#the last one appeared to me like a vision when i was watching the anime lmfao

[nagimayo]

these are way too much fun to make (sorry for all the eden/mayoi, can u tell who i produce lmao)

[sleepysnk]

Squirting headcanons with the blue lock boys? Pretty please?

a/n: hi nonnie! thank you for sending this in. i’m so sorry it took me this long to finally get to this, but i appreciate you sending this! i hope you enjoy <3.

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro

warnings: established relationships, nsfw, squirting, fingering (kunigami), oral sex f!receiving (bachira), use of pet names (baby, princess), overstimulation, multiple orgasms.

SQUIRTING HEADCANONS.

isagi yoichi:

you and isagi had been having sex for quite a while. it was after your anniversary date, so you decided to indulge in some of your personal fun to end the evening.

isagi’s thrusts were quite erratic. he had this brutal assault against your cunt and he was making your vision blurry from simply just rutting his hips into you. he was determined to give you the absolute best treatment that night, and he was doing just that. he had your legs over his shoulders with his dick filling your pussy. your orgasm was making itself known in your belly, but something felt different in your gut this time. it wasn’t something familiar to you and part of you worried that something was going to happen.

you practically were warning isagi about what was happening, but he wasn’t halting. he kept going and going. he wanted to make you cum so bad and his own selfish desire was taking over him. what he wasn’t expecting was after his final thrust into you was this gush of fluid coming from your pussy. it covered the sheets and his cock, shocking both him and you. this was the first time you had ever squirted on him and you were somewhat embarrassed at first, but isagi thought it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen. his dick got hard all over again when he watched what happened before him.

“fuck.. don’t even be embarrassed, baby, i wanna see you do that again..”

bachira meguru:

you and bachira had been having sex for so long, you forgot how many orgasms you had the entire night. he had just returned home from a very long soccer match and all he wanted was to bathe in your embrace, but one thing led to another, and he pounced on you like a wild animal.

bachira had you in all kinds of positions. he practically almost folded you in half when he was making you cum for the third time. he was making you go crazy. your pussy was so tired and sore and there was a huge mess on his cock, but he didn’t show any sign of stopping. he could feel another climax coming from you since your cunt was practically closing in on him again, so he decided last minute to use something else on you. his pretty mouth that you swore hands down was from a god itself.

bachira pulled out of your dripping hole, leaning down and spreading your thighs apart to get a great taste. he lapped up your juices and latched his mouth into your sensitive folds. his tongue was so warm and he kept licking at your bud, making you shove your hands into his hair. you couldn’t stop the cries that slipped from your lips every time he went at it, and you were so fucking close to reaching that delicious high. there was something foreign about it, though. you somewhat blamed it on the overstimulation, but it was hurdling towards you so quickly you barely had time to react when you squirted all over his mouth and his face. your jaw was practically on the floor and bachira seemed just as surprised, but he couldn’t hide the smirk that appeared on his face. he always wanted to make you squirt.

“hehe.. took me some time, but i finally got you to do it, baby.”

kunigami rensuke:

kunigami is a big guy, so you already know that those fingers are also pretty big. he’s fingered you many times before and he’s made you feel full that way, even without his cock.

the two of you were watching a movie. you were lying beside your boyfriend and his hands started to explore you in a teasing manner. you knew him very well, so you already knew what he wanted from you. his fingers began to play with your clit, swirling it around to the point where you were soaked. he sunk two of his digits into your dripping hole, making any mention of the movie in front of you disappear the moment he started pumping into you. his fingers were so thick and nice you couldn’t hold back and started crying his name like it was a prayer. he was so good at it. it took your breath away every time he curled upwards to find that spot inside of you.

he had your thighs wide open, leaning in to kiss you every so often while he fingered you. he was reaching all of those nice areas inside of you and you knew you were getting close. your body language explained it all and kunigami was so damn excited to see how hard you were going to cum for him. you were scratching at his wrist, whining like a bitch in heat for him. then, after practically dirty talking you the entire time, you reached your high. he was surprised to see that you started squirting all over his wrist, leaving it all over the sheets. you were at a loss for words, but you were too fucked out to care.

“why don’t we do that again, baby? how about on my cock this time.. yeah?”

nagi seishiro:

after returning home from a long day, nagi wanted nothing more than to be by your side, but when he smelled how great your perfume was he had gotten harder than a rock. he missed you so much.

nagi lost count of how many times he had made you cum. you and him were both sweating and your bodies were practically sticky from it. he could care less, though. all he cared about was making you feel good, and that’s exactly what he was doing. you were a mess underneath him with his cock buried inside your sweet pussy. nagi only yearned to make you cum even more, and with your cunt slowly closing around him, he knew he was going to make that possible.

you were so overstimulated. your body was screaming for some type of relief but it was just too good to stop. your thighs were trembling and you couldn’t stop blabbing for more from your boyfriend. nagi thought it was so cute to see you in such a manner. he only kept up that rough pace he had and it excited him that you were once again reaching another orgasm. he was whispering dirty things in your ear, toying with your puffy clit to only make it more exciting for you. nagi kept going until he felt a huge gush of something on his abdomen and his groin. he saw you shaking while you squirted all over the bed. he honestly couldn’t believe his eyes that it had just happened, but he wanted to see you do it over and over again. it was such a turn on for him.

“oh? so that’s what you can do? heh, let’s try it again, princess..”

[turbulentscrawl]

Protection

Yet another little blurb series that absolutely no one asked me for. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? WHATEVER GETS THE JUICES FLOWING AGAIN.

warnings for violence, angst, and comfort. Use of potentially triggering words like "psycho" and "whore."

The manor was a hard adjustment for any new face, but some handled it worse than others. This mystery man was particularly defensive, particularly paranoid of the manor’s nightmarish circumstances. He was stressed, and scared, and confused, and bleeding out in his first match was the last straw needed to tip the scales towards an outburst.

Norton

You were just trying to be friendly when you spoke to him at breakfast. Really. But looking back you could see how a terrified mind might misconstrue your small comforts and placations about death as mocking. He stormed off mid-meal, and you spent the rest of it stewing in quiet guilt. A walk in the gardens would do you some good, you decided, but Norton was still busy with his second helping of steak and eggs and told you to go on ahead.

So alone you exited the room, lost in regretful thoughts, but you didn’t make it halfway down the hall before the new guy appeared again. He stopped down ten feet from you, coiled tight like a cornered animal. He didn’t look like he had calmed down at all, but then he hadn’t seemed calm since he arrived. In any case, it seemed like the best chance you would get to give an apology.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier,” you said, stepping aside to let the fearful man pass, so he could go finish his meal.

But he reacted to your words like a viper strike, flinching and then snapping forward to put his face in yours. His eyes were wild.

“Don’t play coy about it,” he hissed. His hands, at his sides, itched and twitched to grab and you were too fear frozen to move away from them. “You’re part of this hell too, I know it. All of it an act, AN ACT! But you won’t trick me. You won’t get to make it worse for me!” He raved and threatened in your face for what seemed like forever, so close he took up your entire vision and you forgot where you were. Maybe that’s what it was like for him, right now, you faintly mused, still trying to understand. You hadn’t been like this when you first arrived… you or anyone else that you could recall.

He stopped talking suddenly, eyes tracked on something behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see what had caught his attention and spotted, back through the doorway to the dining room, Norton tipped back in his dining chair and watching. Watching you. Watching him. A steak knife was in his hand and a dare was in his eyes.

Your attention was drawn back by the sound of the new guy stomping off again, hurried, tail still between his legs. When you looked back at Norton again, he tipped his chin to beckon you. When you stepped back through the door, Norton took his foot off of the table (its placement earned a side-eye from Fiona) to lower his chair back to four legs, and kicked out the empty seat next to him for you to reclaim. You sat down meekly, shaken by guilt and fear.

“I was just trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, biting again into his food. “And he’ll figure it out himself too eventually. In the meantime, let him be someone else’s problem.”

In a rare show of public affection, Norton leaned over and kissed you on the temple. “And stick closer to me for a while. You’ll be fine.”

Naib

Shit had hit the fan as soon as everyone was back and healed from the match. You and the new guy had both died—you to the chair and him to bloodloss—but a tie was a tie and worth at least a small celebration. But when he joined you, Tracy, and Margey for the tea party, he completely lost it.

He leapt across the sun room table for you, tipping it and all its contents to the ground, and the girls screamed with a genuine shock and terror you hadn’t heard in a while. Your back and knees smarted, all whacked by the scattering wooden furniture. Hot tea seeped into your shirt and scalded your belly. Sharp, broken porcelain lay dangerously scattered around your head. You couldn’t tell what the girls were shouting because you were too focused on your assailant. On keeping his hands off of your throat, out of your eyes, and getting his pinning body off of you. His nails clawed at your face, you knew that much, but if the matches taught you anything it was to not give up on a struggle.

Just as you started in on some dirty fighting Naib had taught you (pulling, trying to rip his ears off), the man himself came charging in like a bull and tackled the new guy off of you. You got kicked a bit in the process—but that was a fair price to pay for being able to scramble to the other wall and watch, secured by Tracy an Margey, as Naib completely wailed on the guy.

Naib didn’t talk about his background much, but you knew he knew how to fight. This was barely a fight—a one-sided beatdown morelike—but in your bitter soreness you felt it was well deserved. Naib knew how to make every swing count, and it was only well after the new guy was limp on the ground that William showed up and hauled Naib off of him. Emily followed next, running to check on the new guy since you were already being doted on by the girls.

When William finally let Naib go, he huffed and puffed and flexed off some of his remaining aggression before spitting out a spiteful, “He ain’t dead. I ain’t that nice.”

Then he turned and shooed the girls off, scooped you up, and marched right out of the room. He held you too tight for your sore back’s liking, but you couldn’t begrudge him the positioning to keep his nose in your hair while walking to somewhere more secluded and safe. His chest was still heaving against your side, still high with adrenaline and worry. His knuckles were split and bloody. The day had only just started.

“Sorry,” you sighed into his neck. Naib scoffed, mouth still pressed to your scalp.

“What for? He’s the cunt.” He kicked open the door to your bedroom, fully pulling back enough to give you a smirk. “Don’t ever be sorry for me stepping in. I’ll take care of everything.”

Ithaqua

The manor sometimes held garden parties to welcome new inhabitants. Usually, though, it had better timing.

The poor new guy had had the awful misfortune of being a valuable player. He was good at getting in the hunter’s face, and the others did all they could to get him off his first chair safely. Because of the great team effort, he’d wound up bleeding out while the Hunter—Ithaqua, your boyfriend—dealt with the others. You knew that wasn’t Ithaqua’s modus operandi; it hadn’t been on purpose. …but he wasn’t exactly sorry about it, either.

As a result, the party was tense in some areas. Specifically, the areas where the new guy went. He walked around with a deep frown and a nervous jitter. He’d been anxious when he first arrived too, but it was understandably worse now, in witness of the two factions being chummy with one another right after one had just killed him. The hunters avoided him from the get go, and the survivors gave up on conversation with him not long after.

And you, well. You didn’t get to see Ithaqua in peaceful settings often.

That’s how you wound up here, you supposed.

“So you’re a fucking traitor whore!” the new guy snapped in your face. He wasn’t quiet, either. “What’s the matter with you! Those monsters beat and torture us and you turn around and hang all over one? You’re probably no fucking better, some kind of psycho killer! You’re the one who should die! You’re the one who should bleed!”

Not being quiet would be his downfall, though. Picking a secluded corner of the hedge maze to catch you in didn’t matter. The wind carried.

He didn’t get much farther into his rant and threats before Ithaqua came whirling around the corner with his “business” mask on. His axe was back in the manor, but the Hunter’s claws and sheer strength could do harm enough to a survivor. Ithaqua snatched the new guy up by the nape before he had a clue what was happening, and dangled him overhead. The new guy screeched in a way that made you feel sick, but you knew from experience there was no talking Ithaqua down. Shamefully, you turned your eyes away.

“You sure like to run your mouth,” Ithaqua sneered at him, tilting his head in that wicked, owlish way of his. “You know, all the other rats take death in stride around here. You clearly need some more practice with it.” Ithaqua ruffled your hair with his free hand before stalking off around the corner with the squirming offender.

When he came back a few minutes later, he was wiping his bloody claws off on his cape.

“He knows not to trouble you anymore,” he cooed. When he took off his mask, Ithaqua’s blackened eyed are far more serene than they should have been for what he’d just done. “Come, the Geisha brought out those little caked you like.”

[y11irfilm]

violet – chapter 4

qimir x f!reader | chapter 1, chapter 2 & chapter 3

summary: she had no direction. a nomad who didn't choose a side. but when a vision makes her save people, she has to face her mind in the worst way possible: on a planet made of water with the man who reminds her of her past.

content: pov qimir, reader has a nickname, mention of deaths, power bond, a kind of “chosen one”, dark past, sexual tension, dark confessions, romantic feelings developing, kisses | wc: 2300+

notes: hello, another chapter of “light and darkness” (and penultimate chapter) that has now turned only violet because i wanted to change the look and it also made more sense to this name. this time, the vision will be totally the first person of the qimir, which was a mission for me but i loved doing it. i made this vision thinking totally of the feelings of a bad guy who just wanted an acolyte but found a feeling that for me should be a mess for them. — english is not my first language!

It was barely dawn when I found her on the beach.

She was wearing her nightdress, her hair was tied up and her feet were stuck in the sand.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing was irregular and her saber was in her hands. I heard her take a deep breath and let it out, her mouth gazing for seconds at the saber. She began to move the saber in slow steps, without turning it on yet.

I'd known about her ability since the forest planet case, but watching how controlled and precise her movements were, my choice was certain.

I crossed my arms over my chest, allowing myself to continue watching her until she realized my presence, which I found difficult at the moment.

She made her movements faster and faster, walking along the beach, marking her presence in the fight and sinking her feet firmly into the sand. I could feel the confusion in her mind from last night's events. She took it out on each blow in the air. She was conflicted. I let a smile appear on my face, she was becoming more connected to her power every day and allowing herself to feel her true feelings about everything around her. That was what I wanted most, the power of the two of us together against the galaxy. Desire grew in my body.

I took a step forward, then froze. I could no longer move my body anywhere. I looked up again to see if she was all right, but she was more than all right. Her left hand was raised towards me and her eyes were still closed. She was using the Force to stop me.

"Hey, jellyfish, open your eyes. It's no fun arresting someone who's not in the fight."

Its eyes slowly opened. Red. They were a blood-red shade that surprised him. How? I not only knew, but sensed that she wasn't on the dark side yet, just small steps away from a doubt I'd planted in her head a few weeks ago. Was her father as bad as he said? After watching for a few seconds, I saw them return to the dark brown I had been watching for so long.

I felt my pressure return to my body as she lowered her hand, so I began to walk until I was a few steps away from her body. I watched as her head slowly turned to the side and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Jellyfish?"

I smiled. "You seem innocent to look at, but you have dangerous tentacles. Or I may have seen you draw one of them in the sand while on one of my walks."

"It was my father's favorite sea animal. He swam with them, felt a strong connection and taught me to love them as if they were my sisters." I could feel the good taste of recalling childhood memories, she seemed at peace. "They used to call me Medusa. I miss them." I tried to find words to continue the conversation, but my thoughts were muddled. With each new piece of her past life, I become a man desperate for more and more.

"I'm going swimming."

I heard his words in the back of my mind while still stuck in the same conflicting thoughts. When I turned my head to look at her, I knew she was shining like a fucking star. I didn't remember feeling my heartbeat like that. I felt my feet take over, water getting into my clothes and my arms moving through the water towards her. I watched her sink for a few seconds and raise her body to the surface again, her eyes going towards me with a smile lighting up her face. She turned her body towards the ocean trail, moving her arms to either side and swimming away again.

"Hold on, wait a minute." I tried to keep up with her, but her nickname was true, she was a jellyfish. Medusa was born to be swimming in the ocean. I could hear her let out a few muffled laughs over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks near the shore.

She was several meters away from me, stopping and turning her body towards me, making me stop. "Too slow for a person who lives on a planet covered in water, I'm disappointed." I couldn't remember when a smile appeared on my lips, but she noticed. "It's beautiful, it's kind. It's you." I didn't need to think to know what that meant for her. "It's a gigantic wall inside your mind, let the dark king rest for a while." Medusa slowly swam towards me and stopped a good distance away, I could feel her gaze piercing the wall. I waited for her next move, trying to anticipate and prepare my reactions. I felt drops of water splashing onto my face. She had moved her hand and splashed water on my face. Letting out a big laugh at knowing that I really wasn't expecting it.

Medusa began to walk away again, waiting for my footsteps. I just knew I had to bring her to me. I moved my arms to start swimming towards her, watched her raise her head a little and let the big laughs come out of her throat as she ran away from me. It was a beautiful sound that I wanted to hear more often.

Thoughts of a plan were emerging in my mind, and I automatically began to put it into practice. I sank into the water, using my control to avoid being found. I moved my arms quickly towards the aura I felt of jellyfish. On the count of three, I submerged back to the surface, placing my hands on his hips and pulling him to my body. "Gotcha."

Sun star. That's how I could describe his smile at that moment. "Congratulations, king." I felt a tightening in my chest. She moved her hand to one of the loose ends of my hair and tucked it behind my left ear. I felt her fingertips lightly touch my face before her hand fell back into the water. It was like a hot day, my body was burning.

The tightness in my chest continued until it was unbearable. I put one of my hands next to my chest, leaving the fabric of the robe untouched. Then I saw his irises paint a new art, but it wasn't what I had expected to see before. A violet was filling the irises of her eyes, while her smile was lighting up my heart. With one hand still on her hip, I pulled her closer, diving into her eyes.

"Why purple?" I murmured to the ocean.

She knew exactly what I was asking. "As a child, I remember hearing from the Jedi that blue represented hope and hope was them. Red was the blood of one corrupted to the steps of the dark side." Medusa slowly raised her arms, placing them on either side of my neck. The hairs on my body stood on end. I felt conflicted again. "Purple is just the combination of them. A person who lives on both sides. That's me." She murmured the words in my ear, feeling her nose move from my ear to my cheek and her lips deposit a seal on it.

My eyebrows furrowed. "When did you find out?" I saw her smile slowly disappear, replaced by a look lost in painful memories.

"When he killed her. When, when... When I saw him spit out his own blood the countless times I let the knife be plunged into his chest."

"I took his body in my arms and carried it to the ocean, swimming to them." Medusa closed her eyes for a few seconds and opened them again. The violet was still alive in her irises. "I did what my mother asked, I loved him until the last second. I let him die the way he always wanted to, alongside the countless medusozoa.

I let my hand rest on one of her cheeks, my thumb caressing her skin. I felt a wave pass us and continue with full force to the shore, I turned my face and watched the change in the sea. Medusa was controlling it. Looking at her again, she wasn't noticing her own change, living by recalling her melancholy memories.

I plunged back into her violet eyes, then to her eyebrows, her thin, upturned nose, the rosy apples of her cheeks and finally, her lips. Desire ignited every part of my body. I looked at her, letting my eyes linger on her lips. I longed to kiss her. No, my soul cried out to take her for myself. An animal was born in my chest, ready to take over every cell of her body.

Violet. She looked like a fucking goddess with those piercing eyes, trembling and alive.

"Medusa."

"Qimir."

The weeks of sharing moments in the cave. I opened my eyes as the days dawned, and she was my first sight. Her walks around the planet and my eyes following her as if they needed that to breathe in peace. Preparing food for us to eat in the silence of the ocean, while our gazes met, I couldn't keep the corner of my mouth from twitching into a half-smile as I noticed her trying to look away from the food. Sleepless nights I couldn't help but stare at her contemplating the tranquillity of the darkness, her dark brown eyes illuminating the cave sky with such admiration. "Home, yeah, it reminds me of there." Her words came out like a breath in the air, her gaze continuing upwards, seeming to be talking to someone. I knew who it was. Watching him train on the sandy beach, his feet wet from the water on the shore and his eyes focused on each blow in the air. I could feel his anger draining away in his blows.

Confused feelings. She turns me into a different man every day. A different one that frightened me. I shouldn't be confused, I knew every moment that made her the way she is, but they're moments that haven't made her even ten percent the way she is. I shouldn't be wishing for something like this, I shouldn't be feeling this way about her. But in our gazes, I didn't care about any feelings that were emerging. I just wanted her to look at me more and more.

"What's stopping you?" When she came so close to my face?

"It's going to destroy us, like your parents. We shouldn't be involved in this." I felt a wave form and hit us hard before continuing on to the rocks.

"For the guy who was going to make a massacre, that sounds funny coming out of your mouth." She wrapped her arms around my body, resting her chin on my left shoulder. Whispering into my shoulder: "A man once said that fear is a powerful emotion, when you allow yourself to feel it." I felt his face rise again and come within inches of my face. His violet eyes became my undoing. "You become free."

Those three significant words in their lives came out in one last breath of air from her. My hand went up to her face, my thumb sliding over her lips in immense devotion. My hand moved to her neck, pulling sharply and pressing my lips to hers. A guttural moan escaped my throat as I felt her hand move up to my neck, wrapping around a few locks of my hair and pulling them without any affection. My hand went down to her waist and squeezed the flesh with fervor. Running my tongue across the roof of my mouth as I devoured the tiny sounds emanating from her. The waves began to follow us each in a few seconds with their superhuman strength, but they seemed tiny for what we were feeling at the moment. I felt her other hand wrap around one side of my face, pressing my fingers together. Then I saw it.

Flashes of her running in my arms until she was in the sea, my eyes not leaving her sleeping face. She heard my voice, but couldn't understand the words. I felt a great anguish in my chest, growing with each flash in my mind. Until everything stopped and I was with her again. I abruptly moved a few centimeters away from her, still processing the images in my head.

"Qimir." She moved her hand to my face, but I swam back a few more centimeters. Regret grew in me as my eyes stopped on her hand raised in the air, watching the fingers slowly close and the hand fall back into the water. I stared into her eyes for a few more seconds before turning around and swimming to the shore. I felt her gaze pierce my back as I walked away from the beach, but I held back the urge to turn and look at her again.

I felt his presence next to my bed, lying down and his gaze piercing my back, but I didn't give up. Every second I thought about the torture of ignoring her presence, I remembered the flashes and the anguish in my chest screamed for help. I could feel her doubt growing every second in the few centimeters our bodies were apart.

Her fingers touched my upper arm and the hairs on my body stood on end at the touch. "Qimir." Her breathy voice brought me an ache I hadn't felt in decades. She moved a few centimeters closer until she was leaning her face against my back. It was unbearable to be with her and not be able to glimpse her illuminated eyes. "I can't breathe in peace with you like this." Her face pressed tightly together. "Please."

I couldn't anymore.

My body turning towards her, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her body to mine. I didn't care about anything else at that moment, just having them in my arms. I would prevent that vision, no matter what I did.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 9

Summary: With the bargain in place, you'll have to learn to hide your powers while navigating a possibility of allies within Amarantha's court.

Content Warnings: Slight NSFW, suggestiveness, canon typical violence, allusions to assault.

Author's Note: As a little treat for the last chapter being so short, this one is loooooonnnngg. A couple familiar faces make an appearance here, as I decided I wanted to start combining the Hybern storyline with the UTM storyline.

Part 8 is here, rest of the series can be found here

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

“Again.”

Breath rasps out of you, hands doubled over on your knees, sweat dripping off your forehead. The pounding in your skull intensifies with each labored breath, spots dancing across your vision as you shake your head. “I can’t!”

“You can.”

You raise your head enough to shoot the High Lord of the Night Court a glare. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one shifting forms over and over again. Do High Lord’s even have other forms, aside from Spring? You can’t recall anymore, your head hurts too much. Rhys had decided days ago--at least, you think it’s days, time has become irrelevant in this dark dungeon cell Amarantha has left you both in--that the best way for you to gain control of your powers to better hide them, is to learn how to control the shift. Yours is not quite a beast form, you’re not fully transforming into some sort of beast, but you can grow fangs and claws and shift your eyes into something other. There’s something deeper there you haven’t quite touched, the image of it reveals itself in your dreams, sometimes as this shapeless empty void, others with scales, but you’ll have to dig deeper for whatever that thing is. For now, it’s dampening your power and glamoring your bargain mark, and keeping a harness on the fangs and claws. It’s excruciating, letting them out and shoving them back in, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve done it already. And Rhys just sits there in the corner, watching intently, giving instructions and being a general pain in the ass with each of them. 

“Did you think it was going to be easy?” Rhys returns.

You massage your jaw, the throbbing from retracting your fangs making your whole face hurt. “Of course not asshole! I’m just saying a little compassion would be nice.”

Rhys smirks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted to be babied and treated like a doll.”

You snarl at him like an animal, eyes blazing and your fangs slide into place effortlessly, pricking your bottom lip. 

Rhys stands with a grunt, body still recovering from the beating he’d received and the strain on his powers. “You’re so easy to rile up,” he croons, stalking closer. “You wear every emotion so plainly, it’s almost too easy to get you right into this position. And what happens when someone other than me sees, hm?”

He’s right and you hate it. 

He stills when he’s only a hair breath away. “I know it’s hard,” he says more gently. “But consider the alternative.”

You don’t want to even think about the alternative. This bargain has to work, you have to make it work, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how long it takes. You can’t let her win.

Your eyes go to the marks still gouged into Rhys’s neck from the collar; his healing abilities have started to return slowly, but he still can’t get the chain off, the wounds still rubbed raw from any and every movement. You can’t let her keep doing this to him either.

“Fine,” you huff.

“Good girl.”

The remark gets him a nice flash of your middle finger before you go back through the steps he’d taught you. It is nice to have the banter between you as a distraction to the reality of your situation, to the cold and darkness that have become a constant companion here far beneath the Mountain. The lack of food and sleep from the elements and the sounds of things prowling around outside is hard enough to bear without the looming threat of Amarantha’s return. This easy thing between you takes the edge off.

You last maybe an hour more, before you slump against the wall, exhausted. 

“You’re doing good,” Rhys affirms from his side of the cell. There’s barely enough room for the two of you to stretch your legs, knees brushing as you stretch your weary muscles. 

You want to believe him, but you know the confinement is taking a toll on your body. Perhaps part of Amarantha’s plan is to let you go half mad in the dark of the dungeons for your insubordination. At least you had been let out of your room from time to time. Locked away like this, you’re tired more easily. With powers like yours you should be able to do this for longer, but it feels like you’re trying to move the Mountain one rock at a time.

You rub a hand over your face, smearing the filth on your hands from touching the floor across your face. “Don’t patronize me.”

“You can be doing good and still need a lot of work,” he replies. “I thought you wanted me to be sympathetic?”

“Yeah well it means less if I had to force you to say it,” you retort.

He moves so he can come sit next to you. If he had any plans to say anything, it’s halted as the lock on the door slides out of place and it creaks open.

You instinctively reach for his hand, breath caught in your throat, waiting to hear that ominous click of heels on the stone floor. But it’s merely one of her red skinned guards, pushing a single tray across the floor before slamming the door shut again.

Rhys gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before leaning around you to grab the tray, a single, burnt loaf of bread and a cup of water between the two of you.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

He rips the bread in half. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

You take the half he offers, stomach rumbling, but you can’t bring yourself to eat it. What’s the point? 

“Tell me about it,” he says after a beat. “What’s so special about your little farmhouse in Spring.”

You bring your knees to your chest. “It had a lot of sunlight, for starters.” You miss being able to curl up by the windows with your books and a cup of tea, miss going out into the fields to check the mares and their calves, miss finding an excuse to go into town to listen to the minstrels play in the square. 

“I miss my bed and that old quilt I bought off a seamstress on the side of the road,” you continue, tears welling in your eyes. “And my books.”

“What do you like to read?”

“Anything,” you reply. “Everything. Never really mattered to me. Unless it was about math. I hate math.”

Rhys huffs a laugh. “What did math do to you?”

“It’s evil and stupid and who fucking puts letters in with numbers?”  It’s such a stupid statement you can’t help but laugh as the words come out. “But I’d read nothing but books about numbers for the rest of my life if it meant we got out of here.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to pull some from my library for you,” he teases.

You turn to look at him. “How have you survived this long, Rhys?”

He washes down the rest of his food with a bit of the water in your shared cup, violet eyes looking anywhere in the cell but your face. “One day at a time,” he says like it’s something he’s said every day. “And… and when it gets bad I think about my friends, my family. I make a list of their names and I recite it in my head until I don’t feel so lonely.”

You take his hand again, because what else are you supposed to do? You cannot magically make this all end right here and now. It will take time. Maybe that’s what hurts most, because this is the first time in weeks you’ve felt like you understand how your powers work, how you can use them, and yet there’s nowhere to direct them. It’s all a waiting game, moving pieces into the right places until you can finally put all this to use. And cauldron is the waiting game grating on your last nerve, but it’s only been a few days. Rhys has been here for fifty. Your heart aches for him.

“But I think,” he finally turns to look at you, and his violet eyes are damp. “I think I’ve forgotten what they look like.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Some days I want to just lay down and quit,” he whispers. “But I can’t. I won’t. Then she wins and everything I’ve set out to do, to protect, was for nothing. I can’t let it be for nothing.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “It won’t be for nothing.” You won’t let it either, you just need to rest for a bit, then you can get back to it.

He leans his head against yours. “We’ll get you back to your books and your quilt.”

“We’ll get out,” you whisper. Maybe if you tell yourself it enough it’ll be true.

“We’ll get out,” he echos.

After sitting like that for a few moments, collecting yourself, you choke down the stale and mostly ruined bread and little bit of ice cold water you’ll get for the day. It gives you enough energy to get back on your feet at least. Your head still throbs from the strain, but you brace yourself against the wall and will it to pass.

“Let’s try those glamors again.”

“That’s my girl,” Rhys praises.

You focus your attention on the thing that lives in your chest, hoping his position on the floor keeps him from seeing the blush that creeps its way up your neck under the possessiveness in his tone. The banter between you is one thing, but anything else is dangerous territory, and you can’t risk any more danger in your life than you already have.  

---

Time passes mostly the same after that, with a little more banter as the tension of being locked up builds between the two of you and a little less vulnerability, granted, but the training regime is the same, until your headaches become less frequent and his jabs at you make you feel less and less like a reason to bring out your claws. The shift becomes a little more bearable over time, and glamoring the bargain ink across your chest becomes the next focus. It takes all your attention for what feels like days, but it’s anyone’s guess.

The progress should make you feel more comfortable, and it does in some ways, but makes you jumpier in others. Every noise outside the door has you checking to make sure a glamor is in place, has you running your tongue over your teeth to ensure your fangs are hidden. Its been steadily getting colder in the cell, the only true indicator that time is passing, and if you can manage to sleep around the shaking of your body, your dreams have started to become less of a call of your powers and more of nightmare of clicking heels and bright red hair and rooms with black vials full of terrible potions. Rhys isn’t any better. Sometimes he wakes screaming, a bit of night chilled darkness seeping from his flushed skin. Some nights you find him staring dutifully at the door, unable to sleep at all.

You’re not sure how much more of this either of you can take before one of you starts bashing against the door again. Between the two of you, perhaps the damage he’d already done would be enough to get it open for real, but what would you do from there? It wasn’t like you could escape. Even if you managed to get out of this cell, she’d just throw you in another.

So you do your best to endure a little longer, even if that means coming up with new ways to cope with it. Cuddling with the High Lord of the Night Court hadn’t really been an option you’d considered until one night it had become so unbearably cold that you could see the clouds of your breath in the air and there wasn’t a full set of clothes between the two of you. Trying to conserve body heat, you’d rolled right into his bare chest and he’d greedily buried his freezing nose into the crook of your neck, teeth chattering against your skin. He’d mumbled something about conserving body heat and that had been all that you were willing to talk about it. From that point on, if you were tired, you’d just lay down next to his large body and let him wrap his arms around you for however long your body could manage to rest in these conditions.

It wasn’t that it felt wrong, it was that it felt right. You could see yourself tangled up like this, in a nice bed, with some warm blankets and fluffy pillows, sunlight streaming through a window above your heads, finally free and out of this terrible place. You try not to let your imagination go too far with that thought, but sometimes it’s the only reason you keep getting up and training; even if it isn’t going to happen for real, at least there’s something to imagine waiting for you at the end of this. You just make sure your shields are up when the thought runs away with you, lest he see them as his powers start to return.

“Your nose is cold,” Rhys says by way of greeting. You can only assume it’s morning, assume that your internal clock still works and that you are, in fact, still on some sort of sleep schedule, but it’s anyone’s guess really.

You crack an eye open to see what he’s talking about, grumbling about it being too early. At some point, you’d nestled quite snuggly into his chest, face buried in the crook of his neck, despite the collar.

“So are your hands,” you retort, closing your eyes again.

He drags one up your back, where the tattered remains of your dress bare your newly scarred skin, in retaliation. 

“Bastard,” you snarl but you don’t pull away. Pulling away means waking up; means counting the cracks in the ceiling again, pacing until you feel some warmth in your body again. Pulling away means you have to face another day in this cell and you’re not sure you can do it without bashing your fists into the door Rhys had nearly ruined already.

“You like having my hands on you,” he returns.

“Do I?”

“You were practically begging me to touch you on Calanmai,” he says huskily, warm breath ghosting over your ear. 

Your stomach does a little flip at the memory of his hands on you on Calanmai, at the hunger and want that had been so plain on his face you could almost taste it. Things had been so simple then, you didn’t need to worry about letting your own want show. Not like now. “Oh yes, because a night of magic induced horniness is the indicator for what I want.” 

But you do want it. Cauldron boil you do you want it. Every drag of his calloused palms across your bare skin makes you want to arch further into his touch, let him explore and taste and claim every bit of you. It’s becoming unbearable. Calanmai was nothing compared to this.

“So what do you want then?” Rhys asks as his hands draw shapes in your skin, near the base of your neck. You swear you hear a hint of vulnerability there, like there might actually be more than banter in this question.

“To sleep,” you reply, because you can’t allow anything more to happen. Amarantha already knows you care enough about him to surrender your powers, if she knew it was anything more, she’d kill him just to spite you. 

Rhys hums like he’s thinking about it, but eventually says, “We should train more. Your glamours need more work.” 

“Bite me,” you grumble. Training has become even more exhausting. It’s useful stuff for sure, but holding onto your power for too long, then stuffing it back down is starting to feel suffocating. Your powers beg to be unleashed, free and unrestrained from the boundaries you are drawing out for them. No, you can’t allow yourself to think about what you want to happen with the High Lord, but you can’t bring yourself to get up, so here you remain, in limbo between the two. Maybe if he lets you drift back to sleep you’ll never have to make a decision between the two.

He brushes his lips over the shell of your ear, “Ask nicely.”

Your treacherous heart skips a beat at the huskiness of his tone, heat flaring in the pit of your stomach. “Make me, High Lord.” 

A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Darling,” he purrs, “don’t start games you can’t finish.”

You have two options here: You can leave it be and get up, leave the line you have made between the two of you right where it is and not have to worry about it; or you can hold your ground and risk stepping right over that boundary line. You know you’re teetering on the knife’s edge here.

“Why wouldn’t I finish?” You turn your head enough to look him in the eyes, batting your eyelashes in feign innocence, even though you know damn well what you’re doing. 

He moves so quickly you don't have time to realize it’s happening before he’s rolling you over onto your back, the solid, heavy weight of him pressing you into the floor. All rational thought eddies from your mind as his hips shift against your own. 

“You have a lot of attitude for someone so set on going back to bed,” he says and you can’t help but note how dilated his eyes are, the violet almost wholly consumed by his pupils. 

This somehow feels more intimate than what you had been doing on Calanmai, despite the fact that his hands were firmly planted next to your head instead of roving over your skin. Gods you hope the filth of the cell covers the scent of your budding arousal because this--him--you want, need, more of it.

“I  can be more than one thing at a time,” you reply. It’s taking all your restraint to not reach your hands out and touch the muscles that ripple across his tattooed chest from holding himself up above you. Even after a few days locked away, you can’t stop thinking about how it would taste to run your tongue over those dark swirls of ink.

His eyes narrow as if he can hear your thoughts, and shit, you realize too late that your shields have been down this whole time because you’d thought, since he was still recovering, those daemati powers would be the last to come back. There’s not time to throw your shields up before his lips are crashing into yours.

You’d thought Calanmai was as desperate for something as you’d ever feel, but it’s nothing in comparison to the hunger that consumes you as those full lips settle against your own. There’s no stopping the groan that tears itself from you as he slides a hand under your head, fingers tangling in your matted hair as he slips his tongue behind your teeth.

You see stars, taste citrus and jasmine. He invades all your senses so thoroughly that the very cell feels like it falls away until nothing exists in the world but the two of you. 

Calanmai had been feverish, an itch that needed to be scratched, but this is like finding air after being underwater too long. You can’t help but feel dizzy and greedy for more as you drag a hand up the sharp contours of his back.

He hisses softly into your mouth when your fingers accidentally brush the collar and you pull back, finally coming up for air. “Shit, shit I’m sorry-”

But he chases back after you like a man starved anyway. “It’s ok,” in between more kisses, each hungrier than the last, “it’s ok.” You’ve never heard a male’s voice get so low, the sound of it making your whole body turn molten.

Still, you’re conscious of where you put your hands, and sensing your hesitation, he drags them over to his chest, inviting you to touch, to trace his tattoos just as you were thinking about doing the first time you’d seen them. Gods there isn’t a part of him you don’t want to explore; to map out and learn every scare and curve across his bronze skin.

You would have too, if the lock on the door didn’t suddenly click out of place. The resounding echo is like ice water being dumped on your head.

Rhys slides the hand under your head down your back and around your waist, yanking you up off the floor with him while he stands. You’re still trying to get your bearings when he places one last, gentle kiss on your lips. “Remember what we practiced.”

Your head is spinning, legs shaky. Nothing makes any sense. Why is he stopping?

The door opens and more of Amarantha’s guards step in, but there’s no tray of food this time, just a single, metal collar. The sight of it is like having water dumped on your head, all thoughts of Rhys’s body on yours drifting away as reality crashes back into you. 

“Her Highness requests your presence,” says one of the two.

Only two. If they were here for Rhys there would be, at least, four, after the stunts he’d been pulling. He has to know that too, but he steps forward anyway, shrugging like it doesn’t bother him, like the smell of you isn’t all over him for anyone to scent.

One of the guards gets a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the wall. “Not you.”

Your mouth feels like it’s made of sandpaper; hands trembling at your sides. You can’t do this, you can’t do this, you can’t.

There’s a tug beneath your ribs, where the bargain ink lies, some sort of invisible thread going taught as Rhys says, “Breathe. Just like we practiced,” into your mind.

You want to duck behind him and hide, but you do as you’re told, drawing one breath, then another as the second guard steps forward and clamps the collar around your throat. It’s not the same, strange metal that used to dampen your power before, but why would it be when Amarantha thinks she has all your powers? As much as you hated the feeling of it, you kind of wished they’d used it instead, just as an extra barrier to keep your powers at bay.

What little bit of Rhys’s power has returned fills the cell, night chilled mist making the already dark room even harder to see in, save for a slight tint of stardust in his irises. “She’s done everything she was asked,” he snarls. “That collar isn’t necessary.”

“Her Highness says it is.”

You risk a glance at him, needing to steady yourself, dreading the fact that he’s somehow become so important to you that the thought of being taken out of this cell makes you want to start shredding things apart. How had you so quickly dug this hole for yourself.

“I’ll be right here. You can do this.”

They don’t waste any more time, dragging you out by the chain attached to the collar, like you’re some sort of wild animal. It’s degrading; makes you feel less and less like a person and more like a pet the longer time drags on. The guards are quick on their feet too, not giving you time to adjust to your surroundings or the blaring torchlights that make you squeeze your eyes shut as you pass. Cauldron, how long have you been in that cell?

You have just enough presence of mind to ensure your glamor is in place around your chest, before they’re dragging you through the open throne room doors. Another one of Amarantha’s nightly parties is in full swing, dancers in skimpy clothes spinning across the room; servants with pitchers of fae wine weave through the crowd, stopping at tables to refill the cups of several High Fae and someone you think might be the High Lord of Winter. It must be nice to have curied enough favor with the Queen that he was allowed to wander freely, instead of a cell, or, like the High Lord of Spring, chained to her throne. Tamlin’s golden hair is messy, undone around his face. The Mountain has stolen some of the color from his skin, though you suppose you look equally as pale now too. He wears his own, glittering collar, the golden chain draped over the bare expanse of his chest. Amarantha has inked her sigil over his heart, staking her claim over her mate. The High Lord’s eyes are so glassy from what you can only assume is the combination of mirthroot and fae wine that you doubt he’s even aware of where he is. It might be a small mercy, in the end.

The guards drag you through the crowd, where you earn more than a few snickers and stares. You’ve never been more aware of how much dirt clings to your skin until this moment. Gods you were making out with a High Lord looking like this? Could he taste the dirt on you? 

You’re led right to the dias, where Amarantha wears a glittering, ruby red crown, her hair unbound and falling in soft waves around her pale face. She might have been pretty once, but the cruelty in her dark gaze was enough to sour it if you looked too long. She watches with amusement as her guards drag you over, eyes glinting with barely restrained glee. Her new little pet here to entertain.

They finally quit dragging you once you’re at the foot of the dias and the crowd goes quiet behind you.

“Have you had enough time to think about what you’ve done?” She croons like you’re a misbehaving child in need of a time out.

Your cheeks flush, but you focus your attention on keeping the damper on your power. You can’t let her rile you up so easily, that’s exactly what she wants. “Yes,” you grind out through your teeth.

She taps a pointed nail against her chin, as if thinking. “And yet you do not bow in my presence, or acknowledge me as your queen?”

A tingling feeling in your upper jaw is the indication that your fangs want to come out and play and you force yourself to take a breath, then another. Still, you have to grit your teeth and stare at the floor to give her a little curtsey, as best you can in your ruined dress anyway. “My apologies.”

“Again,” she says with a grin. “Like you mean it, pet.”

There’s a couple snickers from the crowd behind you.

You’re gritting your teeth so hard you’re sure they might just crack on you, but you take your skirts in hand and curtsey a little deeper this time. The only way you get through it is to picture all the ways you’ll make her pay for this when the time is right.

“No, that’s not right,” she frowns. “You should be lower. In fact, you should be on your knees, thanking me for the mercy I have shown you after you so violently attacked me. Most people don’t live to see the next morning after such things.” The eye on her ring swivels in a motion that makes you think it’s nodding in agreement.

You risk a glance around, searching for any sympathy, and support, but there is none to be found in the leering faces of the crowd. 

“Go on,” she orders. “Beg for my forgiveness.”

Mother knows what she’ll do to you, or Rhys if you don’t, and you need to be in one piece to fulfill your bargain. Still, the move is so demeaning, your very nature thrashing against it that it’s an effort not to cry as you lower yourself onto your knees at the foot of her throne.

When you open your mouth to spew whatever bullshit you think will appease her, she cuts you off, “Lower.”

Your whole face is red with shame as you lean forward until your forehead touches the floor. 

“Better,” she croons. “Now beg, pet.”

“Please,” the word sticks in your throat like it’s a rock. “Please forgive my violent outburst. It won’t happen again.”

She clears her throat, waiting for you to say it.

“It won’t happen again, Your Highness.”

“Try again.”

The crowd is laughing in earnest now and the tears are flowing down your cheeks. You hate this, you hate her, you want to rip her fucking throat out and make that dreadful, grating voice vanish from the face of the world. 

“It won’t happen again, My Queen.”

“Much better,” she says, taking another sip of wine. “I told you I’d get her in line.” 

You raise your head off the floor enough to see who she was talking to with that last bit, and your heart lurches into your stomach at the sight of the two figures standing to the side of the dias, staring intently at you. Twins, bearing the same dark hair, swept back out of their faces, their eyes the same slate gray. They both wear armor, finely polished over matching black tunics and pants, a bit of silver lining in the stitches of their well pressed clothes. But it’s the sigil, over the heart on their armor, that marks them as Hybern’s.

The female stalks over to where you’re still kneeling and yanks you up by the hair to have a better look at you. Gloved fingers poke at your lips, trying to get a look at your teeth and you wonder if maybe you really have been turned into some sort of animal. 

“No fangs,” she muses, her voice like gravel, nothing pretty or feminine about it. “No claws either,” her hands move from your face to your nail beds, poking like you would at a cat’s paws to get their claws to come out. 

You bite the inside of your cheek until you taste blood. 

“You’ve tested to make sure you took all of her powers?” The male asks Amarantha and your blood turns to ice in your veins. If she tries to use your powers now then you’re doomed before you even get started. 

“I’d be happy to demonstrate,” Amarantha says flippantly, but there’s an edge under it that makes you think even she is trying not to squirm. “But my formula has never failed me.”

“Yours?” The female sneers. “You’d be wise to remember who taught you how to make those potions, General.”

Hybern made Amarantha, Rhys had said, it only made sense that all these little tricks had been part of her training. 

Amarantha takes another swig of wine and waves the disrespect off like a fly. “I’ll happily throw her into the Pit again if you are both so desperate to waste your own time with a demonstration.”

They stare at each other, having some sort of silent conversation. The female finally releases your hair and the ground rises up to meet you as you nearly fall back onto your face. 

“No,” the male brushes a gloved hand over a speck of dirt clinging to his otherwise spotless armor. “I suppose that would be a waste of our time. We have other things to attend to while we’re here.”

It’s honestly a relief. Going back down into the Pit to fight more monsters without being able to summon any of your powers sounds like a complete nightmare, you’re honestly not sure you’re strong enough not to slip up and make a mistake. 

“But we can still check,” the female purrs and that’s when you feel a mental claw raking across your mind. It is not like Rhys’s, not gentle or even teasing, it’s a slash, like someone is trying to cleave through your shields with a knife, and you instantly reach your hands for your head as if it’ll be any sort of protection at all.

You don’t dare call out to Rhys, or even think about what mental hoops you need to do to hide the bargain mark, the glamor should hold for a bit on its own while you put all your energy into tightening your shields against their onslaught. Rhys had been right about your cousins’ daemati powers, they were nothing like his own.

They keep clawing and poking, taking turns trying to tear your mind to shreds. It’s not gentle either, their presence making you whimper and writhe on the throne room floor, regardless of the embarrassment from the still watching crowd. 

“Well there’s been some training here,” the female says. 

“Be careful, Brannagh,” Amarantha hisses. “If you turn her mind to soup she’ll be of no use to us.”

You lock every door and throw up every barrier you can muster, even as they throw themselves against each one, testing for weaknesses. They’re an excellent tag team, every time you think Brannagh might give up, her brother steps into her place and tries again. You’re seeing spots by the time they release you.

The male’s boots come into view as he stops in front of your face. “If you’re so beaten, why won’t you show us how powerless you are, hm?”

It feels like someone’s taking a hammer to your skull, you pinch your eyes shut against the wave of nausea that makes the room spin. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” you hiss.

He too grabs you by the hair, twisting you so your neck moves at an awkward angle to be able to see exactly how badly the remark had hit him. 

“Dagdan,” his sister warns. “Play nice. Our King wants her alive, remember?”

“They said your mother was this untamed too,” he hisses. “Before they broke her.”

You swallow the rage that rises up in your throat, clamp down on everything threatening to bubble to the surface and overflow, ruining all your plans. You have made it this far, you cannot let their presence get the best of you. There will be time to process all this later, when you’re back in your cell. Strangely, the thought of going back to Rhys soothes you, helps you settle. 

“Are you done messing with my things?” Amarantha asks.

“She’s only yours until Hybern arrives to lay claim to Prythian, as is his right,” Brannagh says loud enough for the whole room to hear her. If there was any partying still happening in the corners of the room, it has ceased now, all eyes on the twins.

Amarantha is standing, wine glass clattering to the floor, splattering Tamlin, who doesn’t even look at it. “That’s enough! You will mind your mouths in my Court!”

Dagdan chuckles at that. “Did your Queen not tell you the truth?” Having found a new victim to play with, he finally releases your hair. 

“I said enough!” Amarantha booms, both fire and ice flying from her fingertips. The Mountain trembles beneath her as the powers she’s stolen skitter uncontrollably from her. One eye blazes like a forest fire, the other has gone black and empty, a bit of Rhys’s stolen power flaring. “In my Throne Room you answer to me, regardless of who you serve.”

With the way she jerks back you think the twins might have reached for her mind to silence her, but you can’t be sure. 

“You answer to Hybern, same as everyone else!” Brannagh challenges. “You were nothing more than an experiment, to test and see if Prythian was once again fertile ground for our empire. Did you really think Hybern would just let you walk in here and steal what is rightfully his?”

The crowd begins to whisper amongst themselves, apparently having not heard the news until now. You risk a glance around looking for the other High Lords, hoping some of them, perhaps the ones who had sides against Hybern in the War would be more inclined to fight. If you could gain allies, perhaps this would be over quicker. 

There are many unrecognizable faces in the crowd, some High Fae, some lower, some concealed by the masks of Tamlin’s former court, some fully clothed in their servants’ garb. It is hard to discern between the glittering chandeliers and flickering torches who belongs to what court, and you have only vaguely glimpsed the High Lords themselves. Out of most of the faces, none even look your way, save for one red headed male, off to the side of a group of fire dancers. Golden eyes lock on yours for the briefest of moments before they dart away. If only you had your own daemati powers, perhaps this would be easier. You’ll have to talk to Rhys later about who your potential allies can be here.

“I was promised my part of the land and I will fucking have it,” Amarantha growls, turning your attention away from the crowd.

“You will take what you are given,” Dagdan returns. “And if you cooperate, maybe you will be allowed to keep this dingy little cave of yours.”

Amarantha bristles and sparks fly off her shoulders. 

“You will do your part for the new empire,” Brannagh continues. “Lend us the Lord of Spring to lead us to the Wall. We’ll consider it proof of your undying allegiance and let your outburst slide.”

Amarantha glances down at where Tamlin remains staring at the wall, hands tightening into fists. “Absolutely not!”

“We can take him by force,” Dagdan says with a shrug.

She grabs the chain around her mate’s neck and yanks, dragging him to his feet. “I want him back by morning.”

Brannagh steps over you to get to him, gloved hands running appreciatively over the High Lord’s bare chest. “Maybe I’ll keep him.”

The wrong thing to say. Amarantha erupts in a wave of fire that has everyone throwing themselves out of the way. You roll backwards, away from it, slipping into the crowd. You think they might start fighting--they’re definitely screaming you can tell that much--when a set of hands settles on your shoulders, in what would look like to onlookers was a stranger helping you up, but those hands don’t lift, they hold you in place. 

“Whatever Rhys is planning with you,” warm breath frames your face as the stranger puts his lips to your ear. “Tell him to move quickly. My father will side with Hybern and surrender up whatever army we have left at the earliest chance. He’ll want to get ahead of this. Summer and Winter do not have the strength to fight. Tell him Hellion is with us.”

Us. You risk a glance at him, at the auburn hair falling into your eyes. Not the High Lord of Autumn, but one of his sons. 

“I’ll tell him,” you say softly, praying no one hears.

The male helps you to your feet. “Be careful. We might only get one chance.” And then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd as the two females on the dias finally start to calm.

Amarantha is bleeding from a gash across her forehead, but Brannagh is laughing as she lets the blood from her nose drip freely down her face. “Mating bond chafing?”

Dagdan has managed to shield Tamlin, sparing him, of no kindness of his own, he is as inclined to look at the High Lord like he’d be his next meal as his sister.

“Get out,” Amarantha snarls.

Dagdan twirls Tamlin’s chain around his fingers. “We want proof the girl will be loyal when the time comes.”

“If a hair is harmed on my mate’s head,” Amarantha snarls in return. “I’ll pin you to my fucking wall.”

“Scratch our back, we’ll scratch yours. Otherwise, I’ll bring you back his head and I’ll take the girl and her powers back to Hybern, where we train in breaking goddesses.”

A few people in the crowd glance your way. 

Shit, that’s what Rhys had been trying to tell you with that book he’d sent in your first couple of days here. Hybern had found a way to breed death gods. Your name would be on that list he’d made in the margins.

A guard finally comes to collect you as the twins drag Tamlin out of the throne room. Amarantha is apparently not done with her tantrum, as she begins throwing anything in reach, stolen powers swirling around her like a whirlwind. The crowd begins to slip away, fearing her wrath if they stay. For now, you’ve managed to keep your bargain and your powers secret, but your cousin’s words hang over you like a ticking clock. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes she has to test you. 

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

Tag List: @mariahoedt , @lovelydove , @twsssmlmaa , @sleepylunarwolf , @judig92 , @willowpains , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @annnaaaaaa88 , @myheartfollower , @uniquecolorwizard , @eternallyelvish , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @lovemesomevesey , @localfangirl09 , @isa1b2h3 , @starswholistenanddreamsanswered , @slytherintaco , @iluvewman-blog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife

[pinchofhoney]

Because I wanna spread the "we need more Belphagor" message, how about something with him? Platonic or romantic is your choice but we need more content for him bc he's so :))))

on the verge of a fever

belphegor x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: the way his character appears in the show has been changed for the purposes of this story; basically, here god is not trying to ruin the whole world, mention of drinking alcohol

summary: Ever wondered if Hell hosts Monopoly nights?

a/n: belphagor is my spirit animal. when you text me, it's the person who writes you back lmao my profile currently looks like a fan club of your requests, but it's not my fault that my obsession with this series is back and you're the only one with ideas related to it. i hope you enjoy it!!<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

Guiding Sam and Dean towards the bunk stairs, you couldn't help but notice the genuine concern etched on Sam's face. He leaned in, his tone brimming with sincere care, and gently reminded you, “You know, if you ever need a hand, just remember that Castiel is just a phone call away.”

This morning's awakening had thrown you a curveball. At first, you brushed off the strange sensations coursing through your body, thinking they were caused by the aging mattress beneath you. Yet, with each passing moment, that peculiar feeling escalated into something far more troubling. It clung to you like an insistent itch, impossible to ignore, casting an unsettling shadow over your day.

Now, wrapped snugly in the comforting cocoon of your soft, pink blanket, you found yourself ensnared in the relentless grip of a fever. Your body radiated heat, and every movement became a battle against the oppressive weight of illness. The sole lifeline keeping you tethered to the realm of the living was the medication within easy reach.

Summoning a faint smile, you struggled to reassure Sam, who always kept a watchful eye, despite the fatigue evident in your voice. “I'll handle it,” you whispered, your words carrying a hint of exhaustion.

Trying to make the serious mood a bit lighter, you couldn't resist adding a touch of playful sarcasm. “Well, maybe you should head out before your God buddy decides it's time to disappear once again.”

After saying goodbye to the Winchesters, you headed back to your bed. You didn't want to bother Castiel with your problems; you knew he had more important things to worry about than a grown-up hunter catching a simple cold.

As you entered your room, you couldn't help but grumble to yourself. Why did it seem like Sam and Dean never got sick? You were used to risking your life to hunt supernatural creatures, and now, on top of that, you had to deal with a fever. It just didn't seem fair. You plopped down on the edge of your bed, feeling frustrated. This illness was not only physically uncomfortable but also a reminder that even tough hunters like you had to face everyday human struggles.

Ridiculous, you thought.

You took a quick look on the mirror standing in the corner, then let out a sigh of annoyance and laid down on your bed, giving in to a sense of resignation. You didn't even notice when you drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, you slowly opened your eyes, hoping to find some relief from the persistent illness that had plagued you. However, as your vision cleared, you realized that you felt even worse than before. It was as if the fever had intensified during your restless slumber, wrapping you in a suffocating embrace.

With a groan of discomfort, you pushed yourself upright, your head pounding with every movement. The room seemed dimmer, and the last rays of daylight coming from the corridor appeared harsh and unforgiving. Your throat was parched, and your limbs felt heavy as if they were made of lead.

Casting a rueful glance at the clock, you realized that time had slipped away during your troubled nap. It was as though the fever had stolen not only your strength but also precious hours from your day.

You came close to grabbing your phone and calling Castiel, but you resisted, refusing to give in to a moment of vulnerability – or so you tried to convince yourself.

Struggling considerably, you managed to shift your legs off the bed and, with an effort that would make an elderly man with mobility issues proud, you stood up. Your own sigh of discomfort mirrored the sound one might expect from someone in such a situation. You briefly caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, mentally noting how pitiful you appeared, before making your way into the hallway, your feet dragging wearily behind you.

The bunker had settled into an eerie quietness, broken only by the weighty sound of your footsteps. As you made your way into the main room, your initial plan to head to the opposite corridor was interrupted by an abrupt rustling in a dimly lit corner of the space.

Your tired eyes strained to identify the source of this disturbance. Could it be a mere product of your fevered imagination? You wouldn't be surprised if your illness had started playing tricks on your mind. After all, nobody else was supposed to be allowed in the vast bunker.

And then, right there, bathed in the soft, muted glow of the bunker's emergency lighting, stood a figure you never anticipated encountering. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat, and your fever-addled brain could only muster one thought; Jack. Why was he here? What was happening? Wasn't he...?

“Jack?” you questioned hesitantly, your gaze darting around the room in search of some evidence that you were still ensnared in a dream.

The figure before you smirked. It wasn't the gentle, innocent smile of Jack. It was something darker, more twisted. Your fevered mind raced to find an explanation. Maybe it was the fever. Yes, that had to be it. You were conjuring this surreal scene in your delirium.

“Hello,” greeted the boy, lifting his right hand in a welcoming gesture, mirroring the way Jack used to.

Confusion knitted your brows as you unconsciously took a cautious step toward this familiar-looking stranger, clutching your blanket tightly around you. Your scrutiny intensified as you examined him closely. The person before you was dressed in the same attire as the last time you saw Jack, but it couldn't possibly be him. Jack Kline had met his demise, so why was he standing before you now?

Your gaze wandered to the sunglasses perched on the boy's face, and you couldn't help but shake your head with a hint of amusement. You swiftly turned away, fully convinced that your need for medication was far more pressing than entertaining these unsettling hallucinations. As you made your determined exit, you could almost hear a faint chuckle from behind you.

“Leaving so soon? And here I was, hoping for some company,” the boy, or rather, the entity inhabiting the boy's body, remarked with a sly grin, his voice dripping with faux disappointment. His sunglasses hid the fiery void that should have been his eyes, concealing his true nature as he attempted to blend in.

You paused, feeling an inexplicable mix of curiosity and unease. There was something off about this whole situation, and it wasn't just the fact that you were conversing with someone who looked like Jack but couldn't possibly be him. The aura this stranger exuded was friendly yet laced with an unsettling undercurrent of something more sinister.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to maintain composure.

The boy's smile widened, revealing a veneer of friendliness that barely concealed his sadistic amusement. “Oh, I was getting dreadfully bored down in Hell. Thought I'd stretch my legs, so to speak.”

His casual tone and the way he spoke about Hell as if it were a mundane inconvenience sent a shiver down your spine. This was no ordinary encounter, and you couldn't help but wonder if your fever had conjured up this bizarre scenario.

“I'm Belphegor,” the demon chimed in, noting your dubious expression. “Just a temporary tenant, you know? This body was basically vacant real estate, so I thought, 'Why not?' I mean, squatters' rights and all,” he quipped, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders as if discussing his choice of a new apartment. His grin remained as inscrutable as ever, a blend of friendly and utterly unsettling.

You couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow at the demon's cavalier attitude. This was a new low, even for the world you lived in.

“Squatters' rights, huh?” you muttered, not sure whether to be amused or deeply disturbed by his casual demeanor. “Well, congratulations on your, uh, new accommodations.”

Belphegor chuckled, the sound a disconcerting blend of mirth and something far more alarming. “Thanks, I think it suits me. But, you know, I'm not all that bad once you get to know me,” he added with a wicked grin, as if trying to convince you that sharing a body with a demon was just a quirky and harmless coincidence.

Your instincts told you otherwise, and you couldn't help but wonder how deeply the Winchesters were embroiled in whatever bizarre deal this demon had cooked up.

“So, um,” you began, feeling a little like you were fumbling through a conversation with a distant relative you'd rather not acknowledge at a family reunion. The situation was beyond awkward, standing there face-to-face with a demon who had chosen to squat in a body you knew all too well. “Care for a drink?”

If you could, you would have rolled your eyes right then and there, but you had to maintain some semblance of composure. You knew you should be taking action, maybe calling the brothers or attempting to exorcise Belphegor, but your phone was conveniently left behind in your room, and it seemed that the universe had a thing against including demon-killing pockets in your pajamas.

Belphegor's lips curved into a wicked smile, his amusement clear despite the sunglasses concealing his eyes. “Well, aren't you the hospitable one,” he quipped, as if being invited for a drink by the friend of his borrowed body was a regular occurrence.

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. “I figure if I can't beat the demon, I might as well join it for a drink,” you replied with a wry grin, attempting to keep things light, even though your mind was racing with thoughts of what to do next.

As you both made your way to the kitchen, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were walking on thin ice, navigating a situation that seemed to defy all logic. Sharing a drink with a demon in your pajamas was definitely not how you had planned to spend your day, but sometimes, but sometimes you had to improvise.

Entering the kitchen, you were determined to play it cool, all the while keeping a close eye on the boy. You grabbed a bottle of Dean's favorite liquor from the cabinet, figuring that if this was going to be a bizarre demon rendezvous, you might as well make it a memorable one.

“Here's to unexpected company,” you said with a somewhat forced cheerfulness as you poured two glasses, trying your best to hide the anxiety gnawing at your nerves.

Belphegor accepted the drink with a bemused nod, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To unlikely alliances,” he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.

While he was distracted with his drink, you seized the opportunity to grab a glass of water and discreetly pop a couple of fever-killing pills. You hoped that once the medication kicked in, the demon might just decide to take his leave, making this weird encounter nothing more than a fever-induced hallucination.

Sipping your water and pretending to engage in the odd conversation, you silently counted the minutes until the medication would hopefully bring some relief.

As the time passed, you couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was all too real. The fever medication had begun to work its magic, and you felt a wave of dizziness wash over you, courtesy of the combination of drugs and alcohol. Your head was spinning like a top, and you realized that your attempt to blend in and have a normal conversation with a demon was spiraling into absurdity.

“So,” you slurred slightly, trying to focus your blurry gaze on Belphegor, “what's it like down there in Hell? I mean, besides the whole eternal torment thing. Do you guys have, like, a book club or a knitting circle to pass the time?”

Belphegor raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident even through those opaque sunglasses. “Well, it's not all fire and brimstone, you know,” he replied with a mock-serious tone, playing along with your bizarre line of questioning. “We do have our demon potlucks, and occasionally, a game night with some fiendishly fun board games.”

You couldn't help but giggle at the mental image of demons huddled around a Monopoly board in Hell. The combination of fever-induced delirium and the surrealness of the situation had turned the conversation into a comical farce.

“What's your favorite board game, then?” you asked, leaning in closer as if discussing board games with a demon was the most normal thing in the world.

Belphegor chuckled, his sinister amusement undiminished. “Twister,” he replied with a sly grin, and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

Lost in the absurdity of your conversation with the demon, you paid little attention to the strange sounds echoing through the bunker. It was as if the very walls were whispering secrets, and you chalked it up to your fevered imagination playing tricks on you.

Belphegor was in the middle of describing a particularly demon version of a summer vacation when a sudden, unexpected voice pierced through the haze of your conversation.

“Y/N” Castiel's deep voice resonated through the kitchen, his sudden appearance causing you to jump so violently that you almost knocked over your glass.

You turned to see Castiel standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his blue eyes penetrating the sunglasses-clad Belphegor with a steely gaze. The demon's expression shifted from amusement to surprise as he realized the presence of an angel.

“Castiel!” you exclaimed, your heart racing as you struggled to regain your composure. “I, uh, didn't expect to see you here.”

Belphegor's amusement seemed to wane as he met Castiel's unwavering gaze. The room fell silent, and the atmosphere shifted from surreal absurdity to a tense standoff between angel and demon.

“What does this supposed to mean?” Castiel asked, his voice steady as he approached the countertop where you were seated, sliding a blade out of his sleeve.

You quickly rose from your seat, wanting to calm the situation. The absurdity of the situation, in which you, in a pink blanket, wanted to defend a demon who could kill you with a snap of your fingers, did not reach you.

“That's Belphegor,” you stammered, your voice wavering as confusion and uncertainty welled up. You realized you had no real justification for the demon's visit. “I-I have no idea why he's here, but he's... uh, he's cool.” Trying to defend the demon only earned you doubtful glances from both Castiel and Belphegor, making this already weird situation even more confusing.

“I've got an offer that might catch the Winchesters' attention,” the demon said as he stepped forward from behind you.

Castiel's expression darkened as he confronted the demon, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Taking Jack's body... this is desecration,” he hissed, his voice carrying the weight of his disapproval. The angel's gaze bore into Belphegor, as if willing him to understand the gravity of his actions.

You stepped in between the two, desperately trying to ease the mounting tension. “Look, I know this is... complicated,” you began, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the situation. “But maybe Belphegor has something important. We should hear him out before we jump to conclusions.”

Belphegor, for his part, maintained his sly grin, unfazed by Castiel's anger. “I'm just a demon trying to make the best of my situation,” he chimed in, his tone almost cheerful. “Besides, the vessel was just sitting there, collecting dust. I thought it could use some fresh air, you know.”

Castiel clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “It's not about the vessel, it's about respect and dignity.”

Before Castiel could retort further, the kitchen door swung open, and Sam and Dean walked in. Their faces registered a mix of surprise and confusion as they took in the scene before them. The room was filled with a charged silence, broken only by the creak of the door.

“What's going on in here?” Dean finally asked, breaking the awkward standoff. His gaze shifted from you to Castiel and then to Belphegor, who was still wearing that boyish grin beneath those stupid sunglasses.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Falling of Snow, Falling in Love - Modern! Alicent Hightower x Reader

Summary: Alicent finally finds the courage to confess her feelings for you, her longtime admirer and best friend.

Pairing: Modern!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight mentions of homophobia, homosexual pining, Alicent angsting on the inside

Word Count: 1k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) this is for all the lovers of our favourite doe-eyed queen with the reddish brown curls (and all of Olivia Cooke's simps). I hope you enjoy! :)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

Despite the biting chill that had been plaguing Oldtown for the past few weeks now, today, the sun hung up high in the blue sky, shining brightly, painting the portrait of a perfect, though chilly sunny day. 

Which was how you found yourself prancing along the cobbled streets of Oldtown this fine afternoon, arms linked with your best friend, Alicent, the both of you deciding to do some last minute Christmas shopping. Even though the cold had brought out the redness in your cheeks and in your opinion, made you look like someone who had just undergone a severe sunburn, Alicent still looked as dazzling as ever. Her reddish brown curls cascaded down her back, perfectly windswept by the winter breeze, and her cheeks were tinged with the sort of rosiness reminiscent in paintings of old. She looked like a vision. 

And you said as much to her this morning when she appeared at your door, bright eyed and bundled in her cosy brown trench coat and maroon scarf. She had laughed and the loveliest shade of pink had spilled into her features, a sight which made your heart beat ten times faster in your chest. 

Gods, was she beautiful. 

You had always made your feelings of admiration clear to Alicent, something that had first started as Alicent taking it as a joke, before evolving into something much more serious. More complicated. You knew Alicent never did well with complicated, and you always accepted that you wouldn’t push her on reciprocating your feelings. Having been raised in such a cloistered and conservative environment, Alicent still struggled with accepting your adoration and her own amorous feelings towards you, which were frowned upon by her parents and siblings, all deeming a romantic love between individuals of the same gender ‘unnatural’. 

As Alicent began to grow older however, she gradually distanced herself from those harmful beliefs with your help, learning to accept who she was and how she chose to love. After all, she had learnt from you, love was love, and no matter who you love, it should never stir up a sense of shame in you. 

Now, Alicent’s main obstacle was her lack of courage. As she watched you drag her from shop to shop, whether it was marvelling at the baked goods displayed in the windows of Oldtown’s finest bakeries, or excitedly gesturing to Alicent the little porcelain animals you’ve seen at the cutest antiques shop, Alicent couldn’t help but fall in love with you more and more. 

However, it was never easy for Alicent to express her feelings, much less ones she had repressed all her life. She was someone who would rather listen quietly and observe others rather than speaking out on her own. So she bided her time and waited, as you were patient and comforting with her struggles, as you told her time after time again it doesn’t matter if she couldn’t express her admiration back for you the same way that you did. It all didn’t matter, as long as she was by your side. 

But today, it did matter. Because she was finally going to tell you how she felt. How she felt the same as you did her, how she worshipped every inch of you, how she relished in every laugh elicited from you, every single one of your words that were laced with honey and everything sweet in the world. 

How much she loved you. 

Your strolling eventually carried the both of you to a square in the shopping district of Oldtown, and Alicent was absentmindedly giving out responses to your questions. She bit her lip nervously, her other hand going to pat down her curls. ‘This is it,’ she told herself, inhaling deeply. ‘I’m going to tell her how I feel. On Christmas day, just like I planned.’ 

‘I got this-’ 

“Alicent!” Your exclamation jolted Alicent from her self-induced panic, and she looked at you, trying not to display the anxiety she felt at her confession being disrupted. But then, she tilted her head up at your behest, and saw something wondrous. 

White flecks of snow were cascading down from the skies, making their soft and swift descent as all around, people in Oldtown stopped to stare and marvel at the sky. The first snowfall had arrived at last. 

“Oh my goodness,” you said excitedly, before you started shivering violently, teeth chattering. The sudden landfall of snow had made the temperature drop by a few degrees, and you hastily moved to pull on your mittens, urging Alicent to do the same. But the bone-biting chill aside, you looked positively delighted as the snow gradually began covering the ground, and as the sun’s rays reflected on it, it cast an otherworldly, magical glow on all your surroundings. It was truly a White Christmas now. “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” you remarked to Alicent, eyes shining. 

Only to realise that her twinkling brown eyes were fixed on you. 

“Yes,” Alicent said softly, as you felt the graze of her soft mittens on your cheek. “It really is.” 

You could feel your heart nearly beating out of your chest, a rush of epiphany and joy making your head spin a little. ‘Was this finally happening?” 

Alicent hesitated, deciding that the time was right, she leaned in, brushing her lips against yours. When she made to pull away, however, you held her face between your hands, pulling her in for a deeper, longer kiss. 

And there was nothing more perfect in the world than this, Alicent realised. Your kiss was slow, languid, but filled with emotion, with nothing but pure, innocent admiration for one another. Of love. 

Alicent hadn’t wanted the kiss to end, but when it eventually did, she took the chance, leaning her forehead against yours and whispering the words she had always wanted to say: 

“I love you.” 

And as you laughed and dipped Alicent, bringing your lips to hers again, Alicent realised again that you were right, that love was nothing to be ashamed of. 

Love was something that made her feel powerful.

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for alicent related works, or just my works in general in the comments or through this form! :) 

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

[slayfics]

Hey again! I've returned with another fanfic request :D

So, I've been rewatching mha, and I got to the kidnapping part, and that got me thinking for fic ideas!

The reader ended up getting kidnapped by the league (along with bakugo), and the rescue team went after them (all like in the anime). Could you do shoto's reaction to all of that and the Aftermath once they're all living in the dorms? It could be really sweet and fluffy with a little bit of angst (flashbacks from shoto's pov??)

I've said this before, and I'll say it again, I adore all of your work, and I will support you till the day I die!!

Shoto rescues you from the League of Villains.

Shoto sat on the train, his mind haunted by the last time he saw you. The League of Villains had kidnapped you along with Katuski, your face was painted with terror when they pulled you into the wrap gate. The rest of your classmates being unable to reach you or Katsuki in time.

"Hey man, don't look so worried. We will get them back." Eijiro spoke, sitting next to Shoto on the train. A few of your classmates had devised a plan to sneak out and try to rescue you and Katsuki.

"I know we'll try our best," Shoto said, looking out the window of the train, his expression reflected in the window giving Eijiro a mirrored image of his distress.

"I'm sure they are doing fine, they are tough. Plus Bakugo's there too and you know firsthand how strong he is," Eijiro said, still trying to soothe Shoto.

However, at Bakugo's name, Shoto's face gave a wince.

"Yeah," he replied.

Eijro's face fell a bit realizing he wasn't helping much at easing his friend's worries. The only thing stopping him from trying again was Momo going over a rescue plan with everyone on the train.

Shoto and the other students who had come on the secret rescue mission followed Momo's proposed plan. Even as far as disguising themselves in ridiculous outfits. Momo's plan included following her tracker that she had placed on one of the villains to check out and see if you or Katsuki were there or any other information leading to your whereabouts.

Following Momo's tracker had led them to a building just outside of town. Eijiro had come prepared with night vision goggles, allowing them all to get a better look inside the building. However, this only revealed the location of several stowed Nomo. You and Katsuki were nowhere in sight.

The next occurrence left all of your classmates shaking and paralyzed with fear. The villain All For One appeared just meters away from where everyone was hiding. Soon followed by the other League of Villains members, Katsuki, and you.

Not soon after All Might had appeared on the scene and began battling with All For One. Shoto and the rest of the classmates that came were frozen with fear, unable to move. While each of them knew something had to be done, it was unclear as to what.

Seeing Shoto's visceral reaction and instinctive drive to go to you, Tenya grabbed his arm and held him back. Tenya knew it was too dangerous to move in without a plan. Luckily Midoriya, like always, devised a plan that allowed for him, Eijiro, and Tenya to make it across the battlefield and rescue Katuki. This distraction leaving the villain dumbfounded watching their escape through the sky gave Shoto the perfect opening to call for you.

Stunned at seeing your classmates fly through the sky like a shooting star giving Katskui an escape, you almost missed Shoto calling for you to join him and Momo down the alleyway.

You ran to him quickly once you realized.

"This way!" Shoto yelled at you.

You ran to him and Shoto roughly grabbed your wrist, pulling you to run. The three of you ran until you were sure you were far enough away from the villains. You all stopped at the commotion in town watching the news broadcast of the fight. Your adrenaline began to run off after you were safe and you looked down to realize Shoto was still holding onto your wrist.

"Oh sorry," he said, noticing and letting go. A blush might have made its way to your face if you weren't so overwhelmed with the situation.

The rest of the events went by in a blur. Now you found yourself carrying your belongings inside the UA common room seeing the news broadcast replay in your mind. You all watched All Might take down One For All on the news broadcast in town that night before making it back to your homes safely. A few days later Aizawa made an appearance at your home proposing all the students move into dorms to keep them safe.

It took some convincing but you finally were here moving your things to your dorm room.

"That looks heavy, do you want help?" You heard a voice call. You turned around to see Shoto placing his own belongings on the floor.

"Uh sure," You responded, and Shoto picked up your oversized box of belongings. "Lead the way."

You walked with Shoto to the elevator pressing your floor level on the elevator.

"How have you been fleeing?" He asked as the elevator started its ascent.

"Ok, happy to be here at UA again," You said trying to keep a joyful smile. The truth was you had been having nightmares every night about the incident.

"Well, I'm happy you are safe and in good health," He responded.

The elevator door opened and you both stepped out as you led Shoto to your dorm.

"It's this one," You said, opening the door.

"If there are any other heavy boxes don't be afraid to come get me," He said, dropping the box on the floor.

"Thank you, I appreciate it... and um... thank you for coming to rescue me that night. I never did get a chance to tell you that," You replied.

"Of course, I was only able to because of Yaoyorozu. Back at the summer camp, she placed a tracker on one of the villains," Shoto explained.

"Oh," You exclaimed, feeling our stomach turn a bit at the sound of Shoto mentioning her name. "I'll be sure to thank her too," You said looking at the floor.

Shoto nodded, "You have been doing okay since then though? I know that must have been pretty traumatic being being kidnapped by villains," Shoto said, a worried expression plaguing his face.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Besides, it was hard to be scared with all of Bakugo's yelling about how he was going to murder every last one of them," You laughed and tried to brush off Shoto's concern.

Shoto having his own reaction to you mentioning Katsuki averted his gaze from you, "Right... well, let me know if you need any more help." He said as he made his way out of your room.

"Todoroki wait!" You called as he stepped into the hallway. Shoto turned back around with a curious look on his face.

"Um.. thank you again," You nervously spat out as you hurriedly stepped forward to wrap your arms around him bringing him into a hug. Your face buried in Shoto's chest kept you from seeing the bright red shade his face turned as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around you for just a moment before pulling away.

"Of course," he responded, voice deviating ever so silently from his usual cool tone. "Good luck with the rest of moving, don't over-exert yourself." He said as a soft smile spread on his lips before he swiftly exited unsure of how to process your sudden affection.

Thank you for the request and your continued support! My first time writing for Shoto- I tried to do my best! I hope you enjoy it~

Tags~

@unofficialmuilover

[hitomisuzuya]

Been working on this animation for a while and it's taking a lot outta me 😭

Taking a break now but was wondering if I could get a Nun!Reader x Venti/Barbatos where the reader grew up being a nun so she never been in a relationship or had any physical contact so of course she's very deprived and well horny-

So while sinfully touching herself(let's say the church has specific rooms for the nuns who live there) and calling out his name in sin Barbatos appears to grant her her wish, her prayer of feeling him fill her up-

I'm too down bad for this man😭

If you can could you incorporate these kinks?

God complex, Corruption kink and breeding kink? 🥺

-With love, Ventis Windblume🌸🍎💚

Venti x Nun!fem!reader. Smut. Yandere!Venti Corruption kink. Breeding kink. God complex.

a/n: When I saw this, I thought: Oh this perfect cause now I can write Yandere!Venti like I said I would. I hope you enjoy. First time writing smut with Venti😭 I hope I don't disappoint. Don't work too hard, okay!!

You were lost in your own little world, gripping the sheets in your room, rubbing your clit and fingering yourself desperately. You were a Nun. And it was generally frowned upon for a Nun to engage in sexual intercourse.

You were a bride of the Anemo Archon. Your body needed to stay pure for him.

It didn't make sense to you though, hearing that you had to stay pure in the name of Barbatos. Why shouldn't you offer your body to him?

So this was your way of doing it. You wanted to always keep in mind what Barbara had told you, though.

So you stuck to pleasuring yourself in one of the rooms at the back of the Church.

"Hehe~ You sound so pretty moaning my name like that. Please, keep doing it while I watch~" Venti giggled, seeming to materialize out of thin air. It didn't take long for you to connect that Venti and the Anemo Archon were the same person. You were a very astute young lady. He grinned at you, "Tell me when you are close to cumming. I'm going to enjoy this~."

Your heart leapt, soaring high into the clouds like Dvalin was carrying it on his wings.

Your cheeks were flushed with pride, bucking your hips up against your fingers, moaning his name with more urgency. You could finally serve your God like this!

Venti grinned the whole time, watching your every move. It was turning him on, seeing you acting so sinful in front of him. And you so desperately wanted to stay pure to your faith.

The very moment he'd heard you say to Barbara that you would always uphold your vow to stay pure for him, the only thing he could think of was getting his hands on you, corrupting you late into the night while you screamed and writhed beneath him.

He stalked you for months after that, always hanging around when you did your chores out in the courtyard, picking up the slack for Barbara so she could sing for her fans. You were so sweet for doing that.

Practically all ever he ever looked at or thought about was how perfect your childbearing hips were. You would look breathtaking pregnant. Your children would be the rarest of them all, being born with a Vision at birth.

Oh he was so excited!

Venti practically salivated as he watched you. You were showing such loyalty to him right now. It was really turning him on.

"My Lord, I'm close. Hurry please, I don't think I can last much longer," you pleaded, tears of desperation fell from your eyes. You looked more divine than ever right now.

"Don't worry, my love~," Venti said gleefully. You hadn't even noticed he was naked already. He had jacking himself off while he watched you. "I'll fill you full of my children. It's what you want the most~."

He didn't apologize for thrusting his cock inside of you without warning. You cried out in pleasure, making him shiver while he started thrusting. Your pussy seemed to suck his cock inside of you. "You have made such a filthy mess of yourself. You look so delicious that I can barely hold myself back~."

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing his cock to the hilt inside of you.

"The other Nuns might be disappointed when you become pregnant. They shouldn't be. Don't worry, my beautiful, loyal Nun. You'll always be pure in my eyes. You are serving your God so well. I'll make sure you are pregnant while I corrupt you slowly. It's all I ever think about.~"

[venusandsaturnsrings]

Venus my dear have you ever thought about fox hybrid childe? Like the fluffy ears in that mess of orange hair and his already sluttaly low rise pants hanging just under the base of his tail? With both a happy trail that runs down towards his cock and one that runs a short length down his back towards the mess of fluffy orange and white that is his tail? Like a full on feral hybrid, and why not add that good ol' knot on his cock too just cause I can!

Now think about fox boy childe and him bring so eager to have you swallow his cum that he knows your mouth, knowing full well you won't be able to take it and will be stuck there, nose pressed into the wet mess of his happy trail, eyes rolling back and breathing shallow as he watches how you struggle to swallow his load.

Or maybe....

Childe smirking down at you as he pulls you forward and make sure you feel how he swells behind your teeth before he comes, fingers tangled in your hair as he sighs, only now that you're truly stuck on his cock dose he release your hair, chuckling, as he watches you and your absolutely wrecked appearance, eyes rolled back in your head, hands falling from his hips, where your pathetic attempts to push him away had failed, just watches how your arms drop limply next to your sides.

Your blurry vision just starting to fade in and out, and the last thing you are actually aware of before you pass out, is one of his hands petting you gently and the other wiping the tears from your cheek as he coos down at you, ears flicking and twitching as another pulse of his cum floods down your throat.

Just think about fox hybrid childe...

ermm… me vs hoardin all of cors asks!! for me n me only!! but… i suppose i can share… cor i luv u i’m givin u a kiss rn mwah mwah!! U^ェ^U

fox childe thoughts!! nothin too fancy just the fuzzy lil guy bein evil wif his knot!! point form headcannon format :3

fuzzy fella!! he’s used to running around in without having to worry about how he’s dressed. hybrids like himself get certain privileges like less people caring about how they present. sure, it’s based in the idea that hybrids are ‘less than human’ but Ajax is like most in which he’ll use it to his advantage. he love love love loves walking around shirtless.

he’s about 6’2, bulky, and muscly. being part animal means he has to stay well in shape for hunting and the many other physical activities that are required of him. his tummy does have some chub!! the tummy chub is good for keeping him warm and healthy through the winter months. also most certainly a hairy boy; a happy trail no one can match.

loves having his tails and ears washed!! please do wash, condition, dry, and brush them he will make a little purring type noise like a motor. he tends to be a bit messy with everything he does, eating, playing, and existing, but a clean and fluffy fox is a happy fox!!

when it comes to his… more primal urges… he’s well aware that full humans aren’t built to accommodate certain characteristics. that won’t stop him from forcing it, though. he’s born to express his needs a certain way and will make it happen even if it hurts you both.

Ajax is already most certainly well endowed. about 8” hard with an upwards curve. he’s got a bit of thickness too but what’s really thick is his knot. his cock is great for splitting you open and pumping you full and it’s also delightfully heavy in your mouth.

he is an unashamed face-fucker. this does loop back into his base instincts of ‘cock in warm wet hole? need to go hard and fast to breed mate,’ though it’s also a personal preference of his. Ajax could hold back if he really wanted to but… why would he when you look so pretty covered in tears with your face turning blue?

lover of messy head. with the way he’ll be bucking into your throat, you’ll already be producing plenty of saliva and tears to moisten his dick but it’s not uncommon for him to spit down onto it as well to make it extra filthy. all fluids will end up being swallowed by you, and maybe him, in the end.

him… knotting your mouth… i am admittedly a bit hot and bothered by this… think of it sort of like sticking a lightbulb in your mouth. it can go in find but, you have to break it to get it out. Ajax’s knot will go in your mouth fine but, you’ll have to wait for it to go down to get it out.

he gets off on seeing you sputter around the massive load of seed lodged in your throat that you can’t properly swallow. he’ll most definitely twitch and shoot out a couple more little bursts while watching you struggle and whimper over everything shoved in your face.

Ajax won’t be completely cruel about it, you’ll still get plenty of praise and pats to your head!! it’s almost enough for you to ignore how he sets his hips fully to your face and covers your nose with his fingers. truly, he does want you to pass out.

he just thinks it’s cute when your cunts been fucked so nice that you end up knocked out so he’s gotta figure out some way to make that happen when it’s your throat he’s fucking!! doesn’t mind forcing it at all.

you’ll wake up clean and with a big fox man curled around you. he’s very easy to forgive when he licks your face as kisses and wags his tail; his own set of charms.

foxboy childe 100/10 a very wonderful lil guy!! mean, sure, but very loving… and needy… and aggressive… and protective…

i wish i had better thots tew add but… cor u have done my brain in once again!! i jus wan my lil fox guy :((

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Why Hobie's chucks?

I had seen a lot of people question how she can fit in those shoes, and some to say that their relationship is actually deeper because of this, however my mind has been going in other directions.

For example, why those?

Let me start with one thing: We have no idea how many things Gwen owns, and what is actually hers.

Considering the fact that at the end of the movie she went to get the polaroid she had with Miles, I think is safe to say that she didn't go back to the apartment to retrieve any of her belongings, meaning the things she had that were hers previously was probably only the things she carried with her, that is her suit, and her ballerina shoes.

I bring this show because we can see that she is using her ballerina shows in the first movie, and aside of the Vision's academy uniform, the only other thing we saw her use in the first movie is her spider suit, which she was transported with.

This makes sense because being at the academy she could probably find a uniform on the school store or similar, shoes perhaps was a bit more complicated.

(She also appears to use them while she was presenting herself, seeing on a flashback. This could be that either she was fresh out of a spider-woman mission and didn't have another shoes; or the animators didn't see the point in designing shoes for a scene that wasn't going to show them for more than 2 seconds.)

However while looking back at the beginning of the movie, Gwen is using chucks, same or similar colour too.

(Animation wise, they are probably the same shoes.)

Okay, this confirms us that she likes chucks, and is part of her style; so she probably took the shoes because she likes that type, right?

Yes, except that here is the thing: Why?

When she battles, she uses the pointe ballet shoes, in fact even if you see her using chuck's earlier in the movie, she is switches to her ballet shoes for the fight with Vulture. Even if we see her using the chucks later in the movie while she is in her spider-suit, that was after she got called out for not doing her duty, so she probably didn't have them handy.

However, even if we know that she went to Earth-1610 to catch the Spot (meaning she should be gearing for battle,) it was only the excuse she used so she could go to this universe without getting in trouble. After all, she opened the portal DIRECTLY to Miles.

Okay, after this point is going to be more speculation/theory than analysis, so feel free to take it with a grain of salt.

Hear me out.

Now, we have NO idea how the Spider Society operates in terms of money, food, etc. We don't have an idea if Gwen is getting paid (how that would even work? It would be money from Earth-928?) we can assume she stays there to sleep at least, even if she still crashes Hobie's universe.

But in terms of her wardrobe or how to get a new one, we have no clue; it could also be that even if she gets paid, she doesn't like to use the clothes that are in Miguel's universe; I wouldn't be shocked that there aren't any.

And we establish that she likes those converse, right? Part of her style, probably something she likes to use to you know, daily live, seen friends, looking good for someone.

Also, what else Hobie said before he asked if those were his chucks?

So, she left a sweater, her toothbrush, and took Hobie's shoes.

Considering she left her toothbrush, it probably means she was there fairly recently; however she also left a sweater and we know she had a cardigan with her when she went to visit Miles.

I think everyone can see where I am going with this, but to put the cherry on top-

Hobie knew that was Miles.

Now, could he had known just because Gwen probably told him about Miles, however he also should know that 1) No way in hell he should be able to travel to another dimensions since he doesn't have a watch, 2) He just saw him, he cannot even go with the description because the suit is different that the one Gwen saw him last time, even if is a small change.

Not to mention that hey, she opened the portal directly to Miles, right? Woudln't that be something they would had notice if she went directly from HQ to him? She probably needed to put some special coordinates because she didn't even know Miles was in his home when she came to see him, just that he was there.

So with all those pieces, what's my theory?

Gwen went to Hobie's universe to get ready, to get some stuff from him (since their styles are probably closer that whatever the heck they have in 2099) and maybe to also to avoid been seen by the organization. And in a rush, she mentioned to Hobie that she would see Miles, and probably not much else since she left so much crap there and the guy didn't even realize she took his shoes.

Again, a lot of this is speculation, but the idea of this girl going to get those shoes to look nice when she met Miles again, JUST to have him be jealous about it-

I had been taking breaks to laugh while writing this post; I love these idiots I swear.

[deadmenandthedivine]

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter eighteen: a father’s last words

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, sexual situations (consensual § nonconsensual), imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, disassociation, thoughts of self harm and annihilation, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 3845

She had never truly understood how it happened, what all the act entailed. Throughout her life, she had been given clues. The way lords, songs, and peasants alike all spoke of it in the same grotesque manner — some more poetically than others. With the various details and snippets she had pieced together, she thought perhaps she would be prepared. But it was unlike anything she could have ever imagined.

Pain, euphoria, instincts, and sweat. Pressure at the bottom of her gut gave way to a wave of full-body and mind inebriation. Like flood waters overtaking an ill-equipped dam. Connected to her betrothed as intimately as could be, her limbs shook at the overflow of sensations. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The prince kept his hand over her mouth to muffle her yelps.

“Sȳz riña.” (Good girl.) He grunted into her ear.

His other wet hand stroked a shape across her belly. He touched her all over as she lay limp. Desperately trying to regain her breath. Her vision was clouded, and each gasp of air felt just as contaminated. The smell of Aemond — oud, sandalwood, saffron, and sweat — overtook the entirety of the balcony around her. With his body on top of hers, he was everywhere. Utterly inescapable.

After a long break, drinking the moment in, he pulled himself out before standing to his feet. She could feel herself leak, feel the extra wetness seep out of her drip by drip. Like a plug being pulled from a drain. All she could do was lay in her shame and guilt. Her fate had been sealed. There was no turning back, only pretending like nothing ever happened. The only ones to know the truth would be her, Aemond, and the Gods. 

The hum of the dragon’s song softly returned, just as gentle and sweet. A painfully familiar calloused hand slid under her back, the other under her neck, and pulled her to sit up. Her muscles strained and twitched with weakness. She could hardly hold her own head upright. The princess surrendered completely as Aemond plucked her off the cloak and carried her back to her bed. Helping her use the chamber pot before tucking her into place. The cushions and covers were plush and soft. She couldn’t help the audible sigh of relief that escaped her. 

With heavy eyes, Maetilda was determined to watch her betrothed. Prepared to brace herself for his next move. She studied the way he carefully cleaned up the scene of the crime — returning the cushion to its seat, hanging her traveling cloak back up in her wardrobe, and disposing of any lingering evidence. Still undressed, his body captivated her. Each strain and flex of muscles that seem to double in size only when in use. Like animal camouflage that fools its enemies into thinking it has no strength, his body was far more powerful than it appeared. The sight of such a strong man ever so daintily picking up a mess made her smile. Almost giddily. Until she remembered the severity of the circumstance. That very body had just deflowered her, had taken any semblance of her good standing in proper society. The fleeting swarm of stomach butterflies immediately gave way to mortification. Deep, soul-shredding mortification.

Tears flooded her eyes, only making them feel even more heavy. Her face contorted into a frown. The corners of her mouth pulled down as her bottom lip jutted out. Silent sobs escaped out of her chest. She curled into a ball and hugged her knees. The prince did not notice until his boots, trousers, and tunic were in proper place on him again. It was then that he turned back to her and took notice of her depleted form. With a look of concern, Aemond immediately floated over and wrapped his arms around her. “Shh, shh, shh, shhhh, gaomagon daor limagon.” (do not cry)

“Se Jaes kessa qrimbrōzagon īlva syt skoros emi gaomagon.” (The gods will curse us for what we have done.)

“Kesi dīnagon se kessi jurnegon bē īlva lēda vaoreznon.” (We shall wed, and they will look upon us with favor.)

“Gaomā daor emagon lēda ao pōja vēdros sir?” (Do you not feel their anger already?)

“Daor vala gīmigon pōja vēdros tolī hen nyke.” (No man knows their anger better than me.)

“Se sīr ao jaelagon naejot vēdros zirȳ tolī? Qrimbrōzagon nyke lēda ao?” (And so you wish to anger them further? Curse me with you?)

“Iksā ñuhon, dārilaros. Ao kessa sagon rȳ ñuha paktot va moriot. Morghon kessa daor arlinnon bona.” (You are mine, princess. You shall be at my side forever. Death will not change that.) He attempted to jest.

More silent sobs shook the princess’s body. Doom, despair, hellish heat of the Fourteen Flames, the cold air of the Stranger. She could feel it all. Bombarding her with punch after punch to the gut. She had acted against everything she had ever known. There would be nothing but consequences. The Gods knew what she had done, regardless of whether or not her father would ever know. Aemond ran his fingers lightly up and down her arms and across her back. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and held her. He let her silently sob into her pillow, and peppered her with soft kisses along her neck and shoulder. It was warm. Comforting. A kind of comfort she wasn’t sure she had ever felt. With each peck, the sadness felt more and more distant. Although it never completely went away.

“Sleep, ñuha dōna.” (my sweet)

The humming returned once more, even softer than before. His arms squeezed lovingly before fingers began to stroke her hair. More gentle than any comb, the ginger pull at her scalp made her eyes feel even heavier. The tears that blurred her vision slowed their rivery path down her cheeks. Exhaustion weighed down every piece of her body. She had fought against it, but her eyelids only drooped lower and lower. Each comb of Aemond’s fingers rendered her more helpless. Seeing no use in resisting, she succumbed to his care. He had already taken her virtue; there was not much else for her to lose. If anyone were to find them, the worst had already been done. There was no turning back.

Within seconds, there was nothing but weightless darkness. An expanse of nothing. As black as a starless night sky or a room full of smoke. It was endless with no obstructions, no nooks or crannies. And she was the lone soul to exist within it. Aemond’s hum had become a distant echo, a barely audible background accompaniment. His arms were long gone. No more comforting squeeze to soothe her sorrow. His fingers no longer combed through her hair — the air did. 

She looked around her, trying to see anything that would orientate her or tell her where she was. Not a single spec, figure, or shadow. When she looked at her arms, outstretched like dragon wings, they could be seen as clear as day. Clad in her nightgown, the figure of her stood out like a sore thumb against the expanse of nothing. She soared through the air on her belly. Her nightgown floated around her as if she were underwater. Her ease of breath serving as the only proof that she wasn’t submerged in Blackwater Bay. But when she flipped onto her back to look above her, she suddenly wasn’t so convinced. There was light. It was obscured by the crashing of dark waves on the surface far, far above her. But it was there: the moon.

As soon as Maetilda realized just how deep below the waves she was, the air around her vanished. Was stolen straight out of her chest. Opening her mouth only brought in water. Trying to paddle herself upward got her nowhere. She was to drown. A pair of familiar calloused hands wrapped around her ankles and dragged her down. Trapped in the clench of her father’s grip. Devoid of air, she watched helplessly as the hands pulled her farther and farther away from the light of the moon. Until it couldn’t be seen at all. That was when she hit ground. The jolt broke her ankles free of their five-finger shackles and sent a rush of air to her lungs. She wobbled to her feet, the weightless feeling no more. There seemed to be a world around her, if only there were light to see it with. She was at least grateful she could breathe again.

Still trying to find something, anything, the princess turned around and couldn’t help her jump of shock. Behind her stood a woman in riding leathers and trousers, slightly blurred without the moon to illuminate her. Nonetheless she seemed to glow. The woman was similar in stature, but a bit thinner and more muscled. She had brunette hair that stopped at her squared shoulders, or was perhaps tucked back. Strong brows framed her eyes. The princess took a step forward to get a better look, but it did no good. All she saw were vague features. The woman only pointed to the expanse of nothing that stood behind the princess. Following the woman’s finger despite the sense of doubt, Maetilda was once again startled. This time by the infamous cloaked figure. It loomed over her with its obscured face, hand outstretched upward. In its hand was a very jagged rock.

A shove from behind sent the princess colliding with the ground. Landing on her elbows, she rolled onto her back only to be back in her bed once more. Golden morning sunlight poured in through the windows. Aemond was gone, along with any sign of his presence. Instead, Noarysa, Adelyn, and a few other servants knocked at her door. Waiting to ready the table to break her fast. A meal that her father would be attending. At the realization, Maetilda had never jumped out of her bed so quickly. Racing to the door, she called through it.

“Yes! Who is it?”

“Your maids, Princess! Here to dress you.” 

There were quick greetings and the sound of shuffling feet as she ripped the door open. As soon as they entered, the room felt full. Suffocating. Wordlessly, the princess marched over to the balcony doors and ripped them open. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at the floor she laid on the night before. At least it was clean, she thought, no evidence. The scene looked much more stale in the morning light. She could still picture it on the backs of her eyelids. When her nose caught the breeze, she swore she could still smell him too. The tune he hummed played on in her head like a broken record. 

She couldn’t bring herself to look out over the bay. Instead, she ducked tail and practically leaped far back into her room. Her legs strained at the movement. Trying to keep her face from showing how frantic she felt, the princess gave her handmaids a smile. They smiled back more apprehensively. Maetilda could feel Adelyn’s eyes do an investigation as Noarysa held her gaze.

“Princess, are you well? Should I send for the Maester?” Noarysa seemed to hold herself back.

“No need to worry. I had a bad dream about the sea. Seeing it again gave me a fright. That is all.”

The older handmaid nodded, “It is right to fear the sea. It holds monsters beyond our knowing.” 

‘Dragons must pay dues to the sea gods too,’ Helaena’s voice echoed between Maetilda’s ears. Chills rippled across her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She tried to shake herself of the thought, “Funny to think anything could be bigger than a dragon.”

“You’d be speechless from the stories sailors carry with them, Princess.” Adelyn smirked, “Although my mother always said that sailors tell the tallest tales. The sea can drive a man mad.” 

“You don’t think there’s some truth to their stories?” Maetilda countered.

“I believe there’s always at least a crumb.” 

The princess nodded, “I suppose we should ready me before I go mad dwelling on it.”

The two handmaids immediately got to work. The three moved closer to the wardrobe before assuming their routine positions. With the usual Pentoshi tune as music, Noarysa and Adelyn helped Maetilda out of her nightgown. While comforting, the feeling of being hummed to made the princess’s skin crawl with guilt. She hated that she missed the way it felt to have him hover over her, the way it intoxicated her more than wine. She hated that she missed the tickle of his hair falling on her cheek. She hated how much she missed the way his gaze effortlessly made her go weak. For the trouble it would undoubtedly cause, it felt good. He made her feel good. But before she could get lost in reminiscing anymore, the princess was shocked back into reality by the horrified gasp of the handmaid in front of her. The younger one, Adelyn.

“Princess, what is that?”

“What?” Maetilda looked around in panic.

“That!” The younger maid pointed at the princess’s abdomen. 

Bare without her nightgown, and not yet dressed in her shift, she looked down to see a symbol drawn in a dry, flaky red across her abdomen. A rune. Her hands quickly tried to cover it, but the lines covered the expanse of her stomach.

Desperately, she attempted to rub at all the red and come up with a believable explanation at the same time, “I—I—I—I stole a book about Runestone and runes from the library and I was being silly. I beg you do not tell a soul. Please. I beg you tell no one. I was just being silly.”

“Wait! Princess, please, let us help.” Noarysa’s hands hovered out, waiting anxiously for permission.

“Please do not tell a soul. I didn’t do anything!” Maetilda pleaded, “I am not a witch.”

“On my life, Princess. I shall not tell a soul.” The older maid nodded.

“I swear I shall not, Princess.” Adelyn chirped in.

Maetilda took a deep breath, “Let us put on my shift and the rest of my dress. I shall have a bath after my family departs the castle.”

Soon after the princess was dressed in one of her more simple gowns — a purple mauve a-line gown with monotone brocade and a simple square neckline  — and her chambers were readied for a meal, a firm knock sounded on her door. He was early. The two handmaids graciously let the guest in before parting to send for the food. Her father stood in the entrance silently, taking in her chambers. 

“I should send smugglers, after I have left.” He started, “But I do not trust any man would be able to stop themselves, given the opportunity. And a smuggler’s bastard most certainly would not do.”

“No, it would not.” She agreed, unsure how else to answer. She could feel herself start to perspire.

“Did you sleep well, tala?” He slowly started to make his way toward the table with two place settings. (daughter)

“I slept fine.” She lied, “How was your sleep?”

“Barely had any.” He shrugged, “All I could think about was what I shall do with you… and my wife.”

“Your wife, the future Queen.”

“Yes, thank you. I need not forget.” His eyes rolled.

Maetilda nodded. She stood idly at the back of her chair, unsure if he would pull it out for her or not. He did. And pushed it in tightly. By the time he took his own seat, a knock at the door announced the arrival of food. Trays of pastries, fruits, and sausages. Far too much for the two of them. The servants bowed before they left. Prince Daemon dug in immediately, diving for the meat and bread. The sound of him eating was loud on their silence. Maetilda couldn’t seem to make a choice on where to start, eying each tray carefully. In truth, she was not very hungry. 

“If this day goes as planned, you shall be alone in this castle with only Rhaenys to watch over you.” Daemon spoke with his mouth mostly empty.

“Yes, I am eager to prove myself to you, kepa. I am more than capable.”

“Do as you wish. I shall know everything.”

“In the absence of smugglers, you send spies?”

“I need not send what already exists.”

“Of course, your loyalists.” The princess nodded in remembrance.

Her father smirked. “You think you are so smart. There is so much about politics, about power that you do not know. Do not understand.”

“You think so low of me.”

“You are my most difficult child, indeed.”

“All I have ever wanted is to make you happy.”

“Yet, you always fall short.” The prince laughed as his daughter hung her head, “Although I must say, I am glad we get to have this time to bond before I must go.”

“Yes, of course. It is very nice.” Maetilda numbly agreed.

“Almost bittersweet! We have not been apart since your mother was alive.” She froze. He had actually spoken of her. Or had he? Perhaps she had imagined it.

“How sentimental. I do not remember such a time.”

“Of course you do not. You could not even walk.”

Their golden cutlery scraped against their plates. Her father took large bites that he swallowed after only a few chews. The princess could only push her food around on her plate. Something felt off about his statement. His tone of voice was uncomfortably sharp. As sharp as the knife he used to cut his food. 

“You did not walk for moons after I took you,” He spoke again after swallowing a mouthful, “Thought you never would for a bit. It was well past your first nameday when you finally did. Laena worked with you every day.”

“Thank the gods I did.”

He chuckled as he took another bite, taking his time to chew and swallow, “Yes, thank the gods. Practicing to be a Hightower already.”

“That was not my intention.”

“I saw you.” He spat.

“Saw me?” The princess’s heart began to pound as remnants of the night before clouded her senses.

“Pretending to be a doting little wife.”

“You did not watch the scene that I did!”

“I told you to make them all regret it, did I not?”

“You did.” She nodded.

“The scene that I watched was of my wife and my brother’s ball-and-chain more secure in their decisions than ever!”

“I tried my best.”

“You did nothing.” He spat, “Now I must take care of matters.”

Maetilda’s eyes immediately filled with tears, “Kepa, please don’t. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Only the low born beg.”

“What else do you want? What can I do?”

“Do not whine like a little girl. Accept your sentence like the Targaryen you are.”

“A Targaryen would not suffer the humiliation!”

“You swore! You swore to me! If I do not see to your punishment, your gods will.”

“You’re wrong!” The princess cried.

“Am I?” It wasn’t a question.

The tears in her eyes spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. Fork in hand, she took a forced bite of wastel bread with an elderberry jelly. Anything to keep her from responding to him.

“Do not worry, little girl. You will not see it coming.”

“Did you invite yourself here just to threaten me?”

“If I wanted to threaten you, I would simply walk in here and do so. As is my right. I came here to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“It is a mercy of me to bother, really.”

“You tell me this shall happen, but do not tell me when. How can you call that mercy? To have me look over my shoulder without instruction on what to look for?”

“Mine own blood runs through your veins, and you require instruction?” He laughed incredulously before taking a gulp of wine, “Even your mother was not so clueless.”

The princess said nothing. To have her mother mentioned twice in the same conversation by the same man who despised her most made Maetilda’s head spin. Perhaps she was still dreaming. Perhaps she would blink and be back in the depths of Blackwater Bay.

“I see, both stupid and mute. Is that what your little betrothed wants from you?”

She resigned herself, “What must I do in your absence to keep you happy?” 

“Tala, you are impossible.”

“If you wish to kill me, do it. If you wish to have me tortured, get it over with. What is the point in dragging it out?”

He laughed, “Ñuha tala ēza sīmonagon lēda vēdros.” (My daughter has woken up feisty)

She squared her shoulders, “Ñuha kepa jaelagon naejot tepagon nyke ōdres.” (My father wishes to humiliate me)

“Gaomā sīr mijegon ñuha dohaeragon.” (You do so without my help)

“Yn gaomā daor henujagon se ōdres yno naejot iā valzȳrys.” (Yet you do not leave the pain of me to a husband)

“Emā va moriot issare ñuha ōdres.” (You have always been my pain)

“Se emā issare se mēre qilōni maghagon ñuhon.” (And you have been the one who brings mine)

Sausage and wastel bread went everywhere as the table flipped. In the blink of an eye, Prince Daemon stood directly over his daughter with an angry glare. Maetilda wearily kept hold of her fork that no longer served a purpose. Her father’s face got within inches of hers before he whispered, “Gaomā daor gīmigon ōdres.” (You do not know pain)

She shook at his words, how untrue they were, but she would not fight him. Not without a table between them to shield her. Tears lined her eyes. 

“I should not have come. Spoiled an already rotten day of travel.” The prince griped further.

His daughter remained sitting in her chair. No matter how old she had gotten, he treated her like a child. In turn, she felt like one. Helpless. The tears spilled over and down her cheeks.

“Pār henujagon.” She muttered softly. (Then leave)

Her chair broke beneath her before she hit the ground hard. Knocking the wind out of her lungs. Rough fingers knotted into her hair and yanked her to her feet. He held her close, giving her no space to look away from him. Locking eyes with her. She saw nothing but rage.

“Ao ȳdragon sīr nēdenka skori ao daor mīsagon aōla.” (You talk so smart when you cannot defend yourself)

“Iā zaldrīzes iksis iēdrosa iā zaldrīzes.” (A dragon is still a dragon)

He laughed again, practically spitting in her face as he did so. “Addemmagon ñuha vali iksis dovodedha skori pōja mirre kessa sagon mijegon mirre.” (Paying my men almost feels wasteful when their job shall be so easy)

As if he grew bored, he dropped her before dusting himself off. He practically beelined to the tower tapestry and pulled it up. The princess watched confused as he dropped the fabric behind him. She heard fiddling before the lump of him disappeared. Leaving her standing alone in her chambers, surrounded only by a broken dining set and scattered food.

A/N: surprise!! i realized when writing the last one that i was trying to overstuff the envelope, so i had to make into two chapters. then i decided to finish this one before posting both. i’m still writing the next one.

the plot is thickening though!!! will daemon find out about aemond and maetilda? when will he send his men? what is he waiting for???

TAGLIST: @marvelescvpe

xoxo messy

[dark-elf-writes]

Song Shuffle Challenge

This is entirely @musicfeedsmysoul12’s fault as I haven’t even thought of one of these for years but it looked like fun so here I am.

Labour - Paris Paloma

Inko’s hands shook as she zipped up Izuku’s bag. Nothing more than his diaper bag. A scant few changes of clothes and his most beloved toys packed safely inside.

It looked innocent. It had to.

Hisashi couldn’t know. Couldn’t suspect.

Some animal part of her tucked deep inside bleated with fear as she scooped up her son and settled him on her hip. He smiled at her in that sweet way of his and offered her a damp All Might plush.

They would have nothing. Have nowhere to hide. Nowhere that would be out of his reach.

She had found the proof, tucked deep in his belongings. The messages between him and the doctor. The horrible plans that would consume all of Japan if left unchecked. A kingpin. A boogeyman. The nightmare that had haunted the country for two hundred years.

The plan had been formulated over days. Had come together in bits and pieces all while she hid behind smiles she gave everything to feel real.

She had been so young when she had sold her soul to the devil himself. She would die before she would watch him shatter their son in those blood drenched hands.

So now she would run and keep running until they were far far from here.

Someone To You - Acoustic - BANNERS

Izuku leaned against the doorframe and watched their friends bicker from where they had spread out around Tenya’s dorm.

(“If I wanted All Might staring at me while I did my homework, Zuku, I’d do it in class!”)

They had never thought they would have this. Never thought that useless quirkless Deku could have this. Friends who loved him. Friends who cared.

One for All pressed against the inside of their skin, scratching its way along their changing joints and over breaks healed over and over again. The ache of it was familiar. Comforting even, in the knowledge that they would do it all again. Would shatter themself over and over for the people who now looked back at them and smiled.

For them they would do anything.

Happier Than Ever- Billie Eilish

It had been three days, twelve Hours, and fifteen minutes after when Izuku laughed for the first time.

Bright. Free. Unafraid.

They had frozen at the sound. Had seen their friends freeze and look at them with such wonder like they had forgotten the sound. Just like Izuku had.

Their phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Happy. They were happy. When was the last time they had felt this?

Their phone buzzed away.

They had been keeping up a facade for so long they had confused it for their own face. Had smiled through every party they had attended alone. Through every interview where Kacchan had spoken over them. Through every drunk call where they had begged him to come home safe and been ignored.

Their phone buzzed.

Izuku reached out and ignored the call.

Saviour II - Black Veil Brides

It was the phantom hand on their shoulder that kept them from crumbling. Kept their smile from faltering in the slightest even with the agony lancing up their arms.

They had been molded for this. Had been born for this perhaps.

A successor for a symbol. An idea to step into the shoes of another. Everything they were and could have been stopped back to a beaming smile and the quirk that pounded through them.

Still they held their head high. Kept their smile firmly in place.

They had been molded into this. By him. For them all.

So they would smile and they would give all they had to save as many people as they could. Even if it killed them.

Boyfriend - Dove Cameron

A hand appeared in Izuku’s vision, drawing their eyes away from their phone. Drawing their hand away from it too as they were tugged up from their seat and into a secluded corner away from the eyes and dancing.

A familiar smile greeted them when they had finally broken out of their shock to look up. Sharp edged. Full of heat and promise.

“Come home with me,” Shinsou Hitoshi didn’t ask. Wouldn’t ask something like this. Wouldn’t leave even the slightest possibility of this not being Izuku’s choice.

A gentleman… of a sort.

“Kacchan—,”

“He treats you like shit.”

Well, no one had ever accused Hitoshi of being one to mince words.

Izuku should pull away. Should argue. But… couldn’t find it in themself to. Couldn’t even find the will to pull their wrist back from Hitoshi’s loose grip.

He saw it. Of course he did. That smile ducked closer as Hitoshi leaned in to whisper in their ear. “Let me treat you better, Zuku. Let me bring you flowers and do all the couple shit that he hates. Let me stand next to you for all these galas so you’re not left alone.”

Izuku should pull away.

They felt that smile press against their ear. Heard it in Hitoshi’s voice. “My wardrobe is better than his.”

They laughed and didn’t pull away.

[thebelugawhalefriend]

Cubby - Yan!Ghost x Fem!Reader

CW: NSFW mentions, Yandere themes, Possession, NOT fandom related

Note: I haven't had any requests to write and my bigger storylines I haven't had muses for, but I don't want to lose my writing spark and crap out. So! Here we are.

Please, feel free to drop any request you have in my inbox ^^ It looks like Papyrus's mail as of now hehe

Something important I must mention!! Ghosts age in this world.

Bumps in the night always spooked you as a kid. Paired with the silent and dark room you were supposed to be kept in, the only comfort you sought was the cold chill that came to your side.

You called him Cubby. Mostly because your visions of him were that of a lion cub's head upon a boy's body. He was just fine with his nickname, even if at first he insisted to be called Benji.

As you grew, you merely assumed your imaginary friend would go away. You'd move, know new friends, even try new activities. And yet, Cubby was always there with you. Even if you'd forgotten to talk to him or even look his way.

It wasn't until you brought your first real boyfriend over at 19 that Cubby lost his innocent feelings for you.

Oh, but this wasn't a case of love lost... This was a case of passion.

Whenever your partner would start anything sexual with you, Benji would throw something breakable or flicker the lights. If that didn't happen to work, well... A few nightmares are more than effective at destroying the sexual tension.

The absolute last straw was when he appeared himself as a shadowy figure watching you two. Your partner's lips were caressing your neck, though they stopped in horror upon seeing his form.

"What the FUCK is that?!" "What? There's nothing there, love! I-" "Nonono, I've HAD IT!"

Just like that, they're pulling up their pants and shuffling out of the apartment. "I am NEVER coming over again (Y/N), do you hear me?! Every time I come to fuck you, some freaky ass shit happens and I'm tired of it! Some fuckin' curse is cockblocking me and you know what? You can live with that! I'm not gonna deal with all that!"

The next few hours were spent crying on your soft bed. You couldn't bear the thought of having your first shot at losing your first time being cursed to fail.

When familiar cold hands hold yours, you look up to see... A man? A lion mask laid right next to him, with a kind green within his eyes. "Did your date not go well, (N/N)?"

"...I know you chased them off, Benji."

"I did you a favor! If anything, you should thank me for chasing off someone only after your body!"

"You didn't know them... How could you-"

"Because I've known you since we were kids. You're a stunning lady now... Men and women are going to want to take what you have and leave you to die. But..." He pulled you into an embrace, "I would never chase someone who truly loved you away."

And he does keep to his word! It's just too bad that every partner you've had didn't love you enough into his eyes. Your last partner really irked him...

The only one who earned enough of his ire to have him killed.

Taking control of their body, he walks them all the way to a nearby zoo. Slipping through the safeguards and bars, Benji slips back out of their body and leaves them within the exhibit's cage.

"Man found mauled inside of the Sea Lion attraction!" The headline reads from your notifications. You couldn't believe it when your partner's face was paired next to the famed sea lions of the zoo.

"Why would they do it... They love animals, but they'd never..." Benji's hand holds your shoulder, "Some people just get way too comfortable messing with animals, (N/N)..."

Here's some extra art of Cubby/Benji for your enjoyment!

[im-a-marvel-ous-hoe]

Daddy’s Favorite Story | Bucky Barnes (3rd Day of 🎄)

(Credits to the owner of this pic!)

Hey everyone! I hope you’re enjoying my stories! We’re on day 3 of fluffy Christmas fics! 🩵

Christmas Masterlist <- check out my other holiday fics! ✨

~~~~

“Daddy, can you please read me one more story?” I heard Grace’s voice on the other side of her bedroom door. I held a laundry basket in my hands, almost finished with the household chores for the day. I was about to walk in to ask our 5 year old if she needed anything from mommy before I stopped myself once I realized her dad was in the room.

I smiled to myself at the thought of her and Bucky bonding before she went to sleep. Placing the basket on the floor, my right reached out for the doorknob to take a peek at the loves of my life. Bucky was sat down on her bed, she was lying down with a small pile of her stuffed animals around her. She held onto a goat stuffed animal she got from her uncle Steve for her birthday earlier this year.

“You said that two books ago!” Bucky laughed as she sat up in her bed, getting ready to fight to get her way. “But – But this one is the last one! I promise!” She clasped her little fingers together and looked up at her father, giving him the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. Her blue eyes meeting his own as he tried to resist giving in.

“No, sweetheart, don’t do this to me!” She pouted her lips as he covered his face with his hand. The amount of love he has for his daughter will obviously make it difficult for him to say no to her. “Pleeaassee?” He peeked at her through his fingers and chuckled to himself. “Arghh… fine. You win.” She giggled and got settled into her bed, bringing her blanket closer to her and she watched her father in awe.

“Okay, one more story and you promise me that you’ll go to sleep after this, okay?” He raised an eyebrow as she nodded enthusiastically. I crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned against the doorframe, watching this all play out in front of me. He looked through her small bookshelf and picked one up, inspecting it. He turned to look at her and smiled, tapping onto the cover of the book. “This one is a classic, sweetheart. It’s one of daddy’s favorites.” He opened the book in his hands, cleared his throat and began reading.

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.”

Bucky made sure to lean in and show her the pictures. Her little eyes scanned the pages as she held onto her goat stuffie closer to her. I softly smiled to myself, thinking about how lucky I am to have found someone like Bucky to share the rest of my life with. To live a quiet domestic life with.

“The children were nestled, all snug in their beds.”

He leaned in and tickled her stomach as her laughter filled the room. Her cheeks tinted pink as he continued reading her a story for bedtime.

“While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.

And momma in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out in the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.”

He stood up abruptly and spread his arms out as Grace watched him with anticipation. He walked over to her window and brushed her curtains to sway them back and forth to give as much visual effects as possible.

“Away to the window flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer.”

He quickly looked around her room for a reindeer stuffie, but all he could see was her goat. He grabbed it and made it look as if it was flying. “Daddy, that’s not a reindeer!” Grace laughed. “Whaaattt? No, it totally is!”

“No he’s not!” He bowed his head for a moment and looked up, smiled at her. “Well, let’s just pretend baby, okay?” She giggled and nodded her head.

“With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!”

I couldn’t help but think of how he’s such an amazing father. He’s going all out as best as he can just to make her night. To think we were both so scared to become parents is crazy to me. I don’t know what we were so scared of. Since Grace came into our lives, it’s been nothing but bliss. I can’t imagine our lives without her and I can’t imagine not doing this with Bucky.

“To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!’

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.”

Bucky grabbed her goat and pranced it on her bed, making it look like it was walking closer and closer to her. She smiled as Bucky continued to read the next part of the story.

“As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.”

He cleared his throat as his voice pitched a little higher than usual as he spoke.

“His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.”

He walked towards her closet and quickly rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. He came out with her white scarf wrapped around his mouth to imitate a white beard. Walking back towards his daughter, he reached for her pillow. “Excuse me sweetheart.” She giggled and sat up as she watched him stuff the pillow in his shirt and placed his hands on his belly, letting out a deep laugh. “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Grace burst out laughing as she watched her daddy pretend to be Santa Claus. I brought my hand to my mouth to try to stifle a laugh as I watched him in amusement.

“He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.”

He leaned in and pinched her nose, smiling as she let out a giggle. Her eyes gleaming with admiration towards her father.

“And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight —

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

She cheered at the end of the story as Bucky placed the book down on her bedside table. He laughed and took the pillow out from his shirt and placed it comfortably behind her head. “Did you enjoy the story?” She nodded and yelled out a big “yes!” He slid off her scarf and placed it next to the book.

He leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m glad you liked it sweetheart.” He brushed a hair away from her face and smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too daddy. Thank you for reading me a story.”

He chuckled and nodded. “You’re welcome. Now, it’s time to head to bed! It’s late.” He tucked her into bed, placed one last kiss on her forehead and bid her goodnight. He made his way to the door and saw me standing there. “That was a lovely story.” I stated as his face turned a light shade of pink. “Yeah well..” He closed Grace’s door behind him and looked up at me. “How much did you hear?”

“Oh, not much… only all of it.” I smiled at him as he turned to look away in embarrassment. “Oh God.. so, did you see..?” I nodded as he covered his face with his hands. “I especially liked the part where you pretend to be Santa. That was a nice touch.”

“Hey, I was just trying to give her visuals. What I did was amazing.” He embraced me from behind and placed his hands on my stomach, rubbing small circles. “Of course it was amazing! I’m not saying it wasn’t.” He placed a soft kiss on my cheek as I placed my hands on top of his. We stood there, enjoying the silence between us for we don’t get much of that nowadays. I closed my eyes for a moment and softly smiled. We both sighed in content.

“She’ll be here in a few months.” I quietly spoke as he hummed, his hand not leaving the small bump in my belly. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Maybe you could do what you did for Grace tonight again when she gets here.” I chuckled. “It could become a Christmas family tradition.” He chuckled as I pulled back so I could turn to look at him. “I’ll think about it.” He leaned down and placed a kiss upon my lips before pulling away and bending down to grab the laundry basket.

“Head on up to the couch, doll. I’ll finish cleaning up. You just relax and get a movie ready for us to watch, okay?” I nodded my head as we both made our way to the living room.

“Y/N?”

I turned to look at him, my hand instinctively going towards my belly. “Yeah?” He just smiled at me, the kind of smile that could make anyone weak in the knees.

“I love you.” I couldn’t help the blush that rushed to my cheeks. How is it that he’s still able to do that to me? I will never know. I smiled back at him.

“I love you more.”

He scrunched his nose and chuckled. “I think that’s up for debate.” He bit his lip, trying to hide his smile as he turned away to go finish cleaning up the house. Soon our household will go from 3 to 4 and who else knows how bigger it’ll get after that. I’m not worried though, because I’ve got the best partner to do this with. Nothing could be better than this.

I can’t wait for our family to grow.

~~~~

I hope y’all liked it! Please let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

[sunasrintarhoe]

To You. To Us

Teaser

warnings: swearing, talk of sex, talk of a threesome, implied dubcon (didn’t actually happen), slight angst, implied mxm, lowercase intended

a/n: i know i said skz dune!au but this felt like a way to ease into writing for skz lol. constructive criticism is welcome!! enjoy

“the sexual tension between you two is killing me…”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” your head snapped to jisung, your boyfriend of two years.

“i’m just saying that if you two fucked it would cure this whole stupid rivalry thing you have going on!” he threw his hands up in exasperation. you had been in your apartment, cuddled up to each for the last two hours, watching anime, not a word had been said prior to this.

“i still have no idea what you’re talking about.” you separated yourself from him and he pouted.

“jagi, don’t be like that. you and i both know what i’m talking about.” he tried pulling you back into his arms, whining.

he was talking about minho. the guy you didn’t acknowledge when he walked into a room, the guy you avoided with everything in you, the guy who told you that you weren’t good enough for jisung…

looking away, you stayed silent, your mind whirring with the memory of minho warning you to stay away from his best friend.

‘if only you knew…’ you thought as you turned on your side away from him.

“jagi-” jisung tried to get your attention. “i’m not- i don’t-“ he huffed, unable to find the words. “i just want my two favorite people in the world to get along…” he sighed.

you could feel your eyes stinging with tears as you sat up. he would never understand- he couldn’t. minho hated you because he was in love with jisung and you took him away.

you sighed softly and stood up, “i’m gonna go shower.” your words soft as you walked toward the bathroom. jisung stayed quiet, his lip aching between his teeth. he needed to know what was going on.

——

minho felt like shit. his head pounding as he sat up in his bed.

“why is it so fucking cold?” he groaned. the breeze on his balls made him tense. “what the fuck?” he jumped as he realized he was naked. he never went to bed naked.

he threw his blankets off in a rush threw on boxers. the last thing he remembered from the night before was going out with the others.

“what the fuck did i do?”

he rushed out of his room to look for one of the other members. he could hear talking in the kitchen, making him run over.

“i’m surprised he kissed you.” seungmin said as he opened a water bottle, handing it to felix.

felix.

his neck was covered in bite marks and hickies, a blurry memory of blonde hair and freckled skin passed through minho’s mind. fuck.

his eyes widened in realization for the second time.

he fucked felix.

“good morning, lover boy~” chan seemed to appear out of thin air, his hand ghosting the skin of minho’s lower back.

it was then that minho registered the ache in his hips and back side. what the fuck happened last night?

chan, recognizing the faint panic in minho’s face, entered his line of vision. “lino?… what’s wrong?” his pretty mouth was pulled into a frown of concern. minho shook his head. “hyung… what happened last night?”

chan groaned and rubbed his face. “fuck… fuuuuck!” he walked away from minho. “i’m so fucking sorry, mate. it-it was a mistake, i didn’t realize you were that drunk and-and-“ minho tuned out chan’s rambling as the memories of last night filtered in. the kissing, the biting, the moaning. he remembered it all.

minho’s sigh of relief made chan pause. “oh thank god, i thought i brought someone home.” min groaned and rubbed his face.

“ah, so you remember?” felix’s deep voice cut through the silence.

“yeah” minho laughed out, “and it was all very consensual, hyung.” he turned to chan. “i wanted it, just as bad.” he reassured the aussie.

chan groaned and rushed out leaving behind a laughing seungmin.

“i’m surprised he can even walk, hyung. don’t you remember?” seungmin pretended to moan, “it’s so tight, you can’t even take this c-“

“KIM SEUNGMIN!” chan came barreling back into the room. the room went silent again.

“run.”

seungmin sprinted out of the kitchen and to his room, chan following closely behind.

“and then there were two. “ felix smiled, making min look at him.

“you know, this could be a regular thing if you were to join us…” felix’s tone was suggestive.

minho smiled softly.

“i know…”

felix’s smile fell. “you don’t have to wait for him.”

minho nodded.

“i know.”

he walked back to his room, choosing to get ready for the day.

he needed to talk to jisung.