foods. They're so different..

As for advantages or disadvantages.. maybe? There could be a case where a powerful Undertale monster tries to hurt Jevil. But his magic is just, structured sooo differently its basically ineffective. It could also work the other way. Maybe Seam is trying to step up and protect himself. And he only has to use a tiny amount to blow the Undertale opponent away. Its because his magic is so different it pierced right through his foe. Maybe stuff like that.? :0

That is an interesting question.. I'd say it kind'a depends on the AU.?

And like, none of my AUs are actually completed. None of them. Things are always changing or I'm always adding more too it and the story never ends. But still I develop them at different speeds depending on the AU..

For example. My Welcome home AU. The structure for that AU and basic plot was thought up in like 3 days. Same thing with my Digital Circus AU actually,

But my FNAF AU? It took WEEKS to sift through all the games and pick everything apart and carefully construct my own timeline and think of a story for every single animatronic and have it all line up and-

Then there's my Deltarune AU. The basic idea of a traveling Jevil was thought up and constructed in like a day. But the rest of the au is weeks in the making. And its constantly changing and I'm always adding stuff and rearranging things GRAHHH!

It really depends <XD

And some ideas do go unwanted/unused overtime. But mostly I overwrite my own ideas with new ones. I think of a cool idea and I push everything in the AU aside to make it work. Even if the structure of my AU suffers a bit. <XD

Yeah! Its good to see those guys out and about. And hey Green Truck's ok! He just has a strange way of starting up. It means that he's harder to steal now XDD

@beryl-shade

Yes! Her voice box doesn't work if its not attached to her Jaw. Same with the all the other diner animatronics :0

I pictured Seam being MUCH younger. I thought of King and Queen being like Asgore and Toriel. Being these powerful boss monsters that live for 100s of years.

So while King and Queen are 100s of years old. Seam is like.. in his 50s or something <XD

@crimson-thinker

WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! THAT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!!😭😭💗💞😭🍤💕

Thank you! Also after googling it, I kind'a see the resemblance XD

ALSKAKD GREG BEAR XDD That's perfect!!

Also thank you so much! Same to you! :D

@lathan-chillyfilm

I've never played Dr. Mario & Dr. Luigi so any elements from that game were not added to my AU.. :(

But Mario and Luigi bringing foreign bacteria and illnesses could be an issue.. or it might not! :0 After all I don't know if human viruses can be dangerous to fungal people <XD

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

To fall, to burn

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, October warm-up round.

Prompt: Halloween

Rated: T

CW: alcohol abuse, mind control

Tags: Vampire!Eddie; Steve and Nancy are unhappily married; sexual tension

Notes: This started out as an attempt at the @steddiemicrofic for October, but it sort of spiralled, so here we are. 🙃

His name is Eddie and he's always dressed as a vampire. 

He shows up on their first Halloween at the new house, looking elegant and suave in his waistcoat, dark hair in an old-fashioned braid down his back. Steve, immediately drawn in by his wit and easy charm, asks if he lives nearby, and Eddie chuckles. 

"Used to," he says. "Now I just visit occasionally."

They spend the better part of the night out on the porch, chatting away while the trick-and-treaters trickle by. 

"Newly married?" Eddie asks at some point, red eyes trained on his ring finger. They look so real. Steve wonders what contacts he uses. 

"Yeah," he nods. "Nancy isn't here, though. She's away for business a lot, just got promoted." 

"What?" Eddie smiles, bright and dimpled and with a hint of fangs. "Leaving a pretty thing like you all alone? Shame." 

Steve laughs, and if he notices how those eyes linger on the blush that creeps up his neck, that's nobody's business, right?

*

"What's got that lovely face all sad on this beautiful night?"

"Oh, hey!" Steve tears his eyes off the costumed children passing by as Eddie joins him on the porch steps. "Didn't see you all year."

"Of course not," Eddie winks. "I'm a creature of darkness." 

His costume is more modern today, all black leather and chains, hair spilling over his shoulders in messy curls. 

Steve chuckles, twists his wedding band. Frowns. 

"Trouble in paradise?" 

Steve huffs. "No. Yeah. I dunno, maybe." 

And then - and he has no idea why - he spills his heart to this complete stranger. How maybe they both rushed into this marriage. How they seem to be wanting different things from life. How he always thought they'd have kids, lots of them, while Nancy is so focused on her career. Maybe it's the way those ruby eyes never leave him as he speaks. They draw him in, drag all the things he keeps buried deep inside to the surface, until he feels raw and vulnerable and wide open. Seen. 

"She's a fool," Eddie hums. And Steve never noticed, but he has shifted closer. So close their shoulders are brushing. So close that Steve feels his breath on his skin, so close Eddie’s scent tickles his nostrils. Leather and musk and something earthy and wild. "You should have anything you desire." 

Steve laughs it off, but it feels wrong in his throat.

*

Steve's bottle of whisky is almost empty and the trick-and-treaters long gone when he looks up to see Eddie standing before him, jewelry glinting in the dying light of the Jack O'Lanterns. Those red eyes flick over the last of the cardboard boxes still stacked on the porch and Eddie’s face twitches. 

"She gone then?" 

Steve blinks sluggishly. Nods, sways, topples. Eddie is crouched in front of him in an instant, catches him before he can fall and cradles him to his chest. 

"It's okay, sweet thing, let it out." 

Steve is about to ask what he means, but then the sticky wetness on his face registers, and he flushes with humiliation. 

"Shit," he slurs, tries to stand. "Sorry." 

Eddie brings one strong hand to the back of his head and pulls him back in. His fingers card through Steve’s hair, a solid, firm weight.

"No need to apologize for a broken heart. I'm just sorry it had to come this far." 

He smiles, fangs gleaming in the low light, and something inside Steve's chest flutters. His head is dizzy, and Eddie’s eyes are so pretty, a swirling vortex of red that's sucking him in. He wants nothing more than to fall into them and burn. 

"Steve .. " Eddie is saying, and Steve must be so, so drunk, because he could swear his lips aren’t moving, and still that voice is clear as day in his head, in his bones. In his blood. "If you were mine … I'd never let anything hurt you." 

"Would …" Steve gulps. Eddie’s eyes watch the movement of his throat, pupils blown wide, watch his tongue as it darts out to wet too-dry lips. "Would you maybe … like to go inside?" 

"Aw, honey, finally!" Eddie’s eyes crinkle around the corners, and then he hoists Steve to his feet like a ragdoll, steers them both towards the door with one firm arm around his waist. His breath tickles the hollow of Steve's neck, and his fangs scrape his rabbiting pulse. "Thought you'd never ask." 

Part 2

[almostwisegalaxy]

Yandere boy?

Cha hyun su x reader

..................................................................................

..................................................................................

"Myong-oh............ Myong-oh "

She had been walking for three days in search of the person she loved so much. In the tall grass, she moved as fast as she could, but as carefully as she could.

"Myong-oh... Where are you? ............. "

"Where did you take my child .....?" She said crying.

Y/n was desperate. Her husband had left after an argument they'd had. She didn't know until it was too late that he had taken their 2-year-old son. As the sun was setting, she walked through the streets with a flashlight. In the distance she saw a man with a child. She walked toward the silhouette, hoping it was her little family.

"Myong-oh, Myong-oh wait".

But of course it wasn't them. It was a boy with a little girl.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else," she said with tears in her eyes.

Hyun Su was curious what a girl like her was doing in such a place at night, but he didn't stay too long. He started again when Ah-yi stopped him.

"Baby, baby," she says, pointing to her belly. She pulls Hyun Su's arm even harder to get his attention.

"Baby, baby"

That's when he finally noticed the girl's big belly that made it so hard for her to move. She holds on to a piece of wood to walk. She shakes and faints, but Hyun Su catches her just before she crashes into his belly. He and Ah-yi take her back to the boats.

3 days later

Y/n pov

Rays of sunlight awaken me from my restless sleep. I open my eyes and realize that I'm not in my cabin, but in a boat cabin. I sit up and look around to see a child drawing on the floor. I try to greet her, but she runs off to who knows where. Well, I think it would be better to go out and see where I am.

A young man stopped me.

"No, don't get up, you're still weak, you need to eat something first.

After you woke up, Hyun Su had convinced you to stay with them on the boat. It's been 3 months now. You were reluctant at first, insisting that you had to find your husband and son.

He kept telling you that he was probably already dead, killed by a monster, which is true and he knows it. But you refuse to listen to reason, because Myong-oh is waiting for you.

He is waiting for you.

Hyun Su's POV

Why won't she give up this stupid idea? Her "family" is dead. She's so stubborn. I don't want her to go. Her presence brings joy to Ah-yi and she opens up a little more every day. I can see that the reason she hasn't left yet is because of the little one. She's taken to her as if she were her own daughter. Every time y/n tries to leave, we get in the way and Ah-yi cries and squeezes her leg. I want her to like me too, not to run away when I'm around.

Now that Yi-kyeong has taken over, it's just the two of us on the boat. We fight all the time, I even had to chain her up in our room.

I.... It's not what I wanted, but I can't let her go. I don't know what to do to make her stay.

(Do you love her?) Yes .... Enormously

(Do you want her to stay?) Yes

(Would you use any means necessary?) ..... Yes

Hyun Su's eyes turned blue in a second. From the moment her monster took possession of her body, Y/n no longer had the choice of whether or not to stay.

[modelbus]

This might be more on the angst side… oops? Also, this is like 3k words… There are POV switches!! And this was inspired by an ao3 story with a similar premise but that was with Kaz and Wylan so there’s that.

There is alcohol and suggestiveness in this! Be warned, it’s a bit different than my usual!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

Flufftober 4 - It’s All An Act (Spies)

"Sorry, what?" You stare at Kaz, and he stares back evenly.

"It's a simple mission. You don't have to do anything."

"Then why do you need me?"

He sighs, gloved hand tightening and loosening on his crow cane. Without a doubt, he was upset at you for not getting it, but forgive you for being a little startled when he asks you to pretend to date him!

"It'll be too suspicious if I show up alone. All I need you for is pretending to date me. But carry some weapons in case things go... awry."

"You want me to go with you to a party, pretend to date you, and... that's it?"

"That's it."

You stare at him for a few more moments, trying to figure out if he had any other angle. Most times, Kaz Brekker kept his crows in the loop. But there were times when he didn't, and you knew him too well to not try and figure out if it was or wasn't.

Although you were the second newest crow (thanks to Wylan for taking the newest title) you and Kaz actually somewhat got along. You’re certain it's because he values you ability to kill without hesitation. That's what you are to him: his assassin. Your role, your one job, was to kill and to kill efficiently. 

He didn't question why you were able to kill so easy, and you didn't question his aversion to touch and water. You got along, and things were fine.

Or, they were, until you had to go and start noticing stupid things about him. Like the way he looked mid-fight, slamming his cane into someone. Or the way his lips would barely twitch when one of them said something particularly funny. It took you a bit to realize, but when you did you knew you were royally fucked.

Because, of course, you started to develop feelings for Kaz Brekker. Feelings that, as long as you were sane, would stay quite hidden. Which only made this whole job harder.

He wanted you to pretend to date him. It might just be the hardest thing he's asked of you yet, and he doesn't even know it.

"Take the job. Wish I could go to a party." Jesper grumbles, and you glance at the sharp shooter sitting next to you.

"Unfortunately, no one in their sound mind would believe we were dating." Kaz says cooly. "That, and everyone knows your face around here."

You grimace. Your own insurance, coming to bite you in the ass. Most people only saw you face before you killed them. It was easier to sneak around in plain sight that way. Obviously the crows were the exceptions, and maybe a few others out there.

"You're sure nobody else wants to do this?" You try.

"Wylan and Jesper are far too in love for me to take Wylan, Inej is out hunting slavers, and Nina..." He shakes his head. 

"Fine. Whatever. I'll do the stupid job."

You sigh, knowing this job very well might be the death of you. Emotional death, that is. But then again, it was Kaz. Surely he wasn't the type to be a touchy fake date, not with his touch aversion.

"Good. Meet me down here at nine sharp tomorrow night. Dress nice, have concealed weapons."

Kaz walks off, not waiting for you to confirm you understood his directions. You scowl at his back before sighing. 

"This will be a disaster."

"I'm sure it'll be fun!" Jesper exclaims. "It's a party, how bad can it be?"

"I have to fake date Kaz Brekker." You deadpan.

"Yeah, but he wants you for arm candy. To draw the attention away from him. That's the closest to a compliment you'll ever get out of him."

You can't help but sigh again. "We take what we can get with him, don't we?"

-

Kaz is waiting for you outside the Crow Club when you arrive. He isn't dressed any different from his normal, except a pocket watch with a fancier chain than you’re used to. His gaze is level as he gazes at you as you walk towards him.

And you knows you looks good, but that isn't why he's looking at you. You’re in a nice outfit for once, flowing sleeves down to your wrists, and black gloves up to your elbows nearly. The gloves and long sleeves were carefully planned, knowing exactly what role you’d be playing tonight.

"How many knives do you have?" Kaz asks, looking behind you, almost like he's checking to see if you were followed by anyone. 

"Seven." You grin. You may be a pretty distraction tonight, but you’re just as dangerous as you are pretty.

"Good." He nods. Not approval, but close enough. "Let's go."

You walk next to him as they go through the streets of Ketterdam, slowly heading to the more expensive places. The streets widen, becoming more and more lit as they go, and you realize that maybe you should've asked whose party this was.

"So, Brekker. Lovely night, isn't it?" You ask conversationally. From the very start You’ve always used his last name, and haven’t even thought of changing that despite how he always ground his teeth at it.

"What do you want?" He snaps.

"Come on, be nicer to your date." You can't help yourself. Kaz might not react much, but it's funny when he does react.

"This was a bad idea."

"But we're too far into it now."

Kaz's jaw clenches, and you can't help but laugh quietly. "So, the plan?"

He sighs, and you wait a moment. Although he's sometimes an asshole, and mostly keeps things to himself, he's always told you everything you needed to know in a plan.

"Just look pretty and act stupid. Do what I tell you, for once." He finally says.

"Oh, yikes, that'll be really hard. I mean, listening to you?" You joke.

Kaz pulls up short, slamming his cane out in front of you. "I mean it, assassin." 

And just as you called him Brekker, he called you by your job. Assassin. 

"You can't call me that tonight." You respond calmly. "It'll give us away."

"Say it." 

You groan. "Fine. I'll listen to you."

He nods sharply, continuing on. "Good."

"You're a little paranoid, don't you think?"

Kaz doesn't even justify you with an answer at that one, leaving you to walk alongside him quietly. 

"This is it." He announces suddenly, and draws up short.

You let your eyes flicker over the building—tons of windows—then return to him. "...are you sure?"

"Yes. Inside. Now."

The second you take a step in, you shrink yourself. Shoulders curling in, angling yourself towards Kaz. You can feel his eyes on you as you do so, raking over you.

"Loosen up." He instructs you in a low voice.

"Easy for you to say." You murmur back. "You're not the one pretending to be the crow's whore."

"Someone's said that to you before."

It's not a question. Of course it isn't. Kaz's eyes sharpen, hardening into something mean in front of you.

"Not now." You say dismissively.

He glares at you but gives you a curt nod, and together you walk into the party. You, just for tonight, let yourself revel in the eyes being drawn to you. You give a taunting grin to someone they walk by, playing up your role a little.

Look pretty? Yeah, you can do that.

"Mr. Brekker." A merchant says, his eyes sliding from Kaz to you. "And..."

"Alex." you purr, tilting your head.

Like hell you’re giving your real name out to anyone here. Instead, Alex, a random name, will have to do.

"My date." Kaz cuts in smoothly. "Don't mind them."

"Pretty." The merchant says appraisingly. You should be flattered, but you’re more disgusted.

Kaz tilts his head, studying you. "Yes." He agrees coldly. "Get a drink, we're going to talk business. Loosen up."

You pause, but this certainly isn't the time to mention that youve never drank before. Instead you give him a graceful nod, floating off through the crowds. 

The bar is an open bar, you can tell that from the lazy way the bartender is flashing his watch. Nobody here is expected to get drunk, or to steal it. Unfortunately for them, you and Kaz are here, so no watch is safe.

"I'll have a drink." You say lightly, leaning on the counter.

"Of?" The bartender asks, snorting.

Shit.

"Make me what you're best at." You answer, looking at him through your eyelashes. It should be a safe answer.

By the way the bartender smiles and starts to make something, it is. A second later a glass of something is slid your way. Here's to hoping this won't fuck with you too much.

-

Kaz Brekker

He's starting to get a little worried. Not too much, he knows you can handle yourself perfectly fine, but it has been a while since he sent you off. You weren’t at the bar: he's been checking it every few moments.

It's starting to piss him off. One job, one easy job, and you can't even follow that. There was no point in bringing you if you was just going to vanish. 

"Come on, Assassin." He murmurs, still scanning the crowd.

Truthfully, he shouldn't be calling you that here. Alex was the name you gave the merchant earlier, and Alex was the name he should be calling you by. He isn't sure where Alex came from, actually.

It doesn't matter. What does matter is what he came here for, and finding you. 

Of course, right as he's about to turn back to the real reason he's here, there's a clatter of decidedly sour guitar strings. Most don't turn towards the noise, but Kaz does. And when he sees, his entire body freezes.

Because where else would you be except talking to the guitar player. And, from the looks of it, flirting with him.

"There you are." Kaz says, striding to you, feeling like yelling. "I've been looking for you."

"Sorry." You chirp, grinning brightly at him.

At that, he falters. When was the last time he saw a smile that bright, that genuine? Actually, scratch that, when had you ever apologized to him?

He leans closer, whispering in your ear, words coming out more as a snarl than anything else. "What are you doing, Assassin?"

"Me?" You ask, looking genuinely surprised. "I'm talking to the guitar player! I used to play guitar, you know, before my father broke it."

He flicks his eyes over you. Not once have you ever divulged information about your personal life, and not once did Kaz ever ask.

"You're drunk?" He asks, incredulously.

"Me? Drunk?" You gasp, stumbling.

With a lurch, he grabs your arms to stop you from hitting the floor. Even through his gloves, it sends a jolt up his spine.

"Three layers." You slur, and he realizes you’re comforting him while drunk. "Don't panic."

"How much did you drink?" He demands lowly, dragging you to a darker corner.

"Three. Maybe four."

"Three what?"

Only three drinks shouldn't have messed you up this much, not unless they were straight vodka or something ridiculous.

"I don't know." 

He stares at you. It isn't like you to be so... careless.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He snaps.

"I've never drank before." Kaz's jaw goes slack. You’ve never drank before? This is your first time drinking? Ever? "Hey, anyone ever tell you your eyes are nice?"

"Shut up, I need to think." Kaz growls, drawing a hand down his face.

His eyes dart around, landing on a nearby door. Without a second thought, he shoves you in, closing the door behind you and locking it. It's a bathroom, and for that he's incredibly thankful.

"Splash yourself with water." Kaz orders, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Why?"

"To sober you up."

"Will it really?"

Kaz is starting to like you a lot more when she's sober.

-

You

An explosion rockets through the building, shaking the walls a little. "Woah." You laugh. It’s funny for some reason. "One of ours? Wylan's?"

"Yes." Kaz says, eyes flicking between you and the door. "Water, now."

"Why are we bombing the party?"

"Near the party." He corrects you impatiently.

There's a sudden pounding on the door, and Kaz swears under his breath violently.

"Anyone in there?! Open up!" 

You lift yourself onto the bathroom counter, sitting next to the sink. You watch Kaz, his scheming face on.

"What are you doing?" He asks, still glaring at you.

"Get over here."

"What are you doing?"

"Kaz." You raise your eyebrows. "Get caught or get over here."

Kaz clenches his jaw, striding up to you. "Now what? You're drunk, we're in a bathroom."

You run your hands through your hair, messing it up. You move back further to lean against the mirror, spreading your legs.

"Hands on either side of my head."

Immediately, Kaz stiffens. "Pardon?"

"We either make it look like you're about to fuck me or we get caught." 

His eyes go cold, but he leans in, placing a hand to right of your head. His left hand, though, goes to your waist.

"Three layers." He murmurs, almost to himself. "You're drunk, which means I'm yelling at you later for this."

"Please don't-" You cut yourself off with a gasp when the door slams open. You’re close. Not enough to touch Kaz, your mind isn't that foggy, but enough to certainly imply some things.

"Oh." A strange voice says. "Oh. My- my apologies, I didn't-"

"Get out." Kaz growls, turning his head away from you to glare at whoever is at the door.

The door shuts quickly with a loud "thud" noise. Both Kaz and you stay there for a moment, waiting to see if the intruder was actually gone.

"Wasn't that fun?" You say weakly.

"No." Kaz snaps, turning his head back to glare at you.

"Don't be pissed at me. I just saved our asses." You complain, meeting his eyes.

"Who said I'm pissed at you? Frustrated, certainly. I can't fault you too much for being drunk when I asked you to get a drink." 

"You have a nice voice." You say honestly.

"Close your mouth before you say something you'll regret."

you stare at him for a moment, mind swirling with thoughts you can't truly sort out.

You’re suspended for another second, neither of you having moved from the quite intimate position. You wasn't a short person, but you were smaller than Kaz, meaning he's practically covering your body with his right now.

"Could you get off me?" You say quietly.

"You're the one who put us in this position." He responds, raising his eyebrows. "If you were uncomfortable with it, you shouldn't have done it."

Either way, he removes his hands, but doesn't step back. Your head swims, having entirely forgotten his hand was on your waist in the first place.

"No, it's because I liked it too much." 

Kaz closes his eyes, rubbing his temples with gloved hands. "This is why I don't deal with drunk people."

"What, drunk people are too honest or something?"

"No. Secrets get spilled that nobody wants to hear."

"You don't want to hear my secrets?" You pout, a little upset. You must truly be nothing to him if he didn't even want your secrets to use against you.

"Why are you sad at that?" Kaz asks, and if you didn't know better you’d think he sounds incredulous.

"Because that means I mean nothing to you, which is depressing."

"Where did you get that idea?" His eyebrows furrow.

"You want everyone's secrets." You point out, still leaning against the mirror while sat on the counter. "Why not mine?"

"Trust me, I want them. I just want them out of your own free will."

Hell if you know what that means, but... "Nobody is holding a gun to my head."

"You're drunk. You have no filter."

"Correct. And? When did you care about morals?"

"I don't." He levels his cool gaze at you. "But when it comes to you... I know I wouldn't want my secrets getting out because I'm drunk." 

"When it comes to me?" You echo, jumping on the lose thread in his words.

"Get off the counter."

"Explain."

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, what happens? A collision so grand, so huge, that everything else pales in comparison.

But they aren't unstoppable or unmovable. You are drunk, Kaz has his own problems.

So he steps back, and you slide off the counter, fixing your clothes.

"Let's go." Kaz says gruffly.

But even now, even in the dim lighting of a bathroom, even with a foggy mind that is slowly clearing, you know. Hell, you both know.

Something has changed.

[dutifullyscreechingdragon]

Blitzø x human! Assassin! Reader

Blooming feelings

Summary: After the first few murder fiascos, you and Blitzø start catching feelings for each other. His attempts on your life morph into dates and you can't take each other as seriously as you should on the battle ground.

A/n: heyyy, I'm sorry for the slightly belated posting. The last few days have been a bit haywire for me... Anyways, I hope you enjoy the part two. Here you have the links to all the parts currently available:

Part 1: First encounter

Part 2: Blooming feelings -> you're here:)

The smoke bomb went off, you could hear the shattering of glass and the revving of the motorbike. Y/n was gone.

"And she's gone..." Blitzø stated and was about to leave through the portal, when Moxxie pulled his sleeve:

"Sir, there's a card on the floor"

Blitzo picked it up, it was a note. In a neat handwriting the following was written:

Despite being sent to kill me

(and failing miserably),

you're chill

Call me:)

314 159 2653

Blitzø texted you this very evening. He wanted to do this instantly, but had to withhold himself - gotta preserve the reputation

You were getting ready to bed, today was a long day, right after the pleasant encounter with Blitzø, you had to rush off to deal with a murderer and then get your bike into repair. Oh and you also had to buy yourself new cargo pants, your current ones were getting a wee bit to bloodstained for your liking.

Today was a busy day. So only now, about to go to sleep, did you have time to actualy process what happened in the morning. That being you giving the attractive imp(?) your phone number... And, since he still didn't call or text you, you were staring to have second thoughts... Have you read too much into the whole thing? Was it strictly professional for him?

That's when your phone went off

Unknown: whadup, gurl

Cut the guy some slack, he was low-key nervous and was trying to come off as suave

Y/n: Blitzø?

Unknown: ya, who else wuld be txting u

Y/n: should I take offence?

Unknown: idk, do u find that offensive

Y/n: kinda?

Unknown: soz, I'll show u a picture of a horse I drew and you'll forgive me

Unknown: deal?

to be fair, Blitzø didn't know what he was writing. He had no intention of offending you and panicked, texting you the first thing that came into his mind. Thankfully, you found it amusing and texted him back:

Y/m: deal:)

He sent you a picture of a horse. You though it was really good, so that's what you texted him back. He was ecstatic and instantly sent you a few more.

Needless to say, that soon enough your gallery was filled with various drawings of horses.

In the span of the next week, you and Blitzø texted quite a lot.

He offered you a job at the IMP pretty early on:

Blitzø: ya know, when u end up in hell, a gal like you culd work for me

Y/n: why are you so sure I'd wanna work for you?

Blitzø: why wouldnt u?

Y/n: idk u trying to kill me is kind of a turn off...

Blitzø: ahhh come oooon it's not that big of a deal

Blitzø: ill take u horse riding or smth

Y/n: can't say no to that hahaha

After that reply, Blitzø got so hyped up, he literally ran out of his office and shouted:

"Fuck yeah she loves me back, ya hear that Mox," Blitz looked very much proud as he showed his employee the text chain

"Uhhh Sir, I wouldn't make such quick assumptions-"

"Shhh don't ruin the moment" Blitzo retorted pressing his finger into Moxxie's lips to silence him.

Sometimes you'd get a notification in the middle of a job and it'd be Blitzø sending you a selfie of him ( and sometimes some of his friends as well) in the middle of a fight with a caption like:

"another normal day at work (nearly got killed)"

Or

"brunch went wrong"

Or plainly

"how u doing? "

And sometimes you'd reply with a selfie of yourself, creeping up to some guy you're about to murder. Which would cause Blitzø to text you:

Blitzø: update?

And you sending him a picture of you, potentially covered in blood, standing over a dead body.

At this point, he wasn't shying away from nicknames. He'd call you babe, sweetcheeks and sunshine.

You'd usually settle fro something along the lines of hot stuff, pretty boy, love

However, Blitzø does a lot of stupid stuff, which is when idiot, dumbass, etc. come in use

"How ya doing, hot stuff", you'd say, winking at Blitzø, causing him to try and lean on a non-existent doorframe and ultimately topple to the ground, sending you (and Millie, who witnessed it) a fit of giggles.

You and Blitzø's murderous rendezvous start to become more.. date-like. There is a lot of flirting and very little shooting done.

Sometimes you wonder, whether you guys should just drop the pretences

Moxxie and Loona are steadily growing sick of all of this. Millie finds it quite endearing, actualy.

You were presently engaged in a hand to hand combat with Blitzø. You performed a serie of punches, trying hard not to hit any super vital points. This sent your oponent tumbling on the ground.

"Youuu do punch Hella hard, babe," Blitzø drawled out "that's Hella hot "

You chuckled at this and threw him an ice pack with the words:

"Take that, wouldn't want to cause permanent damage to that pretty face of yours"

Blitzø would never admit it, but that made him blush very much, which would've been very much visible if it wasn't for his red skin (the blush was still fairly visible, just less intense).

or another time:

With one swift movement Blitzø tackled you to the ground. He smirked:

"Ya know, I could get used to this view, babe" he started nonchalantly "maybe different setting, like a bedroom" he smirked at your startled reaction "though if you prefer this place, babe, then I guess why not? I'm not picky " he continued his flirting.

You look up at him deviously, buckling your hips forward and in one movement flipping you both, positioning you on top:

"I think this is way better" you smirk at him triumphantly

"Whatever you say babe. Whatever gets us to fuck"

You didn't expect him to be THAT straightforward (honestly, that one is on you, having known him for quite some time you should've seen that coming), deep red blush cowered your cheeks. You were rescued by Loona's groan and frustrated shouting:

"Get a room! Stop defiling the fucking pavement"

The closer you grew together the more comfortable would Blitzø feel with invading your private space. He would sometimes launch "surprise attacks" on you (the reason was that "he missed you very much"):

It was the middle of the night, when you groggily opened your eyes to see Blitzø mere centimetres away from your face:

"Whatcha dreaming about?" He asked. You were about to shriek, but caught yourself in time. Meanwhile, Blitzø continued "Wake up, Im here to kill ya" his voice was far too giddy.

You were very tired. Exhausted.

"Mmmm, go to sleep, Blitzie," you pushed him lightly off you and onto the bed, wrapping your arm around him, "kill me tomorrow"

In retrospect, this wasn't very professional, but Blitzø didn't seem to mind...and judging from the soft purring in the morning, he even enjoyed it.

At this point, you're very accustomed to each other's habits. You also have a set date and time for the Blitzø's murder attempts:

You were anxiously pacing the street. It was a nice Tuesday morning. 9.15 am precisely and it has been 15 minutes since Blitzø was supposed to attack. He always showed up on time. To your murderous rendezvous.

You were about to pick up your phone and dial him, demanding an explanation (you were worried sick: What if the imp died on one of his jobs?), when he showed up, out of breath (clearly had been running) and with two coffee's in tow.

"Hey babes, d'ya miss me?" He said in his suave voice.

"You're late to your weekly murder attempt on my life" You said in a flat voice.

"Ahhh soz, there was a fucking line ot the coffee shop" he replied nonchalantly

"and the fact that you argued with the employee for ten straight minutes because they couldn't get Y/n's order right and then misspelled her name didn't do much to help" Moxxie muttered under his breath, but of course everyone heard him.

"Come on, Mox, don't embarrass Boss in front of the girl" Millie said and winked at you.

"Anyway," Blitzø said stretching out the first syllable, "I got your coffee. Just how you like" he looked at you with pride, as if he had to fight a glorious battle for it (he sort of did)

"Awwww thanks, love, that's so sweet" you smile and give him a soft peck on the cheek. You take a sip of your coffee, its delicious, just how you like it.

Once you're done drinking your coffee and are fairly caught up with the drama that you didn't manage to cover in your texts and calls, Blitzø commands:

"Now, M&M get into your positions. We're way behind schedule!"

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a great day (or night) <3

[ilovecockroaches]

Side Kick

Minors DNI

Maximine Le Mal X Fem Reader

(No Valentina this time)

Maxime can turn into his roach self whenever but in this fic he only has antennas, also this fic is bad the only time I could write it was after work, so my mind wasn't really in the place to write a really good fic for you all, I am very sorry.

Also, I was really hungry at the food part :')

______________________

You were the side kick of a very famous superhero; you never really liked the superhero you worked for because of his arrogance and his misogynistic views. But it put food on the table.

As you sat at your desk in the hero's lair, you did research for the man you work for on a new villain he's fixated on. "Who's the new villain of the week?" Your coworker asks sitting next to you as you type away. "Some French guy...Maxime le mal" You respond not looking away from your screen trying to make it seem you didn't know who he was. "Hmm sounds scary." He scoots his chair next to you leaning in, you can't tell if he's focusing on your computer or you. "What are you doing tonight?" He asks, "I'm getting home late so I don't really feel like going out." You respond, it wasn't like your coworker was ugly, but he wasn't Maxime. He gets up to leave which leaves you alone to study Maxime some more, in full truth you were crazy for Maxime, and you gave the idea to your boss to piss him off so you could see Maxime a lot more and have a reason too than just stalking some crush.

You leave the lair at around 11pm. You get into your car and a long-exaggerated sigh leaves your mouth as all the stress from today is relieved. You're driving and you decide to get something to eat and pull into some random gas station with a taco truck.

You lean on your car waiting for your food to be done. "French cuisine is much better than some tacos..." you recognize that French accent, so you turn to see Maxime leaning on your car next to you. "Why on earth would your boss let you go home this late?" You couldn't stop the blush grow across your cheeks from hearing his voice. A sly smirk creeps up on his face, you couldn't believe that the man you would touch yourself to every night is standing in front of you, "He thinks I'm just some 'women side kick' who isn't worth the extra security. Maxime scoffs in response, "I would treat you so much better" He takes a step closer, but your number was called out, so your quickly turn away to get it.

"Let's see what you got." Maxime rubs his hands together walking over to you peering into the Styrofoam take out box. "It's just some carnitas tacos..." You open the box as a form of proof, he hums. "Is there a reason you came to me instead of my boss?" He nods "I'm kidnapping you." He grabs you and picks you up being careful of your food and taking you into his luxurious limo. Of course, you don't fight, you've been wanting this to happen for months. You open the box and start eating adding the jalapeño and salsa etc. on your tacos, you could fee his eyes burning into you as you eat. "I've been watching you, not just right now but for a while" You feel your face heat up and you already know your face is red. "Why?" Is the only thing you can choke out, "Your skills are amazing and not to mention your magnificent to look at" You choke on your food in response which draws out a long low laugh. The rest of the ride was quiet, it was mostly him watching you eating. Every once in a while, he would bite his lip, or a blush would creep up on his face but that's about it.

Before you could finish your meal, you felt a wave of tiredness and drowsiness. The last thing you see is Maximes smile as you feel yourself pass out.

You woke up in a bedroom that looked like a hotel room, the only difference is your ankle was chained to the bed and the door was locked. Your mind immediately went straight to kinky sex and your face became flustered immediately. As you examine the room, you hear the door open Maxime walks in, wearing his green undershirt and his black jeans. You hide your flushed face from his. He mumbles something as you feel a hand grab your face and turn it to his, "Putain, ne me cache pas ton visage..." His gaze filled with frustration and desire. "What?" You stutter out your face red with embarrassment. "Do not hide your face from me." He brings his face close to yours, "I know you want me, almost as much as I want you." He whispers, your face even more red, if that was even possible. "I- uhm..." Your mind glitching as the sudden confession, "Please..." He responds his gaze mixed with desire and desperation as he pleads for the response he craves. "I don't think it's possible for you to like me more than I do," you say barley above a whisper as you move your mouth closer to his ear. You heard a springing noise and notice his antennas shoot up straight at your confident response. "Can me and you...fuc-k?" He says pausing trying to find the right word in English, he adds a very strong emphasis on the 'K' which makes you smile.

Your words caught in the back of your throat unable to form a coherent sentence, you scoff at your lack of confidence and wrap your arms around his neck bringing your lips to his. He was shocked at first but soon he finds his confidence as your lips dance together, the room fills with need and lust as he leans into the kiss, deepening it. You feel him pull away, his face red and antennas perfectly straight pointing up, "Je- I need you, s’il vous plaît" He fumbles over his words mixing in his main language, his blush strong and a bold color. You stare at him as it all hits you that the man you've wanted for months is in front of you, ready to fuck you, and you're sitting there embarrassing yourself. You sit back into the bed grabbing his collared shirt bringing him closer, "Actions speak louder than words." You whisper in his ear with a daring tone as he presses his lips on yours again, but this kiss was dirtier he had more want as his tongue forces an entry, you moan into the kiss as your tongues meet, they swirl together as if they've met before. You removed your hands from his neck as they slowly unbutton his shirt. You both pull away and gasp and crush your lips together again, the same pace resuming as his shirt is now open and his lean body was revealed. Your hands, almost like a magnet, traces all over his chest making his body shiver and a small whimper enters into your mouth.

His eyebrows furrow as you pull away, he was about to complain before you took your shirt off his eyes travel down the revealed skin, "Ma chérie, tu es tellement sexy" You blush not knowing what he said but the tone was enough for you to understand, his hands immediately rush over to grope on your boobs as his hands find their way to the back of the bra and unhook it. A pleasant sigh leaves your mouth at the release of your boobs. You notice his look, you can tell he wants something, "Ma chérie...Can we try something..." Youve never seen him this timid and you've never felt so wet.

His mouth sucking on your chest as he lays down your hand on his long slim cock, the moans vibrations tease your buds as he humps into your hand, having his biggest fantasy filled by the woman he wanted the most. As you felt his cum spurt all over your hand you bring it to your mouth and taste his semen. The look in his eyes shifting into something much darker, his wants morphing from something so genuine and passionate to something rougher and dirtier. He sits up from laying in your thighs, a whine leaves your lips as his moth leaves you nipples. "Lay on your stomach." He demanded, you respond with a moan, full of anticipation, and lay on your stomach your ass in the air. You felt him stand behind you his hands wander all over your ass as he rips open a hole, you gasp as he ruins your pair of pants, "There wasn't even a ho-" Your sentence caught off with a moan as he slaps your ass leaving a cute little mark. A low laugh escapes from the back of his throat as you felt his, already hard dick, lay on your ass. You whimper as he presses a hand on top of his dick, his throbbing length pulses as he starts moving his hips to fuck the space your ass and his hand had created. He was using you and you couldn't be anymore happy, small moans and groans leave his mouth a few French phrases as well, his other hand rubs along your panties, every once in a while, he rubs near your clit making you moan.

He groans in frustration moving his hand and turning you on your back, he removes your pants like a normal person, you were a little upset he didn't tear them but oh well. He, thankfully, rips off your panties as he drags his leaking tip across your clit. "Beg." Is all he could say through gritted teeth, his eyes never leaving you as his dark eyes tell a story of want and desperation, you shiver in anticipation and fear. "Please! I need your cock in me, Maxime please..." Your eyes pleading as you stutter over your words. His smile grows more as he moves his tip near your entrance and puts in barley his whole tip. A long groan leaves your mouth, "Putain, beg." His voice low and stern, you moan out, "Maxime, please I need your cock. I'm so desperate for you." His finger rubs circles around your clit, "hmm we will fix this at another date." He mumbles to himself as he rams into you moving his finger directly onto your clit, a loud moan leaves your mouth. He moves his hips as his finger harasses your clit, his long cock keeps hitting into your g-spot, you both moan, his low and gravely as he moans in French, vs. yours that are loud and almost scream Ish. The constant pleasure feels almost like torture as your face squishes together, your eyebrows almost touching together, your mouth hanging open but no noise leaves as your constantly feeling pleasure, having your g-spot fucked and your clit rubbed, your unable to catch a break. His eyes watching your boobs and face as he fucks into you, his hips moving at a punishing pace as he leans over to moan into your mouth, his hands keeping your legs up to allow his cock deeper into you. A moan you weren't aware was building up and finally left as you feel a wave of unreasonable pleasure wash over you.

He keeps fucking you through your orgasm his face still holding that cocky smirk as well as his blush. You grab onto his arm looking up at him, waiting for him to stop but he doesn't. His pace slows down as he lets a long moan out and you gasp as you feel his cum fill you up. "Maxime!" Is all you can moan out as he plants kisses onto your neck. You smile at the intimate gesture, your smile drops slightly as you feel him getting hard and his hips returning to the rough pace, "J’ai besoin que tu sois enceinte!" He moans out your face scrunching up again...

[buggy-samaaa]

Caught, part 4

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Word count: 532

Content: NSFW — mdni, gender neutral reader, no y/n, second person POV, voyeurism, anal, masturbation, misuse of devil’s fruit powers

——

The next day was awkward, to say the least. Buggy had completely given up talking to you, relaying orders to you through Cabaji instead. 

“Captain says he wants you around the corner from the big top today,” Cabaji told you. You glanced behind Cabaji to see Buggy hovering just within earshot. When Buggy noticed your gaze, he zipped out of view.

“...Why? That makes no sense.”

“Captain says,” Cabaji repeated with a shrug. You crossed your arms in response.

“Well, you can tell Captain Buggy that I've had lots of success in my current spot. Customers can see the tent, I tell them about the circus as I draw their caricature, and they decide to check it out. More money for the crew, and no need to chain people up.”

Cabaji set his lips in a line and sighed. “Look, I don't know why he doesn't want to talk to you or even see you from the tent, but I don't like being a messenger. So, just follow the order, and when he sees it loses him money and audience members, he'll figure something else out. Okay?” And before you could respond, Cabaji left. 

To Buggy's relief, you moved your easel, chairs, display, and supplies to where he had directed you. Now he wouldn't be forced to be reminded of The Incident upon seeing you from within the big top. He really didn't care that it could lead to a decline in customers as long as he didn't have to see you… but he knew he couldn't avoid you forever. 

That evening, you happened to be entering the galley as Buggy left it with a plate of food. You bumped straight into him, causing the food to dump all over his vest and pants.

“Shit,” Buggy muttered, trying to wipe off the gravy and scalloped potatoes from the fabric with his gloved hand. He glanced up and noticed it was you who bumped into him. “Shiiit.”

You pulled out a handkerchief from your back pocket and started wiping him off without a second thought. “Sorry,” you said, mopping up the liquids. “You better wash these as soon as possible, or they'll stain.” You deliberately avoided wiping off his pants, blushing a bit as you handed the cloth to him to do that part himself.

Buggy flushed. “I-I’m not gonna strip right in front of you,” he said in protest as he rubbed the cloth against his crotch. 

“Why would y– I'm not telling you to!” you responded. Your eyes flicked to his vigorous rubbing of his groin and you blushed deeper. “Stop doing that, it's giving me flashbacks,” you hissed. 

“I'm trying to clean off all the crap you spilled on me,” he hissed back. “And don't talk about it!” 

You swiped back your hanky to force him to cut it out. He grabbed the other half of it and yanked hard, and the force of it caused you to jolt forward, falling against his chest and catching yourself on his shoulders. Buggy instinctively stepped away, then slipped on the dropped food and fell on his ass, making you slip with him and land with your face right between his legs. Great.