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delusional-day-dreamer · 2 months

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New Year's Kiss - p.b

‣ paige bueckers x reader

‣ wc: 3567

‣‣ synopsis: you were known as one of the calmest, most well-tempered players on the ucon wbb roster. so what happens if you lose your cool for the first time in a game? takes place at the uconn vs notre dame game on dec 31, 2022: based off this post/req from my nonnie 🫶, and lowk inspired by paige's bloody nose at the uconn vs seton hall game!

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys.... i'm so sorry for being so inactive but the writer's block hit me HARD. I have a few more drafts in progress I hope to release this week, thank y'all SO MUCH for the support and patience! Also, for the opponent in this game i refer to her solely as the, "marquette girl", as i don't know their players that well and don't want to use an irl girl!

Up until the second half of the game, everything had been going decent for you. Sure, this game was one of the most aggressive of the season, but you were right in the peak of your season, so it made sense that emotions were running high with the pressure to do well.

But that didn't excuse the fact that the Marquette girl that had been assigned to defend you had been playing dirty the entire night. After the fucking hellish week you had just gotten through, this girl was about to be the straw that broke the camel's. your, back.

After Paige's acl tear in August and the work and energy you had been endlessly pouring into your game from the past two and a half years till now, you had basically solidified your place as one of the main starters on the team, which meant you were receiving a lot more consistent playing time. The thought of being a more prominent player on the team didn't panic you the way it might others, as you you were known for always being a very level-headed, reliable player under pressure, as you had been dubbed by the media as the "Silent Assassin". But tonight was proving to test your limits to the max.

Any time you were on the court for the first two quarters, the Marquette girl had been glued to you, illegally all up in your space, pushing and shoving at you, taunting you over and over again, and even tripping you once when you lunged for the ball. All of which she had done without receiving a single foul, which not only pissed you off, but also your teammates on the court, the players on your bench, and your coach.

And of course, the one time you had defended yourself against her in the second quarter was the only time the ref called a foul on both of you. She had nearly pressed herself up against you the second your hands came in contact with the ball, leaving you with no choice but to pass to your teammate Aaliyah to sink a layup, when she hooked her arm through yours and pulled just as the ball left your hands.

Her unnecessary aggression caused something to snap inside of you, as the second you felt her yank on your arm, you turned around to push her off of you, hard. She stumbled backwards a little bit, not tripping or hitting the ground in any way, but the damage had been done in the, very biased, eyes of the refs.

The two of you rapidly reacted, approaching each other as you were yelling out meaningless threats and a long string of curses. Thankfully, your teammates holding the two of you back firmly, preventing any further physical altercations.

The two of you both received technical fouls for the unnecessary physical contact and unsportsmanlike behaviour. However, the foul you received only irked you more. Why were the only fouls called on her when it involved you pushing back? Could they not see the way she was treating you the entire game?

And of course, Geno wasn't thrilled about one of his starters getting a tech in the first half of the game. While benched, he had chewed you out for losing your temper at her, especially for cursing, which was something refs never let slide. But his reprimands didn't hold the usual level of anger or frustration, as he internally agreed that the Marquette girl had it coming for her, but, he had to remain professional.

Of course basketball was a physical sport, and with aggression came some conflicts with other players, but her behaviour tonight was unprovoked and incredibly aggravating to you. Which only worsened in the third quarter.

After your tech, you had been trying your best to ignore the incredibly annoying actions of the Marquette girl, but you simply couldn't anymore after she had purposely elbowed you in the nose to make her shot.

You immediately stumbled backwards, folding over at the waist as your hands came up in an attempt to alleviate the intense throbbing your nose felt. You could feel the blood begin to dribble down to your lip as you walked over to the bench with Lou escorting you, awaiting the ref's call.

The refs decided to not call a foul on the other girl, claiming that she hadn't reached backwards on purpose, it was simply the angle of her basket and granted UConn two free throws. The call enraged you, and something inside you snapped. You very quickly forgot about the tissue you were firmly holding at your nostrils as you approached him, insisting with him that the call was blind and blatantly biased.

You hadn't noticed the blood resumed to flow down your face while arguing until it hit your mouth, but you paid no mind to the taste of iron that filled your mouth as you persisted angrily speaking to the ref.

"Paige, go get her before she gets another tech," Geno whispered into Paige's ears over by the bench.

She nodded at him, making her way over to you to pull you away from the ref who was now threatening to eject you from the game.

"Okay enough, you need to get checked out by the team medic," Paige wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you away from your heated conversation, despite your struggle against her. She wasn't that much taller than you, but the extra two ish inches she had on you were proving useful right now.

She dragged you over to the bench, ignoring your many protests. She pried the used, bloody tissue out of your fingers to toss to the medic waste bag, grabbing new ones from her hand to help your bloody nose. It was apparent to everyone on your team, even the fans watching, that your stubbornness wouldn't allow you to accept the call that easily and allow the medic to clean you up. So, Paige would just have to do it herself.

Since your first day on the Uconn campus, you and Paige had become extremely close. With the two of you being assigned roommates your freshman year, the COVID year, it would've been impossible to not become best friends, considering the fact that you spent all of your time together.

If not at practice or hanging out with the team, the two of you were trapped inside your dorm, forced to find company within each other for the entire year. And with Paige's injury her sophomore year, you were one of the only people she was able to open up to, other than Azzi, and you had become her comfort during her rehab time, both then and now. Despite no longer being roommates, you two still always hung out at each other's respective dorm, even having frequent sleepovers.

Your incredibly close relationship wasn't left unnoticed by the media either, especially social media platforms like tiktok. When Paige and Azzi denied the relationship allegations at the same time you made it clear that you liked girls, the internet quickly refocused their attention onto you and Paige, and neither of you had the heart to deny any rumors circulating. Considering that after Azzi, you were the least active on your social media when it came to anything other than basketball, it wasn't too hard to ignore the internet's speculation.

All of which to say, Paige had made it incredibly easy for you to catch feelings for her. Until her, you had never known what it was like to be completely head over heels for someone. The way your heart skipped any time the two of you made eye contact, the way your cheeks flushed when she brushed against you, and the chemistry the two of you shared on and off the court was undeniable.

Unbeknownst to you, she felt the exact same way, and for the last two years, everyone but you two could see the feelings you harbored for each other.

If only you could feel the way her heart was beating as she held your face in one hand, using the other to apply pressure to your nose and wipe away at the blood on your face, neck, and jersey as she listened to you rant about the refs and how they were cheating you guys out of fouls the entire game. Although, she wasn't able to focus on the words coming out of your mouth, only the plumpness of your lips as they moved, something you noticed as your verbal attack slowed down so you could take a breath in between your sentences.

"She's literally fucking stuck up my ass and the refs ignore her which is actual bullshit, the amount of times this girl has literally made unnecessary contact or-, Paige are you even listening to me?"

Her lingering gaze on your mouth quickly snapped up to your eyes, a sheepish smile settling onto her now flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah sorry."

She wiped the remaining blood from around your nose before calling over the medic to check your nose. A small bruise had formed near the bridge, but thankfully it wasn't broken. While she was checking your nose, Paige did her best to avoid meeting your curious stares.

Of course the two of you had small moments where you could envision that Paige felt the same for you. But never one that was so blatantly obvious as her staring at your lips, especially so publicly.

Nonetheless, you barely had time to analyze the interaction before the medic was clearing you to return to the game, Paige patting your butt (this) as you jogged by her to sub back into the game, which, until the handshake line, went without any further incidents, despite your team beating them by 13 points (HVL VS TEXAS Y'ALL).

When passing by you, you heard her mutter under her breath, "fucking bitch," in response to your half-hearted, "good game". It was safe to say you didn't take that well, responding to her with, "you wanna come say that to my fucking face? Pussy ass bitch." For both of your sakes, Dorka and one of her teammates were able to keep pushing the two of you down the line and out to the lockers before the post-game conference with Lou, Nika, and Dorka, which Geno insisted you attend to apologize for your behaviour.

***Small Time Skip***

"So Y/N, the multiple incidents that occured tonight with you and (BLANK) from Georgetown, do you have anything to say about them? I mean, you're known for being a very calm and collected player, but tonight we saw a very different side of you," a reporter questioned you. The questions for you from tonight's post-game conference mostly avoided the fight, treading the waters carefully as it was unlike anything you had ever been involved in.

"I'm not gonna try and cover for myself or anything, it was unprofessional and unacceptable for me to lose my temper on the court like that. Like you said, I've always tried to place an emphasis on just basketball when playing and avoid any other personal feelings or problems, but I guess tonight I didn't do as good of a job on that as I could of. This is something that I will keep in mind for all of our upcoming games as that's not the kind of image or reputation I want to set for myself or the team I represent. I would never want this kind of behaviour to be defining moments from our games because my teammates really put their all into every single one of their games, especially tonight's, and I don't want to create any personal animosity with the girls on the Marquette team, as I have a lot of respect for them."

Your diplomatic and cordial answer had appeased majority of the reporters, along with Geno and the team publicist in the back corner of the room. Except for one nosy reporter who seemed unhappy with your tactful response and was practically feining for drama.

“This one is for y/n, but with the events of today, you mentioned that you try to keep all personal feelings off the court. Is that an implication of some external underlying tension or problems between you and number (BLANK), as the two of you got quite physical today?”

What the fuck? Now they really were trying to start something between the two of you that never existed in the first place.

“No not at all. I have no connection with number (BLANK) off the court and don’t even personally know her. As I mentioned before, I have nothing but respect for the girls at Marquette and there are no hard feelings on my end. You know, basketball is a physical contact game and that just means that there a few rough moments here and there, it’s just part of the game.”

If they ask any more stupid questions about you and the Marquette girl you were actually gonna lose your mind. Especially if they somehow tie in the fact that you like girls with the fight.

Which, thankfully, they ended up dropping the fight for the rest of the interview, and you and the others were finally allowed to go out and celebrate New Year's Eve the way they had originally planned to.

The whole team, and Kayla of course, was prepared to celebrate at your favorite local bar, Ted's. All of the girls who were taken were bringing their partners along and those of you who were single were all ready to hunt someone down for a drunken kiss at midnight. Except you.

You were far too down bad for Paige to even fathom kissing someone else at the moment, especially not while going out with her and the rest of the team, who all knew about your ginormous crush on Paige.

Nonetheless, you still did your best to get ready quickly, wearing your baggiest pair of low-rise cargo pants and a very cropped white halter tank top in an attempt to cheer yourself up from the fact you wouldn't have a New Year's kiss this year, again.

But by the time you were throwing back shots at the bar like they were water, you couldn't find it in you to care about how single you were. It was common knowledge that you weren't the best at holding your liquor, as the team often made fun of your ability to get drunk off of two to three shots, which is exactly the position you found yourself in.

Until, of course, "guardian angel Paige" decided she needed to intervene in your drinkfest, walking up to your barstool and effectively cutting you off by having the bartender replace your drink with a regular shirley temple just before midnight so that she, or any of your other friends, wouldn't have to deal with you throwing up at four in the morning.

"You gotta go easy on the shots y/n/n, you're gonna hate yourself in the morning if you keep drowning your liver in alcohol."

"Funny, coming from Storrs's resident party girl, Miss Madison," you teased. There were only about twenty minutes left until bar's tv would depict the ball dropping in New York, and the disparity of your situation had begun to sink in.

Not only would you be suffering through another New Year's with no midnight kiss, but you had no relationships since last year or even a single talking stage, no potential relationship prospects for the future, and worst of all, no Paige.

"Yeah well, at least I can hold my drinks. You, on the other hand, are the most lightweight out of all of us. Besides, what happened to your little New Years tradition, the whole eating the grapes thing to find the love of your life or whatever?"

You went off on a little drunken tangent at this, complaining that it was completely ineffective, but also, the fact that it made you look stupid in front of the entire team when absolutely nothing came out of it.

"I mean it's so dumb. I don't get why my love life is so barren, like actually non-existent, it's not like I'm super unattractive or anything like that. Right? But like, I don't even have a midnight kiss this year, again," you grumbled to Paige, unaware of the way she was staring at your lips for the second time today, mesmerized by their movements.

"You are most definitely not unattractive. You're like one of the most attractive people I know. Besides, it's not like I'm kissing anyone this year," Paige reassured you, and somehow, your drunk brain simply did not process the way she had flusteredly complimented you.

"Yeah but you're Paige Bueckers," you emphasized, "you could kiss anyone in this bar if you wanted. Men and women, single and taken, would literally form a line two blocks down if you even mentioned wanting to kiss someone," you gazed up at Paige from your leaned position against the bartop, watching as the gears turned behind her eyes.

"Anyone in the bar? Like, anyone at all?" She asked you curiously, a small smirk graced her features as she peered down at you.

"Yeah probably, but there's only like two minutes left or something, so you should pick someone soon."

"Oh I already have someone picked out, I just don't know if they would kiss me back."

"Oh?" You felt your stomach drop at her statement, and you couldn't stop the jealousy from coursing through your veins if your life had depended on it. But Paige's unwavering gaze never left your face, and you could feel your cheeks flush at the way she was intently looking at you.

"Quite the staring problem tonight P?"

"Well it's pretty hard to not stare at the prettiest girl in the room," she flirted, scooting closer to you, effectively closing some of the distance between you two.

"I-, what?" You stuttered, taken back by Paige's actions.

"How many hints does I have to drop before you finally start picking up on them? I want to kiss you y/n, I want you."

The ten-second countdown had begun as Paige confessed to you, and you were left gawking at Paige's face, your heart threatening to give out from how fast it was beating.

"FIVE, FOUR,"

You yanked on Paige's belt loop, pulling her flush against your body as your eyes focused in on her lips.

"THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR'S!""

Your right hand reached up to grab Paige's jaw at the end of the countdown, pulling her lips firmly down onto yours. The bar's loud chants barely registered to you as you lost yourself in the intoxication of Paige's lips. Your tongue glided across her lip as your mouths moved in unison, causing her to groan into you. You took it as an invitation to slip your tongue into her mouth, the kiss deepening with unrestrained passion.

Your built-up need for each other was apparent as you made out, sending shivers down your spine at the pressure of her mouth against yours. It felt as if she was the oxygen you needed to breathe, and now that you had her, there was no way you could let her go now.

***The next morning: New Year's Day***

Your eyes fluttered open with a pounding headache, yet, the utterly familiar weight of a certain pairs of hands around your waist provided a sense of comfort you knew only she could provide.

Paige's soft snores rung out throughout the room, and as you gently reached forward to her nightstand to grab your phone off charging, you realize it was still extremely early in the morning, not even eight a.m.

And yet, your phone was blowing up with notifications from all social media platforms, even your text messages had over a hundred notifications.

Confused, you click on the apps to check what all the fuss was about, quickly realizing what had happened.

The entire interaction between you and Paige at the game was recorded by the cameramen and had instantaneously made it's way all over the internet, only fueling the dating rumors about the two of you.

The comments and posts were going feral at the way Paige was the only one who could calm you down, the way she wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you back, her holding your face ever so delicately, her smacking your butt as you ran back onto the court, and of course, her transparent staring at your lips the entire time you were an inch apart from her.

"What are you looking at baby," Paige sleepily mumbled into your neck, tightening her grip around your waist to pull you further into her, slinging her right leg over your waist.

You put your phone down and turned in her hold, wrapping your arms around her body as you peered down at Paige's sleepy face, admiring how beautiful she always looked.

"Your fans are going crazy about how obviously down bad you are for me P," you teased, running your foot up and down her calf as Paige pressed her face into your chest to absorb your body heat.

"Let them, just go back to sleep with me for a little bit longer."

And of course, how could you ever say no when your girlfriend was asking you so sweetly?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, and i'm so sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, i just wanted to finally get another fic out 🤗

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skamenglishsubs · 6 months

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Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 2

Episode 2 starts days or maybe a week after episode 1. The curfews and phone ban is in place, so Wilhelm and Simon make the most of their one hour of phone sex talking.

Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm snapped a quick instant picture of himself and Simon at the palace in the last episode, using the camera we saw on his desk. The heart is still on his hand, so maybe it's the next day, or maybe he's been filling it in every day.

Cinematography: Intense red light typically symbolizes their mutual love, and this scene is overflowing with it.

Lost in translation: They both finish the phone call with "puss", which means kiss, but not exactly. It's more platonic, something you can say and do with your parents, or your kids, or end phone calls with. The other word for kiss, "kyss", is more romantic/sexual, and would be super weird to end a phone call with. Simon is using that word when he says he would kiss Wilhelm's collar bone birth mark.

Subtext: Of course Vincent doesn't believe anyone was bullied. He's the biggest bully, but what he does is just a joke, or the other guy deserved it. This is gonna be a recurring theme™ in this episode, how various characters look back on and remember, or choose not to remember, what happened to them.

Subtext: If you didn't pick up this meaningful glance, you're blind. The initiation porno was totally real, and Nils and August clearly remember it, and weren't as flippant about it as Vincent.

Culture: In Sweden, inner city schools are typically better and have richer students than the poorer schools out in the suburbs. This is the exact opposite of the typical US school demographical pattern.

Subtext: Wilhelm avoids Farima's question by evading it. Note that it does make sense that she doesn't know what's going on at these schools since she's an employee, she's not upper-class herself. Wilhelm's parents know though since they attended Hillerska, but they would of course never admit it either.

Culture: Ironically, this is exactly how the real-world Danish royal family handled the Herlufsholm scandal in 2022 involving prince Christian. Only when the media storm in Denmark got too intense did they pull him out of the school, while furiously denying knowledge of the abuse or that he was involved in any way.

Cinematography: We're in the cursed music room, but the light is soft and golden, and the scene is just cute. No fight this time.

Subtext: We're touching the theme™ again, but from Simon's perspective. He has the same outsider perspective we have; speaking up about abuse is always good, and if the school's closing because of it, that's an obviously good thing. There's plenty of scenes in this episode showing that most Hillerska students don't share this perspective, they really love their school, as fucked up as it is.

Subtext: Although it sounds like a rehearsed PR line and Felice is thinking about her girl group here, it's gonna come true for her and Sara.

Subtext: Yuck. No further comment.

Cinematography: The immediate cut to Felice getting her aggressions out in gym class shows us exactly what she thought of what the principal said and how much it pissed her off.

Blink and you miss it: Simon audibly sniffs Wilhelm's hair.

Blink and you miss it: Micke made dinner for both of them, but in her depression, Sara ignores the cooked food (Pyttipanna, btw), and makes herself a cucumber sandwich instead.

Subtext: Micke is a man on a mission, and he is constantly steering the conversation towards helping Sara get her driver's license. For him, it's a way to make up for having been a shitty parent.

Culture: Sweden has long been a holdout of stick-shift cars, and if you don't do your practical test in a stick-shift, you'll get a restricted license, so it's not out of the ordinary for Micke to be teaching Sara how to drive one. However, automatics have seen a sharp rise in the last decade, and in 2024 automatics will finally overtake them.

Culture: The green ÖVNINGSKÖRNING sign is compulsory in Sweden if a car is being driven by someone on a learner's permit, with a parent or friend as the instructor. There's also a red version of the sign, which indicates it's a student driver with a professional instructor in a dual control car.

Cinematography: The room is filled to the brim with things to do, there's a bazillion board games, they have books, magazines, fidget thingies, they're drowning in stuff, and yet the girls are still soooooo boooored just because they don't have their phones. Except Madison, who is knitting.

Subtext: Here comes the theme™ again, and Fredrika is firmly in camp denial. Everyone else is just lying and exaggerating! The wheels are starting to turn in Felice's head though.

Subtext: Nils and August are finally talking about the initiation without Vincent being present, and they can finally be honest about what they actually thought about it. It happened, they didn't like.

Subtext: Their idea of fixing it however is not to go out publicly and talk about it, but to just quietly stop the tradition, hoping they'll be the last ones. (Since there are no second-year students in the show, we have no idea what happened to them, so we're just gonna ignore that.)

Subtext: And here comes the reason that August wanted to put a stop to it. He was completely humiliated by it, and he doesn't want anyone else to know that he was humiliated, because that just makes it worse. This is also the reason that traditions like this keep on going, no-one wants to blow the whistle on it, because everyone was abused, everyone was a victim, it's hard for abuse victims to speak up.

Cinematography: The talk with Nils triggered an anxiety attack for August, and being inside his small room doesn't exactly help. Him going so close to the camera that he almost bumps into it really shows how he feels like the walls are closing in on him.

Culture: This, kids, is a standard Swedish landline telephone jack. For the longest time I thought phone jacks looked like this everywhere, but it turns out that this particular design was only used in Sweden and Iceland(!?!). You won't find these in newer buildings because landlines are pretty much dying out, and if there are phone jacks they'll probably be using the much more common RJ-11 standard.

Culture: This, kids, is an Ericsson Diavox phone. The former government phone monopoly in Sweden, Televerket, only allowed certified and approved phones to be used on the network, and they only approved a very small set of phones, so everyone had pretty much the same phones in their homes. However, in the 1980's the market started getting flooded with "illegal" phones from other countries, so the monopoly simply stopped enforcing the rule, and you could finally, finally, plug in that novelty Garfield phone that you always wanted.

Blink and you miss it: Sara is studying for her driving test, and she's reading about driving in the dark.

Subtext: We're gearing up for the main plotline of the season, dropping more hints that maybe Wilhelm's image of Erik wasn't complete, and what August says sows some seeds of doubt in him.

Subtext: This song is objectively not very good, please don't kill me, but it is very sixteen-year-old-boy-just-singing-from-his-heart, not thinking about the text.

Subtext: Simon isn't wearing anything purple, but just after he posts his song video, he picks up a purple shirt, drops it immediately, and then the camera lingers on it. Colour theory goes brrrrrrrr. He thought about Wilhelm, and then stopped because his music is more important to him or something?

Subtext: Unlike Simon, Wilhelm immediately understands how problematic the text is for him, and how people will interpret it...

Subtext: ...but since he doesn't want to hurt Simon's feelings, he lies about why he thinks the song was a very, very bad idea. And he cushions it by telling Simon that he thinks the song is jätte-jätte-bra. Giant-giant-good.

Subtext: Yes, but also no, and someone from the court really should have given Simon some media training and explained to him why he has to be very careful about what he posts. But it's drama fuel, which is why this disaster is allowed to happen.

Subtext: A nice little throwback to season 1, this is exactly what Erik told Wilhelm in the first episode, about making sure that their public image is carefully curated.

Subtext: That's some on-the-nose foreshadowing there, since Felice is one of the main causes for the school ultimately closing.

Subtext: We're back to the theme™, Fredrika is saying pretty much the same thing as Vincent. It didn't happen, and if it did, it wasn't that bad.

Subtext: However, Felice isn't playing along this time, she's starting to speak up about the issues, and the result is a long, awkward silence, because her friends are not willing to do the same.

Subtext: Wilhelm and the rest of the rich kids are of course all wearing pretty expensive high-end hiking gear, in contrast with Simon who is simply wearing one of his usual hoodies and his usual winter jacket that we've seen before. That's a damn fine jacket from Fjällräven, btw, the same company that makes the weirdly globally popular Kånken backpacks.

Blink and you miss it: Henry is getting dragged for his actually quite reasonable objection to the tent groupings.

Subtext: Felice physically distances herself from her friends, and joins Simon and Wilhelm, in a nice little foreshadowing of the show's ending.

Blink and you miss it: Did you miss the line in last episode where Ayub said they were also gonna go camping at Talludden with their classmates from Marieberg? Well, here they are, because they pitched their tents nearby, and decided to go check out the Hillerska camp. It's not just Rosh and Ayub randomly walking through the woods.

Subtext: In season 2, we learned that Stella has a crush on Fredrika that she thinks is one-sided, but Fredrika sure has some kind of reaction to seeing Stella being close with Rosh. Jealousy, perhaps? Not clear at this point in time.

Subtext: Read the room Fredrika, for fuck's sake. At least Wilhelm has started learning to recognize privilege. The other rich kids probably recognize their privilege, but they're mostly just enjoying how much better they are than the poor regular kids.

Subtext: But Wilhelm's still got a lot more to learn. Yes, technically he is forced to spend his summer studying, and technically it is a kind of work, but the underlying reasons are completely different. If he skips it or fails, nothing bad will happen to him, unlike the Marieberg kids who rely on their summer jobs to have any sort of spending money.

Lost in translation: Wilhelm's dad says that the queen is going to be "sjukskriven", which is more serious than someone deciding on their own to take some time off or to use some sick days. It means that a doctor has evaluated you and decided that you are not fit to work, and that if you're a regular person, you are eligible for sick pay for the foreseeable future.

Cinematography: Yeah, mommy is really sick and Wilhelm is feeling the weight of responsibility, but take a look at that sunrise! It's so pretty! Wilhelm is completely in shadow because trouble whatever, but look at how that light just pops, with the sky and the water and the sun on the trees! Beautiful!

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis #young royals season 3

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pascaloverx · 2 months

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BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Thank you and happy reading.

PREVIEW TWO

ONE

The journey back to the Red Keep is silent. Aemond communicates only through impatient grunts whenever your hand slips from his waist or when a trot from his horse makes you sway closer to him. The truth is, you’re unsure how to hold onto his waist without practically merging with him. And he’s impatiently racing toward the castle. Your mind is restless. How are you supposed to claim a dragon for Prince Aemond? And what if you fail and end up dead?

"When we arrive at the Red Keep, follow me without further interaction. It’s crucial that your existence remains a secret. We’ll depart as soon as possible to find some use for you. However, your clothes, as well as your smell, betray your origins as a smallfolk. If I’m to endure this journey in your company, it’s better that you’re not reeking." Aemond’s first words directed at you cause discomfort. Not that being treated this way is new, but the discomfort comes from the reality that, once you head toward Dragonstone with Aemond.

"It seems that the mighty Prince Aemond is forgetting that the only safe way to reach Dragonstone without being recognized is by looking like someone like me. Without that fancy attire or that fresh scent, as if you’ve just bathed. Even your silky hair gives away your position. I know how to be invisible, my dear Prince; the question is whether you can be too." You speak, resisting a fleeting urge to lean against Prince Aemond’s back and rest your head on his shoulders.

"I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter. Allow me to offer you the opportunity to remain silent before I silence you for good." Prince Aemond could easily embody the arrogant prince. You glance over your shoulder and notice him slightly turning back, likely wanting to gauge your reaction to his threat. You stare at him without saying a word, and you can tell he’s proud of having silenced you.

A few moments later, you arrive at the Red Keep. In that first moment, you question how you’re supposed to dismount from the cursed horse. Aemond has no trouble at all, though he nearly knocks you off in the process of getting down himself. He then begins speaking with some of the King’s guards. Unsure of what to say, you remain silent, still on the horse. You think that if you were to risk a deadly escape, this would be the perfect moment—though lacking any real riding skills, you probably wouldn’t get far. Just then, something makes Prince Aemond notice your hesitation.

“Do you intend to stay on that horse all day? We have tasks to complete,” Prince Aemond snaps, his tone sharp and impatient—his usual demeanor. You look at him, embarrassed. Perhaps he expected a prostitute to know how to dismount a horse with ease. After all, riding cock it's part of what you do for a living.

"I do not intend to waste any more of your time, Your Highness. But I must point out that if I have no idea how to get on a horse, how am I supposed to get off?" You look at Prince Aemond with a certain boldness, wanting to laugh at the angry expression that hovers over his face. He says nothing, simply extends his hands toward you and immediately pulls you down, as if his impatience has reached its limit. His cold hands brush against your skin, indirectly touching your thigh as he yanks you off the horse. You let out a small groan, not as quiet as you would have liked but nothing too conspicuous. The feeling of his hands on you sends shivers down your spine. He however, slightly drops you on the floor as if you were an expendable utensil. You almost stagger but manage to balance yourself as you watch Prince Aemond turn away. You fix your ragged dress as he tries to compose himself, before following Aemond who is already entering the castle.

Aemond orders a few servants to assist you in bathing and changing out of your current attire. He instructs them to provide you with discreet clothing and a cloak. Then he turns to you and whispers near your face, "When you’re done bathing, come to my chambers." You’re not entirely sure why he wants this or if he realizes you have no idea where his chambers are. But you nod gently, confirming that you will go to him.

A servant leads you to a secluded area where there’s a communal bathing space, with other servants also bathing. The sensation of being seen by strangers while you’re naked is a familiar one. Murmurs fill the air, and everyone seems curious about you, though no one speaks to you directly. Not even the servant assisting you. You imagine they’re afraid of Aemond. After all, you are like them—a servant. Moments later, you find yourself dressed in different clothes, delicate and unlike anything you’re used to wearing. The servant finally speaks when she notices your confused gaze, searching for Prince Aemond’s chambers.

"Prince Aemond's chambers are just beyond that door. Knock before entering if you wish to remain alive." The servant speaks softly with unexpected delicacy. You look at her as if relieved to finally know where his chambers are. You want to thank her but imagine that she would rather pretend that this interaction between you two never happened. So you quickly head to Prince Aemond's chambers, silently and taken by nervousness. The servant's words are still clear in your mind as you knock on the door.

Despite knocking on the door, there was no response. You find yourself compelled to enter Aemond’s chambers without an invitation. You fear his anger for not following his order to come to him after bathing. You enter quietly, taking calm steps and making no noise. The first thing you notice is how spacious the room is and how warm it feels compared to the cold water you just bathed in. You immediately think that being a legitimate child of a King must have unimaginable advantages, and you wish you could one day enjoy such comfort for yourself.

"Since you so imprudently entered my chambers, perhaps you'd like to assist me…" Prince Aemond says, appearing suddenly in front of you, which startles you. But it’s not exactly his presence that frightens you. What frightens you is the fact that he is naked. Completely naked, just with his hair loose, even without the eyepatch. Immediately you turn around.

"Your Highness, what kind of assistance do you require from me?" You speak almost as clearly as you can. You have just seen Prince Aemond's cock. And despite your familiarity with cocks, you were not prepared. For a moment, you hope he doesn't misinterpret your reaction.

"I require your assistance to bathe. Do not let your imagination deceive you; I have no intention of having you as a woman in any situation, neither now nor in the future," he says, his tone dry, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. He truly seems to disdain you, yet he prefers your assistance over that of any other servant in the castle. You nod slightly, acknowledging that you understand he does not desire you, and then turn to approach the bathtub where Aemond has just entered. You need to crouch but manage to assist Prince Aemond as you take the sponge and begin to wash his body.

"Prince Aemond, do you really intend to leave your dragon here and come with me to claim another dragon?" you ask, trying to gently wash his body with the sponge while he seems lost in his own thoughts before your question interrupts him.

"Certainly, it is a risk. But leaving a prostitute I do not trust to seek out a precious asset like a dragon, whether alone or accompanied by one of the Kingsguard, seems foolish to me," Prince Aemond says, observing you with his remaining eye as you touch his back and neck with the sponge. The scent of flowers from the bathwater fills the air, creating a palpable tension between you and Aemond.

"If you do not trust anyone around you, your nights must be quite restless. I may not understand what it means to be a Prince, but it seems lonely not being able to count on someone to do what you expect of them. At least you seem to trust Vhagar, since you’re leaving her here," you say, turning to wash the front of Prince Aemond, positioning yourself face-to-face with him. He then grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him. His remaining eye seems to bore into your soul as you face him, the scar over his other eye drawing even more attention. You don't understand the reason for his sudden proximity, though you can guess that you must have irritated him.

"Your curiosity about my feelings is an inconvenience. Whether my nights are restful or not is of no concern to you. Whether I trust or distrust those around me is irrelevant to you. The only matter you need to focus on at this moment is that you are to claim a dragon on behalf of the rightful King Aegon II. Now, you may leave my chambers. A servant will show you where you will be staying for the night. Tomorrow, we shall depart for Dragonstone," he says with a stern demeanor. You sense that you have touched upon something deeply personal. You set the sponge aside in the bath and, without further words, proceed to find your lodgings for the night.

The following morning, you are roused by a servant who informs you that Prince Aemond is awaiting your presence. Your body aches from having slept in a corner, far from the scrutiny of any significant figures in the castle, as per the Prince’s instructions to remain as inconspicuous as possible. You are provided with a piece of bread and a bit of water to refresh yourself, and then you are prepared for departure. A cloak is draped over you to aid in disguising your appearance.

You are then escorted to the castle’s exit, where you find Prince Aemond waiting with a stern expression. He is clad in a hooded cloak, his hair presumably secured out of sight, as no strands are visible. He briefly glance at you before looking away, as though there is something he wishes to convey but is unable to express, or perhaps it is merely an illusion of your mind.

"It appears you are appropriately attired for the occasion. However, there remains one item missing," Prince Aemond states as he assesses your appearance from head to toe. While you do not fully comprehend his intent, you infer that this might be his way of offering a compliment.

"Pray, Your Highness, what am I lacking?" you inquire, your tone tinged with irritation, which is understandable given the discomfort of your previous night’s rest. Prince Aemond responds with a faint smile and proceeds to grasp your hands, binding them together with a rope. The unexpected nature of this action leaves you momentarily stunned, and he appears to take a certain satisfaction in ensuring the rope is fastened securely, rendering escape impossible.

“Now, you are tied to me,” Prince Aemond declares as he secures the other end of the rope to his own waist. You cast him an angry look, fully aware that this must be an act of retaliation for the previous night. After a deep, frustrated sigh, you accept your predicament, realizing that this journey with Prince Aemond will test your limits in every conceivable way.

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romanshomeonwattpad · 1 year

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Awaken Me | Tobias Eaton

pairings — four/reader | divergent au! |

summary : four seems to pick on you especially—and you figure out why. it’s because you both share the same secret.

warnings : none i think?

authors note : i forgot about this and decided to upload it even tho it’s unfinished…

Your eyes burned slightly as you blinked away tears, confused as to why you couldn't find that certain...

Anger.

Wren, a curly haired blonde that belonged in Amity—somehow landed in Dauntless. But during combat, her frail arms would summon the strength of twice the muscle capacity she contains. If you hadn't seen her flip a man twice her size over her figure—

You wouldn't have believed it.

Anyways, Wren had told you that she had reached that certain level of fighting simply by thinking of what angered her most. The the thing was, nothing horrible had happened to you.

You were born and raised in Amity, where the crime rate remained a negative 0–if that were possible, it would be rated just that.

Your ma and pa sheltered you, as you were their only child. You were also extremely close with them, but after getting your screen test back—it was time to begin a new chapter in your life. One that would drag and smash you to the ground like a bug.

Which is what happened now—basically.

Gritting your teeth, you rolled over to dodge one of your opponents lashes. Fortunately, the girl wasn't a merciless bitch, and let you stand up whilst getting back into position. With shaky fists, you gulped, muttering a quick curse before her own swung towards your chin.

But—

The beating never came. The throbbing rush of warm blood thrashing in your veins never crashed. Your jaw was in tact, and you weren't flopped on the ground like a beaten animal.

Your eyes snapped open, flashing over to the strong hand wrapped around Turner's wrist. Turner, the girl you were fighting, gulped as she stood back from Four. His chest radiated of a warm essence that burnt your cheeks—especially with the smirk dripping off his face.

"Turner," he released her grip, not glancing at you, "It appears the Mary Poppins hasn't improved. Isn't fair to you, is it?"

Your throat went dry, remembering how much of a total prick he was. At first, you thought he was hot, so you deemed him to maybe be a good person. But after you figured one of his life goals was to torment and embarrass you—you checked your values and common sense.

His eyes were dark, but still weren't ever fluttered onto your figure—almost as if he didn't even want to look at you. It damaged your confidence more, knowing you were probably going to be factionless if you didn't shape up soon.

Turner only shrugged, dropping her arm back to her side before placing both hands on her hips. She raised a brow at you as you let out a sharp breath, wiping the imaginary dust off your palms before looking down at the ground and stepping off the fighting podium.

Your ears ring as her blows caused you some damage. Chewing on your bottom lip, you held back your defeated thoughts as Wren threw an arm around your shoulder,

"It's okay. I got a few beat downs my first year here. It gets better," she attempted to cheer you up. You merely hummed as she continued, "Anger, _ _. That's what powers you. You need—“

“I know,” you snapped, stopping your feet before rolling your eyes at her, “I know. But I’m not an angry person, and I’m shit at fighting.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Pity isn’t what makes you a Dauntless, _ _,” she stepped towards you, poking a nimble finger into your heart, “So instead of whining, kid, maybe you should just stop thinking and fight.”

Slowly nodding, you stood there as she headed over to the cafeteria for lunch. You noticed that the boxing bag area was empty—and it clicked in your head what Wren said.

Fight.

Bringing your fists up, you got into a fighting stance and threw your first punch. With gritted teeth, you felt the material bruise up your knuckles—but you wanted to feel it. Feel the pain. If you couldn’t feel the pain, then pity would just Pool around in your chest instead.

And you hated pity.

Hissing as you retracted your first, you did it again. Then repeated on the other fist. Every time the cool leather collided with your knuckles, it sent a sharp pain up your hand. But you stood through it, until the next time you swung, you didn’t realize the bag had made its own hit towards you—swinging and hitting your body with a harsh force.

Letting out a grunt, your body slammed into the cold cement of the training sector. Your ribs ached as you didn’t twitch to get up, instead accepting that you were going to be factionless if you didn’t get back up.

Get back up, _ _. You have to.

Sweat dribbled down your forehead as you landed another punch to the bag. You made it a mission to skip lunch so you could train, because you'd rather starve than be factionless. Breathing harshly through your teeth, you felt the muscles slightly tense in your arms.

"Mary poppins hasn't improved, has she?"

You felt your lip curl as you delivered another brutal hit, finally taking victory in the bag. You released a grunt as your fists kept colliding with it.

You were going to show that stuck up son of a—

"You're supposed to eat in order to gain muscle. Didn't teach you that back in Amity, huh?" You heard a voice quip, a deep and gravelly voice.

Jumping from surprise, your head snapped over to see Four leaning against one of the bags. His eyes were focused on you, smoky and stormy. You looked away from him instantly, but kept your focus on him, "Skipping lunch won't make you a Dauntles—"

"If someone tells me one more time what does or doesn't make me a Dauntless, I might just fucking shoot myself," you raised your voice, feeling the patience that usually you held snapped like a tree branch. Four's eyes stayed narrowed as he now crossed his arms, the muscles protruding from that caramel, ink covered skin of his.

You gulped, "I meant—"

He stood up straight, a smirk creeping into his plump, pink lips as he stepped towards you, "You're nothing but a farmer. You cannot train remotely enough to become one of us," he hissed, venom laced in his words. Something swirled in his eyes, making your jaw lock,

"You don't have anger. You have self pity, and Dauntless don't pity themselves. They fight, and are willing to give up their life for people. How can you fight others when you're fighting yourself already?"

You blinked, feeling anger begin to rise within you. It was a foreign feeling—but you didn't hate it. If anything, your veins welcomed the poisonous rage, but you bit your tongue.

Four laughed darkly, "You can't even speak up for yourself. Surely, you should go back to those farmers," he continued, making your fists balled up at your sides. As he continued to degrade you and your home, well— people who used to be your home, it rose.

The anger rose. It felt as the ground begun to shake, sudden flashes of all the combat you had witnessed before your eyes playing like a rapid slideshow in your mind. The cracks of the bones whenever someone would slip their foot beneath someone—breaking their balance.

Your eyes flickered up to his. He paused right before you, the scent of cologne filling your nose as your chest heaved deeply. Every sense of angst within you was on fire as he tilted his head.

"You don't belong here. But I doubt you'll be able to go home, since your parents disow—"

Your foot slipped under him, trapping him to the ground with a grunt from him. Your teeth clenched as you aimed to punch him, but he immediately snapped his eyes into yours. With furrowed brows, he grabbed your wrist and striked your leg with a harsh kick.

Your knee buckled, a bullet of pain shooting through your muscles. The cold concrete pavement of the training sector burned the flesh on your cheek, ears ringing as a dull ache formed in your back from the landing.

“C’mon, _ _,” Four chuckled, more so in a tiresome way than a tormenting tone. His chest heaved as I blinked, “Get up. Don’t give up now.”

It clicked. Was he…training you?

A boost if adrenaline shot through you. He believed in you. That was the push you needed to balance your wobbling arms off the ground, barely being able to push your body—but you did. Your fists balked at your sides as you gulped, accidentally melting into his cold eyes.

They weren’t as cold, though. As if the ice had slightly melted—but there was still another thick layer.

“Fighting is a dance,” he murmured firmly, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. You let out a harsh breathe as he held your back against his chest, before roughly pushing you away. You hit one of the punching backs, grunting as he smirked, “Until it’s not.”

“Can’t imagine dancing with you,” your eyes narrowed—only making his smirk grow.

But you didn’t hear a response, instead your eyes noticed he was about to take a step forward. Then, you watched his arm twitch—ducking before delivering a jab to his side. He flinched, which broke the barrier, and you didn’t wait to kick him down to the ground.

With a loud thud, you watched as his braid figure slammed against the ground. Picking up your feet, you darted towards him. Every single insult he’d ever thrown at you replayed in your head. He was trying to anger you.

Did he perhaps…care?

Sliding your knee across the ground, you grabbed both of his hands and held him down. Your hair fell over your face, panting deeply, as you used the rest of your strength to fight off his. His hues twitched to yours, something flashing in his eyes as they met yours.

Your throat became dry. Butterflies erupted in your tummy, a warm feeling hugging your heart.

Feeling the cheeks in your face burn—you felt the world slowly silence around you as your eyes melted onto his. You didn’t know if it was your imagination, or the adrenaline pumping in your veins—but you swore you felt his long fingers slowly graze your thigh.

Wait—

How did they get fre—

And in an instant, you were flipped into the ground. His strong hands held you down, gripping your wrist, as his muscular chest held down yours. Bodies pressed against one another, his grunts filling your ears…it was truly a sight.

A musky scent flooded your senses as you felt like you were high, wanting to reach out and touch that sculpted jaw of his. The stubble poking from his skin is probably scratchy against your palm, but his flesh still looked smooth and supple.

Despite his appearance coming off ragged and rough.

“That’s how you fight like a Dauntless,” He taunted darkly, making your brows raise in shock, “You’ll do just fine in ranks if you uh—“

His eyes fluttered to your lips, before he gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. He pushed himself off the floor, away from you, before dusting off his pants, “You should do just fine, _ _.”

Before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and made his exit.

#four #divergent #divergent smut #four smut #four divergent #tobias eaton #tobias eaton smut #tobias eaton fics #tobiaseatonsmut #oc: tobias #divergentau #divergent four #divergent fiction

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061306 · 10 months

Text

␥ list of things i’ve successfully manifested !

i discovered manifestation and the law around early 2022 and here's what i have manifested since then! this might not be much but this is to remind me that i am capable of anything and everything!

𖥻 1. clearer skin

i used to have a terrible breakout on the right side of my face + oily skin. now my skin is much better and less oily! i do not have acne anymore.

𖥻 2. weight loss ( 14 kgs )

i went from 69 kgs to 55 kgs in around two months with minimal exercise ( walking ) & a simple diet.

𖥻 3. height increase ( 11cm )

i used to be 150cm but not anymore lol. i got better proportions too!

𖥻 4. text messages & instant replies from people.

i also manifested message from a friend i was no longer in contact with.

𖥻 5. passing exams i thought i was going to fail

accountancy was my weakest subject but i manifested passing several tests and exams. i also manifested getting better in it!

𖥻 6. getting above average % board exams

board examinations are a big deal in my country and i, unfortunately, ended in a stream i was not interested in. i manifested getting ~80% in them despite getting way lesser in school examinations.

𖥻 7. food

one single thought turned into an assumption and i am having whatever i want for dinner!

𖥻 8. storage of my phone increasing

i only have 32gb of storage in my phone lol. so sometimes i have to clear app caches to make space, but not anymore.

𖥻 9. love confession

i simply wanted a love confession and i got it. as easy as it gets.

𖥻 10. an increament in my mom’s salary & money for myself

my mom really wanted an increament and i manifested it! she got increament of 5.5k! also manifested a bonus for her. + got gift money from my parents and relatives!

𖥻 11. letting go of & detaching from several people

i used to be attached some people that hurt me but not anymore. i have let go of them and it feels so much better.

𖥻 12. books & manga ( jjk )

my mom is not the type to let me spend money on buying books ( for leisure reading ), much less a comic book. but i manifested her allowing me to buy 4 books + 1 manga volume! she even paid for them.

𖥻 13. delaying the start of my college, teachers & professors taking leaves, not getting scolded for submitting assignments late

my college was supposed to start from early june but i manifested a delay and it started from mid-july. i have manifested both school teachers and college professors taking leaves on my desired days.

𖥻 14. nice aura + compliments

i have a magnetic aura, people feel comfort around me and i get so many compliments about literally everything i do!

𖥻 15. quick deliveries of my orders

🤭🤭🤭

𖥻 16. winning an elocution competition

i was really worried because i only found about it a day before and some other contestants had been trained by their professors. i was full of nerves but still won the first rank! the judges said my content was unique and everything i did was perfect.

𖥻 17. kitten type beauty

manifested myself big upturned eyes with pretty lashes & a v-shaped face with smooth skin!

𖥻 18. cats loving me

call me a cat whisperer the way cats love me! i can easily befriend any cat!!! ˃ᴗ˂

𖥻 19. desired skincare products for cheap

i really wanted vitamin c serum and face cleanser and sometime later i saw an ad with an offer to get both for 1 rupee! crazy right?

𖥻 20. entering the void on several occasions.

i have entered the void several times albeit unaware. recently i've started becoming aware before snapping out of it!

masterlist. | notes – i've also manifested getting a merch of my bias. i got it from my best friend as gift but i didn't add it on the list because i didn't want break the perfect 20. also this list is as on 04 DEC 2023.

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

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𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝒸𝑒 ⎹ 𝓐.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ demon slayer / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ akaza x demon!reader [ muzan’s favorite ] ( f )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ all smut, grudgefucking, degradation, akaza’s damaged ego, choking, very brief broken bones, reader’s simpy, toxic vibes

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 1.6k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

“‘Worthless.’ What does he know about worthless?” Akaza’s teeth were clenched tight, grinding. brows drawn close together, eyes ablaze with hatred. “I do everything for him. Dedicate my existence to Lord Muzan and his fucking goals.” he was talking to himself, working himself up into a hotter rage than when he’d first grabbed you. your knees dig into the dirt, and you claw helplessly at the bark of the tree he’s pinned you against, the rough edges scraping at your face. you couldn’t moan loud enough to drown out his growling, or the sound of his hips snapping against yours, but you didn’t want to. you relished in the sound of just how wet he made you, and how you squelched when he plowed into you. if you could manage to hold yourself steady, you would release the tree and reach behind to spread your ass cheeks to open your body up for him completely— to take you however he wanted. but Akaza was fucking you too hard, pounding you relentless against the massive trunk. so, you’d had to simply hold on for dear life.

“Ah…” you mewled, trying to push back to meet his vigorous thrusting. it was futile, you couldn’t even begin to match his rhythm. “Akaza, forget about what Muzan said, just fuck me—“

“Shut up,” he hisses, one hand snaking around your throat to hold on to it with a tight vice, the other planted firm against your spine, forcing an unnatural arch for your position. there was a defensiveness in his growl, as if his loyalty was tested vicariously through your words. “You’re part of the problem, you know that? The way he fawns over you in front of us. You’re not even Kizuki,” his numbered eyes coast over the shape he’s put your body in, and slide upwards to see your gems— he was right. you weren’t one of the twelve demon moons; your body couldn’t take enough of Muzan’s blood to give you a ranking. “Makes me sick.” the smallest croak escapes your parted lips as he squeezes, and you bend to his will, dropping your head back to watch him. though you’re perched on your knees, he’s not. balancing on the balls of his feet, his knees are spread wide to avoid getting in the way of his furious hips.

his grip on your throat was tight enough that, had you still been human, breathing would’ve been impossible. you would’ve suffocated, but right now, you weren’t scared of Akaza.

you adored him.

you always had.

even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he never would, you would love him forever, you’d decided. there was much to love about him. his loyalty, his strength, the heart stopping curve of his lips over sharp, white fangs. the way his baritone whistled through the night like velvet.

you wanted to protest for him, tell him that you never asked or even wanted the king of demons to treat you like a fragile doll, a daughter to dote on, but you knew it would only make him angrier. he hated that you loathed Muzan and yet the demon lord would never so much as raise his voice to you, but would turn right around and cut an upper moon down for a sloppy job. besides, judging by just how mercilessly he was fucking you, you could assume that it wasn’t coincidental that he’d tracked you down right after reporting to Muzan; he’d wanted to destroy something, and you were the perfect candidate— Muzan’s adopted daughter. it’s a shame Muzan would kill him if he ever found out, but you knew you’d take it to the grave if you had to.

“Weak, little bitch.” he snarls, clamping down harder on your neck, and you swoon, your nails digging into the tree trunk harder. bark splinters and erupts from the trunk, crackling as your fingers sink into the wood. you didn’t have the strength to claw the whole tree apart, but you were chipping away at it. “What’s he see in you, anyways?” his angle changes; he slides one foot forward to scoot closer, press his torso to your back, and pump into your cunt deeper. you squeal, but only for a moment, before his other hand comes up from the other side of your head to clamp his hand over your mouth and muffle the sound. “That— that’s what I’m talking about. You can’t even take a cock without screaming my fucking ear off. Are you so fucking pathetic that you can’t even take it quiet like a decent cocksleeve? You have to squeal and whine?” your breasts ground into the harsh bark as he presses you closer to the foliage, golden eyes gleaming in the pale moonlight that illuminates the sordid display. you nod, looking back at him with nothing but twinkling adoration and affection in your heavily lidded gaze, squeaking slurred as you’re forced to kiss his palm.

you couldn’t help it, the upper moon was decimating your body in a way so delicious, you had to cry out. it was the type of brutal fucking that made you grateful you’d become a demon— lest you never be able to experience a love this cruel.

your walls were clenching around him just as merciless, spasming, stretching around his girth and hugging tight, refusing to let him pull out. “Fuck,” he grunted, a moment’s weakness allowing the moan to slip out of his lips, and he immediately hisses. brows cinching tighter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so needy. You want it so bad? Take it, then.” his hips flurry at a nearly incomprehensible speed and velocity, pounding you over and over into the wood. you scream in vulgar delight and surprise, your body yielding to whatever he wanted to do to it, but that only makes him more enraged. his fist clenches around your throat, and you hear a snap. a rush of shock and pain floods your senses and you realize he’s crushed your trachea. a whistle, a choke escapes you, eyes welling up with tears, but he didn’t stop.

and you didn’t want him to.

it only took a matter of seconds for the bones to heal, cracking as they shift back into their proper place. Akaza’s hand had abandoned your throat, and instead pressed on top of his other one on your mouth, using it now as leverage to keep you pinned in place to fill you with reckless abandon with impossible force.

“P—please—“ you whimper against his hand, batting tears away with your thick lashes, “don’t st— don’t stop—!”

“Tch,” it’s not a word, is a puff of air forced through his teeth, an exclamation of disgust, but you can’t help but moan, eyelids fluttering. you can feel how hard he is, even as he degrades you, he’s swollen and throbbing in your guts. “You look so pitiful, struggling to take me, but you love the abuse so much you can’t even keep your eyes open.” you were nodding to every word, hugging the tree to keep from slouching back against him. his fucking was maddening, and you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. “What would He think if he saw you like this? He… He chews me up and spits me out, but you’re there,” it’s getting harder and harder for him to speak, his moans cutting in every so often, as he relishes in how you submit for him, “you’re here to spread your fucking legs, eh? You— you want me to fuck all my humiliation out? Fuck away the anger? Right into your weak, little body? As if you could handle it?”

you nod again, eyes glazed but hopeful, unwavering admiration in your blown out pupils. your mouth hang open, dribbling drool over his hand and allowing your incessant whimpering to flow free.

he takes one look at you and knows you’re honest. and he groans, feeling himself fighting a losing battle with the pending orgasm creeping up on him. he didn’t understand it, why you wanted him so badly when he loathed you. and maybe, he didn’t have to. maybe he shouldn’t question it at all. there was a rush of confidence that came along with ruining you— a power surge as he heard your whiny, little yelps. he could get off on them alone, though he’d never tell you that, but the idea that you were untouchable— that Muzan had forbade any of his demon moons from so much as laying a single finger on you, and he was able to fuck you out like this— he felt less like a demon and more like a god. it was an addicting, exhilarating sensation, power beyond what even he was used to.

“Well,” he grunted harshly, finally, with acidic sarcasm leaking from his lips, “anything for Lord Muzan’s favorite.”

#akaza #akaza x reader #akaza x you #akaza smut #akaza imagine #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #demon slayer smut #demon slayer imagine #kinktober 2022

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nihilnovisubsole · 5 months

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Because of your latest post: not sure if you’ve answered this before, but how does someone even entertain the idea of writing for the game dev industry? Did you start out on indie games or just write before and show them your work? Since it’s such a subjective field etc

if i have, it bears repeating! here's a rough timeline of what i did. never discount the value of luck and the kindness of friends

2016: i was doing a random freelance transcription job when i saw @theivorytowercrumbles post about writing for voltage. they reblogged the studio's open casting call for new writers. since it was so lenient - no experience, fanfic samples allowed - i applied. they hired me for their new project, but let me go after a trial period, citing that the tone of my writing was a bad fit for that game. i foundered for a while after that. i don't take rejection well. i started dangerous crowns to try to make money from writing some other way.

2017: one of voltage's producers reached out to me and said they'd started another project that i was a good fit for. she felt letting me go was a mistake and wanted to snap me back up. i said yes, i mean, are you kidding? so i started on reiner's route.

2018-2019: i kept at it. i took on diego's route. it occurred to me that i wasn't making very much money, but i liked my coworkers, and i was building my portfolio, so who cared? i also finished dangerous crowns, and a handful of people bought it, but certainly not enough to support myself or anything.

early 2020: between the pay and creative differences with voltage's team, it started to sink in that i needed to find other work. i applied to the few open game writer jobs i could find, but with only mobile romance in my portfolio, i got nowhere. i threw in dangerous crowns samples. i tried to network on twitter. i still never made it to the interview phase. i foundered for a while again.

late 2020: the voltage writers went on strike. i gave a statement to a journalist that one of obsidian's narrative designers noticed. we became acquaintances over it. another old friend of mine threw me a life raft in the form of a different contract, better paying, on a non-romance indie game. i took it gladly. i added a twine game to my portfolio, too. i kept applying. i got a few interviews, but something still didn't click.

2021: i finally accepted that i needed formal help. i did a portfolio workshop. i got resume coaching. the coach passed my name to a writer on the company of heroes team. they liked me! they also paid me more money than i'd ever seen in my life. at the same time, obsidian advertised a narrative job opening. i applied on a lark and let my ND pal know i was doing so. why not, right? college-new-vegas-fan me would want me to. they rejected me, but not before i passed their writing test and two interviews. i had nothing to lose at that point, so i told my ND pal that i was bummed. she gave me a golden piece of advice: "you came really close. try again."

2022: obsidian had another narrative opening. i threw myself at it. i was now going to annoy them into hiring me. since i was a known quantity from applying six months before, they had no qualms about interviewing me again. this time, it worked out, and i've been there ever since.

what's the common denominator here? i met people who thought i was all right and gave me a hand up when i needed it. the standard advice is to work with a community of your peers instead of trying to get your heroes to senpai-notice you. it's not that they don't care - they just have their own thing going on, and your peers could be the heroes of tomorrow if the right project comes along. i also found the portfolio was the end-all-be-all when it came to job hunting. i went through a grieving process with that! i'm not afraid to admit it. i wish studios had held my degree or dangerous crowns in higher regard, but i just had to make games in a wider variety of genres, and that was that.

one caveat: narrative is a really saturated field right now. a lot of people want to write, and there aren't many openings. it's not uncommon for big studios to get hundreds of applicants. larian probably got over a thousand for the job they posted recently. i feel awful saying that, because i don't want to discourage you, but i'd feel worse if i didn't let you know what you were getting into. if it's something you want, you should try! keep an open mind about the random projects you may find. you never know where they'll take you.

#asks #anon #workjob

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sanptest · 2 years

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A Guide to MBA Admission in 2022: Dates, Entrance Exams

Many people wish to earn an MBA from one of the prestigious colleges around the world. As a result, it is imperative to understand how MBA admissions work, how to apply for an MBA program, and what MBA eligibility requirements are.

If you're considering MBA programs for working professionals, there are several executive MBA programs to select from. MBA admissions are different at all business schools in India. Therefore, it is imperative to understand that different colleges have different criteria for MBA admissions so that you can apply for an MBA course accordingly.

For MBA admissions, top business schools follow a four-step process. Admissions begin in September and last until May-June. We'll cover all those aspects, including how to apply for an MBA course, eligibility criteria, etc.

MBA Eligibility Criteria 2022

A prospective MBA student in India must meet the following requirements:

An MBA program in India is open to both Indian citizens and overseas students.

Admission to an MBA program requires a Bachelor's degree in any field from an accredited university.

To be eligible for an MBA program, you must have a minimum of 45 to 60% in your Bachelor's degree.

You must have a valid score on any PG MBA entrance exam (CAT/ XAT/ SNAP/ CMAT/ GMAT/ MAT/ ATMA/ NMAT).

A step-by-step guide to MBA admissions in 2022:

For MBA admission, candidates are shortlisted based on an entrance exam, followed by a group discussion and personal interviews. Here are the phases of the MBA admission process:

Phase-1: During the first phase, different institutes or governments conduct Aptitude tests for MBA candidates to determine their management aptitude.

Phase-2: The shortlisting process is based on the candidates' entrance exam scores and academic records.

Phase-3: The purpose of this phase is to conduct WAT, GD, and PI tests, as well as other personality assessments.

Phase-4: Final selections for MBA admission are based on performance in all three phases.

Top management entrance exams

High-ranking MBA colleges in India can be reached through the top MBA entrance exams. There are numerous MBA entrance exams across the country. However, top MBA entrance exams ensure candidates get into a good B-school with high placements and a good reputation. The following are the top 3 MBA entrance exams in India:

MBA entrance exams that lead to admission to top MBA colleges are as follows:

1. CAT 2022: With more than 2.56 lakh applicants, the CAT is the largest and most important MBA entrance exam for IIMs and other top B-schools.

2. XAT 2023: About 1 lakh applicants are registered for the exam, which leads to admission at XLRI and other top 140+ business schools.

5. SNAP 2022: The SNAP test 2022 leads to admissions to SIBM Pune and 15 other Symbiosis institutes, with about 80 thousand applicants.

You might be wondering how to apply for these tests.

As an example, let's look at how to apply for SNAP.

There are a few steps involved:

Visit SNAP 2022's website and click on New Registration (snaptest.org).

Enter your name, date of birth, phone number, and email address

To fill out the application form, use your SNAP ID and password

Select the test city and SIU institute of your choice, then enter your personal and academic information

Upload a passport-size photo and a scanned signature

Pay the SNAP application fee using a credit/debit card or by net banking

The SNAP test 2022 registration closes on November 24, 2022. So, start registering!

Wishing you success in your MBA program!

#snap test 2022 #mba entrance examination 2022 #entrance exam 2022

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manias-wordcount · 2 years

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Despite the Differences (Sebastian Michaelis, Claude Faustus)

Kinktober 2022 Day Thirty: Overstimulation

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

To you, they always looked so different but felt so similar.

Something in the look of their eyes. Something in the way that they moved about the room. The way they talked. The way they conducted themselves. Their manners- everything. One had a clear way of going about things while the other went a separate way. Yet they did the job right. With different expressions. Different looks about them. Different methods. Yet so, so similar.

For a while, you supposed it was just their training as butlers. You’ve been around many throughout your entire time. You were of noble blood- it was only natural considering your upbringing. But when you finally stopped to think about it, you realized that you’d never been around butlers this young looking before you met Sebastian and Claude. And then again, you’ve never gotten stares this intense from men. And for the longest time, you wove stories in your head about why their eyes might linger on your form as long as they do.

You’re the only girl in your direct family line and could still be considered young despite your status as the oldest. Yet at eighteen, you were hardly seen as the child that your cousins and siblings still are. You imagined the stares you received from your butlers were because you were unmarried despite the long list of suitors that line up every day in your sitting room. You imagined the loaded words they delivered to you were because of your naturally spoiled nature. They also did keep their words clipped with a promise of punishment if you continued to test them. A promise you thought they would never keep.

But it never occurred to you, that one day you could push them both too far. Between the two men, they seemed to have an abundance of tolerance. Sebastian treated your cousin Ciel with such care and patience and Claude handled your other cousin, Alois, with so much precision. You thought that nothing you could ever do or say would ever cause their mask to crumble. It just never occurred to you that you’d be the one to cause them both to snap. Because they were so different, even if they felt the same. But were quick to learn that their difference are not what mattered. And that what you did is not what mattered either.

Because a man is a man is a man. And when a man says he’ll keep his word to you. When men say they’ll keep their word to you. No, when men say one day, they’ll fuck the disobedience out of you- you know you should listen. But you didn’t.

And that’s how you ended up here.

“Oh…! Oh~”

Your voice takes a new form. A form you’ve never heard it take before. It’s light and it’s airy and it’s uncontrolled by your thoughts. Rather, it comes out in response to their hands and their gazes. Their words and their attention. Something that feels so different from what you know. Something that feels so similar to what you’ve witnessed.

Though you suppose it’s a reaction only natural for you to have now that there has been a man sitting behind you, his legs on either side of yours as he undresses you while a different man sits and settles in front of you, his hand disappearing between your thighs for what feels like hours.

“You know,” Sebastian begins softly, his velvety voice going directly into your ear as he purrs at you from behind. His hands are if anything, careful as he takes the bottom of your nightgown and holds it up to expose your delicate skin. It’s bunched up in his glove-covered fists, clearly ruining the ironing job that one of them did earlier this day. But when you turn your head to try to spare the best glance you can at Sebastian’s face, the grin upon his lips tells you that he couldn’t care less about his now ruined work. As long as he’s awarded the opportunity to ruin you. “I always found you to be the most tolerable of my charges.”

There’s a weapon in his voice. One that’s sharp and pointed at your throat. One that gets you to whimper and whine as he forces your legs to open wider to allow his partner to continue his onslaught on the most precious part of your body. A feeling in your lower stomach sits there, building pressure. It’s a feeling you know they want you to feel. A feeling they refused to explain no matter how many times you begged and pleaded with them. No, instead Sebastian would just chuckle, and let his hands run over your soft mounds before playing with your pebbled nipples. No, instead Claude just sneers, moving his thumb to rub against the sensitive button settle between your shaking legs. Again, and again, again.

“You always were agreeable.” Claude agrees while clicking his tongue. Unlike Sebastian, you can see this devil as he tortures you. The expressions he makes. The way he expressions he takes from you. But to see, it’s not enough for him to get his message across. And so the disappointment in his voice becomes obvious. It surrounds you much like the heat of this room. Much like the musty scent that grows and grows and grows the longer they take their time with you. Much like their touch and all the feelings that it brings. The conflict and the frustration. The hate and the desire. “Until you’re not.”

There’s no running as Claude continues to bury two of his fingers into your entrance. He pulls them out just to push them in again, moving at a rough, rough pace as his eyes never leave yours behind his glasses. Watching you moan and cry out as you’re forced to feel this confusing and delicious feeling to you over and over again. And there’s no running from Sebastian either as he keeps you trapped between his body while his hands glide and grope across your body. Reminding you that this was all your doing. Reminding you to take your punishment like a good girl. Even if your mind is far too gone to even recall what brought you to this situation in the first place.

Growing up, you thought of Sebastian as the nice one. And Claude was the cold one. But now, you can’t help but think that they’re equally as cruel as Sebastian allows him to do this. Because it’s your slick wetness that casts a glaze over Claude’s gloves, shining in the light as he touches you in a way no man has ever done before. And it’s Sebastian’s hands that expose this intimate part of your body to both of their eyes, showing them your body as it reacts to these new feelings in a way that no man has ever seen before.

In a way, no one has ever seen or done before.

But a man is a man is a man. And these men made a promise to you. A promise to drive you to the edge and make you feel things you’ve never felt before because of your behavior. Under their watchful eyes. Because of their practiced touches. And you should have listened. You should have listened. Because despite their difference…

They always did feel the same.

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fortheloveofaussiegrit · 1 year

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@fortheloveofaussiegrit 's deep dive into Mark and his love of twinks...

Sebastian Vettel

Where does one even start when trying to explain this... that's his twink of the past, present, and future— his forever. [first: debatable but the beginning of martian at the Fuji GP 2007 when Seb crashed into the back of Mark ruining both of their races, they were running 2nd and third. second: the day i lost my sanity, Abu Dhabi 2022]

Oscar Piastri

His twink of the present [i don't think i need to say anything... but photos above are from Mark's website from his blog post about Oscar winning the F2 championship and how Mark stayed in Abu Dhabi with Oscar after the GP for the young driver f1 test...]

Mitch Evans

Without Mitch we wouldn’t have got Oscar/Mark... (this is what oscarmark could’ve been but not sure i would’ve been able to handle oscar posting mark the way mitch did) Started in 2010, Mark then went on to manage him and Mitch even moved into Mark’s home in England, down the drive but point still stands [first: Mark Webber takes protege on birthday tour, 2010 (speedcafe.com) second: Mark embracing Mitch after he took maiden victory in Formula E, 2019 (📷Sam Bloxham) bottom two: from Mitch’s IG circa 2014]

Daniel Ricciardo

i like that belt buckle mate [first/second: F1 Paddock 2013 (📷skysports.com) third: Mark & Daniel’s BBQ on the beach ahead of the Aus GP 2011 (📷flickr) fourth/fifth: Dutch GP 2022.]

Fernando Alonso

again do i need to say anything? i think this sums it up (thank you to @seafoampearlygirl for the screen shot and your help too, much appreciated!!

and this... [Jenson Button, Giancarlo Fisichella, Fernando Alonso & Mark Webber for Benetton Renault 2001 F1 launch]

Lewis Hamilton

If there's one thing about Mark that you need to know its his love of twinks with world championships... @mwebber has a post here on these two! Mark always loves talking about Lewis and the way they look at each other.. [first: Mark and Lewis during the post-qualy presser at the Spanish GP, 2010 (📷Sutton Images) second: during the pre-race presser at the Aus GP, 2013 (📷Hoch Zwei) third: Abu Dhabi GP, 2017 (📷James Moy)]

Nico Rosberg

from teammates at Williams to Mark snapping pics of the back of Nico in 2023… [first: Mark talking to test driver Nico Rosberg during the German GP, 2005 (📷Pakusch) second: Monaco ePrix 2023]

Max Verstappen

like i said... twinks with championships [first: ‘bumped into these two over easter and managed a few k on the trails’ Apr, 2018 (Mark’s FB) second: Hangar-7, 2019]

Felipe Massa

yeah... [first: Brazil 2012, i think (📷sky-sports.com) second: Brazil 2013 (📷xpb images)]

Brendon Hartley

he’s already featured a few times, but from rbr junior driver to teammate... yeah.. is there a pattern? [first: Spanish GP 2009 (📷DPPI Images) second: Brendon, Mark & Timo after winning the 6 hours of Bahrain and the WEC Drivers Championship 2015 (📷fiawec.com)]

Jenson Button

and finally we get to Jenson Button, who, yes, is younger than Mark so makes it onto the list... the ultimate twink on twink... you cannot tell me this wasnt a couples holidays covered up as ‘training’. you cannot tell me they were not fumbling around in their bedsheets at night. you cannot tell me— [redacted redacted redacted] — [pre-season training session in Lanzarote, Spain. 4 Jan 2001 📷Mark Thompson]

#i had this idea and had to run with it #this is just a bit of fun #please please take this with a side of delulu #if ive missed anyone let me know cos ive got another 4 ppl i wanted to add so i’ll do a part 2 #mark/brendon #mark/lewis #mark/nico #mark/mitch #mark/max #mark/jense #mark/dan #mark/nando #seb/mark #oscarmark

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lanawinterscigarettes · 2 years

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Bloody Good Fun (Billy Loomis x reader)

Kinkmas Day 4: knife kink + blood play

A/N: here's day four 🔪 (I'm really hoping y'all appreciate the title's word play lolol)

Warnings: SMUT, gender neutral reader, mention of a safeword being established beforehand (it's never used), some consumption of reader's blood by Billy (because he's gross), bottom reader, top Billy, reader's a tease, Billy accidentally finishes early

"You'll be careful, right?"

Billy looked up at you from his position at the foot of the bed, giving his knife collection a good once over while deciding which one he was going to use for that night's fun.

"Of course. I won't purposely knick any arteries, if that's what you're asking," he said playfully.

"Billy, I'm serious." You brought your knees up to your chest, your arms going to wrap around your legs. "I don't want to end up getting hurt or anything like that."

"If you didn't want to get hurt, you wouldn't have asked me for this." He finally chose a knife, running his finger along the blade as he admired it.

"You know what I mean."

Upon hearing the apprehension in your voice, he dropped the knife and made his way over to you. "Hey. Look at me," he gently commanded, placing his finger under your chin.

You tilted your head up at him, and saw that any playfulness that was once in his eyes were now gone, replaced instead with genuine concern.

"It at any time you want to stop, just let me know, and we will. Okay? We have a safeword for a reason. I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with, I promise."

You nodded your head to show you understood, feeling safer already. As much as you loved Billy, and trusted him, you'd seen first hand how terrifyingly cold and heartless his gaze could become at the snap of a finger. His promise to put your safety above his own pleasure meant a lot coming from him, and you both knew it.

"Okay. I trust you," you told him.

"Good," he said, picking the knife back up again and loosely holding it against your throat.

Your eyes widened, not in fear, but in lust.

Chuckling at your reaction, Billy decided to test the waters by taking it a step further.

You felt as the cold blade of the knife traveled down your neck to your collarbone, giving it the slightest nick. The gasp you let out brought a smile to his face as he admired the crimson color on your otherwise untarnished skin.

He brought the knife up to his lips, swiping his tongue along the now slightly bloody blade. "Mmh. Better than corn syrup, for sure."

Any other situation you would have let out a small giggle, but now just didn't seem the time for it.

He pulled you in for a kiss while continuing to trail the knife along your upper chest. You could just barely hear him unbuckle his belt over your own heartbeat, which was full of adrenaline.

Your pants had been long gone before he even brought the knives out, and you'd been prepped beforehand, so he had no trouble pushing in (he still went slowly, just in case).

You gasped at the sensation of feeling him enter you, knowing his slow pace wouldn't last long. And you were right.

He smirked at the many noises you made, some of them from him and some of them caused by the knife. He made a few more cuts along your collarbone, not deep enough to cause any damage but still enough to draw blood.

Even though he'd only just started, you could tell he was already close by the way he set the knife to the side and his hands gripped the headboard.

"Close already?" You teased, to which he growled in return.

"Shut up," he hissed, right before cumming only moments later.

He glared at you while you smirked back, watching as he clean off his knife with a rag.

"That was fun, but next time try not to finish before you've even started."

The end feel a tad bit anticlimactic but I was honestly too tired to add any more

Kinkmas 2022 | main masterlist | Scream masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @amalfoyandariddle @bigboobslilheart @natashaswife4125 @uniquemongerkidcop

#kinkmas day 4 #kinkmas 2022 #lanawinterscigarettes kinkmas 2022 #scream #scream imagines #scream imagine #scream x reader #scream fic #scream smut #billy loomis #billy loomis imagines #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis fic #billy loomis smut

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the-bottom-of-the-abyss · 2 years

Text

siren song - chapter 2*

previous chapter: chapter 1

next chapter: chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for all the love!!! I seriously cannot believe how much you guys are loving it! This is an extra long one, with some NSFW throughout (Ghost and Siren don’t get it on….. yet). The cantina mentioned is from the multiplayer map Las Almas but you don’t have to know that; I just thought it was cool :) Sorry for the long chess description, I just wanted an excuse to set up a match between Ghost and Siren later. Also, if you REALLY want to visualize the chess scene, go to the bottom of the post and copy and paste the numbers into the “Paste FEN/PGN(s)” slot at this link. Siren is the black set. Also, Siren is a bit fucked in the head when it comes to killing men, but that’s not without reason; we’ll get into it later.

Let me know what you think of the chapter!

Also, if you asked to be added to the taglist and you weren't, I may have just missed it! Just send me an ask!

Ghost

28 August 2022

0310, Classified location

Ghost calmly but swiftly gathered his things to shower and headed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He forced out a breath and leaned his head back against the door, trying not to think about anything at all.

Because if he did think?

He would be thinking of what the fuck he just did.

First, he didn’t know what possessed him to offer his aid. If it were most people, he would have just let them do it themselves. But she was… something else. A test of willpower if anything.

He turned on the fan and shower and looked at his masked face in the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink. His knuckles turned white as his mind replayed the feeling of her skin under his calloused hands, how it felt as he tightened his grip.

He closed his eyes and hung head, trying to will away the fire creeping through his veins and the blood rushing downwards.

“I prefer up close and personal”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and shook his head.

Get a fucking grip, Riley

His index finger was so close to touching her that he felt the heat coming from her.

But there was one thing that he couldn’t fucking get out of his head:

The smell of her desire.

At that thought, Simon “Ghost” Riley fucking snapped.

He fumbled to undo his belt, not bothering to take it out of the loops before unzipping his pants. He pushed down a groan when he took himself in hand, desperate for relief. The Lieutenant spat into his hand and began to stroke himself with a sense of urgency and doing his all to muffle any noises by gritting his teeth.

Ghost tried to think about the last time he had gotten laid; a woman whose name he couldn’t remember laid under him on a cheap motel bed, his thrusts causing the headboard to hit the wall. The more he fantasized, the more the woman’s face turned into Siren’s, causing his cock to harden even further, an impressive feat.

What would she like? Would she want him to fuck her slow and dirty, causing her to jolt forward everytime he bottomed out? Would she want it fast and rough with bruises to show for it?

Before he could mentally scold himself for jacking off to his subordinate officer, the scene morphed into one mirroring the situation from earlier, him on his knees and her above him. Except this time, she was leaned back against a wall, leg thrown over his shoulder while he had his balaclava rolled up just enough to devour her completely. His tongue attacked her clit with a sense of purpose, set on making her cum so hard she couldn’t speak anything except to beg him for more.

One hand harshly gripped her backside and the other was two fingers deep inside her, pumping in and out to the tempo of her moans and the sound of her wetness.

The visual of her moaning and begging to cum, normally so put together and headstrong, was enough to set him off, coating both his hand and part of the sink as he let out groan of pleasure.

As he regained his breath, he looked at himself and sighed.

“Bloody hell.”

—

Siren

28 August 2022

0900, Classified location

Neither you or Ghost addressed what happened the night before.

Maybe that was a good thing since he was your commanding officer and you had a job to do. You had to maintain some form of professionallism.

That didn’t stop you from finger fucking yourself to the image of him last night.

Stress relief, you told yourself.

You sat in front of a chess board, Soap sitting across from you in deep thought and Ghost in the living room, cleaning his rifle. You had only just started, both moving pawns. Soap moved first with a King’s Pawn opening, and you responded by using your pawn to block his. The game started off very slow, each only making neccessary moves and nothing too drastic.

Soap began to try and be more aggressive, moving his bishop to an opening left by your moved pawns.

“Check,” he said. You quickly blocked his move, giving him two options: have the bishop take out a pawn and then be taken by another pawn or retreat. He chose the latter. However, you did not let him get too far away, chasing after his runaway bishop with the pawn it almost took out. You were now on the offensive, eventually taking a knight after a few more moves.

His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you continued playing. The next couple of moves were slow, both circling around each other, trying to find the moment the other makes a mistake.

“What’s your name?” he asked you around the 20th move.

Your heart jolted for a second. Not that you weren’t expecting that question; you had actually gotten it a lot, from many people.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your name, it was that names held power. And you would never allow someone to hold a power like that over you again. When bad things happened, they happened to Siren, the woman who was a killer, a seducer, a phoenix who rose above the ashes. You protected whatever was left of your old self, not willing to let anyone or anything rip her from you any further. Only bits and pieces remained, but you clung to them like they were sacred, shielding them; enough happened to the girl who was born with your name. She deserved peace.

In fact, the only people still left alive who knew your name was Captain Price and General Shepard you assumed, since your past was only known to those who were there in the aftermath or with high enough clearance.

“Just Siren,” you replied, moving a pawn to take his unmoved queen since you reached the other side with the pawn, you replaced it with another queen of your own. In chess, the king may be the most desired piece to take, but the queen was by far the most powerful, the most cunning; able to move in any direction on the board without being confined to a certain number of spaces. Fitting, in your opinion. “Check.”

Your tone must have been enough to dissuade any further inqueries in that line of questioning. He immediately took your newfound queen via his king. The rest of the game was accompanied by comfortable silence, broken up by the sound of metal being disassembled and cleaned by Ghost. Eventually you had wittled him down to two pawns, a rook, and a king, while you held all your pieces plus another extra queen, save for a few lost pawns.

“Check,” you said, having your queen positioned for the kill. You could tell Soap was looking for a way out, but he had very few options. You noticed that you no longer heard Ghost cleaning his weapon, possibly also intrigued by the match taking place between his two Sergeants.

Soap moved it out of harms way but only barely; he was still beside your bishop, primed to take it out. Before that was possible though, you moved it in front of the king, making it so if the bishop was disposed of, your queen would be able to take the king.

His next move was to move his rook out of any harm’s way, maybe hoping to provide an opening to take out a major player of yours before the inevitable end. However, it wasn’t nearly enough. Your rook slid to the corner, seperated by one space from the king, making its only realy option of moving to situate diagnal to the rook and adjacent to the bishop.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, knowing he was truly cornered.

You moved your second bishop directly diagnal, making it so any move the king made would get it taken out.

“Check mate,” you said with a small smirk.

He groaned but met your eyes with a smile, sticking his hand out.

“Good game, Siren. You’re a force to be reckoned with for sure.” You lightly chuckled and shook his hand. Chess was something you used to like Before, playing anyone you could find in the park. After, you were never really around people you could do things that low stakes with. You were always finding an angle, sleeping with a target, or killing someone. It was… nice for once.

“Ghost,” Soap called to him, “can you play?”

Ghost shrugged and locked eyes with you. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good.”

“We’ll have to play sometime,” you said, throwing him a wink.

“We’ll see.”

—-

Siren

29 August 2022

1400, Plane en route to Las Almas

Shortly after the chess game, Laswell contacted Ghost and told him you all would be going to Las Almas in search of Hassan along with the Mexican Special Forces.

You were currently in a private plane, sitting in front of a projector in between Soap and Ghost. Laswell’s voice came through a speaker, with maps of Las Almas being shown on the projector.

“Hassan was taken back into cartel protection in Las Almas. Mexican Special Forces confirmed. Hassan is moving something sizable towards the US. The cargo could be containers housing missiles.”

Pictures of several containers were shown and they did look identical to what was found in the warehouse at Al Mazrah.

“We don’t know how many and we don’t know the targets,” Kate concluded.

General Shepherd’s voice cut in. “To find out we need to capture Hassan and bring him in for interrogation. We’ll send Soap, Ghost, and Siren to link up with the Mexican Special Forces in country along with all the manpower they need.”

“We can’t start a war in Mexico, General.”

“Certainly not,” the General retorted. “I’ll task Phillip Graves and his Shadow company PMCs to assist. Their rules of engagement can help us cut some red tape and get this done.”

You watched the screen as pictures of Graves and some of his crew came up as well as a document regarding engaging hostiles.

“Mexican Special Forces have a general idea on where Hassan is but nothing concrete. It will be up to Siren to gather any possible intel on possible location. An electronic is preferred for tracing movement. Do whatever is necessary. Her mission starts at touch down.”

You could feel the eyes of both Ghost and Soap but all you did was stare straight ahead at your picture that popped up on the screen and let yourself begin to formulate a plan.

‘Whatever is necessary’, you thought. So you had unofficial permission to kill if needed and that if the mission requires you to sleep with them, you better get it done.

“Understood, sir. Let’s find Hassan.”

You stood up without saying a word, making a beeline for your tote bag. Not only did it house your tactical clothes, it also had civilian clothes you had specifically picked out as well as makeup and a collection of knives.

You headed to the airplane bathroom and grabbed some “appropriate” clothing; appropriate in the sense of the weather and the target. Short jean shorts, a way-too-thin white tank top and a light pink, lacy push-up bra that you made sure was visible. Just in case, you put on matching underwear as well. When you first started working, it began to make more and more sense to wear a wire, especially for high stakes situations. So, for those times, you sewed in a place in some of your bras that could conceal a wire but still record information clearly.

As you began to put on makeup, you started to come up with a backstory. You were an American college student, Abigail, 23 years old. You were on the last few days of summer break and wanted to experience all Las Almas had to offer. You figured the dumb American girl act wouldn’t be questioned. When it came to the Russian Ground Forces soldier, you took on a more forward persona; he was a nervous mess that clearly didn’t get hit on very often. This time though, you would need to be more submissive, more shy, more controllable. You needed to make them make the first move.

You put on your makeup, making sure to cover any dark circles, and brighten up your eyes with white liner, finishing with a light gloss. You wanted to be what men wanted when they say they prefer “natural” beauty.

You took your hair down from its place on your head and let it fall in waves down to past your shoulders.

Of course, you couldn’t go in without any protection; you shoved a small, curved knife, a favorite of yours, into your pocket. It was small enough that the outline could not be seen but still deadly all the same.

You looked in the mirror and smirked at the woman you saw staring back. She was a real looker, sure to capture any man she set her sights on. And yet, she wasn’t too obvious either in her goals; subtle enough that she wasn’t the center of the room, but just enough that once someone did take notice, they’d be caught in her orbit. Just before you walked out, you threw on a jacket and zipped it up, almost all the way up. You didn’t need take on your persona just yet.

You exited the bathroom, getting used to wearing flats after being in boots for so long.

“Jesus,” Soap breathed out, being the first of the two to see you. Ghost turned to look over his shoulder and did a double take. Both of them took a second, silently taking in your long legs and made-up face, so different than your normal clothes.

“Where are your clothes, Sergeant?” Ghost asked sternly after getting over the apparent shock of seeing your new appearance.

“In my bag if you must know,” you said nonchalantly, sitting back in your original seat. “I have a mission, Lieutenant. This is part of it.”

While he didn’t ask any more questions, you could still feel the heat of his gaze roaming to the bare skin of your legs.

—

Siren

29 August 2022

1500, Mexican Special Forces base, Las Almas

As soon as the three of you came off the plane, you were met with a Hispanic man you could assume to be Alejandro since he matched the photos in the brief.

“Alejandro!” Soap called out.

“Sergeant MacTavish,” he greeted.

“Call me Soap.”

“Lieutenant,” Alejandro began, looking at Ghost. “Laswell says they call you Ghost.”

“Actually, I believe he prefers to be—“ Soap started but was quickly cut off by Ghost.

“That’ll do.” The exchange made you chuckle slightly, earning a look from Ghost and a smile of approval from Soap.

Alejandro turned to you, giving you a grin. “Ah, and you must be la sirena. You a have an important job today. We’ll brief you in the van.”

You returned the smile and nodded.

“Welcome to the ‘city of souls’.” Alejandro said, gesturing for you three to follow him as he walked.

“I’ve never been to Mexico,” Soap stated.

“This isn’t Mexico… This is Las Almas.” Alejandro gestured to the surrounding area.

“Shepherd’s contractors are inbound to reinforce. They’re bringing hardware, they’ll need room.” Ghost told him.

“My base is your base.”

“Good,” Ghost replied. “Now, where’s Hassan?”

“The cartel has many safehouses around. We’re not sure which one he’s in. We can’t scare them off again, so we need to know for sure. Laswell told me la sirena can accomplish this?” He said, bringing the three of you to a black van.

“Yes,” you cut in before anyone else could speak. “Yes, I can.”

“Get in,” Alejandro said, opening the car door.

He got into the front while Ghost and Soap sat in the first row of seats and you climbed into the second row. A man was already in the driver’s seat, promptly introduced by Alejandro.

“This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra.”

Rodolfo glanced in the rearview mirror at the three of you and mumbled to Alejandro, “Tengo miedo de los fantasmas…”

You snorted at the comment while Alejandro turned to the three of you.

“You know Spanish?”

“A bit,” you replied.

“No,” Soap said at the same time.

“You will…” Alejandro trailed off, turning back to face the front.

—

“We’re taking you to a well-known spot for Narcos. The cantina, near the market.” Alejandro said, looking at you in the rearview.

“Any specific target in mind?” You asked.

Alejandro handed you a picture. “Anyone with this tattoo.” It was a picture of a rose with two daggers crossed through it. “It’s the symbol of the Las Almas cartel.”

“Got a wire?”

“On the floor in a small box,” Rodolfo replied over his shoulder.

You found the box and turned around, facing the trunk doors, not really wanting everyone to see you struggling to shove a wire through a small compartment in your bra. You unzipped your jacket and pulled the tank to the side.

“Is there anywhere I can get the target alone?” you asked, trying to push the wire through.

“There is a bathroom outside. You’ll have to walk through an alleyway to get to it but its isolated,” Alejandro answered.

“Fuck,” you muttered, missing the small opening. “And how should I dispose of them? Does it matter?”

“Kill them however you want,” Alejandro said with a shrug. “It is not odd for a narco to end up dead; they’ll blame it on a rival.”

“What about backup?” Ghost interrupted, speaking for the first time since getting in the car. You finally were able to get the wire through and zipped the jacket back up before turning back towards the front.

“Well,” Alejandro started, “the cartel would recognize us as Los Vaqueros, cowboys, their name for us. Your mask would draw too much attention. That leaves Soap. He’ll wear a comms device and can let us know if we need to step in.”

“It won’t come to that,” you assure Alejandro, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Do not come in after me,” you continued with a serious tone, looking mostly at Ghost and Soap’s reflections. “I don’t care what you think is going on. It’s all an act. If I’m really in trouble I’ll say your names, but anything else, stay out of it. This is my job.”

“Jesus,” Soap commented. “What the hell are you planning on doing?”

“Whatever is necessary.”

——

Siren

29 August 2022

1715, Market parking lot

“Alright let’s get this show on the road,” you said, abandoning your jacket in the back seat. “Does the wire work?”

“Yes, you’re coming through clear,” Rodolfo said, holding a device connected to a pair of headphones. You stood, ready to move through the opening between Ghost and Soap’s seat to then exit after Soap but an arm blocked your path. Specifically, a tattooed arm belonging to Ghost.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” You asked pointedly. Since he didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon you sat back down. He didn’t bother turning but instead looked at you through the rearview mirror and for a split second his eyes flickered downwards before darting back up. When they met yours once again, they displayed nothing other than cold steel.

“Go over the plan.”

You lightly rolled your eyes. You could see why there was a concern, especially since none of the people you worked with besides Laswell, Shepherd, and Price knew how often you did this sort of thing. And this is very low stakes compared to other assignments, having backup is rare. But still, it was a bit annoying having to confirm your plan more than once.

“I’m going to find a target,” you said beginning to count on your fingers, “get him alone, kill him, and steal his phone. You’ll be here in the very, very slim chance I need backup.”

I don’t know how much I’m convinced this is necessary, his eyes said.

I know what I’m doing, yours replied.

Both of you were silent for a moment before he spoke.

“Don’t get yourself killed.” Ghost ordered, moving his arm, allowing you to step outside with Soap. You could tell he was purposefully not looking at you, probably out of some sign of respect. You shook your head but didn’t mention it.

“Okay, so, I’ll go in first,” you told Soap. “Come in later so it doesn’t look like we’re together.”

“Roger that.”

You walked away from the van and away from Siren, instead stepping into the shoes of Abigail. Any tension you visibly held had melted off your shoulders as you walked, mirroring that of a carefree college student on summer break. You fixed your expression into one of soft eyes and sweet smile but made sure to sway your hips, playing the dichotomy of a good girl and a tease.

You made sure to look around at the colorful buildings around you, on one hand making a show of being a tourist but also spotting the alley you would take your target through. Las Almas really was beautiful; it was a shame they had such a problem with the cartel. At least you would be taking care of at least one member tonight.

Music and conversation bombarded your senses as you walked in along with the smell of alcohol. It was surprisingly very busy for being a little after 5PM. You got some stares as you walked further into the building, but no one stopped you or paid you too much mind. The bar was L-shaped with an open seat on the short segment, allowing you to see the rest of the patrons. The universe must have been feeling generous because in perfect eyeline was a group of men, with the tattoo Alejandro showed you on various points of their bodies. You could see the bartender laughing along with them.

Perfect, you thought. This provided you with a great opportunity to use the bartender to further your plan since he was clearly friendly with them.

Leaving the group of narcos, he approached you, throwing a charming grin your way.

“Hola, hermosa. ¿Qué te traigo?”

You gave him an embarrassed smile and told him, “No hablo español,” making sure to emphasize the lack of good pronunciation.

“Ah, American?” You nodded. “No problem, what can I get you?”

“Just a shot of tequila to start with, please,” you said with a sweet smile. It would work in your favor if everyone believed you were tipsy. In reality you could drink most people under the table due to years of practice which worked out in this instance.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Soap enter, taking a seat at a side table across the room with a perfect angle to see the bar.

You were already out of place with being American and a lone woman at the bar so it didn’t take long for you to garner sustained stares. You made sure not to meet any, giving off the air of obliviousness.

The bartender returned with your shot which you promptly downed, fake coughing and scrunching up your face. He chuckled at your act. “First shot of tequila?”

“How’d you guess?” You asked with a weak smile and self-deprecating laugh.

“How about something else?”

“I’ll wait a minute,” you replied with a grin, “I have to recover from the shot first.”

With that, he walked to the group of narcos and said something that made them laugh, likely about your “inexperience” with alcohol, and took a few orders.

Again, you made a show of looking around at the artwork adorning the walls but not returning any of the looks you could feel roaming your body, from your face to your chest to your legs.

The bartender soon returned, this time placing a margarita in front of you.

“What’s this?” you asked him.

“The caballero over there ordered it for you. Said you may like this a little better.” The bartender pointed to a man with a cartel tattoo on his shoulder who was already looking at you. You gave him a shy smile and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.

You watched him whisper something in his friend’s ear before getting up and making his way to you.

Yes, that’s right, you thought.

You felt a warm palm on the small of your back and then a presence made itself known behind your shoulder.

“Hola cariña,” he said, sounding like he was sporting a grin. “I thought you may want to try something with a little less kick.”

“Hi,” you said in that sweet voice of yours. You turned your stool around to face him and looked up at his face with a wide-eyed expression. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Try it for me, princesa.”

A little heavy on the nicknames but whatever works, you thought as you brought the glass to your lips without breaking eye contact.

You feigned a look of surprise before looking down at the drink and then back up.

“Wow,” you said, “this is, like, really really good!”

“What’s your name?”

“Abigail,” you replied. “What’s yours?”

“Miguel,” he answered with a grin. Before he said anything else, he took your hand and gave it a slow kiss on the knuckles. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in Las Almas?”

You held your breath for a second or two as soon as you heard “pretty girl” to create some redness mimicking a light blush, the alcohol also aiding in that.

“I’m on summer break from college,” you answered, “I haven’t been able to meet too many people since I don’t know anyone, though. You’re the first person I’ve really talked to.” You made sure to turn up your signature vulnerable face; irresistible to guys like him.

“I’m honored,” he said, “I can introduce you to more people if you want. They’re friendly, I promise.”

You smiled and nodded, taking the hand he held out and making sure to bring your drink.

You glanced over to where Soap was and found his lips moving, likely mumbling into the comms.

“Amigos, meet Abigail.”

You heard several greetings and beamed at Miguel, aiming to seem tipsier. He sat in the seat he had previously abandoned and instead of allowing you to sit in your own, he snuck a hand around your midsection and pulled you back to half sit on his lap, facing his friends.

His hands inevitably began to wander from their places on your hip and his own thigh. Miguel’s hand crept under your tank to rest on your waist while his other found a place on the inside of your thigh.

You made your breath hitch and jerked back into his touch.

You continued to drink more and got more liberal with your own touches. He sat sideways, facing his friends while you were perched on his leg closest to the bar, facing the entrance. You had a hand snaked through the hair at the base of his skull while the other caressed one of his arms.

It didn’t take long of you sitting and giggling at his cheesy jokes before he pulled the hair away from one side of your neck and began to place light kisses on the junction of your neck and shoulder, eliciting a pleased hum from you. His friends seemed to become emersed in their own conversation, occasionally glancing to you and Miguel. The kisses on your neck soon travelled upwards, stopping at your jaw. He turned your face towards his, looking at your dazed expression before capturing your lips. Now this guy was not as bad as the Russian Ground Forces officer, but still, nothing amazing. But then again, you’ve never really shared a “amazing” kiss with anybody in your life.

The hand resting on your waist travelled to cup your breast through the bra, lightly squeezing in response to a moan you made into the kiss. Miguel returned to kissing your neck, this time sucking as well, making you let loose a couple of more quiet moans that sounded very real to anyone who didn’t know you.

You looked at Soap who was pointedly looking elsewhere and watched him subtly point to his watch.

Alright time to strike, you thought.

“Miguel,” you said in a breathless tone, “I want to show you somewhere I found.”

“I’m enjoying myself here, Abigail.”

Internally you rolled your eyes.

You moved a hand from his chest and squeezed his cock through his pants, making him choke on a groan. “I think you’ll be really interested in this place. Maybe you could show me something too…”

“Alright, princesa, show the way.”

You wasted no time, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bar and to the alley.

You felt yourself become giddier, finally getting to the more fun part. Your prey was truly hooked, just waiting for you to strike.

But instead of going straight to the bathroom, you stopped in the alley. You just weren’t done toying with him yet; you loved this part. You loved it when they got so worked up, thinking they were going to get lucky when really, they were dancing with a devil. This is when you felt most like your namesake. You lured them in, singing sweet melodies to get them close, only to then drag them down under the waves.

You loved the control.

You leaned back against the wall and pulled Miguel forward; He got the message and pushed his body against yours, shoving a hand up your tank top and under your bra, grabbing your bare breast while his tongue explored your mouth.

Another hand of his crept downwards, slowly applying pressure to your heat through your jean shorts. I should probably start to move towards the bathroom.

“Feels so good…” you absentmindedly mumbled against his lips, rocking your hips into his hand and letting out a small sound each time. Man, I wish this was someone else.

A masked face crept into your mind before you could stop it. That was enough to jolt you out of your adrenaline-fueled mind and turn your focus back on the main mission.

“I need you,” you whined, pushing him back slightly. “Let’s go to that place I told you about. It’s super close.”

He relented his motions and let you lead him out of the alley and directly to the isolated bathroom, seemingly empty.

You flung the door open, pulled him in, and locked it behind you; you didn’t need anyone to stumble across what you were doing.

Miguel, emboldened by your manufactured urgency, pushed you against the door and attacked your lips once again. He quickly grabbed the bottom of your shirt and lifted it up over your head, glancing at your lace-covered breasts.

“Dios mio…”

Adrenaline began really flowing now not because of his touch, but in anticipation of what you were going to do.

Before he could start touching you again, you undid his pants in order to grasp him through his underwear, eliciting a groan. You really only did this so he would close his eyes and not notice you grabbing your knife.

Sorry about this Miguel… Not really.

You quickly slit his throat, watching as he fell to his knees, making unintelligible noises. Fortunately for him, you were good with a blade and he died quickly. Only with the really evil ones did you draw it out.

You found his phone in his pocket, the time reading 6:45. Damn you did take your time a little bit.

“Soap, Ghost, I found the phone. I’m coming back to the car,” you said, knowing they could probably hear it through the wire.

In the mirror you could see blood was spattered across your upper body and face, but you had a slightly crazed grin on your face, giddy at a job well done. You were no longer Abigail; you were Siren, through and through.

You wiped off the most obvious blood stains and threw your tank back on, covering any on your torso. Anything else you could clean back at the base.

You made your way across the parking lot to the van and the backseat door opened before you could open it yourself. Soap gave you a look that was a cross between bewildered and congratulatory. Alejandro turned and held out his hand into which you placed the blood-smudged phone.

Ghost glanced at the blood on you but otherwise didn’t say anything. Odd, but he was a man of few words.

“Laswell,” Alejandro spoke into his comms, “we got a phone, on the way back to the base for decryption.”

——

Ghost

29 August 2022

1745, Market parking lot, Las Almas

He wanted to kill her.

Between the outfit and having to listen to her flirt with some random narco, he was at his wits end.

“I can introduce you to more people if you want. They’re friendly, I promise.” Ghost heard this “Miguel” say to Siren.

Soap cut in over the comms, “Damn, I know why they call her Siren now. She’s really good at this.”

Ghost listened for the next fifteen minutes to her laughing at that fucker’s jokes before hearing her breath hitch and subsequent sounds of fabric being squeezed.

“Alright,” Soap said, “we’re getting somewhere. He definitely is not bothered by an audience.”

Ghost closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what was going on. As if her small noises didn’t spell out exactly what was happening. The sounds of lips meeting and muffled moans also clued him in to exactly what was going on.

He wasn’t mad because it was Siren doing it, he told himself, he was mad because it put her in unnecessary danger.

“Watcher-1 to Bravo-7, how copy?”

“Siren is with the target now. Are you sure this is going to work?”

“Yes, I am sure. Siren excels at this. However, we need to get a move on,” Laswell said.

“Roger that.” Ghost replied. He had to put his anger aside and focus on the mission. He could be pissed at Siren later but now called for cool and collected.

“Johnny,” Ghost hailed to Soap. “We need to get a move on.”

“Copy.”

Soap must have found some way to tell Siren to hurry the fuck up because the next thing he heard was a breathy Siren telling the narco, “Miguel, I want to show you somewhere I found.”

“I’m enjoying myself here, Abigail.”

Ghost then heard a male moan and Siren saying, “I think you’ll be really interested in this place. Maybe you could show me something too…”

“Alright, princesa, show the way.”

Ghost wanted to punch something.

“Siren is making her way out, target in tow. I’ll trail behind them.” Soap reported.

“Rog.”

Thank fuck it was almost over. At least that’s what he thought until she stopped on the way to the bathroom to continue fooling around, obvious by the sound of her back hitting the wall.

“What the hell is she doing?” he asked, irritation spiking.

“Playing with her food, I think,” Soap replied.

“Feels so good…” Ghost heard her say quietly, accompanied by small, rhythmic noises of apparent pleasure.

Just before he was about to tell Soap to somehow intervene, Siren finally left the alley.

“Target entering bathroom with Siren.”

Ghost heard a crash of lips and a muttered “Dios mio…”

What really caught his attention was the obvious sound of a zipper being undone and a loud groan.

He clenched his teeth, trying to contain his… feelings about the current situation.

And finally, fucking finally, Ghost heard the telltale sounds of mangled gasping and a thud.

“Soap, Ghost, I found the phone. I’m coming back to the car.”

When she entered, he only just looked at her briefly. Her hair was a little messed up and blood was speckled over her body. That damn lace bra was still showing though, now also sporting some blood. Despite the mess, Siren’s eyes were gleeful as she handed the phone to Alejandro. Ghost had to look away before he lost control of himself.

—

Siren

29 August 2022

1900, Mexican Special Forces base, Las Almas

The drive was fairly quiet, and you were okay with that, silently going over what happened in your head. A good show on your part, you thought.

When you got back to the base, you began to walk towards the nearest bathroom to rinse the rest of the blood off, but Ghost grabbed your wrist in a harsh grip and practically dragged you behind him.

“What the fuck, Ghost?” you asked him incredulously. He didn’t answer your protest but instead found the nearest interrogation room and pushed you inside it.

“Can I help you?” You asked, watching him lock the door. Again, he didn’t answer but instead of just talking to you like a normal person, he gripped your shoulders and pushed you against the nearest wall, making you look up at him. You never really noticed how tall he was until now.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded in a quiet, but deadly tone.

“What was what?” you asked lazily, rolling your eyes and going to move his hands off your shoulders. Apparently, that wasn’t the right move because he grabbed your wrists with his hands and held them on either side of your head, leaning in close.

Now, maybe normal people would be scared; he was a killer and he sure was intimidating with the mask. You weren’t normal people, though. You were also a killer.

This was kind of doing it for you. You could feel yourself getting more and more aroused at his manhandling.

Not that you would tell him that.

“What happened to taking the target straight to the bathroom?”

“I was making sure he was hooked!” you defended. “I know what I’m fucking doing, Ghost. I was the one who found out Ghorbani was meeting with the Russians, you know. I’ve been doing this a fucking long time!” His eyes widened slightly, informing you that he did not know about your part in that mission.

“You know what I think?” His face got even closer, allowing you to see individual flecks of pigment in his eyes.

“What?” you whispered, a little enamored by the closeness.

“I think you fucking liked it. Did you, Sergeant?”

You scoffed. “You think men like that can please me, Lieutenant? Everything is fake. I like reeling them in and killing them but that’s about it.”

“Men like that?” he questioned, his deep voice going straight to your core.

“Weak men,” you said with a sneer. “All my targets are weak. And none of them have ever given me pleasure. I hope you can sleep soundly at night now.” His grip tightened on your wrists and he looked at your smirk with anger and a dash of heat in his eyes.

Just as he opened his mouth to come up with some retort to your smart remark, he tilted his head to the side, listening.

He released your wrists and brought his hand up to press the speak button on his comms.

“Roger that. We’ll be there.”

He turned to you, taking a second to unabashedly look you up and down, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“They got a hit on the phone and want us in the briefing room. Put this on,” He took off his jacket and threw it to you, leaving him in a short-sleeved shirt. “Let’s go.”

Without any comment on what just happened, he turned and left the room. You stood against the wall for a second longer before putting on the jacket. It was entirely to big for you, falling to your mid-thigh, but you found yourself pushing down another bout of arousal at the thought of how much bigger he was than you.

You shook your head of any further thoughts like that and walked out of the door, trying to catch up with his long stride.

Chess game:

Go to THIS WEBSITE

Copy and paste into Paste FEN/PGN(s) and you can start from the beginning of the match and press play

Chess moves:

1. e4 e5 2. Nc3 d6 3. Nf3 f6 4. Bb5+ c6 5. Bc4 c5 6. Nb5 a6 7. a3 axb5 8. Bf1 h5 9. b3 Qd7 10. Rb1 c4 11. d4 d5 12. h3 g5 13. Ra1 b4 14. Be3 dxe4 15. Bc1 exf3 16. gxf3 cxb3 17. Rg1 Qc7 18. Ke2 bxc2 19. Rg2 cxd1=Q+ 20. Kxd1 bxa3 21. Bd2 Bxh3 22. Rb1 Bf5 23. Ke2 Bxb1 24. Ke3 exd4+ 25. Kxd4 Qd7+ 26. Ke3 Bc5+ 27. Ke2 Bd3+ 28. Ke1 Bb1 29. Rg3 Qe7+ 30. Be2 b5 31. Bc3 Ra4 32. Rg2 b4 33. Bd2 a2 34. Rg1 a1=Q 35. Bxg5 fxg5 36. Rf1 Qc3+ 37. Kd1 Qd7+ 38. Bd3 Qcxd3+ 39. Kc1 Bc2 40. Rh1 Ra1+ 41. Kb2 Bd4

Taglist:

@jinxed-yep@july4th1918-mycaptain@rickgrimes12643@sarcasticwalrus0@aykxz98@midaribaby@your-highnessmarvel@ssqra@voidinfernal@nobody-000@theyounglingslayer@untoldshortsofthefandoms@memeorydotcom@kuutski@sodbos@lenasvoid@caleb-bailea@clayzayden@thelesbianwithissues@luxuricious@isasinterlude@kwiltshire13@summerbbygirl@persephones-garden@andromacher@jaysealynn@eternallysarcastic@cryingdvst@mystic-of-fire@bakusatsuhoe@tranquiiit@multiple-boxes-of-earthworms-de@kc-957@scaredknight@mrsspector-grant@sleepynyx@polar-pluto@orcishkitty@sodbos@iyaheartsabbyanderson@fluffyspaceprincess@itsagrimm@chiggennuggie@comedinewithmeyeh@muffinsz@bingblomp123@blazinghost@berrxessi @elentiyaiswriting@scaredknight@lovingly-kc@almostcrystalized101@spider-thot0115@starcoveredhoney@cvpitvno@harmssss@somnolentintrovert@callyum@rosegxoxo@thatawokenhunter@syd-vixious@orestukassss@ryunniez@kaitlynisinfinite@peachfridges

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader

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nugatorysheep · 2 months

Text

Wip Title Game

Tagged by @novantinuum

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs

I am not tagging 50 million people so @extranuts @flaretheskywing @dragonuva @roseetube post some WIP titles cowards

I have several docs that are just meant to be informative that I'm not listing because there's not much to talk about with them, and a TON of unfinished art that is like pre 2022 that will def not get done ever so its been yeeted into my Untouchables folder and also isn't listed here lmao

For convenience, I've taken out any duplicate files that are the same thing but in a different format

As you can see I have three brands of naming conventions for my files: Objective, Boring Name that just Is What It Is, Song Title and/or Lyric, and Shit Post Cause I Was Tired

Lord help me I have SO many WIPS

(Non-Informational) Writing Wips:

Bad End FOM Fic Beguiler of Wills Burning despair does ache Chapter 9: What does it matter how my heart breaks Drabbles Druidbreak Ficlet FOM WIP Doc Glimpses of life denial WIP IDK what to call this but yeah IEOE stuff idk Intermission XXX: Separate Ways Intermission XXX - Last moments of pure recall Intermission XXX - Look in my eyes she still holds the power Intermission XXX - The way ahead feels lonely Intermission XXX - Loss of want back there Pit AU - Editing Prism R&C Soundtrack Breakdown Six Forty Seven Slug it out Tell Me Something Good

Art Wips (I have a million of these):

[shoves hand in abdomen for the symbolism or some shit].clip ask.psd Axel Sketches.clip baneful bunker.png beat up boys.clip Beyond Bliss Gems Lineup.clip Bliss rose stuff for later.clip break the bank.clip chompers.png Connverse dump.clip Cupid dump.clip Druid x Sven x Sonny.clip Dryad sketches.clip EINF Steven.clip evil boi.clip evil leo doodles.clip Eye contact.clip Fab fly floret.clip failure 01.clip Frame of Mind Sketchbook.clip Fusion Chart.clip gay as fuck to be a test subject. what are you testing, your capacity for homosexual desires.clip (this is one long ass title lol) goober.clip Haven't you noticed I'm a star.clip He can say it cause i said so.clip he yeeteth and yoinknth away.clip HEARTBREAK SPINEL REF.clip homie rolled a nat one on genetics fr.clip HONEY REF.clip i am so fucking hungry bro imma make noodles 1.png (there's 4 it's a comic) I have made a new boy.clip Illustration (2).clip Illustration (3).clip Illustration.clip Illustration2 (2).clip Illustration2.clip Inner Demons.clip it triggered his flight or fight response.clip Karma Sketchbook.clip lazer_eyes-3A4E6.clip Lemme tell you what it's like to be a Zero.clip Loss Dot Jaypeg.png me.clip Mermay HB.clip mermay.clip MINOTUAR MAN.clip mirror_gem_designs.clip ML Stevonnie.clip munchmunch.clip Nova Artfight 2.clip Now that it's raining more than ever.clip old man lizard.clip oops all pain lol.clip open arms.clip Pasture crew.clip rare dizzy art.clip Real.mdp Ref wips.clip Sarkhan's Dragonfire.clip Save a horse ride a cowboy.clip Say that again i dare you.clip Screenshot 2023-09-23 001021.png Senkywenky.clip SFW Sketchbook.clip ShatteredStar.clip Show off those guns.clip Slugman the second coming.clip Snaps and snarls.clip so what's the point of holding tight onto my feet.clip Soap.clip some mtg quote.clip Space faggot.clip spongebob window meme.clip Starnheim_Unleashed.psd STEVEN ON LION.clip SU AU Battle Cuts.clip SUDF page redraw.clip Suneater.clip SUTREK.clip Take A Breath.clip Talking to Myself Redraw 1.clip (there are several of these it's a comic) THE SUN IS GETTING LOW.clip THERE IS NO MANA IN THIS AIR.clip they love each other.clip this was supposed to be shoes idk what happened.png Throwing boys at the wall to see what sticks.clip Tourmaline.clip Tower of boys.clip Trolls bullshit.clip tumblr bait purple rabbit man but the lame version [springtrap did it better].clip uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shit idk.clip Union of Love.clip wahho.clip Welcome to the grid user.clip Welcome to the grid user.png Will you be satified.clip wip 02.clip You're MINE.clip zoo doodles.clip ZOOLOGY GEMS REF TWO.clip

#nugget rambles #text.txt

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pascaloverx · 14 days

Text

BORN TO DIE

Warning: This chapter will contain violence, as well as inappropriate language and adult sexual content. Minors should not read or interact with this chapter or this fanfic.

TWO FOUR (+18)

THREE (+18)

The horse continues its steady trot, the rhythmic sound of hooves filling the silence between you and Prince Aemond. Since you had declared that only he or a dragon could take your life, neither of you had spoken. The images of the ragged commoners still haunt your mind, the blood of one of them staining your skin. The scent lingers, almost as though it corrodes your very soul—if there is any soul left to corrode. Aemond, in contrast, remains unnervingly calm, as if such violence is second nature to him.

"When I was younger, my mother taught me to always adapt. Kings and princes like you were not born to be contradicted by people like me. My mother was a woman who adapted well, and that is how I was conceived. The man who fathered me sought a replacement for his dead wife, and my mother shaped herself to meet his desires." You can sense that your words mean little to Aemond Targaryen, yet for a fleeting moment, you feel compelled to share them. Perhaps it is the honesty, or perhaps the looming realization that this might be your final journey—the last stretch before the war claims you. It has never been clearer that your end is near, whether by the hand of a one-eyed prince or the flames of a dragon. The manner of death is inconsequential now; it is merely a matter of time.

"My silence must have been misunderstood by you, gundjabo. I have no need to hear your lamentations." The prince’s low voice carries a hint of irritation as he lets out a frustrated grunt. You exhale sharply, frustration building within you. There is something dreadful about being condemned to a war that is not your own, dragged along by a man indifferent to your very existence—one who does not even deign to bed you.

"Unless you plan to kill me for speaking, I shall continue. These may very well be my final words, for all I know," you say, your tone steady but defiant. "As I was saying, I always knew my fate would lead me to the brothel, as a whore. But when the man who fathered me came to weep over his legitimate children, I discovered I was a bastard of someone of importance. And that I had a sibling who bore a resemblance to me. That is why I speak High Valyrian, for I was meant to be the perfect replacement for someone’s trueborn daughter. Tell me, Your Highness, how did you know I was a bastard?"

Your boldness stems from a desire to have your story heard, to have someone in this world know the truth of your existence. And you are certain Aemond will not kill you—not before delivering you to the dragon.

"What gave you the notion that I would be inclined to engage in conversation with you? Know your place, Y/N," Aemond snaps, turning toward you with a sudden, fierce movement, as if poised to strike. His single eye fixes on you, sharp and unwavering, and there’s a dark satisfaction in the way he watches your reaction. He seems to revel in the way his abruptness unsettles you, savoring the fear or hesitation he provokes.

"What led you to believe that I would be disposed to engage in conversation with you? Understand your position, Y/N." Príncipe Aemond pivots abruptly to face you, his single eye piercingly fixed upon your countenance. His demeanor is one of restrained menace, and he appears to take a grim satisfaction in the disquiet he has stirred within you.

The horse comes to an abrupt halt, causing your body to jostle against Prince Aemond Targaryen, who seems increasingly agitated. He dismounts with a brisk movement, signaling the end of your journey by horse. Before you lies a solitary figure, stationed by a boat, standing guard with an air of grim duty.

"My esteemed Prince Aemond, I present to you what you have requested. Should you follow the prescribed route, you shall arrive at the location where it has been reported that your future dragon was sighted. I wish you a successful and prosperous journey." The peculiar man, clearly seeking to flatter the Prince, elicits a noticeable expression of disdain from him.

"Then your presence here is no longer required. I suggest you keep your lips sealed regarding my business here. Additionally, worm, should I fail to find the 'safe' path to the dragon, be aware that you will face a most unfavorable encounter with Vhagar." You are unable to observe their exchange directly, as you are preoccupied with dismounting the horse, given that Aemond appears to be indifferent to your presence at the moment.

"My prince, I would never lead you into an ambush. I wish you a successful journey and hope you acquire the dragon," you finally manage to dismount from the horse, nearly falling onto the ground. The peculiar man watches you with a smile, seemingly amused by your misfortune, while Aemond, though visibly irritated, remains unyielding. His irritation persists even in moments when you are not actively provoking him.

"Rise from the ground at once, gundjabo. If this is your feeble attempt to gain my pity, you are failing. And as for you, Larys, you should have already removed yourself from my sight. Of course, if you hold no regard for your life, you are welcome to remain." Prince Aemond's voice was laced with irritation, the impatience in his tone unmistakable. The peculiar man, now silent, awkwardly retrieves the horse you both arrived on and departs clumsily, leaving you and the prince alone once more.

Yet you remain on the ground, lost in contemplation of your wretched circumstances, bound to the will of Prince Aemond. Your gaze drifts away from him, drawn instead to the waters that flank the path to Dragonstone. The sight of the water, so free and fluid, captivates you. It seems to beckon, offering a silent sanctuary, a world away from your current plight. It had been so long since you had been near the water, and now it appeared almost sacred, a reminder of peace in a life devoid of it. Though you hear Prince Aemond’s voice, it feels distant, as if muffled by the pull of the serene waters. In this brief moment, it is as though you and the water are the only things that exist. You rise, however; not to obey any command but to delight in the water. Slowly, you begin to strip away your clothing, letting the fabric fall carelessly to the ground as the cool wind brushes against your bare skin. A deep sense of freedom, unfamiliar and intoxicating, washes over you. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you taste the sweetness of liberation, a brief escape from the chains of your fate.

It does not matter that Prince Aemond will see you in such a vulnerable state, nor does it concern you that his inevitable anger will rise once more. His threats of death hold no sway over you in this moment. As the last of your garments slips from your body, you stand, unburdened and untamed, indifferent to the consequences. For now, you are part of the wind, the water, the air—untouchable by any prince or king.

"What do you think you are doing? I did not bring you here to gaze upon your nakedness, nor for any such entanglements," Prince Aemond snaps, his voice sharp as steel, while his hand grips your arm, halting your movement toward the water. His touch, firm yet restrained, feels different for the first time—no longer cold or harsh, but strangely… grounding. Though his grasp is strong, it does not hurt you. You turn your gaze to him, your lips curling into a relaxed, almost defiant smile. The tension between you, once a barrier, now seems to shift subtly, as though something unspoken lingers between the two of you.

"It seems, Your Highness, that you are under the mistaken impression that I have any interest in such entanglements with you," you say, your voice soft yet pointed, as you step closer to him. "If it appears otherwise, you are gravely mistaken. You have made it abundantly clear that you are here as my possessor, not my lover. But the blood on my skin reeks of decay, and if I am to face a fatal destiny by your hand or another, at the very least, grant me the decency of being cleansed for it. I do not believe I am asking for much." Though your tone is measured, almost submissive, your gaze remains sharp, as if daring him to challenge your words. Yet beneath that facade of defiance, there is a clear falsehood—you wouldn't mind if he took you here, on the cold, unforgiving ground. The threatening look in your eyes, too, is a lie; in truth, at this moment, you pose as much danger to the prince as a child would. You know this, and so does he.

"Ao kostagon jikagon, gundjabo," Prince Aemond finally responds, his voice carrying an edge of authority. As he speaks, you offer him a faint, resigned smile. Without another word, you run toward the water. The cold is biting, eliciting a drawn-out gasp as you immerse yourself, but as you cleanse your body with the water, you feel the burdens you have been carrying begin to lift. When you look at Prince Aemond, he is naked; coming towards you. For a moment you can't believe what you're about to witness. Or rather do.

"Your excitement at my presence here is a disgrace to yourself. I have no intention of expanding the bonds of our relationship, gundjabo." Prince Aemond speaks as he steps closer and closer. He certainly wants to dispel any lust that is taking hold of you.

"Tell me, Your Highness, are you so afraid of fucking me?" In moments of the prince's presence, the cold that was taking over your body turned into heat; burning deep within your soul. The prince smiles mischievously as if he liked her question; even if in a diaceous way. Your gaze then shifts to Prince Aemond's member, which appears to be quite erect for a cock that isn't considering entering you.

"If you must know, there has been no fear under me for some time. What I have, is caution. You think I don't notice that your desire for me lies in the need to manipulate me," Aemond approaches you quickly, his hand then roaming over your face, almost as if he was scrutinizing you. "A whore like you must be as thirsty as any other to have the privilege of being taken by me," Prince Aemond stands directly behind you, his cock lightly touching your ass. As his hand moves from a light, affectionate touch to your face and moves downwards, touching your neck with a certain dexterity, in a firm way.

"Dear prince, my intentions towards you are the most pleasurable possible. What risk can a mere prostitute bring you?" What you say comes out of your mouth like a whisper, as half of your concentration has already been lost. Instinctively you turn around, still feeling Aemond's hand on your neck. A drawn-out moan is released by Prince Aemond, who holds your breasts tightly with both hands.

"Say, gundjabo, would you like me to take you here, in the middle of the water? That I would use these hands to fuck you? To satisfy you?" As Prince Aemond aggressively touches your breasts, you let out somewhat scandalous moans. It looks like Aemond's hands are massaging your breasts in a teasing way.

"By your hands, Ñuha Dārilaros; I would accept any fate. Death or pleasure, whatever you decide; it will be to my advantage." You drawl, trying to seduce Aemond. Between your legs, if there was already water before; now everything was wet. Your pussy is ready to receive Prince Aemond's cock. And then abruptly, he grabs your ass firmly, pulling you towards him. Almost like climbing a mountain, you climb up Aemond, wrapping your legs around his waist. Once you secure yourself around Aemond, It's like your pussy is throbbing just from feeling his cock pressed lightly beneath it. In a desperate act, you pull Prince Aemond's face to yours, kissing him. A thirsty kiss, as if there was an uncontrollable thirst within you and only Aemond Targaryen's lips could quench it. At first he seems apprehensive, controlling his tongue so as not to lose his rational side even in a simple kiss, but as soon as you press a little on his cock, which is already hard, he gives himself over to the kiss; body and soul. The prince's long fingers firmly gripping the top of your ass, creating a pleasant friction between your body and his. And just as it seems like he's finally going to give himself to you, he pulls away from your lips and drops you into the water.

“Certain privileges must be earned before they are received so impulsively, gundjabo. Tame the dragon we are about to seek, prove yourself indispensable to your King, and you will gain some worth in my eyes. Until then, savor this moment. There may not be another opportunity for you to experience such freedom again in the future.” Prince Aemond speaks as he holds your face up after you finally manage to catch your breath from being thrown into the water. You are seething with anger inside—frustrated by the way the one-eyed prince has treated you, by the inability to grasp the full magnitude of his presence, and by your own intense yearning for him that has made you lose all sense of absurdity.

In silence, the prince exits the water, gathering his garments from the ground and donning them once more. You watch him attentively, struggling to suppress the anger that is consuming you. Fortunately, as the desire ebbs away, your good sense returns. With a sense of urgency, you leave the water and dress yourself. No words are exchanged between you and Prince Aemond during the journey to the boat, nor during the voyage to Dragonstone.

Certainly, you had to be discreet, feigning the role of commoners while you followed Prince Aemond to the location where he hoped to find his potential dragon. The journey took hours, leading you to a nearly forgotten place amidst a quiet fishing village. Against the prince's will but driven by strategy, you had to repeatedly obstruct the view of curious onlookers who tried to recognize Aemond. Through a bit of your own charm, you managed to divert their attention, effectively becoming his shield. In the tempestuous atmosphere, you finally come upon the dragon. It is enormous, with black scales that blend into the shadows. Its eyes are closed, indicating it is resting.

“Your Highness, I cannot... Find another bastard,” you say upon seeing the dragon so close. The fear of death outweighs any sense of duty at that moment. You step back, trying to distance yourself, but Prince Aemond grips your arm with a harshness. This time, he pulls you close with aggression.

"Swallow your cowardice, go over there, and claim that dragon. And if this seems like a request to you, know that it is an order, and should you disobey, you will die by my sword, gundjabo." Prince Aemond threatens, looking at you with impatience. His menacing tone frightens you somewhat, but as a final act of bravery, you grab the dagger from the Prince’s waist and point it at him.

"Your Highness, regrettably, I must clarify that I have no intention of obeying you. Let me go, and I assure you, you shall never hear of me again," you say, your voice trembling somewhat, though not from cowardice. The thought of death, at this moment, feels unsatisfactory to you.

"Go to that damned dragon and claim it for yourself, or you will die here. There is no other option, gundjabo. My patience is wearing thin, so drop this dagger and go now!" Prince Aemond bellows with all his might, his demeanor fierce and ready to strangle you if necessary. As you remain indecisive, contemplating your options, Prince Aemond suddenly throws himself at you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. He grips your neck tightly, while you still hold the dagger against him, the weapon trembling in your hand.

"Your Highness, you are squeezing my neck...with a certain unnecessary firmness." You speak between attempts to catch your breath as the air escapes you. Aemond's blank stare tells you he might kill you. So while you still have strength, you hold the sharp dagger against the neck of Aemond Targaryen, who is lying on top of yours. He only seems to notice that he is hurting you more than necessary when you cut him, more specifically cut a small but significant part of his neck. And then his hands lose their grip on your neck and his attention seems to be elsewhere. It could be that the pain from the cut is bothering him, or the fact that he is bleeding and the blood is dripping down your face. The taste of Aemond's blood is surprisingly sweet, but you worry that you've seriously injured him.Then you drop the dagger you were holding and look worriedly at Prince Aemond. He removes his hands from your neck and slowly holds both of your hands at the height of your head.

“Do you feel powerful for having managed to make me bleed, gundjabo?” Prince Aemond’s words are laced with a cruel edge, as if your injury to him has only heightened his thrill. The dangerous proximity of your faces is palpable. However, before you can respond, the dragon stirs and awakens. You both quickly disentangle as you hear the dragon's roar, followed by a burst of fire that sends a shiver down your spine. It may seem like madness, but you could swear the fire that it spewed was green, an unusual color for dragon flames. The dragon's eyes are also green. It appears to be the most magnificent dragon you have ever seen.

"What should I do, Your Highness?" you ask desperately as you feel the hot breath of the dragon's nostrils blowing over you and Aemond. You recall the commands for summoning dragons that your father taught you, but without knowing the dragon's name, it will be impossible to call it.

"Command him, tell him to calm down; if he obeys you, he will be your dragon. His name is Cannibal. I suggest you act quickly before he kills us, gundjabo," Prince Aemond commands authoritatively as he gives you instructions. After a moment of effort, you take a few steps forward, under the watchful gaze of the dragon.

“Naejot Māzīs, Canibal,” you say, approaching the dragon as you notice your hands stained with Prince Aemond’s blood. Despite the bloodied state, you persist in your attempt to claim the dragon. “Lykiri, Canibal. Nyke daor dangerous. Sȳz taoba.” You raise your blood-stained hand towards the dragon, which responds with another roar. Despite the force of the roar nearly causing you to fall, you stand firm, determined to show the dragon that it will have a fearless—if not reckless—rider. The dragon spreads its wings and positions itself in front of you, undecided on whether to accept or attack. It then unleashes a powerful flame into the sky.

You close your eyes tightly, resigned to your fate, but also emboldened by the attempt to claim a dragon, an unprecedented advance from your life as a bastard prostitute. As you brace for the dragon’s attack, it approaches, waiting. You glance back at Prince Aemond, who stands behind you, observing. He gestures for you to place your hand on the dragon. With a deep breath, you gently and slowly reach out to touch the dragon’s face.

As soon as your hand makes contact, a powerful surge of energy envelops you. Your eyes shut again to fully experience the bond forming between you and Cannibal. Though it feels like mere seconds, you sense that more time has passed. Prince Aemond’s voice reaches you through the haze, calling you several times. When you finally open your eyes, both yours and the dragon’s meet in unison. Turning slowly, you face Prince Aemond, who appears astonished. You and Cannibal now stand united, as one.

"Congratulations, gundjabo. You have just bestowed a significant advantage upon your King in this war," Prince Aemond declares, his expression betraying genuine satisfaction. Yet, there is no joy within you. The gravity of your new reality is apparent: you are now irrevocably entangled in a conflict that, though not of your own making, could very well claim your life. Moreover, your evident lack of experience with dragons only compounds the danger you face. Officially, your existence has been altered beyond recognition.

TO BE CONTINUED

GLOSSARY

Ao kostagon jikagon - You can go

Gundjabo - Prostitute

Ñuha Dārilaros - My Prince

Naejot Māzīs - Come Forward

Lyriri - Calm down

Nyke - I

Daor - Not

Sȳz - Good

Taoba - Boy

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