#people die people change and people must be cut out

[room-surprise]

How Old Is Thistle?

(EDIT: I've made a follow-up post to this one that goes deeper into the math and additional evidence that the 5:1 ratio is correct. You can read it here!)

I've seen people debating this and a lot of folks insisting that Thistle is a child, and since Thistle just debuted in the anime, I wanted to do a full write-up to help myself and others figure this out.

We don't know how old any of the Merini family members are exactly, so the best we can do is guess based on the information we have, but after carefully studying the manga, I think Thistle is at least a teenager, but much more likely a young adult, and definitely not a prepubescent child.

Here's what we know:

EDIT: Depending on what translation you read of some of the extra materials, Freinag implies that Thistle is the same age as some of his advisors.

Here's a detailed translation of this panel from my friend Fumi:

Elves age 5 times slower than tall-men.

16 year old tall-men in Dungeon Meshi's medieval time period are adults, they commonly join the military, get married, have children, etc.

An 80 year old elf is an adult. Pattadol is 82 and she's a lieutenant in a military unit. It's her first job and she's obviously a rookie, but Captain Flamela tells Pattadol to accomplish her mission or die trying.

Many fully adult elves look like what we might consider children or young teens, because they're short, petite, and have androgynous features.

An average elven adult is around 150-155cm tall (5 ft), meaning some are shorter than that, and some are taller. Thistle is 130 cm, which is short, but not unheard of.

Fleki is 130 (26) years old and she's 140 cm tall (4'7")

Otta is 137 (27) years old and she's 130 cm (4'5") tall, the same height as Thistle!

They are both women, but there's probably plenty of elven men in their height range.

Just so we can compare Thistle to some adult elven men, Mithrun and his brother are probably adults (or close to it) in the panel on the left.

Mithrun (in this image) is somewhere between 75 and 144 (probably in his 80's), and his brother is older than him (so he could be in his late 80s or 90s). As you can see, they don't look that different from Thistle, Otta or Fleki.

So, how old is Thistle?

(Spoilers below the cut)

Thistle was brought to the royal court as a child (found on the street, stolen or purchased, we don't know how they got him). At the absolute youngest I'd guess Thistle is 25 years old here (so about 5 years old for a tall-man.) He can already play the flute, and possibly the lute, and most children that aren't prodigies can't handle playing an instrument (physically or mentally) until they're around 5.

EDIT: We now know that Thistle is the same age as Freinag, the king that takes him in! So Thistle must be at least 25 years old in this comic, though realistically he could be anywhere from 25 to 40 based on how Kui drew Freinag.

He lived in the court for an unknown amount of time, Freinag hasn't changed much but Thistle appears to have aged a little, so let's say it's been 5 years and Thistle is 30 (6) when Delgal is born. More than 5 years could have passed, but I'm trying to keep the numbers low.

Delgal gets married and has a child. Delgal should be at least 15 at this point, but since he has a full mustache before his wedding, I think he's in his 20's, since teenagers tend to not be the best at growing robust facial hair.

(He has a full beard by the time Eodio's a young child.)

Thistle puts the kingdom inside the dungeon around this point, however, people are still aging: Delgal's grandson Yaad is born, and Eodio is clearly a young adult here, probably in his 20's. Therefore, there is NO REASON to assume Thistle stopped aging. "The dungeon lords don't age" is a common fan headcanon I've seen people spreading, but it has no clear canon basis.

Yaad ages until he looks about 13-15 years old, and at this point all of the people of the kingdom and Thistle appear to stop aging, and 1,000 years pass.

So, the youngest Thistle could possibly be, if he was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, if Delgal was 15 when he had Eodio, and Eodio was 15 when he had Yaad, and Yaad is 13 years old...

Is 73 years old, which would make Thistle about 14.6 years old by tall-man standards.

HOWEVER, I think it's VERY unlikely that all the characters are that young.

I think it's clear from Kui's drawings that Delgal and Eodio are not 15 years old when they become fathers, and that Freinag is at least 25 when he takes in Thistle.

If we assume Thistle was 30 when Delgal was born, and Delgal and Eodio were both at least 20 when they had children, even if Yaad is only 13 years old, that makes Thistle at least 83 years old (16.6), and makes him older than Pattadol, who is an adult at 82.

However, I think it's entirely possible that Thistle was anywhere from 40-50 when Delgal was born, and Delgal could have been anywhere from 20 to 30 when he had Eodio, and Eodio could have been anywhere from 20-25 when he had Yaad. If you use the maximum ages, and assume Yaad is 15, then Thistle could be as old as 120 (24).

I think a reasonable middle ground is assuming Thistle was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, Delgal had Eodio at 25, Eodio had Yaad at 20, and Yaad is 15... Which would make Thistle 90 (18) years old.

This of course says nothing about Thistle's emotional maturity or sanity, he's obviously stunted in some ways, but the point I want to make here is:

Thistle's age could be anywhere from 14.6 to 24 at the most extreme, but more realistically he's somewhere between 16.6 and 18.

And that's not even counting the thousand years that he's lived since then!

And that's all I've got to say about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

(EDIT: Follow-up post with additional evidence here.) EDIT 2: I've seen a lot of people talking about the page Kui drew talking about elven earmuffs. It's considered just barely okay for Pattadol to wear them, but it's ok for Thistle to wear them... In which case I'd say Thistle could be any age younger than 83. That's handy as it knocks out some of the older ages!

So in that case Thistle's age is between 73 years old and 82, which makes him developmentally between 14.6 and 16.4!

[rpclefairy]

𝐁𝐆𝟑 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

a selection of lines from the various companions' banter quotes (not cut scene dialogues!) from baldur's gate 3. these are generally spoiler free and non context specific so they can apply to different settings and dynamics! feel free to change names and the like to customize the prompts.

“Death can't have me. Not yet…”

“Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.”

“Realmspace is vast. Countless worlds to be mapped, kingdoms to be conquered.”

“I have missed this. The adventure. The danger. The kicking of butts!

“Let me guess - you need something.”

“Such attention.. I never realised I was so popular.”

“Let's cook with fire, baby.”

“Do you intend to vocalise every thought?. Or just the most obvious ones?”

“Wherever we go, ye gods let there be something green.”

“Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.”

“Watch your elders and learn.”

“Perhaps try attacking the enemy?”

“So much we don't know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

“All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.”

“The shadows are my friend.”

“Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.”

“Feet planted firmly on Faerûn, please.”

“Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities.”

“Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you?”

“I am ready, whatever may come.”

“My faith protects me.”

“Need a throat slitting?”

“Death greets us all - but not today.”

“You need my expertise?”

“Can you feel death's cold grip?”

“So many stars, so many mysteries yet to be discovered.”

“Death comes quietly.”

“And I thought we were going to be friends.”

“Locked tight, but there must be some way to open it.”

“No, you can't die. Get up, damn you!

“You had my attention, now you have my fury.”

“From silence to suffering.”

“So many worlds out there. You'd need a thousand lifetimes to see them all - more.”

“I hope this is important. For your sake.”

“Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.”

“I ought to just burn this whole thing down.”

“We have slightly more pressing matters to attend to.”

“You have still have time to surrender.”

“Every kicked buttock, another step on the path.”

“Weave save me. I can't take much more…

“You are right to fear me.”

“Let me look around. Might be something that'll help me crack this thing.”

“Incredible, to think how many worlds exist beyond this tiny speck within a speck I call home.”

“I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.”

“I can fawn over my face later.”

“Ready for another round?”

“Keep your blade close.”

“I can't unlock it from here, but there must be a switch or a button somewhere…”

“No, that's not moving. There must be a way to open it somewhere.”

“Battle favours the fearless.”

“Sleep with one eye open, evil. Maybe both.”

“Gotta be something around here to unlock this thing.”

“Why do beautiful people taste better?. It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities.”

“Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too.”

“Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails.”

“Still standing, no matter what you heard.”

“Enough waiting. I crave blood.”

“Hang on - I won't allow this. You aren't dead, go it?”

“GODS, it's HOT in here!”

“No rest for the wicked, I see.”

“Better to hide than fight, sometimes.”

“Would that I could hide from you, too.”

“Are you feeling lonely, perhaps?”

“There is no right or wrong, only truth.”

“Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe.”

“What good all this ethereal eladrin blood if I can still get pimples?”

“I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.”

“I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness.”

“Let's have some fun.”

“War is an old woman's game.”

“No rest, be you wicked or wise.”

“I'm getting too old for this nonsense.”

“I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want.”

“You have my attention - now do something with it.”

“You are insistent, are you not?”

“Do what must be done.”

“Your suffering will be spectacular.”

“Lest I sit down for a rest and not rise again.”

“Better to look evil in the eye. Even if it be very small.”

“I'm not built to crouch.”

“I think I could go another round.”

“Always the same old song.”

“Is perfection too much to ask?”

“Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner.”

“So many places to be.. and I chose Baldur's Gate.”

“I'm not opening that. Not from here, at any rate.”

“What is the point, if not victory?”

“Won't last much longer like this.”

“Let's hope the locals are friendly.”

“Let us show them how it's done.”

“Weapons high. Standards higher.”

“Must everyone be so exhausting?”

“What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb…”

“Which way to the nearest library?”

“Now this is my happy place.”

“Who shall I silence?”

“Stop, or die.”

“Wear your scars proudly.”

[fairlyang]

Thigh riding 🕷️

you are peer pressured to somehow help Miguel from the hell of a week he's had

w/c: 5.5K

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut, no use of y/n, lil plot, angy Miguel, going in with no plan, pestering, lots of tension, giving in, making out, thigh riding, jerking him off, tasting each other, cum

notes: the beginning of this I reused for “prank” but that was an og idea I abandoned then did end up using 💀

Miguel had been stressed, annoyed, and overworked for the past week and a half. No one even dared to go into his office or bothered to start up a conversation if they saw him walk the hallways of HQ. Not even Jess.

But that didn't stop Gwen from plotting something, because "why not."

"He will literally kill anything that comes within a 100 feet radius of him-" Miles says making me scoff.

"1000." I mutter shaking my head.

"Okay but we need to help him out somehow-" Gwen starts to say and I widen my eyes.

"Gwen, he will literally kill someone on instant impact-"

"Don't exaggerate-" she starts to say and I cut her off grabbing the ends of my mask and take it off for dramatic effect.

"I saw a glimpse of both veins yesterday." I say and shiver in exaggerated horror. "From afar."

They both turn to look at me with widened eyes. "Neck and forehead?" Miles asks with his mouth agape.

I nod and scoff, "So if you want a death wish....."

"I just feel bad-" she says and sighs. "There must be some way we can distract or help him?"

"I mean I feel bad too, it's not a nice thing to see... but what can we do?" I say and sigh.

Helping him or even bothering up to talk to him would be like talking to a concrete wall. Impossible and won't do anything.

"Maybe take him to one of those rooms where you hit garbage with a bat." Miles says and shrugs.

"A rage room? You suggest we take our boss to a rage room?" I ask and laugh. "Then he'd just get offended we think he has anger issues."

"Think?" I hear a familiar British voice speak and look up seeing Hobie walk towards our table.

I snicker then bite my lip. I'll shut up, Miguel could appear out of thin air. "Tell Gwen that we shouldn't be messing with the devil reincarnate."

"She and Miles shouldn't. Hell I definitely shouldn't..... but....." he trails on as he sits next to me and I groan.

"Do not even-"

"Perfect so you know where I'm going with this. Have fun-"

"Absolutely fucking not-"

"But why-"

"I don't wanna die!!"

"No, you won't-"

"He doesn't even have spidey senses and he's somehow just gonna sense the air being different before I even walk in-"

"Calm down-"

"He's fucking built different Hobie I'd be a goner-"

"Calm the fuck down!"

"Do you want me dead?!?" I hiss and he chuckles shaking his head at me and sits across from me.

"What don't you get- listen... he might dislike the rest of us. A lot.. but you're different-"

"Don't say that-“

"It's true and you know it!" He exclaims laughing at my reaction and I bite my lip looking down. There's no way....

I sigh and take a deep breath. Oh god.

"How the fuck do I change his mood though? I can't be too chirpy or pester him. Both are things I'm an expert in but won't help- it'll make shit more fucked-" I whine and groan.

"You can figure it out. You of all people can figure something out...." Miles cuts in and I roll my eyes.

"Come on arañita-" he teases and i scoff. (little spider)

"Oh fuck off-"

"See you're the only one that is even worthy of a nickname by the devil." Hobie teases with a smirk and I scoff.

Fuck-

"I never-" I freeze, eye widened. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

All three turn to look at me and give me a look. I purse my lips and close my eyes. I’m the only one worthy of a nickname? Really? just me- Did it really have to be me? I mean he does tolerate me. My presence. On a regular basis.... barely...

Shit.

I sigh and look back at them. "FINE." I mutter and stand up.

Gwen lets out a sigh and Miles covers his mouth not wanting to laugh. I glare at him and he lets out a snicker. "Miles Morales-"

"My bad!!" He says and covers his mouth again.

"If you don't hear from me within the next two hours, I'm as good as dead. Hobie you can keep my dog." I say semi jokingly and he nods giving me a thumbs up.

I roll my eyes at him and turn to Gwen, "You owe me one."

She waves me off letting out a laugh and I sigh. "Good luck." Miles says and fake salutes me.

I walk away from the table and instantly hear them snickering. Couldn't even wait for me to be gone-

What did I get myself into?

I let out a deep breath as I walk out of the cafeteria. I'm done for.

I walk the halls of HQ and head over to Miguel's office. i couldn't help but think. I guess it was kind of true? I bugged him but he never got like really mad? It's like he almost didn't mind my company? He's never kicked me out... what did that mean though?

Now the thing about Miguel is he's a very sarcastic, sometimes cold, very angry man. I somehow ended up kind of befriending him by calling him out on shit early on when I was recruited and he hates when I do it but somewhat respects I have the guts to do it at all. I play around with him a lot and at first it bugged him, a lot but then he started doing it back and that's the dynamic we have going.

Now this didn't make me an exception from when he gets pissed like he is now. At least that's what I was thinking..... but after seeing and hearing what Hobie was saying, I was conflicted. But why wouldn't he get mad at me? Because I was barely able to befriend him? I wasn't even close to the level of friendship he has with Jess and even she hasn't dared to talk to him.... or even Peter's friendship with him, and he's been with him through his ups and downs. So it wouldn't make any sense...

I shake off my thoughts and take a deep breath standing outside his door. I peep through one of the windows and he's looking at his screens. So he definitely hasn't heard me... yet.

I open the door as quietly and slowly as I can only to be met with his frustrated grunts at the screens in front of him. I quietly close the door and lean against the wall. He's swiping along muttering swears in English and Spanish making my eyes go wide.

I'm fucking done for. I didn't even come in with a fucking shed of an idea of how to distract him or cheer his ass up. I'm done. Me va gritar, me va chingar, y ni me va hacer caso- (he's gonna scream at me, beat my ass and he's not even gonna pay attention to me-)

Then he turns around to look me right in the eye, making me jump, and snarls, "You're breathing loud arañita, que quieres?" (what do you want?)

"You have some balls to come in here." He mutters before quickly turning back and mumbles, "Chingdada madre-" (mother fucker)

I cover my mouth to hide my nervous laughter and shake my head. I'm fucking breathing loud??? I knew this would happen-

"Be nice Miguelito, I just came to... check up on you.." I say and walk up to him slowly. I felt a bubble of nervousness form in my stomach and my hands were getting sweaty under my suit. This was gonna be bad...

He turns back around to me pressing a button on his watch making his mask disappear, showing me his distressed face and scoffs. "Check up on me? Oh so now I need hawk eyes all over me at all times?"

I gulp and stop just a few feet away from his platform. What the fuck do I even say???

"Do I look like I need checking up on?!?" He says and slams a hand on the desk making papers fly off and a pen roll off to the floor.

My eyes shift from his eyes to the floor to his neck. Oh god the veins... It's only the one on his neck- I'll try to keep it that way...

"Well...." I trail on and take a step up to his platform but still not within range to touch him or vice versa.

He completely turns to look at me and places a hand on his hip with a look on his face. What was it? Curiosity? Annoyance? Anger? I couldn't tell.

"Listen..." I start and put my hands up in defense, "we were starting to get worried-"

"We?"

"Yes. We. A handful of us..." I say and take another step forward and now having to look up at him but still not within reach. Oh fuck.

"And I think you've been in here too long... necesitas relajarte o distraerte." I say softly and put my hands down slowly. (you need to relax or distract yourself)

"Quieres que me relaje? Distráeme?" He asked unamused with a cocked eyebrow. (you want me to relax? To distract myself)

I simply nod and hold my breath.

Fuck fuck fuck.

"And how do you propose I do that?" He asks raising an eyebrow at me and I bite my lip.

That's such a good question....

"hmm... well I actually didn't really have an idea....." I trail on, scratching the back of my neck and he scoffs.

"So you came in here-" he starts but I interrupt.

"Now listen-"

"No, you listen-"

"Miguel-"

"You came here-"

"Yes-"

"With no idea-"

"Well Gwen was getting worri-"

"Gwen-"

"Well me too I guess but-"

"Oh so you were too-"

"Cállate-" (shut up)

"Escúchame arañita-" (listen to me little spider)

"And it's not that I didn't have a plan-"

"Really because it sure sounds-"

"I just didn't think-"

"You never do-"

"Cabron-" (asshole/bitch)

"Latosa." He snarls and I scoff. (annoying ass)

"Mendigo-" I blurt out and cross my arms against my chest. Then it hits me. (asshole but more aggressive maybe bastard fits)

Fuck.

He walks towards me giving me a glare and I freeze. This is it. I've lived a decent life- I got to enjoy my spider powers for as long as I could, helped a ton of people. But this is it-

He steps in front of me and I bite my lip looking at his chest too fucking petrified to look him in the eye. I bring my arms down to my sides and widen my eyes. Oh god why did he have to be so fucking intimidating.

He unfortunately gets rid of my thoughts and takes care of my lack of eye contact by lifting my chin up with two fingers. I gulp and stare into his eyes.

Amusement. Shock.

Then I look down at his lips. A smirk?

Huh?

"Repeat what you said." He demands and I stifle a laugh.

He was enjoying this? Maybe all he needed was a little pestering? Shockingly enough- could he have missed me- nah.... that's a stretch.

I look directly into his eyes and cross my arms against my chest. "Men-di-go." I say slowly making sure to annunciate every syllable exaggeratedly. I purse my lips and widen my eyes slightly.

I'm playing with fire. No- worse- a fucking ticking time bomb.

He raises an eyebrow with a shocked expression and I have the urge to burst out laughing but I don't want to make this any worse. Then in a swift movement his hand is gripping my jaw and my breath hitches in my throat. He tilts his head and leans down so I can't look at anything besides his eyes.

Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

He narrows his eyes down and I'm on the verge of breaking. I bite my lip, my heartbeat quickens, my cheeks grow red. His stare was intense. Neither of us looking away.

His grip was then softer, for a split second before he takes another step forward making me yelp as my lower back hit one of his desks.

His body towered over mine and his hands were then gripping the desk behind me, or on each side of my body so I had nowhere to go. I was trapped but it didn't feel intimidating. He didn't look like he was going to pounce. I let my hands stay on my sides and I couldn't move. I felt like I was frozen.

What the fuck was this?

My breathing was a bit unsteady and I couldn't do anything. Why'd I feel like I was in a trance?

My mind then took an unexpected turn from being nervous to intrigued. Excited. And I couldn't help but take a close notice of his features. His pretty crimson eyes. His high cheekbones. His thick eyebrows. His full lips. His big nose- we all know what they say about big noses-

No—

I then feel an oh so familiar feeling appear in my stomach and I gulp. Oh fuck.

My eyes slowly made their way down and really took in everything. I've never been so close to this man... ever... I was able to see everything-

His chiseled jawline that genuinely looked like it was sculpted by gods. Then I realized how much bigger and taller he was than me. He was huge. His broad shoulders. His toned chest. Muscular arms. Those biceps the size of my head. Which were all shown absolutely perfectly by his skintight suit. 

Well every inch of him was shown to perfection, accentuating every curve, line, inch of his practically Greek god physique.

I then thought of escaping, my thoughts were going some place they've never been towards him, my breathing was unsteady, but then I felt his hands moving down to my waist making me take a deep breath in. What the fuck??? Que está tramando??? (what is he plotting???)

Suddenly as if a light switched in my brain I realized what I had to offer to relax or distract him.... I felt my cheeks get hot and I shift a tiny bit. Was I really going to-

I slowly looked back up at his eyes and he was already staring at me. He leans down a tiny bit, I could feel him breathing on my nose... I bite my lip and try to calm myself down. There's no way he's thinking the same I am.... Right?

His eyes had darkened and they looked glossy. The look in his eye- it was impossible to miss... oh my god-

I breathe out and slowly move my hand from my sides to go up to his chest. I prayed I wasn't reading shit incorrectly and leave my hands there gently. He didn't stop me. He didn't even flinch. Oh wow....

I didn't know where to go from here- I noticed his heartbeat going all over the place as well. Was he just as nervous as me? Just as excited?

Maybe he's had pent up arousal?

But do I help him?

He leans down a tiny bit more and our lips are now millimeters apart. His grip on my waist was firm and his body was against mine. I could now see the lust in his eyes and I have a feeling he sees it in mine. I was appalled. We've never, ever done anything like this. It didn't exactly feel wrong but it was odd? Different. Confusing. But felt right?

I slowly reach up to wrap my arms behind his neck and look into his eyes then down at his lips. They were right there.

He then clears his throat and I look back up into his eyes. "Creo que ya se como me puedo distraer." He whispers softly, his breath lightly hitting my lips, and I feel myself almost melt. (I think I know how I can distract myself)

So he was thinking the same as me.....

I nod in agreement, not trusting myself to speak and he takes that as his green light. I close my eyes and I feel the softness of his lips on mine. Instant sparks running through my body as I slowly kiss him back. I didn't think I would feel this way- hell I didn't think I'd ever kiss Miguel of all people... but it felt so good and natural...

I felt the flush of my cheeks grow warmer as I felt one of his hands going down to my hips and the other softly wrapped around my neck, and deepening the kiss at the same time.

I move my hands up to play with the ends of his curls and lightly tug on them making him let out a moan. I then slide my tongue into his mouth exploring every crevice as I feel his hands snake down and grope my ass, making a combination of a moan and groan leave my throat.

I feel him smirk before shoving his tongue in my mouth and I melt into his arms. He grabs the back of my thighs and lifts me onto the desk and stands in between my legs. I wrap them around his waist and bring him closer to me which makes him change the pace of the kiss, more passion, hunger, neediness.

I moan into his mouth and he pulls away making me whimper but his lips went down leaving wet kisses on my jaw, then moving down to my neck. I tilt my head to the side giving him more room as he licks a spot then sucking on it roughly making me gasp and grip onto his hair.

He groans against my skin and I feel my eyes fluttering as I feel heat go deep into my core. I was breathing heavily and the way I felt his hand go down to squeeze my thigh, definitely wasn't helping. His other hand was playing with my long hair as he left more love bites on my neck. By this time I felt like my neck was invaded with red marks, he would suck then lick it softly to ease the slight pain and repeat.

His hands were suddenly rougher on me, his hand on my thighs now nearing my inner thigh, trailing up and down, teasing me. He was now tugging on my hair making me head go back and he kissed up my throat sending shivers all throughout my body.

He pecks my lips softly then bites my bottom lip lightly. I cup his cheek and he suddenly picks me up so my legs are wrapped around his waist as he sits us down on the chair he has in his office.

I was sitting on his lap so I leaned down to kiss his neck making my way to his ear and nibble on it. I felt his breathing get harder and a groan leave his lips. I grind myself slowly onto him, I almost stopped when I felt him- he was so fucking hard...

I positioned myself properly and moved to grind directly on his bulge as I went down to kiss down his neck wanting to leave some marks on him. I found a spot and sucked on it harshly before licking it and moving my head towards his throat and kiss up it. I felt a groan against my mouth and I couldn't help but moan.

Why was that so hot?

I felt my wetness moving around between my thighs, I was possibly leaking through my suit- how the hell would that even be possible?

"Así- mm así mami-" he moans out and I move my hips a bit faster. I felt my eyes flutter and I felt like I could pass out already but I knew I had to stay in the moment. (Just like that)

I felt his hands grip on my hips helping me grind against him while my hands were behind his neck trying to steady myself. I moaned against his throat and I felt his hips buck up making his bulge directly rub against my clit. Fuck. "S-shit-" I murmur and feel my eyes closing.

"Would you get mad if I ripped your suit open?" He suddenly asks and I stop. I widen my eyes and I just look at him.

"A-Are you insane-"

"I could have Lyla make you a new one right now-"

"Don't call her now!!"

"I'm just saying-"

I then close my mouth and shake my head slowly. He motions for me to stand up and I get off his lap and stand in front of him with furrowed brows. He gets on his knees then in just a few seconds his hands go to my thighs as he rips the fabric of my suit, between my legs to be more specific. Now I just had a big hole between my thighs. "You owe me a new and improved suit by tomorrow." I mutter and he just chuckled and grabbed the back of my thighs.

He left small kisses on my inner thigh and I felt my legs shake. God how did he have this much of an affect on me-

I then suddenly feel cold and I look down and gasp at the sight. He used his fangs to rip my panties.

My mouth was wide open as he looks up at me with a smirk, my little blue thong between his fingertips. "Oh you sick f-" I start but then he spreads my legs apart and blows a small puff of air against my slit making me quiver.

I whine and he laughs. "Que decías nena?" He teases making me try to squeeze my thighs but he had a strong grip on them. That petname- (what were you saying baby girl?)

From his lips- madre mía- (oh my god-)

"S-sick fuck." I mutter and he smirks.

"Now I still want you riding my thigh... but I need to taste you." He growls and as soon as he finishes his sentence he licks a long strip on my already soaked pussy.

I moan and indistinctly move my hands down to his hair. He licks it softly at first until he went up to my swollen clit and kissed it, licked it then sucked on it harshly like a man that hasn't had dinner for weeks. He definitely was a starved man.

"M-Mig-" I moan out and buck my hips towards his face. He groans against my pussy and his hands grip the back of my thighs harder.

I move my hips back and forth and he continues eating out my pussy. His hands moved to smack my ass for a second and then up to my hips helping me grind against his mouth. "So good Miguel-" I murmur breathless.

He pulls away making me whimper until he brings a finger up to rub my swollen nub and I let out a moan. "Estas más deliciosa de lo que me imaginé arañita." He purrs looking right into my eyes. (you're more delicious than what I had imagined)

I whimper and close my eyes. This is really happening.... Miguel O'Hara is between my legs- I just felt his tongue on my pussy... he is on his fucking knees looking up at me- All it took to distract him was some pussy?

I come back to reality when I no longer feel his touch. I open my eyes to see he's stood back up. I look up at him as he back up to sit back up on the chair. Oh....

With one finger he motions for me to sit on his lap and I don't hesitate to walk back to him and place myself on his lap again. He shifts in the chair to have his left thigh directly on most of the chair then grabs my hips and make me lift one leg over his.

He brings my hips down my pussy now making contact with his suit. I gasp at the new texture and put my hands against his shoulders slowly moving. "Good girl." He purrs and his hands on my hips helping me move making it easier for me.

"I- but y-your suit-" I stammer and try to stop but his hands make me continue moving.

"It's fine." He whispers and presses on his watch and I watch as the lower half of his body is soon exposed as the pixels of his suit disintegrate.

My pussy was now directly on his toned thigh and it felt so good. My eyes begin fluttering again as I move my hips rubbing myself against his now soaked thigh. I then open them again and instantly take notice he's completely bare.

My breath hitched at my throat when I looked at his thick cock that was already throbbing and leaking with precum. I widen my eyes and gulp. There was no fucking way he'd fit... as if he read my mind he chuckles and lifts my chin up to look at him then holds my hands. "We don't have to go all the way- if anything I think seeing you cum will do it for me." He says and I feel my cheeks grow warm.

I subconsciously squeeze my thighs together and he groans. I bite my lip and roll my hips back and forth again, my hands going back to his shoulders to steady myself. He lets out a deep breath and his hands go back to my hips. "Look at you fucking dripping on me pretty girl." He purrs making me blush.

I look down at his cock and bring a hand down to gently grab it then spit on it. I start stroking him with my saliva dripping down a vein and I feel myself getting wetter. He groans, his grip on my hips now tighter as I grind myself faster on him. "M-Miguel-"

"You're doing so good arañita." He murmurs as I stroke him faster letting out moans of my name.

I whimper and feel my thighs starting to hurt but I was also slowly feeling my orgasm coming in. "Asi nena- se siente tan rico-" he praises breathlessly. (Just like that baby girl- it feels so good-)

He lays his head back and I let out bundles of moans and whines on top of him. He bucks his thigh up making me whimper in pure pleasure. My eyes were glossy, my body was growing tired but I was so close and he was too I could tell by the way his cock was twitching in my hand. I lean forward closer to him to have somewhat easier access to jerking him off.

One of his hands lets go of my hip and cups my cheek as he leans in to kiss me roughly. It was the sloppiest kiss I've ever endured in my life but I didn't mind and I kissed him back with just as much of his neediness. He moved his thigh up and down making my tremble and moan against his lips. "No pares-" he mumbles against my lips and I slide my tongue in his mouth stroking him even faster. (Don't stop-)

I feel him groan in my mouth and I melt into his shoulder almost giving out. Both his hands were back on my hips pushing them back and forth as he saw I was slowing down a bit. How kind.

I pull away and l lean my forehead against his, breathing heavily, legs trembling. My orgasm quickly took over making me shake more and let out shaky moans. I stop moving trying to calm my rapid heartbeat as I felt Miguel's grip dropped from my hips and to hold my other hand. Our fingers intertwined and my hand still didn't stop but that's when I looked down at his cock in my hands and realized he was cumming so I slowed down, letting him ride his high.

He let out so many grunts and moans bucking his hips into my hand. His streaks of cum shot up to my hands, his stomach, and my thighs. I chuckle looking down at the mess he made and bite my lip.

It's only fair I get to taste him too.

I bring my hand up to my mouth and lick off his cum that landed on my hand. I hear him gasp when I swallowed and I look up at him with a smirk. "I needed to taste you too." I say and bite my lip.

He snickers and shakes his head. I then notice the slight tug of a smile forming. Jesus.

Oh god- why the fuck did that give me butterflies.... Why did he look so good.

I looked at him, eyes hazed, hair pulled back, he was sweaty but he looked fine. So fucking good.

I can't believe we did that- us.

He was still holding my hand and I feel myself blush. Fuck- well now what?

I let out a sigh and try to stand up but instantly felt the pain in my thighs. "Fuck-" I groan and sit back down on him.

"Come here I got you." He says softly and moves my left leg over.

I lay my head against his shoulder and I feel him slowly lifting me up. I wrap my arms behind his neck and nuzzle between his chest. I felt fucking exhausted. "You did so good arañita." He whispers and I fight back a smile.

He walked up off deeper into his office, probably taking us to his room considering he completely fucked up my suit and my whole pussy was on display. I pull away and point at him. "New suit-"

"Yeah yeah yeah- para mañana. I got it." He retorts and I laugh. (For tomorrow)

He placed me down on his bed and I yawn. My body felt so sore and I look down at my thighs. Still had his cum on me... I bite my lip and shake my head in disbelief. How did this happen?

He walked over to his dresser and grabbed a shirt and some sweats. I scoff and shake my head. "Those won't fit."

He rolls his eyes at me and throws them at me, I catch them before they can whack me in the face. "Rude." I mutter and start talking off the remains of my suit.

I grab the ends from my neck and pull it down my body. Thank god I decided to wear a bra today.

"Where the fuck is my-?" I start to say then look up at him mouth agape.

I look at his hand and sure enough there it is. My thong. "Give it-"

"Ask nicely."

"I literally just helped distract you from your shitty ass week- dámelo!!!" I demand and stand up somehow gaining the strength to walk over to him. (give it to me!!!)

His eyes gaze down at my bra and I roll my eyes. "Want the matching bra?" I tease and he smirks.

"Well it is only fair I get bo-"

"Estas loco- now give it!!!" I whine and reach for it but unfortunately he was faster than me and lifts it high above my head. (You're crazy-)

Why did he have to be built like a giant at desperate times like this....

"I have an idea-" he starts but I interrupt.

"Dámelo latoso." I say sternly and he scrunches his nose. (Give it to me annoying fuck)

"You're not convincing me very well..." he trails on and I shake my head.

"Fine." I say walking back to his bed and putting on the clothes he gave me.

I slip on the big sweatpants and groan. I pull on the drawstrings to the tightest it can go and tie it. "It looks like I have no ass-" I whine and roll my eyes.

I quickly slip on the shirt and take off my bra. I slip the straps off my arms through the arm holes and then take the bra off from under. I throw it at him and with ease he caught it.

"Maybe this'll be how we can calm your ass down...." I say and give him a wink before walking out of his room.

"You're the perfect distraction arañita." He calls out and I bite my lip.

I take a few steps and I was back in his office before I quickly ran out. I open the door, slip out then close it. I lean against the door and can't help the smile the appeared on my face. Wow.

[ghostkennedy]

Everybody's Gotta Die Sometime

~step brother Ghostface! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

happy halloween to my ghostface leon fuckers. and to hopefully my new ghostface leon fucker recruits. <3 (shoutout to @lipglossanon for making me discover my love of stepcest. and shoutout to @delusionalbunni for requesting this. and everyone in the discord server for giving me ideas constantly)

Word count: 5419

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DON'T FUCKING EAT IT, dubcon, noncon, dom leon, stepcest, kidnapping, drugging, bodily harm, wounds, cuts, blood, knife usage, serial killer, murders, stalking, pervert leon, discusses scenes from Scream, pet names, degradation, praise, dry humping, aggressive sex, finger sucking, slapping, ass slapping, daddy kink, baby trapping, forced impregnation, talk of body changes, talk of lactation, spitting, blood eating, BREEDING KINK, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and more dirty talk then you'll know what to do with

!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!

“Run, my pretty bunny,” he whispers in your ear before pushing you down into the mud. A yelp of pain escapes from your throat as you connect with the unforgiving ground. Blood is already running down your chest from where he cut you just moments ago. A little slice to show you just how serious he was. And if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you’re sure it’d hurt like a bitch.

“By time I count to twenty, you better be out of my fucking sight.” 

You push yourself up with all the strength you can muster and force yourself to move forward as he starts counting behind you. The drugs are still flowing through you, making your blood feel thick like honey. Your brain is enveloped in a dense fog that has you disorientated as you weave through the heavily wooded forest.

You know you don’t stand a chance; of course you don’t. But he wants to play this stupid game of cat and mouse, so you’ll play along; it’s probably the only way you’ll make it out of this alive. 

Your legs are unsteady as you traverse the uneven terrain, using tree branches to keep yourself up on your feet. 

Why you of all people? 

The Ghostface copy-cat killer has been terrorizing this small town for months now and you’d never heard of him taking any of his victims to the woods to play “chase.” His murders have always been quick, spontaneous, and brutal. There had never been mentions of a second location. 

You must be one lucky girl. 

You remember walking home from work. Sure, it was late at night so it was pretty dark, but you didn’t have any other choice. Your boss asked you to stay late, and if you had any hope of being brought on full time, you couldn’t say no.

So you said yes and before you could make it home, someone was grabbing you from behind and holding a towel up over your nose and mouth. Then everything went black.

And then you woke up, tied up in the woods with a bag over your head. The bag was quickly yanked off and the first thing you saw was that fucking mask. The Ghostface mask. 

You tried to fight him as best as you could, but you were far too weak, and he was far too strong. You never really stood a chance. You pleaded with him, begged him to let you go, but you were only met with anger. 

You knew you were poking the bear when you told him he wouldn’t actually do anything. And when he sliced you open across your chest with his blade, you only really had yourself to blame. And when he told you to run, that he wanted to play with you, you weren’t in any position to fight him on it.

So now you’re running through the dark wooded area. You don’t have a fucking clue where you are, you don’t know where you’re headed, you don’t have a plan, and possibly the worst part? You don’t know where he is. You somehow preferred being in that small clearing with him taunting and tormenting you than being out here amongst the trees all alone, every little sound making you jump out of your skin.

How long have you been running through the woods? Time seems to be passing by so slowly as you put forth your best effort. You’re leaned up against a tree, clinging to the bark to keep from completely toppling over. You’re so lightheaded, your head spinning, you don’t know which way is up and which way is down as the world spins around you.

Your lungs ache from the overexertion, the only things you can focus on being the sound of your heart beat pounding in your ears and fighting back the vomit threatening to spill from your throat. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your arms too weak to keep hanging onto the tree. You feel yourself falling backwards, feel yourself fainting and not being able to do anything to stop it. 

Before your body can connect with the ground, arms are wrapping around you just like they had before you passed out the first time. You groan out in pain as you’re laid gently on the forest floor.

Your head is still spinning, your eyes unable to focus as you hear a distant voice talking to you.

You slowly come back to yourself and when you do, you realize you’re looking up at Ghostface himself.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” He questions you. You try to answer him, but your words die in your throat. You’re still feeling too weak to even speak.

You look up at the moonlight breaking through the trees above you, thinking about how pretty of a view you get to witness while dying. You guess if you did have to choose, this is the sight you’d choose to experience while your body slowly gives up on itself.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when hands grasp your face firmly and pull you to look ahead of you. It takes a minute for you to fully process that Ghostface no longer has his mask on. And you’re sure you’ve died or are hallucinating as death pulls you under when you see the killer’s real face. And it’s not just any face, because that would be too simple. No, it’s one you recognize and one you recognize well.

You choke out words, them barely coming out above a whisper, “Leon? Is that you?”

His cocky, shit eating grin takes over his entire face. You don’t need him to respond anymore. That look is undeniably and so certainly Leon fucking Kennedy.

“In the flesh, baby sis,” he rubs his thumb across your cheek. 

“Are you- you’re Ghostface? Like, the Ghostface?” You’re trying to process what’s happening, but it’s so fucking unreal. There has to be some other explanation. 

“You’ve always been such a stupid girl.” He shakes his head as he fights back a smirk. “You never connected the dots? Never pieced it together for yourself?”

You stare up at him, giving up fighting your tears.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s you. All the random murders? Oh baby. They weren’t random,” he laughs with a look of disbelief on his face. “Let’s see. Your boyfriend? Couldn’t have him thinking what’s mine belongs to him. That girl that used to live in our neighborhood? She was always such a bitch to you.”

You search his face for any signs of what he’s getting at, but you don’t find any answers. “I don’t understand.”

“How about that barista who always had an attitude with you? Your old manager who made you uncomfortable and didn’t give a shit?”

All you can do is stare up at him. What does your old boss have to do with this? And what barista is he talking about? They’re all bitchy at the coffee shop near your place. If someone was ever nice to you there, you’d be worried about what’s wrong with the world.

“Oh! I know what’ll make you a happy little bunny! Any guesses?”

“I don’t suppose it’s you changing your mind and letting me go?”

Leon bursts out laughing at your response, “You’re so silly. No, baby. I found the lady who did that hit and run on your car. She was drunk off her ass that day and the day I found her. It amazes me how the police could never find her, yet it only took me two days. Now they’ll really never find her.”

He brings his face down to yours, until he’s barely a few inches away from you.

“You killed them?”

“Every one of them.”

“And what about the others?”

He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Some were for practice, some were for fun.” He shrugs as if he isn’t admitting to a bunch of murders. “But if they were an inconvenience to us, they had to go.”

“None of them had to die, Leon.”

“Everybody dies, bunny. Better to be by my hand than some flesh eating disease, right?” The hand not caressing your face starts to slowly roam your body, his fingers gently running down your side. 

“Please let me go. You don’t have to do this.”

You try to shake yourself beneath him, but he’s using all of his weight to pin you to the cold, muddy ground.

“Big brother just wants to take care of his little sis,” Leon coos at you, his fringe sticking to his forehead as the blood there slowly dries.

“You’re not my fucking brother, Leon. We haven’t seen each other since we were kids.” Your voice is mean, a complete contrast from the way you look. Covered in mud, tears, sweat, and blood. You can taste it on your lips.

He laughs down at you. “We haven’t? Baby. I see you all the time. I see you behind the counter at work. I see you at the grocery store when you need to pick up some milk and bread. I see you when you check your pockets for your wallet and keys before you go in the back door of your house.” He drags his knife down your neck, hard enough to sting but gentle enough to not break the skin. “I see you with your fingers buried deep in that tight cunt when you think no one is watching. I don’t just see it either, I hear it. I hear how loud and needy you are. It’s as if you’re subconsciously begging for big brother’s cock. Calling out for me to stuff this little pussy full, breed that tight hole until you can’t take it anymore. I see you everywhere you go baby, even in the privacy of your own bedroom.”

You can’t formulate a response, so you just stare up at him dumbfounded. You hope he’s bluffing–he has to be bluffing.

“So maybe you haven’t seen me since we were kids, but I see you all the time, sweet baby sis.”

“You’re lying. Anybody could say that vague shit.” You give him a dirty look as he presses the blade harshly against your skin. You hiss out at the stinging pain and cringe as you feel your warm blood ooze from the fresh wound.

“Oh? You don’t believe me?” You shake your head, further cutting yourself on the knife, yelping before stilling yourself once again. Quickly trying to correct your mistake.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he shifts his eyes as if deep in thought. “What about that step brother porn you’re always watching? Oh step bro, we can’t do this. Mom and Dad will catch us!” Your face heats at his words. “Or maybe when you shoved your hand in your panties while watching Scream? You came how many times? Do you remember, baby sis?”

You stumble over your words. “I-, um, well, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You give him a stern look, trying to emphasize your seriousness, but it’s useless.

His hand quickly wraps around your throat and squeezes. You struggle beneath him as your air is cut off, but he only squeezes tighter. 

“Stay. Still!” He screams right in your face and you freeze in fear. You hold yourself as still as possible despite not being able to breathe.

“Remember when you came when Tatum got stuck in the garage door? Or maybe when Billy revealed he was Ghostface? Or when Billy and Stu were stabbing each other?”

“No,” you squeak out, barely able to speak with your constricted airway. 

He squeezes even tighter, your face is on fire as you gasp and whine for air.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, you fucking brat.” He shakes your whole body with just the grip on your throat. “You gonna tell me the truth?” He yells out as your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen.

He loosens his grip enough to allow some air to enter your lungs. “Tell me, god dammit!”

“Okay!” You choke out and he releases your throat. You desperately suck in air and cough from the ache in your throat. “Okay. It’s true, okay?”

“What’s true? Use your words, princess.”

“I fucking touched myself while watching a Ghostface movie! Is that what you wanted to hear? Wanted to hear me admit it even though you fucking saw it! I got off watching it, okay?”

More tears stream down your face, shame filling you after your confession. Speaking the words out loud makes it all the more real, all the more embarrassing.

How the fuck did you end up here? Exhausted in the mud beneath your ex step brother?

He sits back on his haunches and picks the mask up off the ground, quickly slipping it back on and adjusting it back into place. When his hand falls back to his side, you notice the blood smears left behind on his white mask. Your blood stains it. 

“See something you like, princess?” Leon quirks his head to the side, his voice teasing. Your face immediately heats up from being caught staring. You hadn’t meant to be staring so long.

You avert your eyes, looking off into the trees and avoiding his mask completely. 

“Why do you think I wear this fucking mask?” He spits out, aggressively grabbing your chin and making you look right into the empty eyes of the mask.

You whimper out and shake your head no. He lessens his grip on your chin in favor of running his thumb softly over your cheek. 

“Oh, baby. It’s all for you. Don’t you see it? I killed them all for you, I chose this mask because it gets you all wet, and now?” He chuckles and brings his mouth up to your ear. He whispers as if he’s divulging you in some deep, dark secret, “Now, I’m gonna fuck you while wearing this mask. And you’re gonna fucking love it.”

Your jaw drops as your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “Wha-what? No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He grinds his pelvis into your abdomen and that’s when you feel it. His hard cock pushes against you and it solidifies his claim. He’s really going to fuck you.

And you want to be disgusted, you want to scream and push him off, but you don’t say a word as you clench your thighs together. You had been so caught up in the chase, so caught up in putting up a fight that you didn’t stop and realize how fucking wet you are.

You cringe at the throbbing in your cunt. Your panties and thighs are soaked, you’re sure you’ve soaked all the way through your pants as well.

You want to explain it off. It’s just an adrenaline response, it’s out of your control. But as he continues to grind into you, you find your hips raising up and meeting his rhythm. Your lip is bleeding from how harshly you’re biting it, your hands curled into clenched fists.

“There she is. There’s my dirty fucking bunny. Knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself, knew you needed your big brother’s cock.”

You whine at his words, his clothed crotch grinding into yours causing your panties to dig into your throbbing clit. The friction is so good, it has sweat beading down your back, but it just isn’t fucking enough. Not nearly enough.

“Leon,” your voice is high pitched and whiny. You lift your hands from beneath his thighs and reach out to cling to him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists in one of his hands and pin them above your head.

“None of that, baby sis. Use your words for me. What do you want?”

“Please,” you both continue rolling your hips together, finding an achingly perfect rhythm. If he keeps this up, keeps grinding into that spot that’s just right over and over, you’re gonna cum just like this. 

He grinds into your clit particularly hard and it has your eyes rolling back, a pathetic moan falling from your lips and echoing out in the empty woods surrounding you.

“Please what, princess? If I don’t know what you want I can’t give it to you. And I’ll stop right now.”

“No!”

“Then use your fucking words, you dumb bunny,” He spits at you angrily. His muffled voice through the Ghostface mask sounds like sex itself. He could say anything to you right now and it would have you drooling for him.

“Wanna cum,” you whine out, toes curling in your shoes.

He slows his hips, just barely continuing to grind into you. “Not enough.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I want you to fuck me. Please, fuck me. I need you inside of me.”

“See? Not so hard is it? You want big brothers cock stuffing this slutty pussy full?

You arch your back, pushing your body up into his in desperation. “Yes. Please, fuck. Need your cock.”

“Who’s cock?”

“Yours?” 

“Nu uh, not good enough.”

You whine out, kicking your feet in frustration. “Big brother’s cock. I need my big brother’s cock inside of me. I wanna feel it.”

He sits back on his haunches, releasing your hands from his grasp. His hands go down to start undoing his belt as you reach out and palm his cock through his black jeans.

You gasp as you feel how fucking big he is.

Leon clicks his tongue as he releases his belt and slowly starts working the zipper on his jeans down, “What? Not what you were expecting?”

You whimper at his cocky tone, unable to speak. The only thing you can focus on is getting his cock inside of you.

“Need your big brother to fill you up with his big cock?”

“Yes. Please,” you whine as you wiggle beneath him. You can’t make yourself stay still, your body thrashes with need. 

His pants are undone, barely hanging onto his hips when he releases your legs and pulls you up into a sitting position. He grabs your shirt and quickly pulls it over your head, tossing it off to the side haphazardly. He doesn’t even bother pulling your leggings off, grabbing the crotch and tearing it open.

“Hands and knees,” he instructs you and you immediately comply, rolling over and pushing your ass up in the air for him.

He groans at the sight of your lace panties clinging to your pussy, your arousal working as a glue. He tears your leggings further, not stopping until your whole ass is exposed for him.

He runs his fingers over your panty clad pussy and it has you pressing yourself back into his touch. He makes a sound of disapproval before a loud smack rings out, followed by a sharp stinging pain in your ass cheek. 

He presses his chest into your back, bringing his mouth down to your ear. “Such an impatient slut,” he growls as he grinds his bare cock against you. 

You go to turn your head to look back at him, but his hand is quick to grab your face and force you to look forward, before his hand roughly covers your mouth.

“Stay fucking still,” he hisses out at you, causing all of your muscles to freeze up in fear. The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Part of you hates it, but another part, a much bigger part, loves it and has your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“That’s it. Stay still like a good fuck bunny for your big brother.”

You feel him pull your panties away from your pussy and bunch them up and out of the way, before his fingers lightly graze around your needy hole. 

“So fucking wet. And you tried saying you didn’t want this,” he chuckles directly into your ear, sounding like pure sex to you. He releases your mouth and instead pushes your face to the ground and holds the back of your neck instead. 

His free hand leaves where he was teasing your hole, surprising you when he grabs one of your hands and brings it back to your wet cunt.

“Feel how fucking wet you are.” He pushes your fingers up against your soaked clit and your legs quiver at the sudden stimulation. “Feel that, bunny? Feel what your big brother did to you?”

You moan out as he continues rubbing your fingers into your clit.

“Yes,” your voice comes out whiny, “Big brother gets my pussy so wet.”

“Good girl. Should I give you what you want? Want me to shove my cock in my little sister’s pussy?” 

You push your ass back against his groin again. “Yes, your little sister needs her pussy bred.”

He pulls your hand from your clit and brings your wet fingers up to your mouth. “Here. Open up and tell me how this slutty pussy tastes.” 

You’ve barely opened your mouth before he’s pushing his fingers down against your tongue, causing you to eagerly lick and suck them clean. 

“That’s it, taste this sweet fucking pussy for me. Such a good slut, huh? Nothing but a fuck bunny for me,” he shoves his fingers to the back of your throat, forcing you to fight your gag reflex while tears slip from your eyes.

You choke around his fingers and he quickly pulls them from your throat.

“You like tasting your own slutty pussy?”

You can’t stop the moan that slips past your lips, “Yes. I love it.”

“You love what? Come on, baby. Use your words so I can reward you.”

Another harsh slap to your ass has you yelping out, “I love tasting my own pussy. Love when big brother makes me taste myself.”

You crane your neck to look back at Leon and he lets you look at him. Mask still in place, t-shirt bunched up above his belly, his pants and boxers pushed down his thighs. 

His cock is right against your needy hole. Just one small movement of his hips and you could finally feel him inside of you.

“There you go. Watch as big brother spreads you open on his cock.”

And then he slowly pushes forward and you look into his mask as you finally feel him inside of you. 

Your pussy is immediately clenching around him. Weak little moans continuously falling from your lips as he pushes in further and further. 

“Such a tight pussy, fuck.” He praises as he bottoms out and holds his dick inside of you. “You were made to take big brother’s cock. Look so fucking perfect like this.”

You whimper softly into the ground at his words, staying still and willing yourself to adjust to his massive dick. You feel split in half already and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet.

His hand runs up and down your back, along your spine gently. “That’s it, you got this, pretty bunny. Gonna bread this tight cunt, ruin you for anyone else.”

“Pl-please,” you whined out, “Please fuck me. I want it so bad. Big brother, please-”

You can’t even finish begging before he’s pulling out and roughly shoving his cock back into you.

“Oh my god,” your voice comes out in a tone you don’t even recognize as your own. “Yes, yes, yes, please. Oh fuck.”

He roughly grips your hip as he effortlessly thrusts in and out of your soaking wet pussy. 

“You like that, baby sis? Already going dumb on my cock and I haven’t even properly started fucking you yet. Such a pathetic little whore, my pathetic little whore. Taking my cock so fucking well.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slowly starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. 

“All yours. Your whore,” you aren’t able to finish your statement before he starts aggressively fucking his cock into you. The only sounds leaving your mouth are broken gasps. The pleasure is too intense for you to make any other noise, mouth stuck open on a silent moan.

He moves his hand from the back of your throat, instead grabbing a handful of your hair harshly and yanking you back until your head is against his shoulder. The moan you release is nothing short of pornographic at the pain in your scalp.

He chuckles before speaking right against your ear, “Fucking take it, you stupid whore. Dumb little sis likes it rough. I’ll fucking give it to you just like you want it. Gonna fucking break you.”

“Oh fuck yes, daddy,” you don’t even register the words you’ve said until Leon let’s out a loud moan.

“Daddy? You dirty little girl. Want daddy to breed you? Need daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes. God, yes.” You’re too far gone in a pleasure filled haze to be embarrassed about calling him daddy. Fuck, you’d call him anything he asks right now.

“Gonna let daddy put a baby in you? Keep you tied to me forever.” He’s practically growling in your ear at this point, so worked up over you calling him daddy. “Gonna swell up with my baby and everyone will know how good I fuck you.”

“No, daddy, we can’t,” you try to reason with him through your brain fog.

He laughs loudly in your ear. “But I can, and I will. God, your boobs are gonna fucking leak all over. Gonna fucking suck those milky tits dry.”

You can’t stop yourself from clenching around his dick at his filthy words.

“Ugh, knew you’d like that. Gonna be tied to daddy forever. You’ll never fucking escape me. Gonna keep this pussy stuffed, gonna make you pop out all my babies. Gonna fucking show you how much of a daddy I am, baby.”

He quickly pulls out of you making you whine out in disappointment. But it doesn’t last long, as he throws you on your back. He wraps your thighs around his hips and shoves his dick back inside of you. 

He goes back to his unforgiving pace and all you can do is stare up into the Ghostface mask, which only intensifies your pleasure.

Your hands trail up his chest until you’re gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer into you. You go back and forth between staring into the mask and squeezing your eyes shut.

You don’t know what comes over you, but you're desperate for skin to skin contact. So you grab the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head, but in the process, you pull his mask off with it. 

Then it’s just you and Leon staring right at each other’s faces. Sweat pours from his forehead, his mouth slightly agape as he pants from the exertion, and his eyes blown wide with lust. He looks like an absolute madman, but you suppose that’s because he is.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself up into his body. Your chest presses into his as you connect your lips with his. One of his arms wraps around your lower back while he uses his other arm to hold you two up. He thrusts, never once slowing.

The kiss is sloppy. Your tongues immediately come together and explore each other completely. Spit drips down your chin as you moan into the kiss.

He bites your lip, you bite his. He sucks on your tongue, you suck on his. He sucks your lips until they ache, and you suck his lips with everything you have.

You finally break the kiss, but keep your foreheads pressed together. 

Leon pushes your bodies down, your back connecting harshly to the cold ground. He grabs your calves and brings your ankles to his shoulders.

“Oh god, daddy. Yes, fuck, please, fuck, just like that. Please, please, please, daddy, fuck.” You don’t process anything you’re saying. Words just keep falling from your lips as he continuously pounds deeply into you.

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up, baby sis. And you’re gonna take all of it. God, gonna breed my baby sister’s tight pussy. Gonna let daddy breed you, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please.” 

He brings his hand down between you two, ru

bbing your clit harshly causing you to cry out loudly at the intensity.

“Who’s gonna breed this pussy? Who’s baby is gonna grow in this fucking belly?”

Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as your whole body feels more and more wound up, fastly approaching your release.

“Fucking answer me. Who’s breeding this tight cunt? Who’s cock are you gonna cum all over?”

“Yours. Yours, daddy. Gonna, fuck, gonna cream my big brother’s big fucking cock.”

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Tell me how it feels. Tell me how good big brother’s cock is making you feel.” He’s groaning, borderline growling, as he ruthlessly pounds into you.

You force your eyes open, force yourself to look into his eyes. “You daddy. You’re making my slutty pussy feel so fucking good. God, your cock is making my pussy feel so good. Big brother’s cock is making me feel so good. I wanna cum all over it.”

“Come for daddy, then. Cream my fucking cock like the dirty whore you are.” He pulls his hand from your clit so he can hold your thighs up more firmly. “Rub yourself for me. Wanna watch you push yourself over the edge.”

Your hand quickly reaches down, quickly rubbing fast circles on your soaking wet clit. 

“Look at me while you cum on my cock. Be a good whore and look at who’s fucking you like this.”

You bite your lip until you taste blood again. Moaning loudly as you stare up at Leon and rubbing your clit furiously. You’re desperately trying to cum, desperately trying to push yourself over the edge. But no matter how close you feel, you can’t send yourself over the edge.

Until a stinging, blinding pain seers into the back of your thigh and you can’t even process the warm blood pouring from the freshly sliced wound before you’re cumming. Cumming harder than you ever have in your life. Not one inch of your body isn’t shaking, not one part of you not exploding with intense pleasure.

You’re screaming, your throat burning from the strain. You have to force yourself to stop as the overstimulation sets in.

“Dad, daddy, please. Fuck, I can’t take it anymore.” You’re practically sobbing now, but your request is ignored.

He pushes your ankles off of his shoulders and you immediately lock them behind his back. One of his hands grips your jaw and spits on your cheek.

“You’re gonna fucking take it, fucking whore.” His other hand runs down the middle of your chest, coating it in fresh blood. You look down and see your dry blood combining with the new blood, staining nearly your whole chest red.

A sharp slap meets your cheek. Your cheek burns and your ear rings from the sheer force of the hit. Before you can even yelp out in pain, his blood soaked fingers are being shoved into your mouth and you’re immediately hit with the copper taste.

“I’m cumming, fuck. Breeding baby sister’s greedy fucking hole. Take it, you stupid slut. Fucking take it, fuck.” His thrusts slow, but are just as hard as he cums deep inside of you. 

You’re too distracted sucking his fingers clean to register what the stinging pain in your abdomen is. 

Leon groans and moans above you as he comes down from his high. He finally looks back down at your face and can’t stop himself from smiling at the blood and dirt all over your body. He could eat you alive right now, and he just might.

He slowly pulls his spent cock out of you, causing you to whimper at the sudden emptiness and the feeling of his cum steadily dripping from your abused hole.

He sits back on his haunches and lets out a throaty laugh. “Would you look at that,” You follow the direction of his eyes down to your abdomen where you see blood pooling. He quickly picks up his discarded shirt and wipes away the excess blood, causing you to hiss out in pain. 

But he finally uncovers his handiwork for you to see in all its glory. And you gasp out in shock at the sight of it.

Carved into your skin are messily drawn letters. L.S.K. 

“See? You’ll never forget who you fucking belong to now.”

~masterlist~

[multi-fandom-simp]

Forever and always.. or maybe never.

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Hanahaki Disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: Some say that you cannot die from a broken heart, but how wrong they are. When your lover and husband, Aemond Targaryen begins to find comfort in another, the universe takes pity on you. Well, if you can count a deadly flower disease as pity.

❗️TW❗️: Profanity, mention and descriptions of blood, descriptions of choking and vomiting, hints to infidelity, mild mature scene, violence, character death, angst

(A/N: Hello, this is my own take on Hanahaki's disease with Aemond! Feel free to comment your thoughts, I am always open to criticism and feedback! I hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 3.3K

Your love for Aemond hadn’t always been unrequited. At least you’d like to think it wasn’t. Both of you had grown together in the red keep as children. The two of you read together, ate together, and overall grew together. Aemond was your best friend before he was your betrothed. Whenever his mother was busy, it was your side that he clung to. The two of you were so attached at the hip that Alicent even took you to driftmark with them. You and the beast that came with you of course. No one really knows how you stumbled upon a hyena pup, nor how you tamed it to your side as a child. Nevertheless, they never forbid you from having it. If the Targaryens could have their dragons, and the Starks their dire wolves, then certainly you could have the tricky little beast that you insisted on calling Lark. In some ways, Alicent was thankful that you insisted on keeping it. After all, it was your hyena that stood between Aemond and the other children on that fateful night in driftmark. The beast had acted as your legs and ran faster than you could to reach the devastating brawl before you. Despite Aemond’s wails of pain, Lark refused to let the guards come too close. Only when you arrived did she move aside. Regardless of being young, that was the first night you realized your feelings for Aemond Targaryen. The very sight of him bleeding and broken struck you so deeply that you felt as if you had been maimed too. Alicent had noticed the change as well as she watched you stand by her son's side whilst he received stitches. Her dark eyes gazed deeply at how tightly you held Aemond’s hand, as if he would disappear. Aside from her, no one had ever loved her son this passionately, not even his own father. 

“Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders” Rhaenyra demanded.

“ Was the blade of your son’s knife not enough sharpness for the night?” All eyes turned to you in surprise. You had never been known to speak out if it did not benefit you. Most of the time you were seen standing to the side, watching while others tore each other apart. Aemond could always see past it, see your true intentions. He knew you were studying how different people fought and where their weak points were. You had been around the red keep long enough to know that Lucerys Velaryon was Rhaenyra’s soft spot, and tonight you planned to use that against her. 

“ You should watch your tongue when you speak to me” Rhaenyra warned, her eyes flickering over to her father to see if he would do anything. 

“ or what, you’ll have Lucerys cut it out like he did Aemond’s eye” The neutrality on your face was enough to both scare and amaze Aemond. 

“ You dar-”

“ Enough! My son has lost an eye and now you insist on arguing with a young girl?” Alicent moved up next to you, a hand on your back in support. She knew how terrifying it was to stand alone in a room full of adults scrutinizing you. That’s how her wedding felt after all. The queen’s hand never wavered through the interrogation of the green children. You held Aemond’s hand and she held you. Until things escalated that was. When the queen rushed towards Rhaenyra you stepped in front of Aemond. Shielding him from the sight of his mother in the midst of such violence. All Aemond could see in the midst of chaos was you, and all you could see was the river of blood on Rhaenyra’s arm. Little did you know how familiar you would be with crimson rivers in due time. 

It was shortly after that night when your betrothal to the second son was announced. Alicent assured that it was needed to form an alliance between your family and theirs, when in reality it was a match made to ease the worried queen’s heart. In her eyes, no one else was a better match for Aemond than you, and for the longest time, you believed her. Oh, how foolish you were. 

Six years passed with ease for the two of you. The first four were filled with fleeting touches, deep conversations, and young love. 

“What is this, my lady, a journal?” Aemond’s voice floated around you as his chin found purchase on your shoulder. 

“ And if it is?” You hummed, closing the leather-bound book a bit too quickly.

“ Then I fear I must inspect it. Wouldn’t want my future wife to be keeping secrets from me.” You recognized the playful jest in Aemond’s voice and wasted no time in rushing up from the bench. 

“ Not so fast, my love.” Aemond chuckled, ensnaring you from behind. 

“ Aemond!” You protested, smacking his locked arms with the leather bound book. 

“ Have I ever told you how much I adore it when you fight back?” Aemond snickered, his breath hot on your neck. 

“ You pervert!” You feigned offense before looking ahead to your pet, “ Lark, get him girl, c’mon!” 

“ You know she won't come. That ole girl loves me as much as she loves you." Aemond smirked, whistling for Lark in the way you taught. 

            " Traitor." You grumble with a hidden smile as the Hyena trots over to the pair of you casually.

The two of you were married when he was seventeen and you were sixteen. Your union was repeated twice over. Once in front of a sept full of people, and then in the tradition of old valyria. Aemond wanted reassurance that you would never part from him. Your marriage fueled two more years full of what was now mature love. 

The edge of your teeth pulled at the pillow of your bottom lip as you stared at the dark oak door. The sound of jeering men swarmed your thoughts and threatened the bile at the back of your throat. You tried to hide your discomfort for Aemonds sake, but he was keen to your reactions by now. 

“ Do not fret, my love, I will not let them hear your noises. I would never let them hear what is only meant for me and you.” Aemond spoke lowly, using your hips to turn you towards him and away from the door. 

“ They’ll hear regardless.” You muttered bitterly, “They’re sat out there with their ears pressed against the door just wa-”

“ I said they would not hear you and I meant it” Aemond murmured into your ear with a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath it. 

“Aem-” You sighed contently.

“That’s it..sȳz riña.”Good girl. Your breathing faltered as the pet name slipped past his lips. He had figured out how much you liked to be praised from your journals.

“ You r-remebered…”You managed to gasp as he trailed down your neck. 

“ I remember anything and everything that has to do with you, my love. I always will.” Aemond promised between wet kisses. You shouldn’t have believed him, but you did. 

You never would’ve thought that you could fall deeper in love with Aemond Targaryen after that night, but nine months later proved you wrong. The sight of him by your side as you delivered your son set permanent hearts in your eyes. He had not cared for the blood or screams, only you and the babe. The babe who he later named Aemys because it was as close as he could get to amethyst, your favorite color. Every little detail of  the things he did revolves around you. That’s what fueled your denial the first time you coughed up blood. 

Your eyes stared hard at the bloody petal laying in your palm. Had that come from you? You had read strange tales of those who bled flowers, but you believed it only to be fiction. Surly your blood would not change at the ripe age of ten and nine. 

“ The flower that once bloomed love will soon bloom blood. “ Helaena aimlessly mumbled to herself from beside you. 

“ What..?”Your heart sped up as you analyzed her words. No one had ever paid any mind to her silly riddles, except for you. 

“ Blooming blood blooms a burial.” This time Helaena was focused on you as she spoke. Her eyes filled with unknown sorrow. You left Aemys to play with his cousins as you rushed to the library. No one else was there to question your  sanity as you pulled book after book from the shelf to find the old dornish fables that lay hidden among them. 

“Hanahaki..”Every word, every page, and every definition seemed to tear you apart further as you read. No other condition led to flowery bile except for this one. Aemond loved you though. How could this be possible?

Your thoughts would be answered two morrows later when Aemond returned from his siege of Harrenhal. Everyone had expected to see him arrive on dragon back alone, certainly not with a strong bastard. A gorgeous strong bastard at that. You felt your chest tighten as you gazed upon her dark flowy locks and enchanting eyes. Oh by the seven, how could you spite him for loving someone like her? If circumstances were different, then perhaps you too would fall under her spell. It wasn’t until you saw the way she clung to Aemond’s arm that the coughing fit started. This had to be it. What else could it be? Aemond hated physical contact with strangers, yet he let a previously unknown wetnurse cling to him like a paramour. The harder you thought about it, the harder you coughed. The fit only resulted in a petal or two, but in time that would grow. The longer Alys rivers stayed, the worse you got. Both you and the universe could feel Aemond straying from you, even if he spoke differently. 

“I am not in love with her!”Aemond snapped, reaching his breaking point in this petty argument that had started hours ago at dinner. 

“ You do not see the things I see, Aemond. The way you defend her, encourage her, look at her…all in the way you used to look at me-” It took effort to fight down the sickness as you fought. It had been months, but you made no move to tell Aemond, you couldn’t.

“ I do not love her as I love you-”

“ Yes, but you love her!” You cried in outrage, gripping the wall near you for support. Everything became so out of focus as you spoke the words. It was the first time you had ever admitted it to yourself. The dew of brick cooled your skin as you leaned against the wall. Your body trembled with deep echoey coughs as petals tore their way up your throat. 

“ I did not mean to make you sick, dear wife” Aemond spoke softly and simply. Wife. He had never called you that before, not even on your wedding night. It was always my love or Ñuha prūmia. How ironic for him to call you his heart when sooner or later he would be the reason yours cease to beat. 

“ Just go, Aem, please.” You pleaded, turning away, “I do not wish to fight.” 

“ As you wish.” Aemond’s bow before he left was the final straw to crack your heart open. Why must he be so formal when you stand dying a few feet away? How can he not see how badly you suffer? Were the shadows beneath your eyes, or the crack of your lips not big enough clues for him? Would you need to be dead for him to finally understand?

Unfortunately for you, that’s exactly how it was going to be. Everyone else around you had begun to notice the shift in your behavior. The fatigue, the paleness, and the emotions. Alicent first noticed it when she sat in the nursery with you, Helaena, and the children just after supper. She saw the way your eyes refused to leave Aemys as if it would be your last look. The way you held him was the same way she held Aemond when he lost his eye. 

“ He’s a clever boy.” Alicent smiled as Aemys recited a word back to one of his cousins. 

“ That he is.” You agreed, melancholy ghosting your lips. It hurt the queen to see you this way. You were a part of her almost as much as her children. You came to her as a child she was not forced to love nor conceive. Yet you wormed your way into her heart as if she had carried you. The sight of you so sickly and sad tugged at Alicent’s heart. 

“ You’re sick, are you not?” Alicent proclaimed in observation rather than a question. 

“ Mhm, In a way I suppose I am.” You hummed out softly. It had gotten to the point where it was hard to speak most days. The petals had begun to come up in thick, dry heaves, with occasional thorns that tore at your throat. 

“ Have you told Aemond?” The queen inquired. 

“ Aemond is the reason I’m sick in the first place.” You grumbled before sighing in defeat, “ Or I suppose it’s more of my fault. I was foolish to think he would ever actually love me.”

“ You don’t mean-” Alicent’s soft words trailed off abruptly. Alicent Hightower was no stranger to the hanahaki disease. She too had suffered through it once. Except she learned how to get around it.

“ I do.” You answered simply, with no trace of sadness or indifference.

“ There are ways around it my d-”

“ Such as forgoing my love for Aemond, I know. I could live a long life if I cast aside every loving memory I hold of him, but alas it is not that easy. I have tried, if that brings you any comfort. In the midst of the night when my eyes are swollen from tears and the blood in my throat is so thick I cannot breathe, I have tried, and I have failed.” Alicent’s eyes well with tears as you speak, almost as if she’s dared to imagine you in such dismay. You reach out to soothe her hands comfortingly, but she grips onto yours tightly instead. 

“ It is not easy, but you must keep trying.” Alicent urges, a wobble to her voice. 

“ There is no reason for me to put myself through the agony of erasing my happiness when I am already in physical torment. The sight of Aemond is the very reason I wake up every morning. Hearing his laugh, seeing his smile, and feeling his warmth are all things that have kept me going. Forgetting those would be forgetting myself.” You reason, a wisp of remembrance in your eyes. 

“ If not for yourself, then for Aemys” Alicent argues. 

“ Aemys is one of the reasons I have chosen to give up. Every time I look at him I see Aemond. They are alike in everything but the eyes. The mere sight of that boy reminds me of the night he was made, of the love and passion Aemond had for me. Yet he no longer holds in regards to me. I would rather Aemys hear stories of his parent’s love than grow up with two plain parents.” The child in topic bursts into giggles a few inches away, stealing your attention from the queen. Your eyes crinkle with happiness and you move to turn towards him, but Alicent holds firm. 

“ Aemys needs his mother.” She argues once more. 

“ He does not. Aemys will have a loving father and grandmother by his side. Alongside his aunt Helaena, Uncle Daeron, and three beautiful cousins. Even Aegon cares for the little rascals’ life.” You chuckled. 

“ That is n-”

“ Please, I have made my choice. I appreciate your council, but it is too late. I fear after I lay my son to sleep, it will be my last night alive. I thank you for all the love and comfort you have given me in my lifetime. I love you, mother.” You pressed the meat of your cheek against Alicent’s hand in farewell before standing.

“ If you’ll excuse me-” As you stood to retrieve your son, Alicent excused herself from the room hastily. Never did she think she would find herself running through the castle’s corridors, but yet here she is. Alicent’s heels had been long forgotten and the emerald hem of her dress dragged upon the stone as she made haste to the library, where Aemond would be. 

“ Aemond! Ae-” The frantic shrill of the queen mother’s voice echoes throughout the shelves. 

“ Mother?” Aemond calls out, emerging from a row with a disheveled Alys in tow, “ Is something wrong?”

“ You hide away fondling a wet nurse while your wife withers away! Have I truly raised you this way?” The despair in Alicent’s voice takes Aemond by surprise. He reaches out to hold her arms, but she pulls away. 

“ She is not withering away, mother. She has assured me that it is just a small cold.” Aemond speaks calmly, in hopes to ease his mother’s franticness. 

“ A small cold!? She has every sign of hanahaki disease and you have not suspected a thing?” Alicent refuted. 

“ Because it is not possible! I love her!” Aemond snaps. 

“ Not enough!” Alicent sighs, “ In no world should I have had to be afraid of letting her go in fear that I would not see her again. She has accepted her death, Aemond. How far out of love have you fallen with her to the point where your wife greets death openly?” 

Aemond doesn’t bother with a reply because he’s already on his way out of the door. His pounding steps reverberate through the empty halls and the tremble of panicked breathing surrounds him. Fear nearly eats him alive as he reaches the door to your marital chambers. Never has he been terrified to open those doors to the sight of you. He had never once feared  finding you dead, but now he has. Slowly but surely, Aemond pushes the giant oak open. He spots you knelt on the balcony in your nightdress, looking up at the stars. Lark lay whining at your side until she hears Aemond shuffle forward. Much to Aemond's surprise, the hefty beast that once worshiped him as you did, bared its teeth to him. 

            "Please.." Aemond wasn't sure if he was pleading to Lark to let him pass or to the gods for your life. Either way, the Hyena was the first to answer him. Lark moved aside slowly so that Aemond may pass, but still kept defense from a ways away.

“I-” Before a word can even escape his lips, you’re lurching forward. Aemond rushes forward and sinks to his knees to hold you. The convulsions of your stomach can be felt as he circles your waist. 

“ I’m so sorry, my love, please.” The cold wash of fear grips his spine as blood and flowers paint the floor. He has no idea what to do. You’re not saying anything or doing anything to cease the onslaught of terror, yet you’re not pushing him away either. On the contrary, you’ve tangled your fingers with the hand he has over your stomach. 

“ I love you. I’ll always love you.” Aemond croaks helplessly into your hair as you lean back against him. It’s too late, you had once said. It seems that the universe had agreed. Your breathing rattled to a stop and the grip of your hands weakened.  “ I love you. Forever and Always. I promise.” Aemond whispered, pressing a salt-soaked kiss to your temple as he felt your heart slow. The thump that once echoed through your back onto his own heart stuttered to a stop, and with it so did Aemond’s world.

Part 2

[cherryfennec]

So this was originally supposed to have a kickass artwork of the bros using the power- up and stuff but then I got sick and then I realised Im out of time and here we are so uh hieee everyone and welcome to my post-

Happy MAR10 Day! For the occasion, let's go back to the (not discussed in a long time) Power-Up headcanons. This time I'll focus on the Ice Flower (most of the lore under cut like last time)!

This was surprisingly requested by some (3) people. I'm going to be honest, I barely remembered this one at first. I kinda know how it looks and generally what it does, which will have to be enough to base this entire thing on. With that being said, I did some thinking and here's what I've got:

General headcanons;

This one has difficulty surviving outside of it's original environment. If you want to keep a batch in the house your best bet is to use the fridge/freezer, otherwise it looses both it's blue look and the stored energy. See, the Ice Flower originally wasn't (and still technically isn't) it's own flower species. Let me elaborate:

Nowadays the conditions there are not as harsh, however a rather long time ago travelers heading towards places like the Snow Mountain needed to be both be specially trained and very well equipped to even attempt a climb. A heat source was a big must, and it so happens that it often consisted of Fire Flowers. They'd put some in their coats to keep warm, as well as store a few in the backpack just in case they needed to protect themselves from monsters. When setting camp during their journeys these hikers would use the Power-Ups energy to start fires and cook food. After the flowers were depleted of their energy and entered their hibernation stage (I talked about it in my Fire Flower post), they would be simply thrown away like trash. Waiting for them to recharge was often not beneficial, especially in conditions like this, so there was ultimately no point in keeping them. However like I mentioned before, Fire Flowers are very adaptable, which actually wasn't that known at the time. Instead of wilting, these stubborn plants would try gathering energy like the usual, but since it was very cold and direct sunlight was limited, they decided to collect something else. While not all flowers made it, a few managed to amass the eminating frost and turn it into a new kind of energy which proved to be enough for their survival. With time even their petal colour changed to blueish hues. And thus the Fire Flowers in the area became Ice Flowers and over the years started populating the mountains and snowfields.

The Ice Flower is a multiple use Power-Up in theory but more often than not you'll find yourself without a place to freeze it after using one. If it's not placed in a cold environment during it's hibernation it'll either die or, more uncommonly, simply revert back to being a Fire Flower after a long process.

Mario and Luigi specific headcanons;

While the idea of being able to freeze stuff sounded cool it wasn't very fun to learn.

In Marios case imagine: you're good at something, really, REALLY good at something. Okay great, now imagine being told that your knowledge doesn't matter because now you need to do the opposite of what you've learned. Back with the theme of "elements don't mix", Mario absolutely hated how much effort he needed to put into focusing the newfound energy to barely make a tiny projectile. Even before he got the Firebrand he had enough difficulty with it, so it only got worse from there. This was one of the rare times where learning the bare basics instead of mastering a Power-Up was enough for him.

Luigi didn't really mind. The main complications came more from the vague instructions he received during training rather than his own inability. Suprisingly or not the Thunderhand didn't make this one much of a pain either, I guess anomalies attract eachother. While he doesn't consider this Power-Up as a favourite he still finds it pretty fun that he can freeze and walk on water. Did you know, he used to be pretty good at skating in high school. If you didn't he'll make sure to bring it up at a given occasion. Back to ice powers, he definitely outdoes his brother on this one, even if not by much.

There's probably one more thing I should mention. Despite the contrary belief the Ice Flower does NOT increase ones tolerance to cold temperatures. To be frank it might even decrease it by lowering the bodys natural temperature, making the chances of frostbite higher. And so, they learned it the hard way.

In conclusion, this is more of a situational Power-Up. It's neither easy to find or preserve which can be annoying but despite all this it's hard to deny that it's ultimately a useful tool.

Few bonus headcanons!

I don't know how much sense I conveyed through my broken wording and less than average writing skills but it's not that shabby if I say so myself. Just like last time some details might change in the future but for now that's the general idea that I have considering the Ice Flower. Once again thank you to whoever took the time to read this!

[after-witch]

Behind the Curtain [Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Behind the Curtain [Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: No more shows, yes, that’s what he says. He does not tell you “no more pain,” because there will be pain. Some musings from Ren Hana after the The Show Must Go On DLC (survival ending).

Word Count: 1600ish

notes: kidnapped reader, medical including eye prosthetics discussion, descriptions of past violent abuse and injuries including eye injuries

You poor, pretty thing, lying there in a hospital bed, tubes in your arms and an incessantly beeping machine monitoring your vitals at your side.

You look a mess.

You look lovely.

The wounds from your lively (and, he must admit, very well received--well, until the end) triple show debut are vibrant and gorgeously ugly.

Vivid stitches covered in ghastly looking iodine on your stomach, where you’d sliced your belly right open; antibiotic creams slathered over your puncture wounds; an etching of various cuts and bite marks… yours and his. Not to mention your eye.

You’ll live, you dear thing. Scarred and bruised, inside and out--but you’ll live.

He’s not an amateur. You’ll have good medical care here. He can afford it, although it’s not often used for more than employee check-ups and keeping merchandise alive long enough to be sold or entertain his streams before the big finale. Or for the occasional creative request via a high-paying donor on a stream.

But for you? He’ll make sure to use every resource to get you back into shape. Back to where you were--or more accurately, he supposes, back to where you’re going to be from now on. 

You wake up every now and then. Not to the fullest degree. You are pumped full of drugs, though, and he’s not terribly surprised at your lack of coherency. It’s cute, in a way, though he’s looking forward to enjoying you when you’re more alert. More alive. 

How alive did you feel, in those last moments before he stopped the stream? How aware were you that he meant to kill you? That you were going to die in that dark room while people paid to watch and stroked their cocks and salivated over watching the last bit of light leave your eyes? 

He couldn’t do it. No, no, that’s not right. He could have done it. He’s done it before, to others more and less worthy than yourself.

But he didn’t want to do it and therefore, he didn’t have to do it. You reminded him of that. Chat had power, sure, everyone with enough money had power. But he was in control. It was his stream. His life’s work. And you were his property, not theirs. 

Did you know that one question would change everything?

Fuck the people watching the stream. They could have someone else, and they would eventually--logistically, he needed to make it up to them soon, a token apology made in some other poor pretty thing’s blood.

But not you.

Never you. 

He smiles, just a little. It’s easier now to think about the future, in the sterile clinic room, away from the rush of the showroom with its screens, the stampede of feet when he pushed the call button, the tangy smell of your blood and the sight of you mangled and delirious beneath him. 

The rush of the moment has passed, leaving behind a slow, thoughtful ebb in its wake. 

You’re not the first merchandise he’s kept for himself. You’re not even the first person he’s taken a liking to and taken home with the intent to keep forever. And oh, that first one… he hasn’t thought about them in a while, the one that he kept for as long as he could, until they were gone.

You remind him of them, in some ways. Maybe in the way your voice softened when you asked him who gave him his scars; maybe in the pitiful way you begged him, sweet and sniffling, to cut out your eye because you knew it was best.

Maybe in the way you clenched around him, desperate, eager, hating the pain but embracing it because there was nothing else you could do. 

But, ah… he’s being nostalgic again. He lets one claw idly trace your forearm, following the line of the IV. That person is gone. Dead. Tragic and all that, and some part of him will always miss them. But there’s no point in dwelling on it, just as he’s long since moved on from Strade and his amateur basement of horrors. 

Years ago, he might have thought: what would Strade think of me now? But now he knows the truth: it doesn’t matter one single bit what Strade would think of him now, or what Strade might have thought of him then. Strade was nothing. 

He had created his own world, far surpassing anything Strade could have dreamed of; Strade had some talent (he has scars to prove it) but what was talent without ambition? Without creativity, allure?

Anyone could get people to pay money to watch you kill some helpless fuck you snatched off the street.

But it took talent to do what he did, something far beyond basement videos with basic tools and a fabric mask. 

It was a talent he had in spades, carefully crafted through trial and error. Lots of errors. But what business, what world, existed without them? 

But you do make him reminisce, don’t you?

And then your hand is on his arm. Weak, fingers trembling as you try to grip him, and gain his notice.

This time, your eye isn’t quite as muddled, and you direct your gaze at him rather than flitting about the room in hazy confusion.

He watches as your throat works, swallowing, and he can practically hear the inside of your dry mouth sticking as you force open your lips.

“Is it… is it time for another show?”

He blinks down at you, his lips set in a frown. 

Your dry lips tremble when he doesn’t answer. The heart rate monitor speeds up, and he glances at it--faster and faster, like a little rabbit--before resting his hand on your forehead. The beeping slows down just a little, and your eye looks up at him, darting across his face, desperate and terrified.

“No,” he says, with a somber finality, and the words are for himself as much as they are for you. “No more shows.” 

Your smile is twitchy and slow, and your eye blinks low and lidded. The drugs want to put you to sleep. You want to stay awake. You’ll lose this battle, but he likes to see that you still have the will to live in you. It will come in handy. 

A clawed finger traces your cheek, edging around the white medical patch covering your missing eye. He can see your head try to flinch, but you’re either too drugged to fully do it or you’re stopping yourself out of worry that he won’t like it.

Either option pleases him. 

Your eye isn’t as bad as it was, but it will need more healing before you can wear a prosthetic, or so the physician said. 

He’d never looked much into them before--prosthetic eyes, that is--but as he discovered during a late night bout of phone shopping, there’s a wide array of options nowadays. Exotic styles--cats and snakes and everything in between--and fun colors and pretty add-ons, like glitter or shimmer or rainbow holographics. 

The thought of your false eye staring up at him in some impossibly beautiful hue, accenting a lovely outfit he’s dressed you in, makes him a little giddy, and he hopes you’ll be excited about them, too. Maybe in time you’ll be gazing at a selection of eyes laid out on a vanity, choosing between them like you might have done before all this with lipsticks and eyeshadows. 

Will you hold up the eye you chose for his approval, a trembling smile on your face? It would be nice to see. 

Though he’s not stupid--not as naive as he might have been, if he’d met you twenty or so years ago. You’re not going to immediately jump for joy that the man who orchestrated your kidnapping, tortured you, jacked off into your eye, pulled out said eye, and almost had you yank out your own guts got you a pretty prosthetic.

No, no… not immediately, anyway. That will take time and work and training. Thankfully, he has plenty of experience with that. 

He smiles, just a little, watching as your remaining eye fights so hard to stay open; battling against the drugs keeping you sleepy and compliant for the first step in your healing.

You’re mumbling something, and he’s not really listening to the words, until he sees tears in your eye and you repeat yourself. The words come slowly. He’ll remind the nurse to wet your mouth soon.

“You pr…promise?”

He leans forward, cupping your chin, encouraging you to keep going.

Your voice is a whimper and it’s just so damned cute. Your remaining eye is wide and those pretty tears stick to the lashes like dew. He could kiss them off, he truly could, if he wasn’t sure getting anywhere near your remaining eye right now might send you into a panic.

“You promise no… no more shows?” 

“No more shows,” he says again, gentler this time, stroking your hair. The tension in your muscles gradually relaxes from his touch, or perhaps the IV drip has given you a fresh dose of painkillers on schedule. It doesn’t matter. The effect is the same. 

No more shows, yes, that’s what he tells you. 

He does not tell you “no more pain,” because there will be pain. Life does not exist without it. His business does not exist without it. He does not exist without it. 

There is always give and take, push and pull, pain and pleasure. None can exist without the other. 

It’s a truth you’ll come to learn, as he did. And he can’t wait to bring you to that truth himself. 

[dutifullylazybread]

What are your Rolan headcanons?

Apologies for the late response! My brain gave me an Error 404 notification, and I sat there for a moment like... What are my Rolan headcanons?! But then I thought on it, and I definitely have a few! Romantic and NSFW are under the cut!

SFW

Rolan can't actually sleep without some form of light. Prior to Elturel's Descent, there was this glowing orb that hung over their city that they called The Companion. Before they learned the real reason for its existence (which I will not spoil here), it was this entity that shed light over the city 24/7, and that light extended out in a 50 mile radius. So people born in Elturel were used to sleeping with the Companion overhead at all times, whereas visitors would use light-canceling curtains so that they could sleep (inns would offer these). This is my long way of saying that Rolan can't actually sleep if there isn't a light source going in the room. If it's the fireplace, it can die down throughout the night, but it must be going when he falls asleep.

I think that he drinks wine and has a deeper appreciation for it because of the Descent. All food in Avernus tastes terrible--even the rations that you brought with you. In the "Descent Into Avernus" module, the text makes a point to say that wine tastes like spoiled milk in Avernus. So I think that, for Rolan, he savors the taste of wine in particular. Sometimes to the point of excess.

Whatever he overindulged in at the Last Light Inn, he now hates. For no reason whatsoever, I think he went too hard at Plum Fizz, threw it up, and now he can't even stand to look at it. I don't want to say that the same is the case for Arabellan Dry, but there is at least one drink that he overindulged in that now turns his stomach.

He is a very light sleeper. Zariel had a skeleton crew of devils that would skulk the streets of Elturel and torment its inhabitants. If Rolan was a heavy sleeper before, after having the devils pass his family's home with such regularity put him on edge, because they could never guarantee that the devils wouldn't break into their home. Now, even the slightest noise can wake him.

I think that a devil offered him a deal in Avernus. Likely, it would have been the power to protect Cal and Lia. I think he was very close to taking it--even more so if their mother was dead at this point. I think he ultimately did not take it, and I think Lia and Cal yelled at him if they found out he was considering a deal in the first place.

This man 100% tried to brave Avernus' terrain to find a way to keep his siblings safe. The problem with Avernus is that the terrain is ever changing. Per the "Descent into Avernus" module, going to Fort Knucklebone might be ten miles. Going BACK from Fort Knucklebone might be sixty miles instead. I don't know if he gave up and went home of his own accord or if the party of heroes who helps Elturel help him get home. Either way, he views it as a failing on his part.

After their mother was killed, I think Rolan experienced a serious amount of survivor's guilt. This makes it so he is even more protective of Cal and Lia. Nothing else matters but keeping them alive. Hence why he is so deep in his cups when you find him at Last Light--he feels that he broke the promise that he made to their mother. He failed to protect his family. The ONE promise he wanted to keep, no matter what.

He wrote to Lorroakan, desperate for an apprenticeship, because the other Elturel Refugees were also heading to Baldur's Gate. However, refugees from Elturel were being actively blocked from entering the city. I definitely think he believed that Lorroakan was talented if he could lay claim to Ramazith's tower, but I also think that he wanted to make sure that he, Cal, and Lia all had a home when they got there. I think that he was willing to put up with a lot if it meant that his siblings were safe. So, in a sense, this was an apprenticeship of convenience, but I also think he did believe that a wizard who presided over Ramazith's tower would likely be a talented one.

I think that Lorroakan likely took credit for one or two of Rolan's arcane discoveries.

This man is vain. Everything about his appearance says "immaculate." Does he find a smudge on his sleeve? Prestidigitation. Is there a tear along a seam? Mending. Hair out of place? He'll be back in ten minutes--he just needs to get everything in order.

He is always thinking about how he can make a spell into an experience that Cal and Lia can enjoy. Not just prestidigiation, but also minor illusion. I wouldn't put it past him to learn Control Weather so that if they're too hot, he can cool them down. Are they disappointed that the snow disappeared too soon? Well, he has just the answer.

He is overprotective. To a fault.

While he genuinely believes it when he claims to be "the handsome master of Ramazith's Tower," or argues that he is talented, I think he started saying these things so that he could convince himself first. If he was abandoned by his birth parents, that no doubt took a toll on him. So he is very fond of positive self-talk.

Romantic

He might not always know how to verbalize his feelings, but he does demonstrate them in other ways.

Your favorite food? He learns how to make it. And he always has the ingredients on hand.

You mention offhandedly what your favorite drink is? He has at least three tins/bottles of it on hand.

If you want to make him short-circuit, wear socks that don't match.

He'll say he isn't a cuddler. He is a liar. He'll claim that the extra pillows and blankets lying around are there for your comfort, which is true, but he is also the one who is primed and ready to tuck them around you and him and read for hours on end.

Also, he loves spending time with you doing different things in the same room. He doesn't think he gets lonely since he is so used to studying on his own, but when you start sitting next to him or settling into place on a nearby couch while he works, he realizes what was missing.

He is the king of longing stares from across the room.

Will short circuit if you sit on his lap and kiss his neck (can't say more in the SFW section!)

Will cling to you when you sleep in the same bed. You honestly don't need much in the way of blankets because of the heat he puts off.

NSFW

Oh ho ho ho. I have so many and so few at the same time!!

Will bite you if you ask (and will fantasize if you don't), but he loves the idea of marking you as his, so he wants to do nothing but give you lovebites.

Personally, I think he is a switch. He can go from being the best service top in the world to being the one in need of a lot of physical affection and care. He struggles to actually verbalize what he needs, but if you can pick up on his cues, you can very much so tell whether he needs you to take the lead. From there, it's a matter of suggesting something and seeing if he is game.

That being said, he will not hesitate to bend you over a desk or take you against a bookshelf.

I don't think Rolan is a virgin (let's be real, if he has so many fans outside of a D&D setting, he definitely had a few who were attracted to him in Elturel). But he has always been very focused on taking care of his family or his studies, and I don't think he was ready for a serious relationship until after settling into the tower.

That being said, while he isn't a virgin, he also isn't well-versed in different sexy time fun things.

THAT BEING SAID, if you float an idea to him, he's going to consider it. And, so long as he is comfortable, he's down to try it too.

And once you and him start having sex on the regular, he starts to see the real potential that spells can have. Mage hand is an easy one... but what about enlarge person?

Get him worked up enough, and he will absolutely decide to fuck you in every single room of the tower (Cal's and Lia's excluded)

100% uses his tail. I shall say no more.

Your moans will make him short circuit. It takes EVERYTHING for him not to come when you moan.

Your moans, or your squeals, are also enough to get him hard. Expect him to start acting a little... needy after you make a noise like that.

King of morning sex. I shall say no more.

Loves when you go down on him. And if you moan around his cock? He's a goner.

If you blow him under his desk? He will never be able to sit at that desk again... not without going full mast.

If he's working and you whisper something lewd in his ear before walking off, he is either going to abandon his studies and want to take you up on your suggestion or he's going to sit there and stew. Either way, you have a blushing mess of a wizard on your hands.

[sukifoof-art]

Hi, I really liked your art and all and was a fan of you, until you started posting things about supporting a state which is controlled by a terrorist organization that doesn’t care about their own civilians and when any donations come there it doesn’t go to the people who need it but to Hamas, and by donating to Gaza not only do you not help the people in Gaza ,but you also help a terrorist organization who doesn’t care who it needs to kill in order to achieve its goal.

Also when I saw you reposted a post who supported the people in the picture’s with all PLO flags (which weren’t the main problem there) ,it seriously hurt me to see that one picture where people were stepping on USA flags and Israel flags. like….why would you support someone who obviously hate you(assuming you’re from the USA) but even if you aren’t from the USA then think about the fact that you’re LGBTQ, these people HATE people who are Queer and kills them ,so I really can’t understand how are you supporting people who want you dead and are against feminism.

I really hope that what I wrote helped you see this complex situation more clearly and I beg you to look at the situation from both sides.

so this means everyone there deserves to die? this means that a whole school year of children needs to be wiped out? that hospitals must be bombed and millions displaced and communication be cut off? that every palestinian must pay with their lives? that every closeted queer palestinian should die? are you seriously that dense. i made it clear i do not want people who support a genocide following me. have you bothered reading palestinian voices from queering the map? those who regret not saying they were in love and dont even have the chance anymore because thousands are dying? i genuinely don't know what to say to you to make you realize these are real, actual people who are dead. you speak of palestinians as if they're a monolith and not real individual people who had thoughts and dreams. none of these people deserved to die, even if they hate people like me. people can change and learn and grow and they weren't even given the chance. i am so sick of seeing fellow queer people SUPPORT GENOCIDE because they can't be bothered to think about others and their experiences for more than two seconds. of all the queer experiences i've read this is one of the most heartbreaking, and it's from gaza.

do NOT act like queer people and their families aren't being harmed and DO NOT come into my ask box supporting ethnic cleansing. there is never any reason for thousands of people to live in fear of airstrikes and white phosphorous, or to be stuck beneath rubble and in hospitals that don't even have power. if the idea of THOUSANDS DYING wasn't enough to upset you, there are so many videos of parents mourning their children, children mourning their parents, children and pets shaking in fear for me to not have explain to you that genocide is bad. there is NEVER any reason to JUSTIFY GENOCIDE. that should be clear enough. again, if you are complicit or try to justify genocide, do not follow me and DO NOT try to make me "see the situation from both sides". to be so privileged that you can sit here and write out paragraphs supporting genocide says enough about you.

if you see this i am begging you to contact your government, just do anything you can. even just spreading the word helps because palestine can't. the most important thing is to not give up hope. mourn the dead, and fight like hell for the living.

[lowtaperfeyd]

Scintilla (Prologue)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mentat!reader

author's note: This is the first official posting of the series. I do plan on making chapters than what I am posting now.

warnings: house harkonnen, mentions of death and blood

wc: 528

“Are you sure I’m getting what I want?”

You say to the guard blocking the closed door. You’re saying not for him but mainly for yourself. How easy his life must be. He just stands there, quietly. You think. 

“Are they going to write me off and not listen?”

FACT: OPEN POSITIONS ARE ON KAITAIN.                                                              INFERENCE: 70/30 CHANCE I GET KAITAIN.                                                          HYPOTHESIS: WILL GIVE ME KAITAIN OR A TEACHING JOB IF WORSE COMES TO WORSE

The great door opened with a bird-like screech, 

“(Y/N) (L/N) come in.” 

The door slammed, punctuating your entrance. You take rushed steps and a nervous inhale. In front you is a monstrous pedestal that holds the council of three professors who told you everything you know, who made you self righteous and sufficient. The people who gave you everything; the people who would give something great back in return.

“(Y/N) (L/N), the orphan, the child of a planet destroyed by interplanetary wars,” says Vere Engle, the one standing in the middle, the old man with a shocking white beard and circle glasses. 

Gosh he’s ancient.

“My peers and I have decided to give you a prominent assignment.” He says with a slight chuckle.

“You’re giving me Kaitain, aren’t you?” You coldly state while cutting off Professor Engles giggles, “To work for the Emperor and become his mentat? He always needs more of us.”

“Well there’s been a change of plans…” Professor Glacian utters out, the lady who made your life a living hell. Drilling you over and over again when you got complex material wrong. Punishing you and saying that it was because, ‘you need to learn how to take this information or else you’ll face more extreme consequences’ 

“You’re not going to Kaitain anymore…” She says.

FACT: THE COUNCIL IS KNOWN FOR NOT DECLARING OTHER OPENINGS FACT: THE BENE TLEILAX NEEDS MORE PROFESSORS HYPOTHESIS: YOU COULD BE STAYING HERE (EXTREMELY UNLIKELY)

You weigh your options, staying here to teach isn’t a bad thing, you think 

“Okay,” you muttered out, trying to hide your disappointment, “if not Kaitain then it must be that you want me to stay here.” 

“No (L/N), you’re leaving this planet.” Professor Engles says. 

“You’ve been given the honor of working for house Harkonnen on Geidi Prime” The third professor beams out, “isn’t that just splendid?”

You feel the anger well up into your body. I have trained harder and better than every single one of my classmates and this is how they repay me. 

“Why am I going there?” Your voice almost breaks as you reply. 

“The Harkonnens mentat, Piter De Vries, has gone off the wrong path if you know what we mean. Since we cannot trust that the Baron has the best interests in mind, we are sending another mentat, you.” Engles says trying to calm the situation down. 

“No one survives Geidi Prime. You’re sending me to an early grave.” You say jokingly, even though the people in the room knew the gravity of the assignment. 

"So, learn to hold your tongue" declared Glacian.

If I die at least no one will see the blood stains on my clothes

[whitmore]

fitmc madagio lore full transcript under the cut bc it’s so so interesting and also for community archival purposes

FIT: I saw you 200 blocks away. You aren’t sneaky.

FIT: If you’re new, I have nothing for you.

FIT: Here, it’s every person for themselves

FIT: Now, fuck off.

FIT: Still there?

FIT: I guess you want to learn the hard way.

FIT: ??!????

FIT: … who are you?

FIT: … what is your name?

FIT: … where exactly did you come from?

MADAGIO: Do not be afraid.

MADAGIO: Allow me to congratulate you.

MADAGIO: An ordinary human would’ve been driven to madness in a place like this.

MADAGIO: A toxic wasteland, one of the worst I’ve seen.

MADAGIO: I can see it in your eyes.

MADAGIO: Your aggression serves to hide the pain of the unimaginable horrors you have witnessed, and judging by your looks, perhaps perpetuated?

MADAGIO: I’ve been seeking someone with your level of mental fortitude…..

MADAGIO: The ability to resist both madness and toxicity.

MADAGIO: I detected the remnants of a very powerful signal in this world, so I came to investigate.

MADAGIO: I guess it would be a good place to look for people like you and I was right.

FIT: Sounds like bullshit to me.

MADAGIO: Apologies. Allow me to introduce myself.

MADAGIO: I am known as Madagio. are used to live on an island. It was one of many… All connected together by the same system. The island that was my home well….. let’s just say… things happened. Ever since I’ve gained the ability to travel across worlds, in search of skilled survivalists and deceivers, people who can hide in plain sight in extreme conditions. Judging by your age, you’ve survived here for a very long time. Perhaps you are interested in a change of scenery. If you are, meet me at the location in that book. We can discuss more there.

[BOOK READS: Meet me in the ruins of the obsidian outpost to the south. / Look underneath the red beacon. / I’ll be waiting…..]

—

FIT: That sounded like an end portal! What’s going on??!?!?

—

MADAGIO: You’ve arrived quickly, excellent. I see you noticed my friends on the way here. They are my eyes and ears; an extension of me. Now listen carefully. I would like to offer you a job Fit. One of the islands in the system I spoke of earlier is named Quesadilla. It’s a beautiful place, but it hides many secrets. Secrets that I must have at all costs. They will soon be accepting visitors for the first time in many years. right now the only way onto the island is by train. Most of the tickets have already been given out. However….. I can arrange for you to receive one. To keep your cover, you will need to act like you are on a vacation. Once you arrive on the island, I want you to start collecting information. Player data, island statistics, the emotions of your neighbors… …and analytical data on how it all connects together.

FIT: Player data? Statistics? Why do you want that stuff?

MADAGIO: In time it will make sense. As you collect it, I want you to report your findings to me. It may be difficult given the island’s current isolation, but you’ll find a way. A wasteland nomad like you traveling to Quesadilla will be very unexpected. Which is why I want you to blend in. Become friends with your neighbors. You might even know some of them already, so it should be easy. But do not form attachments, it will only complicate things. You are there for a very specific purpose. While you are on Quesadilla… I will be elsewhere, making preparations for something very important. You will have exactly one year to accomplish this task. if you are successful, your payment will ensure you have an early retirement. If you are unable to complete it in that time, I may have to help you… But let me make something very clear. Should you disregard the mission entirely… Or attempt to cheat me… I will ensure you spend the rest of your life in this toxic and vile waste land. Doomed to wander, and die in obscurity… And anyone who made connections with on Quesadilla will suffer. This is not a game to me. These, as I have stated, are the terms of this contract. If you step through the portal, it means you accept. But there is no turning back. Shall we begin?

FIT: 10 years is a long time to be stuck in the same wasteland. You know what I need? A vacation.

—

FIT: Finally, I can remember your name.

FIT: I care about the people on this island. I’ll complete the job, but you better not be using their data to do harm.

[sorencd]

could we get dating wilson hcs😼

ofc 😏😏😏 he's so pookie wookie i lovf him

dating wilson headcannons

you two love watching sitcoms every night (if the both of you aren't tired) like seinfeld, the mary tyler moore show, fasier and friends while cuddling in bed! usually since he's the first one to leave in the morning, he'd prepare your coffee for you and wake you up with a kiss on the forehead, telling you that he's off to work and u should wake up soon. he’s like ur personal alarm clock!! he even calls a few minutes later from his office just to make sure you really woke up, because you have a habit of waking up but as soon as you check the time and decide that it's still early, you would immediately fall back asleep so easily. he’s amazed honestly.

"yeah, 'm awake.."

"are you sure?"

"...mmh.."

"you're still in bed aren't you?"

"no..'m up i swear.."

so you end up having no choice but to get ready for work because now your brain is no longer sleepy :( you love trying new restaurants and food with him. if there's a new restaurant, no matter how bad the reviews are, that won't really stop you two from eating at the place, you'd still go there. but it does often result to never returning there ever again. and when you don't feel like going out of the comfort of your home, you would instead cook something up together. matching aprons and all that stuff!! while preparing the food, u can never cut the veggies properly without some good music playing in the background! there'd be songs from artists like the beatles, abba, huey lewis and the news, daryl hall & john oates, and the beegees!

i can see him singing and dancing to 'more than a woman' while straining the pulp from the tomato soup and you have to get him to stop moving too much or he'll burn himself in the process.

"james!"

"i know that in a thousand years, i'd fall in love with you again~"

"be careful! it's going to pour out!"

if u don't know how to play poker, wilson will gladly play something like monopoly or uno instead. though monopoly is more fun with a lot of people, he’s happy to do anything with you! one time, you played snakes and ladders instead of uno and each time wilson went down the snake he'd shout 'what!?' and sneakily try to change the number he rolled on the die without u noticing. he always plays like his life is on the line.

"another five?!"

"down you go, james!" you evilishly laughed and moved his piece for him, feeling triumphant. while you were dancing in joy because you're so close to winning, he tried flipping the die.

"i saw that."

"no you didn't."

stealing his clothes is a must! you've reached a point where u even hide his stuff as soon as they're fresh out of the dryer so he won't beat you to his own shirts. singing doesn't only limit to the kitchen, it also extends to the car and late night drives after work! you two would have songs blasting and the windows rolled down!!

masterlist

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[anneapocalypse]

On Cullen's Earnestness

In my current playthrough of Dragon Age: Inquisition, this one early war table quest caught my eye that I think offers a good bit of insight into Cullen’s character.

In “Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court,” Vivienne alerts Josephine to a letter she’s received from an acquaintance, purporting to “warn” Vivienne of the suspect company she has taken up in joining the Inquisition. The letter reads thus:

My dearest Vivienne,

You cannot have heard the shocking allegations against the Inquisition, or surely you would never have been seen with them. Allow me, as a friend, to open your eyes. People are saying that Divine Justinia is, indeed, alive, but that the Inquisition—her closest advisors and most trusted servants—have orchestrated all this chaos on her orders. That it was Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Nightingale who sabotaged the Conclave in order to eliminate the opposition within the Chantry, and cut off the heads of the mage rebellion and templars in a single stroke. To save your own reputation, you must escape this acquaintance immediately.

With deepest concern, Vicomtesse Elodie de Morreau

In the context of the Game, we may understand that this Vicomtesse, while she may call Vivienne a friend, likely has no great concern for her reputation.

The Inquisition is the horse on which Vivienne is betting in order to better her own position (which is considerably shakier than she lets on, but that’s another post); Vicomtesse Elodie is simply making a different bet. If Vivienne heeds her warnings, and the Inquisition never achieves public favor, then Elodie’s advice was correct and Vivienne is indebted to her. If Vivienne heeds her warnings and the Inquisition does gain public acclaim, then Elodie has disrupted Vivienne’s opportunity for advancement, and she also wins. And if Vivienne does not heed her advice and the Inquisition remains a pariah, Elodie gets to watch Vivienne go down with it, smugly saying “I told you so.” Only if the Inquisition thrives and Vivienne with it does Elodie lose this bet—and Vivienne is clearly interested in seeing that outcome, and helping it come about.

The important thing is that the specifics of the accusations against the Inquisition are absolutely irrelevant here. This conspiracy theory about Justinia being secretly alive and the Left and Right Hand doing a sabotage to secure Chantry power—it’s all nonsense, and I doubt the Vicomtesse truly believes it. More critically, she likely does not care whether it is true. Repeating this rumor is just a means to a desired outcome.

If you’ve ever argued with a conspiracy theorist who seemed to simply change their position every time you backed them into a rhetorical corner, you may have realized that facts are largely ineffective at combating this sort of thing.

And of the three advisors, Cullen is the only one to get hung up on the content of the rumor, rather than its source and its purpose. Josephine and Leliana, seasoned players of the Game, both recognize this stupid rumor for what it is. Both of them ignore the substance of it and instead focus on its purpose: turning public opinion against the Inquisition. Josephine proposes to combat it by seeking noble favor elsewhere and leaving it to those allies to do the work of actually arguing against the rumors. Leliana is more interested in finding out with whom the rumor originated.

Leliana also makes the particularly savvy observation that if they were to combat the rumor by attempting to prove Justinia’s death, they would simply be providing their opponents more ammunition to use against them later. Leliana recognizes that “The Divine is alive, and you’re hiding her!” isn’t an earnest accusation, it’s bait. And if you take the bait, if you say, “Actually the Divine did die; here’s her remains to prove it,” then your enemies can say, “Aha! And how do you know she’s dead? It’s because you people killed her!” Or, best case scenario is they just bait you into wasting a lot of your time proving the accusation false, which is exactly what happens if you let Cullen take the bait.

Again, you might have had a similar experience if you’ve ever tried to “debate” a person whose strategy is making outrageous claims, letting you waste a lot of time earnestly debunking them, and then ignoring all your arguments and simply making another, equally outrageous claim.

In Cullen’s case, what happens is poor Knight-Captain Rylen is tasked with leading a field trip of Orlesian nobles through the grisly ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, while asking them to please not touch the red lyrium, and no, you cannot take a charred corpse home as a souvenir, please milord I must ask you not to touch the red lyrium. I’m sure that was an excellent use of everyone’s time and resources.

But it’s easy to understand why Cullen responds this way! It’s a very instinctual and human response! “Well, you’ve just said a thing that is very obviously untrue. I’ll prove to you that it’s untrue! And this will solve the problem of you being wrong, and then we can all move forward together. Right?”

It’s an eminently reasonable response, so long as you assume that the other party is being reasonable and engaging with you in good faith.

Cullen assumes they are. Josephine and Leliana know they’re not. (Vivienne also knew this; hence her handing the letter over to Josephine to deal with instead of bothering to reply herself.)

And you can probably see how Cullen’s earnestness, his desire to believe that other people are also operating earnestly and in good faith, could lead him down some dangerous paths.

Knight-Commander Meredith was also a conspiracy theorist. The difference is that her conspiracy theories were about people she had near-absolute power over, with terrible consequences. And working under the authority of someone he wanted to believe in, someone he absolutely would have taken as entirely earnest (because in many ways she was earnest, at least in her belief that magic was dangerous and must be controlled), it would have been easy for Cullen to assume she must be acting in good faith, even when his misgivings arose. “She needs a spine of iron to survive her position,” he says to Hawke. And like anyone arguing in bad faith, Meredith could move the goalposts when it suited her. No signs of blood magic discovered? That only proves how well they’re hiding it. The tower must be searched top to bottom. The First Enchanter objects? He must be one of them. Dissent among her own templar ranks? Must be the blood magic controlling their minds. As Dan Olson puts it in his video In Search of a Flat Earth, conspiracy theories make facts subservient to outcomes, which is why the "facts" can easily be rearranged and discarded at will—all that matters is the actions those facts justify.

Of course Meredith’s beliefs were, again, quite different—more dangerous, and far more earnestly held than this silly Orlesian rumor about the Inquisition. She was also under the influence of red lyrium at the height of her paranoia. But conspiracy theories often feed on paranoia, and Meredith’s beliefs were still ultimately beliefs that could be bent to justify the outcome she (and her superior, Grand Cleric Elthina) desired: mages must be controlled, whatever the cost.

Cullen has managed to extricate himself from Meredith’s mindset. But he hasn’t yet learned, I think, that conspiracy theories and irrational beliefs can’t be overcome simply by reason. That’s also very understandable for someone in his position. When you’re in the process of overcoming some very wrong beliefs yourself, things you earnestly believed, it’s very natural to want to believe that everyone else is just as earnest and can be persuaded; in fact, you have a personal stake in believing that, because if other people can be redeemed, that means there’s hope for you.

Do I think this justifies the things Cullen was complicit in during his time as a templar, or any misguided opinions he may voice during his time with the Inquisition? No, that’s not why I’m saying all this. But I think it’s an interesting aspect of his character and one worth exploring. Cullen is often characterized as the blunt instrument advisor, his answer to most war table questions being “send troops”; in Josie’s words “the hammer for whom every problem looks like a nail.” But I think some of his offered solutions do offer compelling insights into his character, and this one certainly does—as well as an interesting example of how this approach to the world and other people can go wrong.

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 5 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

Masterlist.

Warning: angst, mention of selfharm, arguing.

Summary: After a challenging party and a disagreement with her mother, Y/N finds herself alone, confronted by her darkest thoughts. She hits rock bottom, but something prevents her from taking irreversible actions.

Note: This part will address sensitive subjects such as depression and self-harm. If you're not comfortable with these topics, please do not read. I want to emphasize that my intention is not to romanticize distress or depression. If you're struggling and need help, there are people around you. My DMs are open for anyone who feels the need to talk. You are not alone. 🫶🏻

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

How could I be so stupid, even though my parents warned me about boys like Chris?

Liars, manipulators who can't control their desires and needs.

And I, like the naive and innocent little virgin I was, fell for it.

I fell for it, and I believed it for two years, believed it to the point of tearing my fucking heart out of my chest.

I can't believe I could be so damn foolish.

Is this what being blinded by love is like? Is this what it's supposed to mean?

Is that why they keep lecturing us teenagers that we don't know what real love is?

If he lied to me that night, then it means he lied to me every other night.

If he truly loved me as he claimed, he would never have dared to do such a thing to me.

How could he look me in the eyes and tell me all those bullshit while he was already dating another girl?

I thought he was honest and sincere; he had the same look as the first time he said 'I love you,' and now it all seemed like a fucking lie.

I knew that sleeping with him that night wasn't supposed to mean anything, and since we were supposed to remain friends, it's not the fact that he's with another girl that hurts me.

It's the fact that he lied to me, making me believe I was the only one in his heart.

I was warned about him; Julia told me to be careful, and even my father told me it was better if I went to the other end of the country to cut contact with him.

But I didn't want to believe all that because I was charmed by a few kisses and conversations that I thought were meaningful until now.

I wish it were just a lie, but that night, just before leaving Julia's party, I saw Tess and Chris kissing in the middle of the crowd, and I felt like I was going to die of heartbreak.

He was kissing her right here in front of everyone, which means he didn't even bother hiding it from me anymore.

Was it a way of getting back at me for what i did ?

Why did he make me believe he didn't hold a grudge against me? Why did he play with my fucking heart like that?

I was so ashamed that I didn't even bother explaining the situation to Julia; I went home and locked myself in my room.

Waking up this morning, I saw a ton of missed messages and calls from Julia. Shit, I didn't think to tell her I was leaving; she must have been worried...

In addition to feeling like shit because of Chris, I naturally had to wake up with a hangover.

I'm pathetic, this whole story is ridiculous.

"You came home very late last night; I thought you'd be back today," my mother said, arms crossed, upon seeing me enter the kitchen.

Great, now I'll have to face her, and judging by the expression on her face, I suspect our conversation won't be pleasant. That's just what was missing!

"I didn't feel very well last night; I preferred to come home," I told her, opening the kitchen cupboard to take a mug.

"Did you drink?" she asked, exhaling.

"Mom, I told you it was a party for my return, and-" I barely had time to finish justifying myself; she had already resumed speaking.

"I thought you had changed, that you had improved, but I see it's worse. How do you think your father will react to this, y/n?" she said, distressed.

I sighed before she could speak again. "Seriously, y/n, do you think it's an appropriate way for a young woman like you to behave? Have you thought about what people will think of us seeing you like this?"

"Damn, don't you ever get tired of bringing everything back to you?" I snapped, and she jumped at the sound of my raised voice.

"My whole fucking life, I played the role you wanted me to play, and I never complained!" I said, furious.

"You sent me to the other end of the country without even giving me a choice, forcing me to rebuild my life and leave the people I love!"

"Do you have any idea how challenging it is to be your daughter, Mom? Do you know what it's like to have this kind of education when you grow up around normal parents and teenagers?"

"Yes, I made some mistakes, and you never-" I paused, letting out a fake laugh. "Never failed to remind me!"

"But all the good things I've done, all the good grades, all the people I've helped, everything I've done to please you and help you, you've never commented on that," I said, disgusted.

"You never congratulated me; you never said you were proud of me. And no matter how much effort I put into it, I was never enough for you or Dad!"

"I hid behind this role of the perfect little girl. I hid all my pain and kept my head high, hoping that one day you would be proud. But the truth is, you'll never be because you don't love me. You love the girl I pretend to be, but you hate the girl I am!" I said before leaving the kitchen in tears to lock myself in my room again.

This day couldn't get any more horrible than it already was.

My mother tried knocking on my door, but I stayed there in my bed.

I didn't want to face her anymore; I didn't want to talk to her. It was already hard enough.

Why was my life so chaotic? Why don't I deserve happiness?

Why do things always have to get worse?

What did I do wrong to deserve this?

I didn't even know who I was and what I was supposed to be.

At that moment, I would have given anything to go back to the other end of the country, far from my parents.

But I knew that there, I would have given anything to come back to Boston, close to those I love.

I was lost and alone.

I had no one to share my pain with and no one to hug.

It turns out the only person I might have wanted to embrace was just a liar and an opportunist.

I wrapped myself in my blanket, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights.

I spent the day like that without moving a muscle.

Night came, bringing darkness with it.

Activity on the street outside my house diminished, giving way to silence.

My mother had given up and stopped knocking on my door.

My tears flowed and rested on my face until they turned cold.

I didn't know how long I had stayed like that, but I knew it was a long time.

I kept thinking about all the things I might have done wrong in my life.

I searched for the reason why everything was going so wrong.

Was it because I wasn't grateful enough to have a roof over my head?

Was it because I had been a spoiled child?

Was it because I didn't make enough effort?

Was it because I wasn't a good enough friend? Or a good enough daughter?

Was it because I am a bad person?

Am I a bad person?

Is it legitimate for me to feel this bad?

Am I not exaggerating?

After all, there are worse things in life, right?

People are dying out there, losing their loved ones, and I'm crying because a boy lied to me?

I'm crying because I'm just an unloved child?

A child who only wants to be recognized and appreciated.

What did I do wrong, damn it?

The more my thoughts chained together, the harder it became to breathe.

I had a weight in my chest, and I could feel it deep inside me.

I had cried so much that my sinuses hurt, and my eyes were swollen.

It was hard, so hard. What was I supposed to do?

How was I going to be able to continue living with this weight on my chest?

Dark and obscure thoughts took over my mind.

Thoughts that I was ashamed of, thoughts so awful that I couldn't bring myself to recount them to you.

I wanted to do something bad; I got up and grabbed the blade from my pencil sharpener on my desk.

And before I could reach my bed again, I was interrupted by my window opening.

I turned around in shock, falling face to face with Chris. Damn it, why did he always have to do that?

The blade slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor at that moment.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly bending down to retrieve it.

"What's this?" Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at my closed hand.

"Chris, get out of my room right now," I told him sharply.

He scrutinized my face for a moment before speaking again. "Were you crying? Y/n, what's wrong? What are you hiding in your hand?" he asked, concerned.

"It's none of your fucking business. Just leave; I don't want you here!" I said, feeling anger rise again.

"Wow, I haven't done anything. Why are you talking to me like this? Seriously, I'm getting worried. What's going on?" he asked, confused, approaching me.

On reflex, I put the hand holding the blade behind my back when he reached my level, only making him more worried.

"Chris, I'm warning you; I'll call my parents if you don't leave my room now!" I panicked before he grabbed my arm.

"What are you hiding, Y/n? Open your hand!" he said, getting angrier and trying to open my hand.

"Chris, stop – let go of me, stop!" I said, succumbing and crying when he started overpowering me.

I tried to struggle, but he had much more strength than me. It didn't take him long to open my hand and find the blade.

His expression changed; he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at me.

"What were you doing when I came into your room?" he asked, well aware of what my answer would be.

Tears started flowing again, and this time, I was filled with shame. I couldn't even bring myself to speak, so I just stood there, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Y/n," he said in a fragile voice.

"Why?" he asked, his gaze sad.

"Chris, I want you to leave," I told him amid my sobs.

"No, not until you explain why," he said, shaking his head.

I lifted my head before taking a deep breath to try and stop my tears.

"And why don't you explain your little story with Tess then!" I told him, changing the subject.

"Wait, are you serious, y/n? Don't change the subject," he said, completely confused.

"Chris, what I was about to do is none of your business anymore, not since the moment you lied to my face, making me believe I was special to you," I said, pushing him away.

"But what are you talking about, y/n? I never lied to you," he said, shaking his head.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were with her!" I raised my voice.

"What?" he said, even more confused.

"Chris, I want you to leave; I don't want to deal with this shit right now," I said, turning my back to him.

"Y/n, I'm not fucking dating her. Where did you get that idea?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

"Why do you keep lying, Chris? She came to ask me to keep my distance from you, emphasizing that you two are together!" I told him, turning around and brushing his hand off my shoulder.

"Do you really believe that nonsense?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I saw you kissing her," I said, clenching my jaw and trying to hold back my tears.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, taking a step back.

I sighed. "Damn it, Chris, you're such a jerk," I said, shaking my head.

"Y/n, it's not like that. It's really not what you think," he began to try and justify himself before I cut him off again.

"It's not what I think?" I said, raising my voice and eyebrows.

"Oh, so your tongue wasn't in her mouth?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Y/n, I know it can be misleading, but..." he began to try and explain before I cut him off again with a laugh.

"Misleading?! Chris, seriously?" I said, biting my lip.

"Please, let me explain, y/n," he said, grabbing my hands, but I didn't let him. I pulled back.

"I don't need you to explain, Chris; it's very fucking clear," I said, nodding my head.

"Y/n, please," he said desperately.

"Get out, Chris," I told him sharply.

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, not moving.

"For God's sake, just get the fuck out; I want you to leave!" I screamed, pushing him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone when you were about to hurt yourself, y/n. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I won't leave this room until I know you're safe," he said, standing his ground.

"Oh, now you're worried about me?!" I said, laughing.

"You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. I haven't done anything wrong, y/n," he said, looking me in the eyes.

"You'd rather believe some girl you don't even know over me. You won't even give me a chance to explain!" he said, waving his hands.

"Because I don't want to listen to another one of your lies, Chris. I'm too tired for that!" I told him, breaking into tears.

"But I'm not lying to you, y/n. Trust me!" he said, advancing towards me.

"I can't. I can't. I'm not strong enough for that. I don't want to take the risk of sinking even lower!" I confessed.

"Is it because of me that you were going to do that?" he said, pointing to the blade that now rested on my bedside table.

I looked at him, eyes soaked and throat tightened.

"Oh god," he whispered, running his hand over his face.

"I'm so sorry, y/n, if I made you believe I wasn't sincere, but all this is just a mistake. I'm not dating Tess," he said, taking my hands.

"I slept with her for a long time, okay, I won't lie to you. I was sleeping with her before we got together, and when you left, I turned to her right away," he began to explain, and I just listened.

"I was a jerk to her. I made her believe it could work between us to keep her under my control, even though I knew we would never be together," he said, and I could hear the disgust in his voice.

"When I got myself together, I stopped everything with her and tried to apologize, but she kept resenting me. She knew what you meant to me; that's why she didn't waste a second to come and tell you those lies," he said, and I sank down, sitting on my bed.

"Y/n, I'm not proud of what I did. She didn't deserve that, and it's not an excuse, but when you left, I was in such a bad place that I hurt anyone who came near me," he said, sitting next to me.

"I haven't lied to you once," he said, placing his hand on mine.

"I'm sorry, y/n, believe me, I really am. I didn't want you to end up like this. I should have told you that night, but I was too ashamed," he said, looking into my eyes.

"And why did you kiss her then?" I asked, wiping my tears.

"Because she threw herself at me; I was completely wasted. By the time I understood what was happening and detached her from my lips, there might have been enough time for you to see us. She probably waited until you were around to do it," he told me.

I looked at him without answering; I was hesitant. I didn't know if I should trust him or not.

"Y/n, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I swear it's true. You can ask anyone; I never dated her," he said, trying to be as convincing and reassuring as possible.

"Chris," I said, lowering my head, "I don't know if I'm supposed to believe you. I don't know if I should trust you or not."

"It's the truth, y/n, I swear. You can ask anyone. I would never do anything to hurt you," he said, squeezing my hand.

"I need time; I don't know what to think. I don't know if I should believe you or not,"

"I'll give you all the time you need," he said, nodding.

"You should rest; it's late, and you really look tired," he said, getting up.

"I'll take this with me," he said, picking up the blade from my bedside table before heading to my window.

"Chris!" I said before he left my room, and he turned around.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I don't want to be alone," I said, letting a tear fall, "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep, please?"

He took a deep breath, "Y-yeah, of course," he said, moving closer to me.

He grabbed the chair from my desk and placed it next to my bed before sitting down.

I slipped under the sheets of my bed, whispering to him, "Thank you, Chris."

"Don't thank me; it's the least I can do for you," he said with a weak smile.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before I spoke again.

"It wasn't just because of you, you know?" I said in a weak voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"I had a fight with my mom," I told him, and he nodded, signaling me to continue.

"And for the first time, I told her what I really had on my mind," I continued, sitting up against my headboard.

"I said things to her that I had never had the courage to say before, and when I went back to my room, everything hit me," I said, unable to control my voice, which occasionally broke.

"I found myself alone with my thoughts, and I started to wonder why all this was happening to me," I continued, waving my hands.

"I got lost in my own head; grief took over, and I felt this horrible weight on my chest," I said, letting a tear fall and placing my hand on my chest.

"It hurt, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. My thoughts were screaming awful things at me, and I struggled to breathe; I felt suffocated," I said, shaking my head, and more tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"And for a brief moment, I thought that by inflicting physical pain on myself, it would get rid of all these bad thoughts," I said before biting my lip.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to distract my mind. I didn't want to hurt myself, but it felt like the only solution," I said, trying to wipe away my tears.

"And now, looking back, I realize how stupid and awful it was. I don't know what came over me; it was like it was stronger than me," I added, hitting my mattress with my arm.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to feel better," I said, shaking my head, and he took me into his arms.

I was so carried away by my emotions that I didn't even notice he was also crying.

"It's over now, y/n; I'm here, okay?" he said, holding me tightly.

"I'll chase away all those bad thoughts of your head for you if you want," he continued to say.

"It's going to be okay, I promise you," he said, gently stroking my head.

"I can't figure out what the hell is wrong with me," I told him, crying against his chest.

"I played a role for so long that I don't even know who I'm supposed to be," I said, clinging to his shirt.

"You're allowed to be lost; we all go through that. You'll eventually figure out who you really are; you just need to give yourself time," he reassured me.

"I know who you are, and I assure you that the person you are doesn't deserve to inflict so much pain on themselves," he continued to say.

"I just wanted to please them," I said, crying.

"Your parents?" he asked, and I nodded.

"If your parents don't love you for who you are, then they're really assholes. You deserve better than that," he said. I left his arms, wiping my tears.

"You're an amazing person, y/n, and it breaks my heart to hear you say that because you shouldn't have to beg for your parents' love, and it's just not fair," he said, caressing my cheek.

"In their place, I'd give you all the love in the world; in their place, I'd constantly tell you how proud I am of you because that's what you deserve," he said, looking into my eyes, and I couldn't help but cry.

"Thank you, Chris," I said, lowering my head.

"I'm sorry that life throws so much crap at you. If I could take away all the pain from your heart, believe me, I would," he said.

"But right now, what you need is to rest," he added.

"And I won't leave your room until you fall asleep, I promise. I'm here; you're not alone. I'm watching over you," he said, yawning.

"You're tired too," I said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, but I can wait," he said, returning a smile.

"You can sleep with me if you want," I told him.

"I don't know; won't your parents freak out?" he said, furrowing his brow.

"Not if you leave before they wake up tomorrow," I said, shrugging.

"Please, let me do this at least for you; you need to rest as much as I do," I added.

"Okay, um, do you want us to sleep in the same bed?" he asked timidly.

"You can sleep on the floor if you want, but it wouldn't be the first time you and I share a bed," I said, scratching my neck.

"Yeah, but the other times we shared a bed, y/n, it wasn't for sleeping," he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

"Do you think we wouldn't be able to share a bed without getting intimate?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"No, that's not what I meant. I—," he said, embarrassed, before I cut him off.

"It's okay; I'm joking. Stop being silly; come here," I said, lifting the blanket to signal him to lie down next to me, which he eventually did.

Silence filled the room, and it was a bit awkward. Chris kept tossing and turning, so I eventually spoke up, "Are you going to stop fidgeting around anytime soon?" I chuckled.

"Sorry, it's just really warm," he said, chuckling as well.

"Well, you can take off your sweater," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing anything underneath," he said, embarrassed.

"Oh," I responded, "um, it doesn't bother me; you can take it off if you're more comfortable that way," I said, trying to play it cool.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, and besides, it's nothing new. I've seen you like this before," I said, feeling awkward, and he couldn't help but laugh as he took off his sweater.

"Why are you laughing ?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing; I just find this situation funny," he said, stopping his laughter.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, giving him a punch on the shoulder, and we both burst into laughter.

"I never told you, but I really love your laugh, you know?" he said without thinking, making me blush.

"Ah yeah?" I responded, embarrassed, but this time not for the same reason.

"Yeah, I find it soothing," he said, smiling.

Another silence fell. We were face to face, looking at each other without touching, as if there was a vast space between us, almost like we were afraid to make contact.

"I love your eyes," I said without really knowing where I was going with it.

"Why?" he whispered.

"When I look into them, I feel like I'm the only person on Earth," I replied, letting my heart speak.

"It's because you are the only person who truly exists in my eyes," he replied shyly.

Another silence.

"I love your lips," he said.

"I love your nose," I replied.

"I love your hips," he continued, and I could feel the tension building.

"I love your arms," I responded, quickening my breath.

"I love your hands," he replied, placing his hand on mine.

"I love your back," I said, gradually moving closer to him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his lips just a few millimeters from mine.

"Chris," I responded, my eyes fixed on his lips.

"I love you entirely," he said in an almost inaudible voice before closing the distance between our lips.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him closer without parting our lips. Our kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, and the room's temperature became unbearable.

"Y/n, we can't," he said, separating our lips, my right hand still on his cheek.

"I know," I whispered.

He laid back next to me.

"I love you entirely too," I said, turning my head toward him, tears in my eyes.

Silence, again.

"Maybe in another universe, we got to have our story," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"I wish we were in another universe," I responded, gazing at the ceiling as well.

"Do you think in the one we are, we'll never get to have our story?" I asked him, and he turned his head to look at me.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "All I know is that in this universe, the girl I love leaves at the end of the vacation," he added.

"I wish things were different," I said.

"I know, me too," he replied.

"Can I fall asleep in your arms?" I asked, letting a tear fall.

He didn't respond, just opened his arms for me to snuggle against his chest, which I did.

"Good night, my angel," he whispered.

"Good night, my love," I replied.

I couldn't help but shed a few tears before closing my eyes and finally managing to find sleep.

Taglist: @chrisloyalgf @christopherscamopants @blahbel668 @thematthewlover @mattsturnioloarchive @carolinalikesthings @bernardsgf @whicked-hazlatwhore @hearts4chris @mattybsbitch @sara2233445

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger's Wicked Birthday - 1st -

The story's in his POV. As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Nsfw. Awkwardly translated smut.

They say that something predestined, something that cannot be changed or avoided, is called fate.

Being born male, female, or otherwise.

Where and when you were born, how long you'll live and when you'll die, all of these seem to be predetermined.

I've always been looking for a way to fight against all of that.

--

Roger: Hey, Jude. Cut back on those cigarettes. You don't know when those lungs of yours will fail.

Jude: Quit yer yappin'. Are ya my mom or somethin'?

Roger: Don't remember givin' birth to an arrogant, swearing bastard like you.

As I walk away after finishing up Jude's regular check up, my ears pick up the hustle and bustle of the dining room.

Roger: Huh? They're bein' awfully noisy.

As expected, when I entered the dining room, I found Harrison listening to a distraught Liam.

Roger: Hey, what's up? Did somethin' happen?

Liam: Kate isn't back yet so I want to go look for her now.

(The little lady?)

Roger: Calm down... You're not gonna find anything if you run out in the dark.

Harrison: Yeah, Roger's right. You were the last one to see Kate, weren't you Liam?

Liam nods.

Jude: You were supposed ta be watchin' 'er. Why'd ya let 'er go about as she pleases?

Liam: Tomorrow's Roger's birthday so we went out shopping to celebrate in advance. I thought about dressing up a bit and doing some stuff that'll surprise Roger.

Harrison: Liam, I now there's something you don't want to tell us, but now's not the time.

Liam: After we finished shopping, we parted ways near Leadenhall Market. Kate told me to go home first because she wanted to buy something in secret.

Harrison: Where'd you and Kate part?

Liam: At a bakery called "Harmony". Around there.

Harrison: If it's around there then...flowers, huh?

Liam: Flowers?

Harrison: Did she go by herself to get flowers for Roger?

Roger: Me?

Harrison: Yeah. There's a popular flower shop in alley where Liam and Kate parted ways. She probably knew about it.

Jude, who was quiet this whole time, muttered something troubling.

Jude: Tha's right, there's been some strange incidents lately. The naïve princess must've gotten mixed up in it. That woman (the queen) must 'ave some kind of info. Maybe.

Roger: I'll go get Victor...

--

There's been some kidnappings recently where Kate was now alone.

All those kidnapped were women, and those who were lucky enough to escape only had their hair cut, so it seems like they were kidnapped to sell their hair at a high price.

Based on the information from Victor, it was decided that Crown would search several hideouts of the criminals.

Harry and I ran through the back alleys of London in the dark.

Roger: ...? Hey, Harry. I can hear a man...and the faint voice of a woman through this door.

Harrison: May that's it. Let's go.

The man's voice gets clearer as we head down the path leading to the basement.

Men with guns and knives gathered in the dark.

(I see. So a bunch of thugs were kidnapping people)

Bearded man: After our watch is done, let's go for a drink- Huh, who're you?

In the dim light, Harrison and I exchanged glances. In times like this, a liar and traitor's quick thinking is useful.

Roger: Don't be so guarded. We're your buddies. We thought we'd take part too.

Bearded man: Huh? What're you on about? We'll lose our share with more people.

Harrison: Don't be like that. The police have been sniffing around lately.

Bearded man: The police...?

Harrison: We got contacts in the police. I got info on how to escape them.

Man with a gun: Hey... Wouldn't it be better if we brought them in?

Roger: Oh, we got a right to choose though. Let's hear some details about what you guys are doin'.

Bearded man: It's simple. You kidnap a woman to sell her hair and if she gets out of line, you kill her. That's it.

Man with a gun: In this day and age, a corpse has some value so it's like killing two birds with one stone.

(Yep, these are definitely the guys. Can't mess this-)

(0)

Harrison and I fire at the same time.

Criminal: Guh...

Roger: What's up? You're bein' unusually aggressive Harry.

Harrison: Yeah, wel... Anyway, I'll take care of the rest. You go ahead.

Roger: Yeah, I'm on it. Can't help but hear Kate's voice in my ear. Don't die Harry. Bringing you back will be a pain.

Harrison: Gotcha...

I head into the darkness, the sound of gunfire behind me.

(Multiple female voices...One of them...sounds like Kate)

I thought Kate would be sobbing in fear-

Kate's voice: -ight... It'll be alright. Help will come. It'll be alright...

My ears picked up Kate's voice, who was assuring the other women with her.

Roger: Geez... You're even worryin' over others in a time like this.

I run and run toward the voice, open the door in the dark, and head up the stairs.

Muscular man: Hey, who're you- Gah?!

I shoot and kill the criminals that come at me as I keep going.

(Found her...)

Among the women bound in rope is Kate.

Kate: Roger...

(Why're you trying to smile at a time like this?)

(You're not fooling anyone...)

As I go up to her and cut the rope with a knife, I notice flowers that fell at Kate's feet.

Roger: ...

Seeing them, I impulsively-

I held Kate tight in my arms.

Roger: Are you hurt?

Kate: Nothing serious. Just some scratches...here and there.

It's so like her to not count scratches as injuries.

Roger: I see...

Kate: I was sure...

Roger: Hm?

Kate: I was sure that Crown...that you would come and save me.

Kate knew about my curse as the "treacherous huntsman".

Still, she believed in me and fought against fear and anxiety.

(Damn. You're so cute and brave)

Roger: You're my birthday present, got it? Not letting anyone take you away from me.

Kate: Got it...

Kate's body starts trembling as if finally letting go of all the pent up fear.

I pat her back as if soothing a baby.

Roger: Scary wasn't it...

Kate: Yeah...

Roger: You did your best. You were great.

Kate: ... Roger... I-I...

Kate bawled so loudly that I couldn't help but smile.

--

After taking care of everything, I brought Kate back to the castle and tended to her wounds.

Kate: O-ow. It hurts...

Roger: It's supposed to hurt. Otherwise this wouldn't be moxibustion.

Kate: I'll accept it...

Maybe because she was still feeling guilty, Kate endures the pain without a fuss.

As I watch her in amusement, a thought appears in the back of my mind.

It's said that those cursed will meet an equally tragic end.

That's a solid conclusion I came to after years of researching curses.

(That's what's supposed to happen to us)

(I wonder what Kate's fate's like)

Kate's a curious woman who's aware of the fact that the world isn't pretty, yet still retains some purity in her heart and eyes.

Even those in Crown with strong personalities seem to be moved by her.

(A miserable fate doesn't suit Kate)

A long life's better than a short one, better to be surrounded by people than alone, and a warm place's better than a cold one.

(The kind of fate that suits someone who's able to smile so peacefully)

It was out of character for me to think of that for Kate who trusts others so easily.

Roger: Alright, done.

Kate: Thank you so much. Sorry for bothering you so late. Then...

Roger: Hey now, who said you could go?

Kate: Huh?

Roger: The treatment's finished, but the punishment isn't, little lady.

I sit down next to Kate on the bed, who makes a sound in her throat.

Kate: Punishment...

Roger: Thinking you'll get an answer right away just by asking's a bad habit of yours. Ask yourself why you're getting punished.

I whisper in her ear as I swipe my thumb across her lips.

Roger: I won't stop until you get it right.

Kate: Um, uh...

Kate jolts when I nibble on her ear before capturing her lips.

Kate: Nn...Roger...

(Soft as ever...)

Roger: Mm...Come one, answer me.

Kate: Because I got hurt...?

Roger: Wrong.

Even after releasing her wrists after kissing her repeatedly, Kate lets me do as I please.

Kate: Nnn... Hm? Ah...

(Hmm, not runninn'? Ahh...you obediently did as you were told)

The way she accepts my kisses while thinking fills me with sadistic desires and I hook my fingertips on the neckline of her dress.

Roger: That's it, think about it.

Kate: You don't need to tell...Ah...

Her breasts spill out as I pull down her dress and my lips are on her.

Roger: Hm? Givin' up?

While licking a nipple, I tease the other with my fingers.

Kate: ! I'm not...

(Ah~ That's a good look. You look so frustrated...like you're about to cry)

Kate: Ah...Is it...because I wandered off on my own?

Roger: Nope.

Kate: Huh...Ah....

I roll the peak in my mouth and Kate lets out a faint gasp.

(I'm disgusted at the thought that other men did that to her...)

I continue to suck and nipple as I slip my fingers in the wetness between Kate's legs.

It was already so wet and like with her nipple, I flicked her bud with a finger.

Kate: Ah...Nngh...Roger...

The moment I saw tears welling up, the irritation I felt within me finally subsided.

Kate: I...give up...

I grab Kate's chin and look at her as she muttered in frustration with tears in her eyes.

Roger: Hey, Kate.

Kate: Yes...?

Roger: I can't stand it when others make you cry. I'm the only one allowed to do that...Right?

Kate: Ye- Huh?

(What......................)

Roger: What's up with that response.

Kate: I just didn't expect it... I'm...not Roger's or anyone else's!

Roger: Then why're you squeezing my fingers so tightly?

Kate: That's because...Ah...I can't...

Roger: I'm not gonna last so let me enjoy your tears for a little longer.

Kate: Ah...wait...Roger

After that, I made Kate cry out a lot before having her finish me with her hand.

Satisfied, I went out for a drink with Jude.

Using my birthday as an excuse, I made him buy me a drink.

--

(I drank too much last night...)

I was lying on a sofa in the lounge with the aftertaste of alcohol still lingering when I felt a shadow over my face.

Kate: Roger...? Are you dead?

Roger: I am. So what do you want with a dead man? I'm not taking any complaints about last night.

Kate: It's not that. I have something for you.

(...?)

When I sat up, Kate shyly held out a bouquet.

Kate: Happy birthday Roger. Also... Thanks for being born.

Roger: O_O ...

(Wha...)

(Thanks for being born... That's the first time I've heard it since my curse)

(Kate...Only you of all people would say that without any hesitation)

Kate: Roger? Um...I went shopping with someone this time?

Roger: Haha, I know. Thanks...

Kate smiles happily like a puppy.

(Her crying face is the best, but her smile- it suits her)

Her smile's so cute that I can't but want to tease her again.

Roger: Hey, Kate. I must've fallen for you if I'm always thinking about you right?

Kate: Excuse me........ I-I don't know!

Roger: Pfft, hahaha. How cold.

After that, while I was walking with the bouquet Kate gave me, Victor suddenly told me what those flowers meant.

Anemones meant "fleeting love".

Kate probably didn't know what the flowers she gave me meant, but it's ironic.

My fate's a future ruined by guilt.

The worst fate lies before me, but I'm not gonna let it get me down now.

Trampling on fate, I-

Roger: Now, let's fight against it again today.

[sixzeroes]

walltalk.

summary | na jaemin has always been the bane of your existence—but he’s also been the centre of your sexual desires.

characters | villain!jaemin x hero!reader(f).

genres | smut, pwnp, bnha au, non-idol au.

warnings | profanity, brief description of blood, jaemin talks about murdering reader, slight hostage situation, sex, rough sex?, mentions of blowjob, use of ‘princess,’ giselle (and ten) lowkey cockblocking at the end.

word count | 2.2k.

so, this was actually posted on one of my old accounts before i decided to delete that and move here without anyone knowing. it did get around 400 notes, so if you recognise this, i am the original writer of it!! i don’t associate myself with that account or pseudonym anymore, but i just couldn’t let this one sit in my files so yeah :))

YOU CAN’T DIE YET.

It’s too early to bid goodbye to the world. There are many things you’ve yet to experience, and millions of people cheering you on. You still need to reach the number one spot. You still need to watch the new Disney movie releasing next week. You still need to try out the mint chocolate fusion that’s been the craze the past few days. You still need to travel to Greece and admire the Athena Parthenon. You still need to—

Bottom line is, there’s hundreds of thousands of reasons as to why your life must be prolonged. You’re a heroine, and your career has just begun. 

No, you truly can’t die yet.

But Na Jaemin seems to think the opposite. 

The room—prison—you’re confined to is dark, only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the barred window. In the middle of the room stands a chair, a blond man sitting with his chest against the back. His arms cross over the top rail, one foot tapping against the ground in a rather erratic rhythm. His all-too-familiar smile is terrifying, and you resist shuddering under his wicked gaze. 

“Maybe I’ll slit your throat,” he muses, watching your every action. Ice forms along his hand, creating a claw-like silhouette in the dim light. You gulp, a little intimidated by his power. 

“As if I’d let you,” you huff, sharpening your glower to prove his presence isn’t feared. “You’ve got nothing on me.”

That’s a huge lie. Both you and Jaemin know it. The blonde laughs at your revelation, the ice melting off of his skin. It hits the ground—drip, drip—and forms a puddle at his feet. “Your courage hasn’t changed, Y/N, but neither has the gap between you and I. You may be dubbed a strong hero, but you know better than everyone that you can’t beat me.” 

He hasn’t stabbed you yet, but the harsh reality of his words burn a humiliating pain in your heart. 

“What use is strength if your intelligence can’t keep up?” you sneer, referring to your high school era just like he had. “Don’t forget, you were always second to me in every theoretical exam.” 

You barely flinch when an icicle crumbles against the wall beside your head. The skin over your left cheekbone breaks apart into a cut, a thin stream of blood tracing the curve of your face. Jaemin tosses the chair away, the loud bang leaving a ringing in your ears. He’s mad, and it’s because of you. 

You can’t die yet, but you’re about to. 

Fuck. All because you refused to follow Ten’s suicidal mission. Well, it’s not like yours isn’t life-threatening either, but there’s less lives getting claimed. 

“You know, you always pissed me off,” growls Jaemin, crouching in front of you. Even though he’s left you untied, you make no move to attack him in hopes of escaping. And that’s the thing—you can’t escape, and you know. He knows. Na Jaemin is too strong for you to outrun. 

You spit, “The feeling’s mutual.”

There’s no way you and Jaemin could ever get along with each other, much less develop feelings opposite to the word hate. In high school, it was always a battle between the two of you. Na Jaemin—first in practical exams, second in theoretical. And you—first in theoretical exams, second in practical. To be frank, the two of you would’ve been a formidable pair if it wasn’t for his egoistic attitude and your competitive personality. If it was doubtful then, it’s impossible now. 

After all, Jaemin’s become the very villain he once wished to eradicate. 

“I saw you on television, all your interviews, the blurry cuts of you fighting. Made me wanna wipe that stupid smile off of your fucking face.” 

The rivalry between you and Jaemin wasn’t unnoticed by your peers during the three years of high school. But what most failed to detect was the sexual tension that brimmed beneath the surface of the enmity. 

“I saw you too, on Wanted posters.” you hiss, wiping the blood on your cheek. It’s a little dried. “Looking all smug for a hero turned evil.” 

Jaemin chuckles, prodding his inner cheek with his tongue. He looks to the side, then he glares straight into your eyes. “What can I say? The criminals are less corrupt than the righteous hero industry.” The blond man mimics quotation marks with his hand at the word righteous. “You, too, are a waste as a hero. Why don’t you join me? Wipe the damn system and build a new one from scratch. Doyoung doesn’t bite, you know. He likes pretty girls like you. I do, too.” 

You don’t retaliate with phrases that glorify the hero industry. Jaemin’s right, albeit you refuse to outright acknowledge it. Instead, you snap, “Fuck you.”

He licks his lips. “Is that consent?”

Yes. “No.” 

Your head jerks backwards as Jaemin grabs your face with force, a throb lingering from the impact against the wall. His fingers dig into your cheeks, thumb dipped in your drying blood. Your hands grip his forearm and he tugs you forwards, decreasing the proximity between his face and yours. It’s faint, but a peach scent surrounds the man. 

Jaemin runs his thumb against your lips, and a metallic taste overrides your senses. “I’ll ask again, Y/N. Is”—he parts your lips with the push of his thumb—“that”—his nail grazes your tongue—“consent?” 

A beat.

“Yes.”

Before you can release the entire breath, his hand wraps around your throat in a rough yet careful choke. With brute strength, Jaemin lifts you onto your feet, your knees buckling at the sudden exertion. There’s no time to adjust as his lips latch onto yours, snagging whatever oxygen you have left. He’s always been impatient, and even during foreplay, he shows no patience. 

Your heavy pants fill the silence as he devours your lips, his tongue sliding against your tongue. Your lips that were chapped are now moist, saliva leaking from the corner of your lips. His empty hand situates itself on your hip, and you gasp when he runs it up under your shirt. 

“Would’ve been sexier if you had your flimsy costume on,” he muttered against your lips. “Always wanted to strip you of that red abomination.” 

“Sh—Shut up,” you groan, his hand grasping your breast. Your eyes flutter when he pushes aside your bra and pinches your nipple. The act leaves your core throbbing, aching for more. “Fuck, finger me.”

Jaemin kisses your chin. “If you blow me after, sure.”

You make the effort to glare at him. “I fucking hate y—oh.” Your jaw slacks as he shoves the hand on your neck into the warmth of your underwear, knuckles grazing the damp fabric. 

“So wet, princess,” he jeers, using the nickname you loathed during the start of your youth. “I wonder who you’re so aroused for?”

“Jeno, obviously,” you scoff, and Jaemin pulls away from you, his touch leaving your skin. “Wh—hey!”

The blonde distances himself from you, licking his fingers clean of your essence. “Hm?” he hums, an eyebrow raised. “I’m not about to fuck a girl who’s got another man’s name on her mind.” 

You lean against the wall for support. “Holy fuck, you’re so lame.”

“Run to Jeno, then.”

Fuck. You swallow his saliva from the messy kiss, and with it, your pride. “Shit. Fine, I’m sorry. Can you fuck me now? I’ll even suck your dick.” 

Jaemin beams, and it has your pussy dripping. “Of course! Since my princess asked so nicely,” he sings, daintily taking your hands in his. Your heart stutters as he places gentle kisses along your knuckles, and then the pad of your fingers. It’s sweet, until he throws your hands up and restrains them against the wall with ice. 

“How pretty,” he muses, trailing his pointer finger down your cheek. Jaemin bunches your shirt and bra so it sits atop your chest, revealing your bare breasts. You shiver from the chill, but are warmed right away when his hands roam your torso. A gasp rips from your throat when the man teases your pants down, sliding two long fingers into your cunt. Soft and shaky moans tumble from your lips, prompting Jaemin to move his fingers. His thumb—the blood clad one—circles your clit, fingers pulsing in and out of you with ease. He’s cruel, dragging the tip of his digits against the soft flesh of your walls. 

As Jaemin fingers you, he seals your lips with his once again in a breathless kiss. Your tongue meshes with his, teeth clashing every so often. One hand returns to your neck, laying at the base in a tough hold. “Oh—” you mewl, “I’m so—”

Jaemin removes his fingers, and you fall limp, the restraints preventing you from crumpling to the floor. Your mind is hazy, but you manage to say, “You’re such a bitch.” 

“Mhm, I am, princess.” he coos, unbuckling the belt looped around his jeans. Like you, he’s in casual attire, having dressed in civilian clothing when kidnapping you in the mall. He unzips the fly, head thrown back as he frees his hard dick. You whimper, biting your lower lip at the sight. “Aren’t you so honest?” 

“Fuck,” you groan, touch-deprived. “It’s huge.”

“Can you make a condom?” he asks, slapping his length against your bare stomach. The precum smears all over your pretty skin. “I didn’t bring one, and I’d rather not get you pregnant.” 

Jaemin’s either dumb or clever for relying on you to whip out protection. But you obey, formulating a packaged condom with whatever lipids left in your body. It pops out of your arm, and Jaemin catches it with a lopsided grin. He rips the packet open with his teeth, tossing the foil aside whilst rolling the plastic over his dick. You watch, counting down the seconds until he’s inside. 

“Are you ready?” he whispers, lips grazing your ear. 

“…Yes.” 

Your answer is all he needs as he pushes into you, easily slipping in with the help of your lubrication. You release a shaky moan, eyes rolling back from pure pleasure. Jaemin hauls one of your legs over his bicep, and he catches your face in his hand. Your lustful gaze meets his, and you feel a thrill run down your spine at the look in his eyes. 

He’s hungry—sex hungry, and you’re his doll to ruin. 

Slowly, Jaemin pulls out before thrusting, the tip of his dick prodding your cervix. You cry out, hitting the ice wrapped around your wrists. Over and over and over again, Jaemin pounds into you, groaning the dirtiest words as does. Your back hits the wall every time his hips meet yours, but the pain drowns in the plethora of pleasure. 

“So tight,” he rasps, speed increasing by the second. “You feel so, so fucking good.”

“Ah, oh my—god,” you whine, chasing his lips. He grants you a kiss, and you murmur, “Harder, fuck me harder.” 

Challenges are a way to rile Jaemin up, and it seems he’s taken your plea as one. The villain grips your thighs as he lets out a low, guttural growl. He thrusts faster, at a speed you can’t comprehend. You’re seeing stars, tasting stars, in an absolute bliss no writer can describe. Jaemin stutters each time you clench around his dick, your pussy sending him into overdrive. 

“Hey, cum for me.” he mutters, biting your lower lip. 

You pant, running out of breath. “I’m close,” you chant, relishing the way his entire length fits inside of you. You beg, “Please—please don’t stop.”

“Keep asking.”

“Finish me off, Jaemin,” you moan. “I’m so close!”

Jaemin reaches for the restraints, melting them with his left hand. In one swift motion, he turns you so your cheek lays flat against the wall, ass out for him to see. He whistles, fondling the soft flesh. Your mewls don’t stop, spilling endlessly as he continues to slam into you. 

“Jaemin!” you cry, clenching around his dick. “Close—close—so close—”

“Let it out, princess.”

And you do, orgasming with his dick still inside. You whimper when he keeps thrusting, chasing his high while simultaneously overstimulating you. Your mind is hazy when he draws his dick out, the condom full of his cum. Support is gone as Jaemin backs away, and you fall to the ground, recovering from the wild fuck you just had. 

“Shit, maybe I should’ve come on your face,” he mutters, fixing his pants. Shirtless, he crouches so his eyes are parallel to yours. “You good?” 

You spit and it lands on his chin. “I’m still trapped, asshole.” 

“If you blow me—”

His words are cut short when the window explodes, the building crumbling from the impact. Both you and Jaemin glance over to the gaping hole in the wall, a confused Giselle standing atop the debris. She scans your half-naked body, then his lack of shirt, and analyzes the scene in no time. 

“Ten! They fucked!” 

A snicker flies from Jaemin’s lips as he tosses his shirt back on, ruffling his blond hair in amusement. The man glimpses Giselle’s preoccupied state and looks back at you. With a wink, he says, “I’ll contact you for that blowjob. Later, princess.” 

You simply blink as he runs off, escaping before he’s forced to engage in a (tedious) fight. When reality hits you and your mind registers his words, a disturbed scowl settles on your face. 

You can’t die yet.

And for now, Na Jaemin seems to think the same as he hints at an upcoming rendezvous.

© NABI (2023); ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.