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gaylordscooter · 5 months

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One Year of This So-Called Hell

It's been awhile since they've started living at the castle. They've grown used to it. They wouldn't call it their home or call each other their housemates, but they certainly thought of it like that.

However, despite how long they’ve been here, they still have yet to get acquainted with Nightmare. They were all casual with each other except with him. For obvious reasons, including but not limited to the fact he kidnapped them all and puts them through grueling situations from time to time.

Though, that latter reason has diminished over time. They didn't know if he was running out of ideas or what, because recently these situations have become akin to game nights. Quite literally they would play some board game or card game. It was kinda fun. None of them were going to complain though, even if they found it odd.

But today something especially odd happened. Not only was there a breakfast setup for them when they arrived at the kitchen this morning, Nightmare himself was at the table.

At first none of them said anything to him. Then Killer decided he couldn't stand the silence and said a good morning that was directed at everyone.

“Good morning, Killer,” Nightmare responded in a formal tone. He took a bite out of his pancakes. The three were watching him in disbelief as he chewed and swallowed. He looked up, taking note that none of them were making a move to sit down. “I hope the food isn't that bad. It took me a few tries to make something decent.”

“you cooked this?” Horror asked in surprise. He shot a skeptical look at the food. He's never messed with their food before, but he wouldn't be surprised if he started now.

“I made an effort to. There are no eggs as I couldn't extract the edible part without getting the casing mixed up in it.” He continued to eat, trying to show the food wasn't tampered with.

Killer shrugged and pulled out a chair to sit down a few chairs away from Nightmare. He grabbed a plate and a few pancakes. He quickly inspected the food before dousing it in an ungodly amount of syrup and began to eat.

Nightmare couldn't help but stare at Killer's soul as they ate, as weird as that was. He was transfixed by the shape. It was different, much more reminiscent of a proper monster soul rather than the usual target.

“hey, bud, my eyes are up here,” Killer said.

Nightmare's eye snapped up as if he was a child that was caught holding a knife. He noticed that Killer’s eye sockets, which were usually empty, had ringed eyelights at the moment, but usually he’d only have them when he was experiencing intense emotions—often negative. He didn't sense any negativity from him at the moment.

“whatcha lookin’ at?” he questioned despite knowing the answer.

Nightmare felt the other two’s tension and wariness. “Your soul's different,” he noted.

Killer’s posture relaxed a little. “oh, yeah. it's been that way for a bit.” He glanced at the other two, silently pleading them to stop standing in place awkwardly and to actually join them at the table.

Fortunately, Horror read his mind and made a move to sit down, prompting Dust to as well.

“May I ask what it means for it to look that way?” Nightmare implored.

Killer seemed taken aback by the question. His smile went crooked, at least more than usual and he slouched as if to cover his soul with the table. “am i allowed to say ‘no’? you kinda already asked.”

“You need not answer,” he responded. He dropped the topic; the question made Killer uncomfortable and he would rather not drive him away.

Dust and Horror were finally beginning to eat. Nightmare was almost worried they’d never start.

“i’ll tell you if you answer two of my questions,” Killer eventually said, to his surprise.

Of course he’d turn this into a bargain. “Ask away.”

He noticed that piqued Dust and Horror's interest.

“what’s up with the breakfast? you've never done this before.” Killer said.

“I can be nice, once in a while.”

Killer scoffed, rolling his eyelights.

“And it's a special occasion. It's been a year since I first brought you all here,” he added. He debated doing something like this in the first place. His relationship with these three was unusual. He was their tormentor; their personalized hell. At the very same time, he was their provider, in a way. He’d bring them food, water and shelter, things normally a parental figure would do—even though he was everything but that.

Horror laughed dryly, “how nice, a breakfast to celebrate a whole year after you kidnapped us to treat us like your toys.”

However, as far as he knew, he was nothing but a demon and that was exactly how they saw him.

His brother was an angel, and he was a demon. That's just how things were.

“second question, why haven't you ever messed with our food?”

Horror’s expression soured as he glared at Killer like it was a warning.

“it'd be pretty effective torture, right?” He continued to eat despite the topic at hand.

“It’d be effective,” he agreed, “but only once. Afterwards, Horror would be too far gone to do anything with.”

Horror dropped the fork he was holding with a clatter. His smile was tense and nearly a straight line.

“you’d still have me and dust, though,” Killer said.

“you little shit—”

Killer turned his head to Horror revealing his serious expression to him to silently tell him, no, he's not giving him ideas. He's trying to get information.

“Killing or irreparably harming any of you would be a major inconvenience, that is why.”

Killer stood up and leaned towards Nightmare, putting his hands on the table. “you said we were easily replaceable,” he remarked.

“I said there were many like you, not that you were easily replaceable,” he corrected. He didn't like where this conversation was going. “I answered your questions, now answer mine.”

“fine,” Killer huffed, sitting back down and crossing his arms. “i don’t know,” he said.

“What?” Nightmare said in a low rumble. Was he tricked? He didn't take kindly to the notion that Killer was going back on their deal. His tentacles flicked irritably.

Horror, noticing the ends of them sharpening, decided to speak up, “he doesn't. at least, he doesn't know what causes it.”

His tentacles relaxed, no longer threatening to lash out at Killer. “Do you feel any different?”

Shouldn't he already know that?

“oh he sure feels different,” Horror said.

Killer shrunk in on himself, trying to look invisible. Embarrassment. Shame? Guilt.

Why was it suddenly harder to discern his emotions?

“I want to hear it from him.” His eye bore into Killer.

Killer groaned, bordering on a growl, “you’re telling me you haven't felt a difference? actually, i’m surprised you’ve kept me around before, considering i didn’t feel anything.”

Nightmare's eye widened.

He didn't feel anything before? That wasn't right. He could sense his emotions the whole time. That's how he found him in the first place. As far as he knew, he wasn't like Ink either. It was very clear he had a soul.

“You did feel before. That's how I found you,” he insisted.

Killer narrowed his sockets. Anger. “i was only acting, until recently. none of it was real.”

He could feel bitterness coming from Dust.

Killer frowned, risking a glance at Dust. “but it is now,” and it’s terrifying, “and it’s weird.”

“How long has it been like this?” He knew Killer was getting annoyed at all the questions but he couldn't just drop it now. He didn't care if he was getting annoyed.

Killer had the audacity to stand up.

“Sit back down,” he ordered.

“i don't need to answer you. i don't need to follow your orders. i'm not your pet,” he spat as he roughly pushed his chair in, making the table jolt.

“You aren’t,” he sighed as Killer stormed off. His eye darted to Dust and Horror. They hardly ate anything.

“it’s been fluctuating ever since we got here,” Horror said once Killer left. “but recently it's been staying that shape.”

Nightmare was surprised at Horror’s willingness to share that information. “I’ve been sensing fear from him recently.” It didn't take a genius to find out that it was connected. “But there's also been positive emotions—coming from all of you, actually.”

Horror scoffed in a way that sounded like a laugh, “call that stockholm syndrome.”

He did not know what “stockholm syndrome” was, but from his knowledge he knew that the word “syndrome” had negative connotations. Did he inflict a disease of some kind on them without knowing?

He stood up, picking up his plate with one of his tentacles that stretched over to the sink to place it down. “I will be taking my leave now. Thank you for humoring me.” His body melted into the shadows and he was gone.

Horror shook his head, “what a weirdo.” He put a few more pancakes on his plate and resumed eating.

Dust refrained from eating, merely picking bits from his pancake and dropping it back down on the plate.

“so…how are things between you and killer?” he dared to ask. It's been about a week since they had that fight. The two were avoiding each other. Well, Dust was obviously avoiding him. Killer just made no attempt to approach him—at least to his knowledge. This led to Killer spending more time with Horror, and honestly, he has no clue how Dust has tolerated this guy for so long.

Dust made a guttural noise that was basically a growl.

Though it was a clear show of his discontent, Horror couldn't stifle a chuckle.

That only exacerbated Dust’s sour mood. He stood up.

“hey, wait,” Horror said. “you hardly ate anything.”

“not hungry,” he signed.

Horror looked unconvinced. “that's bullshit and you know it.”

Dust sighed and picked up his plate.

“c’mon dude, don't go wallowing in your room.”

“don't play therapist,” Dust muttered.

“someone in this castle needs to stay level-headed. you didn't answer my question.”

“what do you think?”

“i think…that killer’s an asshole and you're right to be pissy, but you two should probably talk,” he suggested. He gave him a serious look, “he's driving me insane, dust.”

“it's all he’s good at,” he said bitterly.

“c’mon now, that's not true.”

Dust didn't even have to say anything.

“ehhh. we still care about him anyway,” Horror said.

Dust was mad that he couldn't refute that without lying.

Nightmare found Killer outside in the forest, he was nearby a make-shift shelter he made for the stray cats that lived here. It took him an embarrassingly long time to find him because he wasn't in the castle, but him being outside for once was a welcome change. Since he wasn't holed up in his room it meant Nightmare didn't have to worry about intruding on his private quarters.

Killer loudly groaned when he noticed Nightmare. He ignored him and continued to watch and pet the cats.

Nightmare remembered how terrified Killer was when he saw him hanging out with a bunch of cats. He thought he would harm them—he was so sure that he instigated a fight to protect them. Once that was resolved, he started going outside much more often just to see the cats. He was still tense whenever Nightmare was near them, however.

“Have you named them yet?” Nightmare asked.

“what’s it to ya? waiting for me to be more attached to them so you can rip them away from me when the time’s right?” Killer snapped. He didn't take his eye off the cats.

There were six of them, each of them having various colors and patterns. He was surprised Killer could take care of that many, considering he couldn't take care of himself.

Nightmare hummed thoughtfully, eye skimming over the group of cats. “I was merely curious, usually people name things they look after.”

Killer scoffed, “you named dust and horror.” The brown cat rubbed its head against his outstretched hand.

“Yes.”

“you don't ‘look after’ them.” He gently scratched the chin of the cat. It was purring.

“Depends on how you define ‘look after’. I definitely monitor them.”

“no shit,” he snarked.

“i also supply food, water and shelter.”

Killer frowned and stood up. The cats meowed in protest. He faced Nightmare. “what are you getting at?”

“You see me as needlessly cruel, as if I’m incapable of doing kind things,” he replied.

Killer laughed forcefully. It startled the cats, making them retreat to their shelter. “what? suddenly feeling like you deserve sympathy? i don't give a shit if you do kind things. that doesn't change the fact that you tortured us.”

Surely none of it was worse than their situations in their old universes.

“Right. Forgive me for digressing, but what, pray tell, is ‘stockholm syndrome’?”

It seemed like Killer found that question humorous. “you trying to do that to us? is that what your deal is?”

Frankly, Nightmare had no idea what Killer was talking about.

“you start being all nice and dandy to make us think ‘oh he's not all bad. i actually enjoy being here’.”

“You do,” Nightmare pointed out, “enjoy being here, I mean.” He could sense that clearly.

“fuck off. you don't know that for sure,” he said bitterly.

He couldn't deny the utter contempt Killer held for him.

He dipped his head. “I apologize.”

“you what?” Killer said incredulously.

Why was he apologizing? He was deceiving him. He had to be.

Nightmare didn't know what he was doing. He's hardly bothered to show remorse. There wasn't any reason to start now. Except, after seeing the companionship between the three, he couldn't help but feel jealous.

He wanted connection. It was pathetic to admit, but the only person he was close to was his brother. Was.

How cruel of the multiverse to allow him to yearn for something he wasn't allowed to have. He couldn't help but try to get what he wanted.

“For choosing you three to inflict pain upon, I apologize. You don't deserve it yet I do it anyway.”

“i don't deserve it?” Killer said. “hah! who the hell am i talking to right now? you really nightmare?” He strode closer to Nightmare and thrust a finger at him, poking him in the chest.

Nightmare was shocked by the sudden contact.

“y’know, you and me are pretty similar in some aspects. we don’t have the capacity to care and yet we're pretending we can anyway. you can't fool me. i know you're just trying to manipulate me with that apology.”

Nightmare took a minute to respond, scanning over Killer’s feelings and expression. Again, he was hard to read, like he was able to obscure it. He wasn't trying to manipulate him. He really wasn't. But he supposed he hasn't been upfront enough with him to believe that. “Do you recall when we encountered Fresh for the first time?”

Killer snarked, “what about it?”

“I could've left you, you said.”

“you didn't save us out of compassion, you just needed us for your stupid plans or whatever.”

“But you thought you were replaceable. Which one is it?” he countered.

“it's whatever's most beneficial to you,” he retorted. “you said it would’ve been a hassle.”

He did say that. Nightmare was stumped. He didn't even know where he was trying to go with this. It wasn't like he could make Killer’s hatred towards him disappear.

Maybe he could make Killer’s self hatred go away.

Why did he think that? Did he want that? That wouldn't benefit him.

Maybe he was sick of the feeling of hatred, like loneliness. Like being sick of having the same food over and over again.

He felt something down by his tentacles. He tried to hide his surprise but he hastily looked down to see one of the cats nudging against one of his tentacles. It was the brown one that cuddled Killer a moment ago. Nightmare froze.

“hey!” Killer barked and knelt down to shoo the cat away from Nightmare. “baked beans, i told you not to get near him,” he scolded the cat.

The cat meowed out a whine.

Killer frowned and stood back up as the cat walked away.

“‘Baked beans’?” Nightmare echoed. “Is that its name?”

“don’t hurt her.”

“You are awfully insistent that I’m going to hurt these cats. Has anyone told you about self fulfilling prophecies?”

Killer decided to take that as a threat and drew out his knife.

Nightmare made an attempt to seem less threatening, having all of his non-essential tentacles tucked away. “I’m not going to hurt them, Killer.”

“you're lying!” he shouted and pointed his knife at him. “i’ve seen it happen. you're going to do it, i know it! you're just trying to get my guard down.”

He’s seen it happen?

“Are you having nightmares, Killer?”

He didn't answer.

He couldn't reason with him now, he supposed. Nightmare decided the best course of action was to simply leave. He sunk into the ground.

Killer frantically scanned the area, taking a few minutes until he confirmed that Nightmare did indeed leave. He knelt down, curling in on himself as he sighed. The cats walked back over to him.

Nightmare reappeared in the kitchen, startling the two skeletons that were currently on the couch of the other half of the room.

Usually they wouldn't be startled at his appearance. At least, not anymore. He caught sight of the drinks in their hands, they seemed to be similar. He scrunched his eye in disgust. “What the hell is that?”

They were surprised at his language. Usually he didn't express surprise like that, or at all. Dust and Horror looked at each other as if neither had an answer.

Instead of verbally answering, Dust thrust the drink out. Was he offering it to him?

Nightmare got closer to inspect it. When he reached out to grab it, he saw the two’s sockets widen. He brought it up to his face, the goop covering his mouth melted away as he took a sip.

Oh god. That was awful.

He refrained from spitting it out and managed to brute-force his way into swallowing. A whole shiver rippled throughout his body, and it didn't help that it literally made the goo on his body ripple for a bit.

Horror and Dust remained painfully silent.

Nightmare calmly handed the glass back to Dust. “It's horrible,” he deadpanned.

“he was just trying to show you it, not…” Horror didn't even have to finish his sentence.

Oh great, he misunderstood. He didn't even have to drink that. It was painfully obvious he was embarrassed, even after he covered his mouth once more. “Why do you drink such awful concoctions?”

Dust shrugged, wiping the rim of the glass with his gloves before resuming the consumption of that horrific beverage.

Nightmare refrained from showing his disgust. He moved over to one of the chairs near the couch to sit down. All of his tentacles disappeared, revealing the rest of his cloak that covered most of his legs.

Dust spat his drink out while Horror gawked.

Nightmare flinched, “What?”

Dust gestured at the lower half of his body.

“you have legs!” Horror exclaimed.

“Of course I have legs!? I’m a skeleton like you two.”

“you’re a skeleton?”

Nightmare realized how little they knew about him. “What did you think I was?”

Horror scrunched his face, unsure how to answer. “not…a skeleton?? what's up with all the slime then?”

“I suppose you could call it melted parts of my own body fused with a surplus of magic. Would you care to see how I look without the ‘slime’?”

Horror was very confused at his willingness to be open about this. Which was fair. From their point of view, all of this was coming from nowhere.

Dust, however, immediately signed “yes.” It seemed like his curiosity trumped his confusion.

“Alright,” he said. He focused, shifting his energy into one concentrated point: his forehead. The usual glowing cyan crescent moon on his forehead grew into a full moon as the goop on his body disappeared, revealing white bones with a blue tint to them underneath.

The silence that came after was deafening. The way Horror and Dust looked at him felt different. It was like they saw him as a different person like this.

Sure he was less menacing in this form, but he didn't think he looked that different.

He did. He totally did. He was even smaller like this. He was probably shorter than the two if he were to stand.

“you look so young…” Horror said.

He didn't like the tone of his voice. Maybe this was a mistake.

He quickly changed back to his usual form. The dark goo flowed out from the moon like a waterfall until his whole body was coated in it once again. He immediately felt more comfortable. He decided he was never going to do that again. “As I said, I’m a skeleton like you two.”

“you’ve mentioned you had a brother, does that mean—”

“My brother is not a Papyrus, no. He looks just like me. I did not have a world like yours nor was I ever like you. In fact, I did not even have a world.”

Horror blinked at the onslaught of information. He just learned more about him than he ever has the entire year. “you're pretty chatty today.” About yourself, he meant.

“I suppose it's the torture for today.”

“torture for us or for you?”

At this point, what was the difference? Nightmare thought, but it went unsaid.

Once Dust finished his drink, he got up to put the glass in the sink. When he tried to go to the hallway, Nightmare opened a portal underneath him to get him back on the couch. He glared at Nightmare in protest.

“Dust, I know you and Killer are having some…complications right now,” he said, completely changing the subject. “Although it's provided plenty of energy for me, you two can't avoid each other forever.”

“but wouldn't that benefit you?” Horror questioned.

“I’m not going to risk Dust killing him out of anger.” That wasn't even an exaggeration considering their game of Monopoly the other day. He had to physically wrench them apart when Killer made him bankrupt. “Go make up with each other.” He summoned a portal underneath Dust, sending him to the forest where Killer was.

Dust managed to land on his feet, luckily. He didn't want to fall on his face right in front of Killer to give him something to laugh about.

Killer damn near screamed at his sudden appearance, but he played it off by coughing into his hand when he realized it was just him. Now all the cats around him were skittering about frantically. “miss me that much you had to drop by?”

Dust was completely unfazed by his pun, leaving Killer to awkwardly laugh at his own joke.

“‘m pretty proud of that one,” he mumbled as if to voice disappointment.

Of course he was proud, it was a miracle whenever he could think of a pun on the spot. It was something he was oddly insecure about, not being able to come up with jokes that well.

Dust supposed it was a reminder that he was hardly “Sans” anymore. It seemed like such a small thing until you thought about it. Dust knew he’d use humor to cope or to cheer people up. It was second nature, a skill polished throughout his life, even. To suddenly lose that ability…he wondered if Killer looks at his past self and sees a stranger.

“you just gonna stand there and stare at me like i stabbed your soul?”

While he wasn't skillful at punning, he sure was great at handcrafting every sentence he says to annoy him.

Killer’s cheerful facade dropped, “seriously, are you? i’m having a moment with the cats.”

Is that what he's been replaced with? Cats?

Even though Nightmare ordered him to make up with him, he really didn't feel like talking at the moment.

He wondered what Killer would do if he just continued to stand here in silence. Knowing Killer, he won’t be able to just ignore him.

Yet he turned around to face the cats. He knelt down to pick one up—the one with a pure brown coat—that one was his favorite. He named it something stupid but Dust couldn't remember it off the top of his head at the moment.

He just kinda held the cat for a little while, petting it in silence.

And then after a bit he stopped. The cat whined at this and hopped out of his arms.

He sighed. “i…i’m sorry, okay?” he finally said.

Pathetic, he couldn't even face him when he said it.

“i shouldn't have messed with you like that. i thought you were playing along. i forgot that…i refused to believe you really did care about me and it took you stabbing my soul to get me to realize.”

He had to pause as his breath shuddered, probably trying to keep himself composed. He still hasn't turned around or stood up for that matter.

“i don't know if i can care about you back. i care now, but,” his voice wavered, “you’ve seen how unstable my soul is. at any moment it’ll just snap back to the same old shape of a target and then boom, nothing! a pillow could care about you more than me.”

“i think all i’d do is hurt you,” Killer said. He turned his head to look at him, “you wouldn't want that, would y—woah,” only to see Dust right in front of him, crouched down to be at eye level.

Killer raised a brow bone, having zero clue where this was going.

Dust put a hand on his own chest and then gently brought out his soul.

Killer’s eyes blew wide open.

It was odd, seeing a normal monster soul for the first time in awhile. Well, it wasn't entirely normal. It was pale white, covered in cracks, and an unusual dim glow of red outlined the edges. He could guess where that came from and it wasn't LV.

Before he could ask what his deal was, Dust spoke, “get your knife.”

Oh, HELL no.

His own soul (metaphorically) jumped out of his body at the instruction. He immediately knew where this was going and he did not like it.

“no!” Killer objected. “the hell’s gotten into you? i’d kill you!”

Dust looked as calm as ever. “you're scared,” he noted.

“of course i…” Killer furrowed his brow bones. “you’re trying to prove a point aren't you?”

He saw Dust’s smile curl up. Bastard.

He held his soul out to him as if it wasn’t the culmination of his being. “hold it,” he said.

Killer stared at it, dumbfounded. “i’m not gonna—”

“forget the knife. hold it,” he repeated, apparently switching his approach to this.

Killer shakily held a hand out, allowing Dust to place his soul in it.

He dare not move, as if it was a motion sensor bomb. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop himself from trembling.

He shifted his gaze from the soul to Dust’s eyelights, unsure of which one to look at.

i could kill him. all i’d have to do is squeeze my hand shut. it’d be so easy. would it pop?

He didn't want that. God, he didn't want that at all.

“you're not going to kill me,” Dust stated like he was so sure of himself.

“i could.”

“do you want to?”

“god no.”

“and my soul’s still fine,” Dust remarked.

“what the fuck are we doing, dust?” Killer asked, looking at the soul in his hand in disbelief.

“i dunno, trust exercise?” he offered as an answer.

“pretty intense trust exercise,” he chuckled half-heartedly in an attempt to ease his tension.

“and stabbing your soul wasn't?”

“i wouldn't call a murder attempt a ‘trust exercise’.”

“you know i didn't want to kill you,” he reminded.

“right. you want your soul back now?”

Dust gave a nod.

Killer carefully handed his soul back to him. A moment later it was back in his rib cage.

He let out a sigh of relief, keeping his gaze on Dust to ensure that he hadn't become his namesake. “we chill?”

Dust smirked. “we chill.”

A portal to the kitchen opened near Killer and Dust immediately after.

They could see Nightmare and Horror sitting on the couch looking right at them. Nightmare was slowly clapping in a mocking manner.

“were you two watching the whole fucking time?!” Killer barked. He threw his hood over his head to cover his blushing face.

“Not the most conventional way I’ve seen two people make up,” Nightmare remarked. “It was certainly interesting to watch.”

“my life's not a goddamn sitcom, asshole!”

Nightmare guffawed. He was fucking with him and it was absolutely working.

Killer crossed his arms and pouted. He gave Dust a “can you believe this guy?” look.

Nightmare’s laughing ceased suddenly, “Hurry up and get inside. I have something to give you three.”

“oh, goody, is it a bomb?” Killer asked sarcastically. Despite his sass, he stepped through the portal alongside Dust.

“No, actually.”

A portal opened on the ceiling between Nightmare, Horror and them.

A shopping cart with a huge pile of clothes on it crashed down onto the floor.

It took Killer a second to realize those were the same clothes they left that time they went shopping, when they first encountered Fresh. He reached down to pick up one of the articles of clothing, they were still in fairly good shape. “how the fuck?”

“That is Killer’s gift, of course.” He looked at Dust. A wrapped present appeared in his hands. “As for you, I wasn't quite sure what would be appropriate for you.”

Dust cautiously took the present.

“how come he gets his gift all fancifully wrapped?” Killer complained. He was currently trying to get all the clothes back in the shopping cart. Alas, the pile he made the first time was a one-time feat.

“Because he's less annoying.”

Dust tore the wrapping paper and opened the box that was inside. He looked at the contents inside blankly.

“what is it?” Killer questioned.

Dust reached inside to take it out and show them.

Killer and Horror’s sockets widened as that familiar red-orange came into view.

It was Papyrus’s cape.

Nightmare was unsure what reaction this gift would get. He's seen other Sanses from Dusttale universes wearing it. It supposedly had sentimental value.

It seemed that Dust was also unsure how to react. There were conflicting emotions, Nightmare knew that much.

He carefully put the cape back in the box and signed a “thank you”.

“As for you, Horror,” He held out what appeared to be a rock at first.

Horror inspected it, realizing it was a phone—his phone. He was irked by the idea of Nightmare going to his home universe just to grab this. At least, he hoped he didn't do anything but grab this.

However, the phone might as well have been a rock. He doubted Nightmare knew the phone wouldn't even work. The thing hasn't been charged in years.

And then it caught him off guard by ringing. He flipped it open, seeing the words on the screen indicate that the call was coming from his brother.

He tried to stop his hopes from getting up. He reminded himself this could be a prank call and it wasn't his brother at all.

“Go on, answer it,” Nightmare urged.

This had to be a prank. Papyrus’s phone wouldn't be able to work there was no power—and even then he was in a completely different universe.

He answered the phone.

“SANS!” Papyrus’s voice immediately rang out. “FINALLY, I THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER ANSWER! YOU’RE ALIVE! OH MY GOD YOU’RE ACTUALLY ALIVE!” He sounded on the verge of tears.

“bro?”

“YES, SANS?”

“just checking that it's actually you and not a prerecorded message,” Horror managed to say. The smile on his face grew as it became genuine. He saw Dust and Killer watching him in his peripheral vision.

“I COULD SAY THE SAME THING. I WASN’T SURE THIS WOULD EVEN WORK!”

“how are you calling right now? was the core fixed?” he dared to ask.

“OH. UH, NO. ABOUT THAT…” Papyrus trailed off going quiet for a minute.

“what happened?” His grin faltered slightly.

“DO NOT FREAK OUT.”

“you're gonna make me freak out if you don't tell me what happened.”

“OUR WORLD WAS KINDA DESTROYED, BADLY.”

Horror’s eye socket went blank. “what?!” he shouted.

Papyrus was quick to clarify, “BUT I’M DOING FINE! ACTUALLY, WE RELOCATED TO A MUCH MORE HOSPITABLE PLACE! SURE OUR HOUSE AND THE ENTIRETY OF SNOWDIN IS COMPLETELY GONE FOREVER BUT THERE’S FOOD HERE AND MAGIC AND I CAN CALL YOU! SPEAKING OF WHICH—WHERE IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Horror sighed in relief. He glanced at Nightmare, who looked eerily indifferent to all of this, before he answered his question. “i kinda got kidnapped by an otherworldly entity, sorry bro.”

“YOU AND YOUR WEIRD HOBBIES, WARN ME NEXT TIME. I THOUGHT YOU DIED. THE ENTIRETY OF SNOWDIN DESCENDED INTO ABSOLUTE CHAOS WITH YOU GONE—ALSO THE WORLD-DESTROYING THINGY PROBABLY PLAYED A ROLE IN THAT TOO.”

“aw geez, is everyone else okay?”

“YEA, EVEN UNDYNE.”

Horror’s expression soured at the mention of her. “well, that's great,” he said sarcastically. He vaguely heard someone else on the other side of the call. From what he heard it didn't sound like anyone he knew.

“OH, ALREADY?” Papyrus replied to the unidentified person. “I SEE,” he sounded disheartened. “BROTHER, I NEED TO END THE CALL NOW BEFORE IT TEARS A HOLE IN THE MULTIVERSE.”

“huh?”

“I’LL SEE YOU LATER, LOVE YOU!”

“love you too,” Horror managed to say before Papyrus hung up. The second the call ended he felt incredibly drained. He felt like he got a mental whiplash when he looked at the room he was in.

Killer seemed to tune out the last bit of their conversation as he managed to get all the clothes piled back on the shopping cart. It seemed like Dust helped him.

Nightmare was also looking at those two rather than at him. He wondered if he was eavesdropping on the phone call or not.

It's been an entire year since they've been here. He had no idea how much longer this would last. He didn't even know what would happen after.

“I will be out for the rest of the day,” Nightmare announced, opening a portal behind himself. “We are stocked up on supplies, correct?”

“you got it, chief,” Killer piped.

“Not my name…” Nightmare muttered before leaving.

Killer sighed the moment the portal closed, looking up at the pile of clothes. “i have no idea how i’m getting this to my room.”

“bet you can't get it to your room by the end of the day,” Horror said, still recovering from that call.

“hey. you're totally wrong.”

Horror shrugged, “time's ticking.”

Killer then decided that pushing the cart would be an effective way to get it to his room. To his credit, it wasn't until he was met with the obstacle that was the doorway to the hall that his plan became flawed. He turned his head to Horror. “so what are we betting exactly?”

#utmv fic #the bad sanses #nightmare sans #horror sans #killer sans #dust sans

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strawhbrrries · 1 year

Text

Cowboy hats.

pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: five days and five nights without a single word from frank, what an asshole. an asshole who looks too damn good in a cowoy hat.

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!,unprotected p in v sex!!, praise kink asf, soft frank, frank being an asshole for the first like two thousand words, cowboy hate frank, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 4015 words

author’s note: end of the road for darlin’ and frankie (probably not, i absolutely will write more, smaller, things for them, but this is the end of the cowgirl series!! I loved writing for them and hope i did them justice!! I hope you guys it enjoy it, mwah

read the first one here, and the second here !

It had been five days, five entire days and nights without speaking to Frank. Not that you didn’t try, you had been texting him. Multiple times. Just to get “read at 2:30” every time. Every. Damn. Time. He brushed you off if you spoke to him in person, ignored your texts, you would soon resort to carrier pigeon. What the fuck happened to Frankie who was calling you his girl? The fucking 180 he pulled was pissing you off. The rational side of you tried to convince yourself he wasn’t your boyfriend, he had made no promises to you, he was free to ignore you all he wanted. No matter how angry it made you. The irrational side didn’t care, he had been inside of you raw, he owes you some explanation. What a fucking little fuckboy move to fucking make.

Ironically, Boyfriend by COIN played through your car. Not now.

“I don’t wanna be your boyfriend,

When you need a little company,

I don’t wanna be your boyfriend,

When there’s not another phone to ring.”

You searched through the passenger seat for your phone once your car was safely stopped at the red light, this was absolutely NOT the song to play. Of all the songs on your playlist, of course it had to be this one. The universe wasn’t done playing cruel jokes on you, it was almost like it wanted to see you suffer just a tiny bit more. A black truck pulled up next to you, in the left turn lane. Frank’s black truck. That Frank was driving. It would take a miracle to save you from driving your car off a cliff, today was testing you and you were losing. He shot you a smile from his driver’s seat, giving you a two finger wave without lifting his hand off the steering wheel.

A smile. The nerve of this guy. The fucking nerve.

The light turned green before you were able to yell all the expletives you knew in all the languages you knew them in. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You were meeting Tiff at a bookstore for a girls day, she was going to get an earful of what happened five days ago and the fucking nerve he has to act this way.

“I mean, he is fifty. Right? Maybe he’s just not used to dating culture. He had a wife previously, I think, so just talk to him.” Tiff reasoned, tracing her finger up the spine of a book before pulling it off the shelf to read the description on the back.

“Even if dating culture is different, he gave me his number. Said we’d talk later and has given me the coldest shoulder possible. Then has the nerve to smile at me like none of this has happened.” You whined, frustrated that this was even happening. Initially, you had planned to just be pretty and reap the perks of it this summer. Not get hung up on an older man that’s best friends with your dad.

“Does he even know you’re angry? I mean he’s not a mind reader and neither are you, ambush his house when you know he’s there. I don’t think he’d shy away from being alone with you.” She teased, poking your side and placing the book back in its rightful spot on the shelf. “Then, you can set boundaries and what not. Fuck. And make up!”

“I would sooner punch him in that smug attractive stupid fucking face.” You rolled your eyes, knowing deep inside the next time he was in your presence and willing to take you to bed that you would be there. You didn’t know how to say no to him.

“We both know that is the furthest thing from the truth.” Tiff raised her eyebrow at you and cocking her head, daring you to argue about it.

“Shut up, I’m trying to learn to have some self control.” You tried to hide a smile, failing miserably and rolling your eyes instead. “I’ll ambush him later, he better be there or be prepared to feel my wrath.”

“That’s my girl!” She laughed, clapping her hands the best she could with the books in her hands. “Make sure he really understands the anger. The rage!”

To keep true to your word, you drove by his house on the way to yours to see if he was home. He wasn’t. Fucker. You knew it wasn’t intentional but it sure felt that way, because of all days and of all times he wouldn’t be there. However, to your surprise, he was parked in your driveway. You parked in your usual spot and headed inside, stopping right inside the house when you heard the two men inside.

“How was your date the other night?” He went on a date, what the fuck?

“Horrible. She was still hung up on her ex-husband, talked about him all night.” Good, hope every woman you go on a date with does that. Asshole.

“Sorry man, you’ll find someone someday.” Your dad tried consoling him, your anger was bubbling and the next word of this conversation was going to be your breaking point. Did the sex truly mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him? Were you just a quick fuck to get the desire out and then move on?

You closed the front door loudly to announce your presence, walking into the kitchen where said men were sitting at the kitchen table. Frank had his legs spread, hand hanging between them with a beer in his hand. The kicker was, he was wearing a cowboy hat, his hair fluffing out on the side. To add onto the never ending list of things making this, currently insufferable, man so attractive he was wearing some sort of red henley with the top buttons undone so you could see the gold chains decorating his neck.

“Hey daddy!” You smiled at your dad, handing him a book he had mentioned twenty times he wanted to read. Your words caused Frank to clear his throat and sit straighter in the seat, you could play his game much worse than he can.

“What’s the occasion, honey?” He always had weird ways of saying thank you, as in he never really did and would instead pay you back by making your favorite food for dinner tomorrow or ordering a dress you really wanted. You figured it was just how he grew up.

“You deserve it, daddy! You do so much for me and treat me so well! I’m gonna take a shower.” And with that you were off up the stairs, flipping Frank off once you got to a point in the stairs where the wall covered you.

You locked your bedroom door. He didn’t need to come in here and desecrate your room anymore than he already had. If he didn’t have such a big dick and fantastic hands you would’ve murdered him already, why bless bad men with great appendages.

Your mind raked itself for answers, you truly couldn’t come up with one that didn’t end with you not being good enough for him. The date was the trulying baffling part to you, the cold shoulder you could deal with just fine but the date was just cruel. If he didn’t want you he shouldn’t have left his number, shouldn’t have fucked you within an inch of you life, shouldn’t have called you his. He shouldn’t have even read the messages, deleted them and blocked your number. He read them and actively chose to not respond, you didn’t know if it was any worse than just blocking you. If the universe was cruel, Frank castle was worse.

Your door knob jiggled, quite a few times before you heard the sound of boots going downstairs. You knew he would come up here and try to act like it was all peachy keen, like he hadn’t been twisting the knife he placed in your back. Your phone dinged.

I know you heard, at least let me explain.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absolute nerve he has had today.

No.

Darlin’, please.

Fuck off, Frank.

Fucking COIN was right, he didn’t want to be your boyfriend. How fucking foolish could you have been. How could you imagine he’d settle down for a twenty-two year old girl who was related to his best friend. You flopped down on your bed and let out a very long, very needed, scream. The tears started coming, you hadn’t been this emotional in a very long time, the tears you had initially shed over Frank turned into tears over everything you’d bottled up. Your tears comforted you into dreamland. You awoke to four texts from Frank.

It’s not how it seems. Sent 9:30pm

Darlin’ I swear, I had to do it. Sent 10:05pm

Two nights with you has me ready to fill every ocean with blood, sweat, and tears for you so don’t act like that. Sent 5am

Your dad set up the date, I couldn’t not go. Was I supposed to tell him I’d rather be fucking his daughter? Sent 5:30am

It didn’t matter to you that your dad set the whole thing up, you responded with a simple yes and placed your phone back on the nightstand you picked it up from. Men are so stupid, you could think of two ways he could’ve gotten out of the date without you being involved. Still doesn’t explain the five day freeze out, if he had been honest about the date it wouldn’t have mattered . As much. He better come up with the best damn excuse for this shit or you swore you’d never speak to him again.

Frank’s phone dinged in his pocket, he’d been waiting all morning for you to respond. He knew you would, just as you were his vice. He was yours. The second you walked in the kitchen last night it was taking all his self control to not pull you onto his lap, continue his conversation with your dad, trailing his fingers up and down your leg. He knew you were angry with him, you had every right to be, but he didn’t know how to even begin explaining the situation. Your dad was being suspicious, he thought it was odd that Frank spent an extended amount of time in your room the other night, thought it was weird that everytime your name was mentioned Frank’s nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. It was your dad who suggested setting up the date, watched Frank’s face as he brought it up to see if he’d give away anything. Frank was saving you both, he was doing this for you. In some twisted way.

The date happened the night after he slept with you, he felt guilty to have gone behind your back. He didn’t want to see you look so excited to see him when he felt tainted. He didn’t do anything with the woman, opened her car door and moved back her seat but he never once laid a finger on her. Her smile wasn’t as sweet as yours, her laugh not as gentle and filling, and she wasn’t nearly as beautiful. Frank spent most of the date thinking of you and how he wished it was you in front of him, not this woman who couldn’t be bothered to speak of anything besides her ex-husband. He thought she’d get the hint that he was bored, he stopped responding to her questions and was now scanning the restaurant making up stories about the other patrons to pass the time.

He just wanted to be with His cowgirl.

Seeing you in your car yesterday made the guilt twist in his heart, he needed to speak to you. But you didn’t want to speak to him, especially not after what you heard in the house. That’s why when his phone dinged and he had the feeling it was you, his face lifted and he was filled with a warmth only you could give to him. The one word you replied with had made the past five days almost bearable.

You know I can’t do that. Can I see you after work? Please, darlin’

He placed his phone back into his back pocket, taking a deep breath as he awaited your response. God, he hoped you responded. It didn’t matter if you didn’t say a word to him the whole time he explained it, he needed to see you and he needed you to understand why he did what he did. He meant what he said, he’d fill every ocean on the fucking planet with blood, sweat and tears if it meant your happiness. He’d go back to the life he left to ensure your safety.

Fine.

If the rest of the day was the worst day possible he could deal with that, he could deal with anything as long as it meant getting to see you when he got off. He truly didn’t know how you would react or what it meant for the two of you going forward. He could only hope for the best. Whatever that even was.

You spent the rest of the day thinking about what he could possibly explain to you, it was clear that he wasn’t as interested as you thought before. Would you even believe it, whatever his excuse was? Or would you immediately forgive him because it meant he would be back in your life, would you forget it even happened and go back to playing girlfriend. You wanted to forget, to act like it never hurt, but you wanted him to understand how it felt. To be treated like the top of the world and then dumped like you meant nothing.

You wore red.

That was the first thing Frank noticed as you walked up his driveway clad in a flowy red sundress, you remembered his favorite color and the conversation about wearing it the next time you saw him. Forgiveness was in there somewhere, he knew it. You noticed he was wearing that damn cowboy hat again, damn he was playing a hard game.

“Thanks for coming darlin’, I was kinda worried you wouldn’t.” He didn’t stand up from his chair on the porch to greet you, in some way you were kinda glad but you mostly figured it’s because you’re on his porch and everyone can see.

“Yeah, I just hope you’ve got something real good up your sleeve.” You responded bluntly, sitting in the chair next to him and smoothing your dress out. “You’re an asshole, Frankie.’

“I know, I fuckin’ know baby. Just listen, okay? I’ll explain and then you can fuckin’ obliterate me but I need you to listen.” He sat up straighter, reaching to take one of your hands in his, rubbing his thumb across the top.

“We don’t have all night, I suggest you start talking.” He could’ve swore he saw a hint of a smile playing on your lips as you spoke.

“Your dad, I know I can’t blame it all on him. He came to me, after I left your room, and he hinted he was a bit suspicious of us. What he said doesn’t matter, just know he was suspicious. He said he had a date planned for me, thought it would be nice for me to meet a woman ‘my own age’ and gave me the information. Darlin’, if I said no he would’ve caught on the next time I spent more than a minute with you, I did this for us. For you, baby. I didn’t touch her, barely spoke the whole time. She spent more time talking about her ex-husband, I’m not sure she even knew my name,” you giggled at that, she didn’t deserve to know him,”Took her home, didn’t give her my number. Nothin’. I came here and thought of you, all night. Thought about how I was supposed to tell you. I felt gross, and I’ve done bad things darlin’. Bad things.”

“I don’t care what bad things you’ve done, because that’s not you. Not now.” You whispered, taking your free hand and caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch, so soft and warm.

“That’s the thing, I’d do it again. I’d do all those bad things again, for you.” He admitted, watching you process his words. It should’ve scared you, should’ve made you run off his porch and block his number. It excited you, made your core throbbed at the thought of someone loving you enough to do those ‘bad things’ he spoke of. You were smart enough to make your own conclusions about what he meant.

“But why did you ignore me? That really hurt, Frankie. It really fucking sucked.”

“I told you. I felt gross, undeserving of you. I went on a date with someone who wasn’t you and it was eating at me, even if my reasons were just.” He truly looked apologetic, you came here looking to stick it to him but you melted the second he started talking. He did it for you and you were sat thinking he just didn’t like you and wanted a quick fuck.

“Frankie..” You whispered, looking at him like he’d hung the moon and all the stars. Scanning the other houses to predict who could’ve seen you here.

“Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like that, darlin’.” He groaned, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. You were a goddamn dream.

“I’d like a tour of your bed.” You giggled, the way you figured was he at least owed you some sort of makeup sex. You were melting the second he said he’d do bad things for you, he had to fix the problem he started.

“Mmm I can arrange that, c’mon cowgirl.” He tightened the grasp on the hand he was holding and led you inside, it smelled just like he did. Slight scent of gunpowder, tobacco from the cigars he smoked with your father, some sort of leather and coffee. You could drown yourself in the scent.

“Your place is so…you.” You observed. There were more cowboy hats hung up by the door, more boots on the floor, a whiskey cabinet in the living room which led you to assume everything else was held in his kitchen, the lighting was dim.

“Might shock ya to hear that I live here.” He teased, leading you through the kitchen and down a hallway to his bedroom. His room was sparsely decorated, he was only a man what could he say.

“I would’ve never guessed.” You smiled, letting go of his hand to flop down on his bed. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as yours, didn’t have nearly as many blankets and pillows.

Frank slid his hands down your thighs as they hung off the bed, admiring the sight of you in his bed. He didn’t deserve you or what you were about to give him. But Frank Castle was a greedy man, he’d take everything you were willing to give. Especially when it came to you. He slowly massaged your thighs, moving both hands to one of your legs and massaging all the way down. You propped yourself on your elbows, watching him curiously as he massaged you.

“What’re you doing, Frankie?” You asked softly, genuine curiosity present in your voice. His lips lifted at the nickname, as they did every time you called him that since the first time.

“Jus’ lovin’ on my lady, do you have a problem with that?” He tilted his head down and raised an eyebrow, the cowboy hat slipping a bit as he did so.

“Nope, no problems. Just thought you were gonna take me to bed, ‘s all.”

“You know how to pick my brain, findin’ all the right things to say and when to say ‘em. My pretty girl, made just for me. Ain’t that right?” He let go of your leg, hiking your dress up so he didn’t sit on it when he straddled your waist. “Knew this was gonna happen, huh? Did ya find the laciest red panties you could find? You got words, I know you do.”

“For you, told you I’d do it.” You pulled the top of the dress down to realize the matching lacy red bra, all for your Frankie. He let out a low groan, you were too good to a man who didn’t deserve you. Too tainted to touch the pureness of your soul.

Frank helped you out of your dress, throwing it into the corner of his room, he stared at you a long time. The matching red set was something out of his dreams, he wanted to sear the image of you wearing it in his bed in his head forever. He ran his hands over your stomach, your thighs, anywhere his hands could reach. It’s crazy how fast a person can come to mean so much to you, especially when they’d been around for years. One night changed everything for the both of you, changed the meaning of love for Frank. He’d figure out how to get your dad on board late, for tonight you were his sweet thing to make sweet love to.

The cowboy hat was left on at your request, he didn’t mind as long as you kept letting the giggles out when it bumped your forehead as he thrusted up into you. Your red bra was left on at his request, a reminder that this was all for him. That it was all real and not some cruel dream. Your moans and whimpers a sweet symphony to his ears, he’d pay over and over and over to hear. Your nails gripping his back, when he checked in the mirror later that evening it’d be adorned with light pink scratches and half moons scattered across it, holding onto him like he was going to disappear again. His thrusts were slow but deep, hitting all the right spots inside you, his hands holding your head to look at him as he showed you everything he couldn’t say with words.

His words were equally dirty and sweet, just like him.

“Pretty baby, you feel how you’re squeezin’ me?”

“God, gonna lock you away. Keep you all to myself, use you when I want. Make you my pretty housewife.”

“”S alright baby, Frankie’s got you. Gonna take good care of this pussy, make ‘er feel good.”

The two of you came together, he talked you softly through the whole thing. Peppered kisses across your face and down your neck, praising you for how good you did even though he did all the work. He traced his initials, FC, above your heart with his fingers before placing a kiss right where he traced. Marking you, invisibly, as his forever and ever.

“Don’t ever go on another date with another woman.” You teased softly, looking up at him when you came to.

“I’m not doin’ nothin’ with another woman that’s not you. Promise, darlin’.” He placed a soft kiss to your lips, nipping at your bottom lip and pulling away to look at your face. He wiped away the sweaty hairs that had stuck themselves to your face.

“Good, my Frankie.”

“Your Frankie.” He’d softened in his older years, in his years with you he’d soften even more than previously thought. Frankie, as he came to be known to everyone you introduced him to, never could say no to you. That included the day you decided you wanted to tell your dad about him, you were tired of sneaking around. Even if it was fun. You’d been in an actual established relationship for a while at that point, he was going to find out eventually. In true Frankie fashion he sighed, shot back the rest of his whiskey and said Okay, darlin’. The mental battle he fought, briefly, about you lost the second you assured him you’d traverse it together. Loving you was the best thing Frank Castle would ever come to do in all his life.

#frank castle #jon bernthal #dbf frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #maddies fics #dads best friend frank castle #dads best friend #the punisher #jon bernthal smut #fic: cowgirl <3

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forjongseong · 1 year

Text

bite me // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: knight!jay x princess!reader

genre: royalty!au, fantasy, smut (minors dni) // warning: profanity, mentions of death, unprotected sex, a lot of biting // wc: ~6k

summary: a knight stumbles upon your castle, and unlike anyone you have encountered before, this young man seems to have a scent that you somehow cannot resist.

author’s note: I'm going to be quite honest with you, this fic is long overdue. I planned on releasing it BEFORE enhypen's comeback, since the idea came after I watched their mini-movie where Jay literally got his neck bitten by the actress but moods come and go, ideas appear and fade, so here you go.

initially it was also inspired by their concept pics, the Full ver. of their Dark Blood album, and I also thought of an alternate version (where Jay is the castle resider instead and y/n is the traveler/knight, let me know if that's something you might be interested in).

warning, though, this one might feel a little choppy, a bit hasty, and all over the place. my excuse is that I am drunk in love with Jay, and I take full responsibility.

no taglist this time, I shall let people find this fic on their own.

if you're here, congratulations and welcome! hope you can enjoy this one too.

When Jay heard the words ‘isolated castle’, he was expecting a huge building made of gray bricks with several towers that scraped the sky, sitting in the middle of an endless sea of sand with no roads connected to it. He pictured the sun shining mercilessly on whoever was standing under its light, and he was slightly worried about finding a source of water, as well as food.

Yet here he was, standing on top of a plush bed of grass, staring at the stone path that led to the castle in front of him. It was made of bricks, yes, but they were in the shade of copper, a warm and inviting kind of brown. The castle had no tower, or none that he could see so far, but it stood tall and mighty despite being surrounded by luscious greens and equally tall trees.

Jay reached for the worn-out map in his satchel, but as he stretched his arm, he winced from the sharp stinging pain that he had been feeling since hours ago. He did not know exactly when or how he injured himself—maybe he slept wrong, or maybe he used his hand wrong, or maybe it was just destined for everything to go wrong—but he was sure he had arrived at his destination.

During his years of training to become a knight, Jay had read countless tales, not minding if they were fact or fiction, and he had gained enough knowledge to go on a lot of missions alone. The townspeople were very supportive of him, as it was expected that the men in each family each take a role that was beneficial for the kingdom.

Fortunately, since he managed to capture the attention of the princess, Jay was soon handpicked by the king and queen to become their future son-in-law. When they found out that he was a knight, though, they became quite concerned with the tasks and duties that he had to perform. Eventually, Jay had to promise them he would not die no matter what, and it was a tough one to keep.

As happens in every other kingdom, it was customary for a member of the royal family to request an item as a form of dowry. Since Jay was not exactly born into royalty, he was given a task that would get the princess her dowry as well as prove Jay’s aptitude as a knight.

To retrieve the lost diadem of the Panthera onca.

The sound of his metal boots clinking against the rocky path made the resident of the castle open the doors before he could even reach them. You stood in front of him, and he thought your figure was unlike anyone he had seen before. To start, you were glowing. For some reason, the sunlight shined on your slightly tan skin, and it did not help that the outfit you were wearing was made of a sheer fabric that showed a bit of your curves and more of your skin. Second, you were—

“Are you alright?”

Your voice started ringing in Jay’s ears, and he realized how parched he felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal, or a sip of water, and the sprain in his arm from falling off his horse was not the only injury that he had. Jay reached his hand up to take off his headgear, and his slightly long hair fell immediately to cover his forehead.

“I,” he began, “I need water.”

And then everything went pitch black.

---

Jay woke up to the sound of birds outside the window, and he instantly noticed that he was lying down in bed. His heavy armor was long gone from his body, and he was only wearing the undergarments he came with. He started backtracking, trying to remember what happened, but then he heard water splashing, so he hopped off the bed and headed directly for the window.

The same woman who opened the castle doors for him was taking a dip in one of the most lavish pools he had ever seen. It was not like Jay had never been to a castle before, but something about this place seemed magical and just so different. He watched as you took laps in the water, and when you emerged out of it, you brushed your hair back as you looked up, and if he did not step away from the window, you would have caught him staring.

Jay sat back on the bed and began to think. Did you undress him? Did you tend to his wounds? Did you carry him up to the second floor by yourself? Are you alone in this castle?

He heard a couple of knocks on his door, and he flinched in his seat. “Come in?” he said timidly.

You pushed the door open and walked in with your hair half-wet, and you were wearing a different gown than before. You were holding a tray that had little trinkets that were supposed to help you with treating Jay’s injury. As you walked up to him, Jay pulled his feet up to the bed and scooted further until his back was against the headboard.

“It’s time to dress your wounds,” you sighed, looking down and avoiding eye contact. “Can you do it alone?”

“I have so many questions right now,” Jay said in a hushed voice as he watched your hands place the tray on top of the bed.

“I’m sure you do,” you replied, scrunching your nose and looking away. “I have to attend to something else, so please.”

You pushed the tray slightly towards Jay and looked at him for a split second before you broke eye contact again. Jay frowned as his eyes followed your movements, and when you disappeared behind the door, he let out a huge sigh that he had been holding in.

The questions he had in his mind multiplied, and he was determined to find the answers soon.

---

Jay had fallen asleep again, and when he woke up this time it was almost dark outside. The faint light of the sun entered his room through the window, and just as he was adjusting his eyes, he heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said, with more confidence this time.

You had changed into yet another gown and your hair was up in a bun. The tray you were carrying had healing herbs and a plate filled with mashed potatoes and other roasted vegetables. When you tried to put the tray on Jay’s bed, he reached out for it and accidentally brushed his hands with yours as he took it away from you.

“Sorry, I,” Jay’s voice hung in the air as he noticed you take a few steps back with unnecessary haste, “I must be bothering you. You don’t have to bring food here.”

“Oh, I have to,” you replied. “There is nowhere else for you to eat.”

“You mean there is no dining room?” Jay asked, setting the tray in front of him.

“There is, but we don’t use it.”

“We?” Jay asked again, seemingly intrigued. “So, there are other people in this castle?”

“Not at this hour,” you shook your head slowly before looking at him. “I just meant myself. And since you are here, we.”

Jay could not help but notice the way you would scrunch your nose once in a while after talking to him as if you had smelled something foul or your nose was itchy. He began sniffing himself out of self-cautiousness, and when he did not find anything wrong, he became even more confused.

“I suggest you stay for another fortnight,” you continued. Your eyes were set on the left side of his waist, and you tilted your chin pointing to that area. “Your wound has to heal completely.”

“Right, about that,” Jay sat up straight and pulled his top up.

You blinked and immediately looked the other way, not wanting to stare at his bare body. Jay noticed your behavior and smirked to himself.

“I actually can’t reach this part very well since I sprained my arm too,” he said, pointing to his side. “I mean, I could, but it’s quite painful.”

You sighed heavily before licking your lips, and you thought it would be easier to get it done as quickly as possible. You grabbed the chair that faced the vanity and sat it beside Jay’s bed. You reached for the herbs and kept your eye around Jay’s wound, trying your best not to look up into his eyes.

“Are you a princess?” Jay asked carefully, keeping his eyes on you.

You nodded as you cleaned the edges of Jay’s wound, dabbing his skin with a damp cloth.

“Then why are you in this castle alone, Your Highness?” he asked again, adjusting his position, and pulling his top higher.

You paused to look at him for a while, but you managed to avoid his eyes. “It’s a long story,” you finally replied.

“I am a good listener,” Jay said, smiling at you.

You looked out the window and noticed that the sun was almost gone, so you sped up the process and in turn made Jay flustered. The movements of your hands became hasty, and you were sure you pressed on his wound a little too hard because you heard him hiss, but you knew you had to leave the room as soon as you were done.

“Eat your dinner and rest up,” you said as you stood up, wiping your hands with a cloth and brushing the skirt of your gown down. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Your Highness…”

The door slammed behind you and Jay was too shocked to even form a proper reaction.

“…I don’t even know your name,” he murmured to himself, staring blankly at the door and then at the food you had served him.

---

Jay woke up the next morning to the sound of a horse neighing. He recognized it and immediately jumped out of bed, making his way to the window as he winced in pain at the sudden movement of his arms. He spotted you in the courtyard with three other people he had never seen before, and since he was already feeling better, he decided to approach you.

When Jay entered the courtyard, you were stepping away from the horse, letting the castle’s servants tend to it instead since you figured it grew uneasy around your presence. As you took a couple steps back, though, you felt a pair of hands hovering over your shoulder.

“Whoa,” Jay said in a low voice. “Careful, Princess.”

You turned around and stood straight, nodding your head slightly to greet your guest.

“We found him in the woods this morning,” you explained without waiting for Jay to ask. “I assume he is yours.”

“Thank you,” Jay replied, already approaching his horse. In an instant, the black beast calmed down. “His name is Shadow.”

You nodded and observed the way Jay patted his horse, speaking to him in a calm manner and handling him in the gentlest way you had ever seen a man treating an animal. For a second, you witnessed the way the color of Jay’s face shifted, and you saw him as a commoner with a huge love for creatures instead of a wounded knight.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, breaking your own distraction. “I suppose you can handle him now. I’ll have my people take care of him too.”

Your castle staff hovered around you and spoke to you in whispers, and you responded to them in a similar way, stealing glances at Jay. When you noticed him glancing back at you, you turned around and started walking away with your staff.

“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Jay spoke to Shadow. “You’re usually friendly to strangers. Pretty princesses too, mostly.”

Shadow snorted as he shook his head, almost hitting Jay in the face with his long mane.

---

As the hours went by, you tried your best to keep a distance from the knight in your castle. Every time Jay asked you a question, you would answer accordingly, trying not to give out too much information. After all, he was a stranger in your place, and you always had your walls up when it comes to protecting yourself.

It wasn’t until Jay revealed the reason he was out and about around your castle’s ground that you became instantly defensive. You were tending to his wounds and scars, the last of them, and once he mentioned the lost diadem, you let go of the cloth in your hands, letting it fall to the floor.

“You’re looking for the diadem?” You asked, not because you didn’t hear him the first time, but because you needed confirmation.

“Do you know where it is?” He asked back, eyes looking at yours full of hope.

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be looking for it. Many men have died trying to possess it. It wouldn’t be any different this time.”

Jay frowned and almost chuckled. “So, you do know about it? I’m sure if you tell me, I can give it a—”

You snatched the tray away from his bed, your feet scurrying to leave his room as fast as you could. Jay’s mouth hung open as he watched you leave, and he was too stunned to do anything else.

That night, Jay realized he must have made a huge mistake. The distance you put between you and him became bigger, and you had tasked your staff to tend to his wounds and bring him his food instead of coming over yourself. This went on for days, and as much as Jay tried to ask your staff about you, he would receive no valuable information.

One night, Jay decided to take matters into his own hands. He had memorized the staff’s schedule, down to the hour that they would come to his room, so he picked a clear slot in the middle of the night to sneak out, determined to find you. Jay was clearly gifted with cat feet since his movements were barely audible, and as he searched through almost the whole castle, he finally heard some noise coming out of what seemed to be the largest room in the building.

He heard what sounded like a purr, and it was so loud that he could almost feel the walls vibrate. Jay pressed his body to the wall, making zero noise as he craned his neck to peek through the open window.

Jay saw you sleeping on the bed in a curled position. He knew it was you since the bedroom looked royal and you were the only person of royalty in this castle, but he had to do a double take.

You were curled up, indeed, but as he adjusted his eyes to the dark, he saw you lifting up your head and yawning.

Except it wasn’t your head. It was the head of a jaguar.

Jay squinted his eyes as his mind tried to make sense of what he was witnessing. You had the head of a jaguar and the paws of one, but your body remained the same. With a hitched breath, Jay leaned back on the wall and shook his head, thinking he was dreaming. He then decided to look a second time and to his surprise, you were already standing by the window.

“Fuck!” Jay shouted, stumbling back and falling to the ground.

You growled at him, keeping your yellow eyes focused on his figure. Jay managed to regulate his breathing and brushed the grass off his thighs before standing up again.

“Princess?” Jay asked, unsure. “Is that you?”

Jay took a step closer to you and you hissed, pulling the curtains down to cover the whole window before your shadow disappeared into the darkness.

---

When Jay woke up in the morning, he thought he had an elaborate and odd dream. He was hoping so, but then he heard a knock on the door before one of your staff opened it and peeked inside.

“The princess is expecting you, Sir,” he said. “At the dining room.”

Jay sat up and massaged his temple before responding. “She wants to see me?”

The man nodded once and was about to leave when Jay cleared his throat.

“Do you know what happens to the princess at night?” Jay asked with a raspy voice. He looked at the man, expecting an immediate answer.

“We all do, Sir.”

Jay sat on his bed as he gathered his thoughts, as well as his strength before he stood up and dressed to go see you. He was determined to find out what this was all about, and he decided to just ask you directly this time, no matter how forward it might seem.

At the dining table, though, all Jay could do was stare at the breakfast plate in front of him. He looked to your side and saw that you only had a glass of water. Jay cleared his throat before picking up a fork and starting a conversation.

“Are you not hungry?” He asked, looking at you warily.

“I already hunted last night,” you answered calmly, toying with your bronze cup of water.

Hunted, he thought. So he was not dreaming.

“I’m sure you have questions,” you continued. “And since you already know…”

“What happened to you, Princess?”

You were not expecting Jay to shoot a question as suddenly as he did, so you almost choked on your own words.

“You’re a knight,” you smiled softly. “You must know a lot of tales. Evil witches. Desperate kings and queens. Cursed princesses. I’m just one of them.”

“But what happened?” Jay asked again, completely abandoning his breakfast.

“It doesn’t matter,” you answered, resting both your hands on the dining table.

“Is that why you avoid me during the night?” Jay continued.

You nodded.

“And is that why you have your staff around only during the day?”

You nodded again.

“You’ve been keeping your distance from me, Princess,” Jay said with a desperate sigh. “Is it because I’m a stranger?”

This time you shook your head. “No.”

“Then, why—”

“It’s because of your scent.”

Jay paused and for a while, you thought he had turned into a statue. “I’m sorry?” He finally responded.

“You have a distinctive scent that makes me…”

Your sentence hung in the air and Jay realized you were choosing the appropriate words to voice your thoughts.

“I don’t feed on humans,” you resumed, “and I would like to keep it that way.”

Is she saying I smell like an animal? Jay thought to himself.

“But if it’s a curse,” Jay spoke again, deciding to shift the topic, “how can it be broken?”

You chuckled to yourself, and Jay swore he had just witnessed the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life.

“What’s the most cliché thing you can think of?” You asked back before patiently waiting for an answer.

“A kiss?” Jay answered in a tone that sounded more like a question.

You snorted and looked away. “The curse can only be broken if someone sincerely falls in love with me. I bet you can imagine how hard that would be.”

Jay took your answer and started backtracking everything in his mind—from the moment he arrived at your castle, to the way you tended to his wounds and took care of him in every way despite keeping your distance. He wondered if you had done the same thing to other knights or travelers who had stumbled upon your castle.

“I was actually hoping I could keep this hidden from you until your time is up,” you said after noticing he had been silent for too long. “Tomorrow, it will be a fortnight since you came here. I was told that you’re perfectly healed, so you can leave as soon as you want.”

Jay followed your movements as you stood up from your seat, pushing it back before you walked over to a shelf on the other side of the room. You pulled open the lowest drawer and took out a headpiece decorated in the most exquisite set of emeralds and diamonds.

“The diadem you’re looking for,” you said, bringing it to him. “Take it with you.”

You waited for Jay to take the diadem out of your hands, but he just stared at it.

“Sir?” You asked, shaking the diadem a little in front of his eyes.

“You said,” Jay began and licked his lips, “you said many men have died trying to possess it. You told me to forget about it.”

“That was because most of those men tried to take it by force. It did not end well. You were a nice guest, well, most of the time if you weren’t lurking around the castle. My staff also told me how kind you are to them.”

Jay tilted his head. “Let me get this right,” he said, “you’re giving the diadem to me just like that because I’m… nice?”

“Also, because I want you to leave.”

For some reason, your statement felt like it stung his heart.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You already told me your story. I’m helping a knight achieve his goal.”

You set the diadem beside Jay’s plate and started walking towards the door.

“I’ll have my staff ready your horse for tomorrow,” you said without looking back. “Live well, dear knight.”

Jay had lost count of the many times you left him alone in a room during his stay in your castle. However, unlike the previous times where all he felt was mostly confusion, this time it hurt.

---

It had been days or maybe weeks since Jay left your castle, and although you had grown accustomed to his absence, you could not deny that at times you missed his presence. It was not like you had spent a lot of time together, but you heard from your staff how Jay would behave, how he would treat everyone with kindness and respect, and how gentle he was when it came to animals and plants.

He was unlike any other knight you had met before, but that made him the most dangerous.

Jay did not know that every time you came into his room and caught a whiff of his scent, your eyes glinted in hunger. He was not aware of how hard you were keeping your thoughts to yourself, and he definitely was not aware of how you started to confuse your thoughts with your feelings, thinking that he might be the one who could lift your curse.

The single dream you had was then shattered as quickly as it was built. When you found out that he needed the diadem as a present for his betrothed, you threw all your hope out the window. You wanted to stay civil, though, and you figured that the best way to not act up in front of him was to just stay away from him.

Therefore, you were stunned to find him again on your doorstep this evening. It was almost sunset, and you began to observe his figure under the yellow light. He looked better, healthier, and there was this glow on his face that made him even more handsome.

“Princess,” he greeted you, smiling.

Your eyebrows were furrowed, and your eyes focused on the item in his hand. Your diadem.

“I believe it would be unfair for me to take what is rightfully yours,” Jay said, slightly lifting the diadem.

“What are you doing?” You asked. It was the only thing that came out of your mouth.

“I came back because,” Jay paused, “I want to ask you to marry me.”

You had experienced many odd encounters in your life, but this had to be one of the most bizarre ones.

“This is a sick joke,” you retorted before turning away from him.

“Princess, wait!”

You rushed back into the castle, heading into your room since you knew you were going to change soon. You did not want to end the surprise meeting badly, and your mind was too clouded that you did not notice your staff scurrying back into their chambers, completely ignoring that a knight was chasing after you.

As you finally reached the door to your bedroom, you pushed it open and entered before you slammed it shut. However, you did not hear the door close and when you turned around, Jay was holding it open.

“Please,” Jay begged, looking at you desperately.

You were about to scream at him, but words would not come out, and instead, your voice turned into raspy growls and hisses. Jay let himself inside and closed the door behind him as he witnessed your transformation, and once you were in your jaguar form you jumped onto your bed, trying to get as farther away from him as you could.

“It’s okay,” Jay said, calmly making his way towards you. “You’re okay.”

Jay reached out his hand to your snout and you looked away, sniffing and resting your head on a pillow. It did not deter him, and he even moved closer and made himself comfortable on your bed before placing a hand gently on top of your head.

“It will be okay,” Jay spoke again in a lower tone, a voice of reassurance.

As you felt Jay gently stroking your head, he saw a single tear trickle down your nose. You were gritting your teeth while forcing your eyes closed, trying to block any bestial urges that might arise.

---

You woke up with your head on top of Jay’s chest, and the way his chest moved up and down with every breath he took made you gather your senses in a faster manner than usual. You realized he had spent the night with you in your room, and you also remembered how you starved yourself the whole night just so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt him.

You quickly came to the conclusion that a relationship with him would never work, and you began to taint your own thoughts by assuming that he came back to tame you, not because he loved you, and that he only saw you as another quest in his life as a knight. With that, you decided to leave the castle before he wakes up, hoping that if you leave him for long enough, he will yield and return to his kingdom.

Unfortunately, after stumbling upon Shadow in the woods, you were forced to return home, with the horse surprisingly following you in a calm manner as if he knew he was there to serve a purpose. You were worried sick, partly because it was only hours left until sunset and also because there was no other way Jay would leave your castle unless his horse was with him. Sure enough, Jay was waiting for your return and his face lit up the second he saw you approaching the grounds with Shadow beside you.

“You need to leave,” you said, handing over Shadow’s lead line to Jay.

You went inside and after a short while, you thought you were safe and that Jay had left, but once again he tailed you right until you reached your chambers, and by that point, you were too exhausted to drive him away.

“My family disowned me,” you began, not bothering to give any preceding context. “I’m not worthy of marrying you.”

“Princess,” Jay scoffed before he licked his lips. “I’m not even royalty.”

“I can’t stand the thought of holding myself back when you’re around,” you continued, covering your mouth with both your hands. “It will never work.”

Jay stood by your bed as you sat on its edge, looking down and resting your elbows on your thighs as you continued to cover your mouth.

“Bite me.”

You frowned and lifted your head from your hands. “What?”

“All you need to do is to get used to my scent,” Jay said, sitting next to you. You shifted in place. “So, bite me.”

You looked at Jay, unsure, and he nodded once before tilting his head, giving you access to his neck. Your hands trembled as you reached for his shoulder, so he grabbed your hand in his and held it tight. When he felt your nose bump into his chin, he closed his eyes, and when he felt the warmth of your breath graze the skin on his neck, he almost shivered.

You bit him once and at the same time, you felt his hand squeeze your waist. His scent flooded your mind, and you could not hold back from biting him one more time, so you did. You let go with a shaky breath and pulled away only to find Jay looking into your eyes.

“It’s not bad, isn’t it?” He asked.

You licked your lips and brought your other hand to his shoulder.

“Do it again,” Jay demanded.

You tilted your head to the other side of his neck, where you found a heart-shaped birthmark, and this time you bit him there without hesitation.

“See?” He spoke, and his voice echoed right into your ear. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Jay squeezed your waist one more time before you decided to bite him a couple more times. He began rubbing your back gently before you suddenly felt a wash of overwhelming feelings. You moved back to the other side and bit him again, but this time you bit too hard that he winced and let go of his grip on your waist.

You flinched at his reaction and immediately felt regret. Your eyes flickered to the window, and you noticed how quickly the sun was setting, so before Jay could say anything you jumped to your feet and ran out of your chambers.

“Princess!”

Your feet took you to the farthest room in the castle and you quickly entered it, locking the door behind you. You leaned back on it and started sobbing, thinking of how foolish you were to even entertain the idea of marrying Jay in your condition. You slumped to the floor and sobbed, ignoring the banging on the door and Jay’s distraught voice begging you to let him in.

“Please leave, Jay.”

Your voice was weak and almost a croak, and you figured it was because of all the crying. But then Jay also stopped knocking on the door, and you heard rustling and a couple of soft taps by the keyhole.

“Princess? I can hear you.”

You almost choked on your own sob at Jay’s obvious remark, but then you paused, and you heard him speak again.

“Look out the window, Princess.”

The sun had set, and you could not believe your eyes. You held up your hands, your fingers, in front of you before you touched your own face to feel your nose, your cheeks, and your lips. Then you checked outside again, making sure your mind was not playing tricks and that you really had not transformed.

You heard another knock on the door and without waiting for another word you opened it. The look on Jay’s face was that of relief mixed with adoration, and he did not waste any time walking towards you to pull you into his embrace. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, staining his skin with your tears and letting him wrap his arms around you as tightly as he could.

You felt him tug one of your sleeves and you pulled back to look at him. He brought his hand up to caress your face, wiping the remaining tears off your cheek.

“Marry me, Princess.”

You answered by inching your face closer to his before nodding slightly and kissing him on the lips. You tasted his sigh right after, loving the way his arms wrapped around you again as you pulled him even closer by the neck. He shut the door behind him with his foot and moved you towards the bed, carefully guiding you all the way as he placed his hand on the small of your back, not even once pulling away from the kiss.

The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed and you both stopped, pulling away to catch your breath and to undress yourselves. Jay pulled his top off quickly while you struggled with your corset, so he gently shoved your hands away so he could undress you himself. When he pulled all of your clothes down to pool at your feet, you could feel his breath against your thighs, and you almost lost your balance if he did not place his hands on your hips.

Jay began kissing your core without warning and you whimpered at the sudden warmth. Just moments ago, you were biting his neck like he was your prey, yet now you are watching him devour you, his face in between your legs as you struggle to even keep your eyes open. At one point, the way his tongue was pressing on your clit made you pull on his hair a little too tight, and when he looked up at you, he grinned before licking his top lip.

You sat down on the bed and pulled him in by his shoulders, and he began to lay you down before he settled over you. He got rid of the last of his clothes and you could feel his tip graze your bottom lips.

“Jay, wait,” you whispered, placing a palm over his chest.

He leaned into you to give you a soft peck on the cheek. “Yes, Princess?”

You chuckled and began caressing his face with one hand. “Do you even know my name?”

Jay let out an airy but silent laugh, burying his face in your neck. “Do you really think I would stay for so long in this castle without knowing the name of the residents? You know my name even without me telling you.”

You rested your thumb on his cheek and the rest of your fingers behind his ear, making him face you again. He moved his face to kiss your palm.

“Then call me by my name,” you requested. “And I shall chant yours like it’s my favorite spell.”

Jay smirked before leaning in to kiss your lips. “Very well then,” he whispered into your mouth, “Y/N.”

You felt him ease into you with a gentle force, and he caught your gasp between his lips. You held on to his shoulders as he began thrusting in and out of you, making you bring your legs up in order to feel him better.

“Slowly, Jay,” you begged him once you felt his pace was going a little too fast.

Jay grunted, seemingly unable to control his thirst for you, so you kept the pace by meeting him halfway and grinding your hips towards his. You could feel his biceps flexing as he held himself up, so you caressed his arms before you made your next request.

“Bite me.”

You brushed his hair back before you let him kiss your lips, and after that his lips traveled down to your chin and to your neck, licking you there several times before he bit you. You chanted his name as you promised, and when it was time for him to reach his high, he moaned your name right into your ear.

As you felt his seed coat your insides, you felt his thumb circling your clit for you to catch up with him. He pulled out of you only to finger his load back inside your hole, and that was how you reached your high of the night.

When Jay collapsed by your side, you became aware of the marks that you had left on his neck earlier that evening. You moved closer to him, and he welcomed you by pulling you to his side with one arm, having you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Are you sure it didn’t hurt?” You whispered, too afraid to disturb the serenity.

“Princess,” Jay began. “My princess,” he corrected himself. “Even if it hurt, I liked it.”

You snorted and tapped Jay’s cheek, and your body moved with his as he started to laugh.

“If you feel the urge next time,” he continued, “just come and leave marks on my neck.”

Jay tilted your chin up with his finger before kissing you softly, and for the first time in forever, you finally felt content.

-END-

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ryukenzz · 2 years

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Muzan Kibutsuji - SFW & NSFW Headcanons

[Note: Relationship Headcanons of Muzan Kibutsuji from Demon Slayer. Reader will be human and a regular citizen for this scenario. Will contain NSFW and slight manga spoilers (just one) so minors/anime-onlys, please do not interact.]

SFW:

Oooooo wee. Mr. Grumpy for a Living himself. Being in a relationship with Muzan can be.... interesting. It can be a lot of things. He can act "generous" and spoil you like a princess or just outright mean as hell. Either way, you'll be treated more as a pet/prized possession than an actual partner.

Muzan, or Tsukihiko, first met you while he was on a stroll with his beloved "wife and daughter." You were minding your business, and the demon just couldn't keep his eyes off you. Of course, the demon chastised himself for even looking at anyone like that, much less a mere human. But, longer he had his eyes on you, the more he wanted to know about you. So, he began planning your move into his castle and his life. This Demon King wanted his Queen. Well... to be more accurate....

He was in need of you.

From your point of view, you noticed Muzan's intense gaze on you that night. To say you weren't fazed by it would be a bold-faced lie. You tried to shake off his glare, but something within you made your eyes turn towards his. The shivers that enveloped your spine, the slight hitch in your breath and body language, none of it went unnoticed by him. Those ruby red eyes of his.... it's like they put you in a trance. One that made you want to know more about him.

The next time you saw Muzan was during a local event in your village. As you went to approach him, the alarm bells in the back of your mind began to ring. Your logic was telling you to stay away from this man at all cost. Deciding to put those thoughts behind, you approach the demon and introduce yourself. Muzan was a bit surprised that you made the first move, but all it did was make his plan of having you that much easier. Giving you a warm smile, he returned your gesture and bowed politely.

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well, (Last Name). I'm Tsukihiko. I apologize for my staring the other night.”

Such a suave liar.

From that day on, a steady friendship ensued between the two of you. Friendly trips to the market, hangouts at local events, night walks in the village. All of it made you come to like Muzan even more. To the point that those feelings became rather.... loving. Initially, you felt guilty for even developing them. The thought of being with a married father made you feel icky. But, being the oh so attentive person that he is, Muzan took note of your inner dilemma and immediately knew how to dissolve those worthless worries. All it took was a fake smile and gentle reassurance.

“(Name), I've come to sense that you're worried about Rei. Well, I can say that it is not necessary. We got a divorce as of recent, and she took our daughter with her. A factor of why is due to what I am.”

Muzan then told you about him being a demon. How he had to consume flesh to survive. This new information made you feel highly conflicted, to say the least. Before you could even process his confession, you heard a twang and found yourself surrounded by a multitude of buildings. You go to question him, but what you saw made your body freeze. Those ruby red eyes you fell for were now a harsh, blood red with slits. The caring Tsukihiko was really the ever atrocious Muzan Kibutsuji, the King of all Demons.

The devilish man stood in front of you, caressing your cheek gently, despite the look of possessiveness in his eyes. It was at this moment that you knew what you were dealing with. It terrified you, but.... it also intrigued you. It only made you fall deeper in love with him. Which is exactly what he wanted. “From this day on, you are mine, and mine only. No demon or man is allowed to be in your prescence, much less look at you. Such filth shall not matter to you. Ever. Do you understand.”

As most people say, Muzan has achieved the rich status and will pretty much spoil you. Anything you want, he's already at the place, cash in hand. That kimono you were eyeing? Already in the closet. A piece of jewelry you talked about getting? He's already putting it around your neck. This man has bought you so much stuff that you feel like a spoiled princess rather than his s/o.

Affection is very rare with him. He's not exactly the romantic type, but when he's in the mood for your touches, he'll just stop you from whatever you were doing and sit you in his lap. He'd caress your thighs and deliver small kisses to your neck. He would hold you tight, almost clingy, but these moments always made your heart flutter.

NSFW:

Now, you know this man is experienced. He's lived for over a thousand years, plus he had five wives in the past (though he treated them like complete shit). Muzan has the knowledge and skills to make the human body experience the ultimate pleasure.

If it weren't for Muzan's ability to hold himself back, he would've jumped on you then and there. The site of the soft ropes decorating the canvas that was your body made him aroused. He decided to heighten the experience by blindfolding you. The demon began to circle you, using the tips of his fingers to stroke the skin of your tummy, goosebumps appearing in their trail. He then moved them to your lips, letting them invade your mouth. You happily sucked on them, a soft moan emitting from you. An amused smirk formed on Muzan's lips.

“Such greed you have. Are you so reluctant to suck on my fingers? Perhaps my cock would be a better option for you then? Hm?”

It seemed his statement went straight to your core. As he stood in front of you and adjusted the rope to spread your legs, Muzan chuckled at the sight of your pussy drooling. Kneeling down, he delivered a series of kisses to your clit while sliding his middle and ring fingers in. To say you were a whimpering mess was an understatement. A combination of not knowing when or what he'd do, plus the feeling of his slender fingers, your cunt sang a song of joy for him.

Muzan is definitely big. He's definitely a good 9 inches and would increase its size to a 10. His cock has veins on both sides, and a pretty pink tip. You didn't know how you were gonna make it with a monster like that, but no worries. Muzan will make it fit. It's why this activity is done with you and you only. Your pussy is the only thing that's capable to handling him.

Your heart jumped a bit when you felt your body being suspended a couple inches off the bed. Was this man really about to fuck you stupid like this? Taking off his clothes, Muzan stood on the bed and used the tip of his dick to tease your entrance. You whined at him to stop the tease and get on with the show. A slap to your clit and the rough pace of his thrusts made you pause your complaint, your loud mewls ringing in the air.

“Cease your complaining. I'm the only one who gives instructions here. Are you that hungry for my cock that you decide to be a brat? To be so desperate as to beg me for it? So filthy. But nonetheless, I will gladly show you just how much I can offer this pussy.”

Muzan's favorite position is definitely between missionary and doggy. Missionary allows him to see you fall apart and mark your neck with his lovebites. Doggy, on the other hand, gives him access to smack your ass to his heart's content. He also loves to push your head into the mattress and fuck you harder. But, his number one will always be you on your knees, sucking him for everything's he's got.

Ya'll have more than likely fucked while he was in his female form. You never knew that tribbing could feel so good. And boy, was Muzan a master at the art. Crossed missionary, cowgirl, you did it all. Of course, she fucked you with dildos of all sizes. Some days, Muzan would overstimulate you with a vibrator attached to your clit.

“You can't handle anymore? How disappointing. You've only had four orgasms so far. Surely you can take more, my naughty girl.”

The overall lesson here? Muzan Kibutsuji is a god at sex, and you will always be left a drooling mess.

[Here's Muzan! Ngl, I went a bit wild with NSFW jdndnrnr💀. Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs will be greatly appreciated 💕.]

[Tagging: @sailewhoremoon @frxxst]

#❦.ᴊᴇᴡᴇʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ #❦.ɴꜱꜰᴡ- ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋ #muzan kibutsuji #female muzan #muzan x reader #muzan headcanons #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #❦.ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx #ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx (ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ)#ꜱʜɪʙᴀʀɪ #ᴛʀɪʙʙɪɴɢ #ꜱᴇx ᴛᴏʏꜱ (ᴅɪʟᴅᴏ/ᴠɪʙʀᴀᴛᴏʀ)#muzan kibutsuji x reader

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transjudas · 1 year

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a collection of moments from the translated trial of Joan of Arc from 1431 that are fucking iconic of her:

‘And then did We forbid Jeanne, without Our permission, to leave the prison which had been assigned to her in the Castle, under pain of the crime of heresy. “I do not accept such a prohibition,” she answered; “if ever I do escape, no one shall reproach me with having broken or violated my faith, not having given my word to any one, whosoever it may be.”’

“Was he naked?” “Do you think God has not wherewithal to clothe him?”

“I have always answered that you will not drag this from my lips. Go and ask it of him.”

“You shall not have anything more at present.” (she gave variations of this response all throughout the trial/examinations. basically if she felt that god had not given her permission to speak on a subject, she just wouldn’t. she did not seem to acknowledge the authority of those questioning and judging her at all, which makes sense. She also frequently replied “that is not your Case” which I think is basically her saying that’s not relevant to this trial so none of your business.)

“I promise to speak truth on what touches your Case; but the more you constrain me to swear, the later will I tell you.”

“Who induced you to have cited a man of the town of Toul on the question of marriage?” “I did not have him cited; it was he, on the contrary, who had me cited; and then I swore before the Judge to speak the truth. And besides, I had promised nothing to this man.”

“If it should be that I am taken to Paris, grant, I pray you, that I may have a copy of my questions and answers, so that I may lend them to those at Paris, and that I may be able to say to them: ‘Thus was I questioned at Rouen; and here are my answers : in this way, I shall not have to trouble again over so many questions.”

“Did you give, or cause to be given, money to him who took Franquet?” “I am not Master of the Mint or Treasurer of France to pay out money so.”

“Upon the oath that you have taken, tell us, how did you think to escape from the Castle of Beaulieu between two planks of wood ?” “Never was I prisoner in such a place that I would not willingly have escaped. Being in that Castle, I should have shut my keepers in the tower, if it had not been that the porter espied me and encountered me.”

“If I had leave to go in woman’s dress, I should soon put myself back in man’s dress and do what God has commanded me: I have already told you so. For nothing in the world will I swear not to arm myself and put on a man’s dress; I must obey the orders of Our Lord.”

“Do you know if Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret hate the English?” “They love what God loves: they hate what God hates.” (I know that this is all about nationalism during war but this is still hilarious to me. like goddamn, okay! Also I have to note that the examiner follows up with “does God hate the English?” and she basically says she cannot know but I want does God hate the English on a tshirt)

“I had that ring in my hand and on my finger, when I touched Saint Catherine as she appeared to me.” “What part of Saint Catherine?” “You will have no more about it.” “Did you ever kiss or embrace Saint Catherine or Saint Margaret?” “I have embraced them both.” “Did they smell good?” “It is well to know, they smelled good.” “In embracing them, did you feel any heat or any thing else?” (yo WHY is this examiner such a FREAK stop being weird my dude!!!)

“I took it of my own free will, and with no constraint: I prefer a man’s dress to a woman’s dress.” (mood)

So struck by how she really did not see those prosecuting (and persecuting) her as valid authorities and she was not subtle about it. However you see Joan and the voices she heard, she was a brave and bold and relatably snarky 19 year old telling the people who did not accept her belief nor her existence as we would likely now see as a mentally ill/psychotic young woman in society to fuck off.

#long post #joan of arc #jeanne d'arc #french history #history

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its-actually-minicika · 2 years

Text

Prince Aemond, your Aemond

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: none;

Author's Note: some fun thoughts about Aemond being in love with you; this was for a request I accidentally deleted LMAO - please send me more tho, I live for writing them :D

Aemond, who has had a crush on you since you two were children. He paid attention to everything you took an interest in, and made it a point to learn interesting facts about those things, so he can woo you in his own way.

Aemond, who only waltzes with you at balls and name days. For you, he takes dancing and etiquette lessons and treats them just as seriously as his sword-playing;

Aemond, who is somehow always there for you - sitting next to you at supper, guarding you silently as you read in the library;

Aemond, who lets his hand graze yours from time to time, as you walk side by side through the opulent gardens - the impropriety of it all!

Aemond, who so rarely smiles, but is always wearing a calm and content expression when you happen to be around;

Aemond, who allows himself to be vulnerable around you and shows you his sapphire eye for the first time, his hand shaking and brows twisted in painful anticipation for your horrified reaction;

Aemond, who vows to always love you and protect you, when, instead of saying anything about the way he looks, you hug him gently and caress the scar on his face, whispering into his ear: "Is my touch okay? Does it hurt you when I do that?";

Aemond, who has to take a cold bath after he knocks at your door once after dinner, and sees you in a nightgown;

Aemond, who gifts you a delicate ring with a sapphire on it for your 18th nameday, and wistfully smiles to himself when he sees you wear it everyday;

Aemond, who unknowingly shows off his most flamboyant moves when you watch him spar with Ser Criston;

Aemond, who is utterly crushed when he hears you will be taken away from him, to return "back home" - so much so, that he punches the wall in his chambers, leaving his hand bruised and bloody;

Aemond, who spends every night that following month awake in bed, unable to sleep. Just thinking about you;

Aemond, who feels guilty for defiling your memory, but still brings a wobbly hand to the ache inside his trousers;

Aemond, who tortures himself with writing endless parchments about you, but never sending them to you;

Aemond, who still brings small flowers to your room even after you well departed, and who allows no one to enter your most sacred place;

Aemond, who recieves letters from you, and all but falls to his knees when reading them, no matter where he may be inside the castle;

Aemond, who hears from the gossips of the court that you're to be betrothed with a certain Lord of Winterfell;

Aemond, who finally snaps and mounts Vhagar to pay you a visit;

Aemond, who confesses to you in such a way that leaves you weak at the knees;

Finally you, who has to shyly tell him you aren't betrothed to anyone, and that sometimes rumours "are just that";

... Aemond, who kissed you more fevereshly than you ever thought possible, and who marries you within the end of that blessed Spring;

#aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #thoughts on house of the dragon

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georgescitadel · 5 months

Text

George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones

You hold in your hands the second volume of A Song of Ice and Fire… but not the second volume as originally intended. Although I wrote the opening of A Game of Thrones back in the summer of 1991, as related in my introduction to the Meisha Merlin edition of that volume, it was not until October of 1993 that I drew up a proposal for my agents to take to publishers. There is no mention of any book titled A Clash of Kings in that proposal. In 1993, I was under the impression that I was writing a trilogy.

Trilogies had been the dominant form in epic fantasy ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings had been broken apart by publishers and released in three volumes. And the story that I wanted to tell divided quite naturally into three parts; much more so, in fact, than The Lord of the Rings, which is actually one fairly seamless narrative, and not a trilogy at all. I planned to title the books A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons, and The Winds of Winter. I knew right from the start that they would all be large books. Huge books, even. But there were to be only three of them, and…and none were to be called A Clash of Kings. Sometimes the author is the last to know.

As I write this, I am halfway through the writing of A Feast for Crows, the fourth volume of my ‘trilogy.’ There is no mention of that title in my 1993 proposal either. These days, when pressed, I confidently assert that A Song of Ice and Fire will ultimately run to six books… but behind my back I know my lady Parris is smiling knowingly and holding up seven fingers. She may be right. Though I may dream of six books, plan for six books, work toward six books, the only thing that truly matters is the story. And the story needs to be as long as the story needs to be.

In Hollywood, the suits will tell you how long that is. A television show has to fit within its allotted time slot, of course, and you cannot beg, borrow, or steal an extra minute, no matter how much the story needs it. Running times are somewhat more flexible for films, though not as much as one might think. For the most part, the studios still want movies to run about two hours, so they look for screenplays of 120 pages or less, and demand cuts in any scripts that come in longer. My own screenplays and teleplays were almost always too long and too expensive in first draft, so in my later drafts, along with addressing the inevitable notes from studio, network, and producers, I was constantly trimming. In the end, I would deliver a shooting script that was the right length and under budget, but it was never a happy process… and I often went away feeling that the earlier drafts were the better ones.

The size of A Song of Ice and Fire was in no small part a reaction to ten years of trimming. I wanted to do something epic in scale, something at once grand and sprawling and complex and subtle, with a cast of thousands, huge battles, mighty castles, gorgeous costume, lavish feast, great rivers, towering mountains, vast fields… all the things I could not do in television. In short. I wanted to make a world. And for that you need a bit of room.

In my original proposal, I estimated that each volume of the trilogy might run as long as 800 pages in manuscript. The novels that I had written during the 70's and 80's, before Hollywood, had generally come in at 400 or 500 pages or thereabouts, so an 800 pages book seemed very lengthy indeed. The three books of the trilogy would be structured around the long, slow seasons of Westeros. A Game of Thrones would be summer’s book, A Dance with Dragons would take us through autumn, and The Winds of Winter… well, the title says it all. Even in the Seven Kingdoms, where a season can last for years, 800 pages ought to give me enough room to reach the end of summer and conclude the part of my tale, I reasoned.

‘Twas a lovely plan of battle… but no plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy, it has been said. Writers know the truth of that as well as any general, though our wars are fought on blank white sheets of paper and empty computer screens. For the map is not the territory, the blueprint is not the house, the recipe is not the dinner… and the outline is never ever the book.

- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)

#Ned Stark #Catelyn Stark #Sansa Stark #Arya Stark #Bran Stark #Jon Snow #Tyrion Lannister #Daenerys Targaryen #The Outline #A Game Of Thrones #George R.R. Martin #ValyrianScrolls #ASOIAF

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mattmurdock-wife24 · 1 month

Text

From a boy to a men

Author's note: hi sweetie! Hope you like this one, have a good reading ✨️

This was a request

Warning: none, just pure soft and fluff stuff, and kisses

He hears his name shouted, adored, praised. He's never felt better, to be idolized, loved. He was raised for this, to be the sparkle in people's eyes, but all the lying and pretending didn't go down your throat.

You are the princess of the kingdom allied to Kenji's, promised to each other from birth. And you couldn't understand why everyone loved him so much, he's arrogant, petty, careless, a complete idiot and you hated him for it.

Today you'll meet him for dinner at his house, with your parents and his father. Where he'll ask for your hand in marriage, since your 18th birthday was not too long ago.

So you put on your most breathtaking dress, tidy up your wavy hair and put a cute bow in it, and drape a blouse over your dark skin. You enter the castle to be greeted by a warm embrace from the king, Gedde Wanatabe. Your eyes meet Kenji's, which have a wicked, dark glint in them.

The dinner itself was peaceful, but as it drew to a close, everyone became tense, and King Wanatabe handed Kenji a little black velvet box. Everyone got up, and Kenji knelt down in front of you, who were still sitting there in shock - it was really happening. You could hear your heart in your ears and you feared that Kenji would hear it too. The ring fit perfectly on your finger.

Everyone smiles, relieved, and leaves the "bride and groom" alone. You put your hands on your waist, trying to get as far away from Kenji as possible after the wedding, you hear him laugh and you grimace. "Why are you always so fucking mad at me?" He exhales.

"Because you're an idiot "And?" " because you're irresponsible" "And what, princess?"

You get angry and your body makes a sign to leave and he grabs your arm.

"I know you think I'm an idiot, but this idiot here is going to become the king" you sigh, annoyed "Your title doesn't matter, what matters is your heart, if you even have one! " you sigh " if you want to be a good king, a good husband. Become a man first, because all I see here is a bruised, asshole boy."

Your words hurt him in a way he had never felt before, it was like a bucket of cold water. He felt dirty, guilt rising through his body, so he was determined to do better, for you, for the kingdom.

He began to work harder, pulling all-nighters to resolve royal issues. He treated his subordinates with modesty and even his relationship with his father had improved, now all that was left was for you in his hands to love and care for... forever.

The big day had arrived, and you were on edge. You hadn't seen Kenji since that night. You look at yourself in the mirror, watching as the beautiful white lace dress dances down your curves. You're startled by the knock on the door, but you open it anyway.

You meet Kenji, who stares at you in amazement. You see a certain desperation in his voice when he says that you two need to talk.

"What do you want? The ceremony is about to start." "I did everything you asked, I changed, for you, for the crown, for my father. I worked until I couldn't anymore. And you were right, I was a piece of shit" you stare in disbelief at his words, this certainly wasn't the Kenji you knew "please"he whispers in your ear "be mine"

You were at the altar, with Kenji by your side, staring at you with a passionate look, which only made you even more nervous. When the priest said "till death do you part" Kenji grabbed you around the waist and kissed you deeply. Part of you felt embarrassed by the number of people watching, but another part of you just wanted to enjoy the moment, enjoy this new Kenji. "I'm already yours, I always have been" you sigh back into his ear.

hiii lovely soul, hope you liked it!

My requests are open and I write for several characters, and sometimes I can make an exception haha

Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 😊✨️

#ultraman ken #kenji sato #ultraman #kenji sato smut #ultraman netflix #ken sato #ultraman rising #ultraman rising x reader

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

Note

hi there, can you write something fluffy for fenrys??

Book Delivery

Fenrys x reader

A/n: I haven't written for Fen in so long and he's literally one of my favs from ToG. He deserves happiness after everything he's been through

Warnings: none

Fenrys watched from the balcony as Aelin walked you through the castle gates. He lets out a dreamy sigh as you throw your head back from laughing at something the queen said. Fenrys was so lost in his little fantasy land he missed Rowan come to stand next to him.

“You feeling ok?” Fenrys jumps, backing away from the railing and clutching at his heart. “Good gods! Don’t do that Rowan!” The king couldn’t help the shit eating grin that spread across his lips. Rowan looks out at your retreating figure as you leisurely walk back to town. “Aelin thinks you two would make a great match.”

Fenrys lets out an annoyed huff, taking his piercing gaze off of Rowan and watching you again. He was always so charming and smooth when it came to talking to females. For some reason when he tried speaking to you Fenrys always made a fool of himself. He either tripped over air or fumbled with his words before excusing himself. There was no other way to say it, Fenrys is in love with you.

How could he not be? You’re so kind and intelligent and beautiful. Fenrys can’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach when you’re around.

A week later - on the day you usually visit, Fenrys noted - Aelin called him into her office. Striding through the open door Fenrys stopped before her desk, sketching a bow before standing with his hands behind his back. “What can I do for you?” Aelin gave him a smile that told Fenrys she was scheming. Fenrys mentally rolled his eyes, waiting for Aelin to tell her plan.

“I need you to do me a favor.” She said sweetly. “Nothing crazy, just an errand that I can’t get to today.” Fenrys nodded. “What kind of errand?” The queen’s smile became toothy and far too happy looking for his liking. “Can you go to y/n’s store for me and pick up the book she set aside for me?”

Fenrys felt his heart stutter in his chest. He had never been to your store. He had avoided it at all costs after the second time he made a fool of himself in front of you. “Erm…” He had to answer quickly before Aelin turned this into a command and he no choice. Not like he had one anyway. If Aelin already thought you two were a match the whole court must know by now. And Fenrys would never hear the end of it from Lysandra if he never made a move.

“Yes.” He blurts out. “Excellent.” Aelin claps her hands in approval and stands to guide Fenrys from her office. “And no rush whatsoever. Take your time, enjoy a stroll through the city. Get some tea with someone. But don’t come back here without my book.” She said sternly before shutting the door on him.

Upon entering the bustling city Fenrys found himself taking the long way to your shop. Inevitably he found himself standing outside your shop, dreading how he would mess up this conversation with you. Inhaling deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, Fenrys pushed open the door to your shop.

The bell ringing above his head caught your attention immediately. You rushed to the front of the store, your arms full of books. Your eyes widen in surprise at the tall male in the middle of your small book store. “Hi,” you say cheerily, “Fenrys, right?” It took all of his training to keep calm. To keep the butterflies from swarming his insides.

“Y-yes. Yup, that’s me.” Dear gods he hoped Lorcan would show up and stab him.

Then you did something unexpected. You giggled at him. It wasn’t a pity laugh, you genuinely giggled. Fenrys smiled at you. Realizing you looked like you were about to drop the stack of books in your arms Fenrys cleared the space between you, reaching his hands out to help. “Can I take these for you?” “Oh, yes. That would be great, thank you.”

As you handed over half the stack Fenrys noticed your hands were shaking. If it was because of him he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. You cleared your throat before speaking again. “Can you put them on the front counter?” “Of course.” You give him a small nod and lead him to the counter.

After putting the books down you nervously fiddled with your hair, glancing at Fenrys every other second. You felt like you always messed up when you spoke to him. That awkward laugh would always leave your lips and you always forgot where you were going when you bumped into him in the castle.

Clearing your throat you finally look make eye contact. Maybe that’s too much eye contact, you think to yourself. Fenrys isn’t shying away though. If anything he’s looking at you with the same shy, unsure intensity.

An awkward moment of silence passes between the two of you before Fenrys finally remembers why he’s here. “Aelin sent me to pick up her book. She said you had it set aside for her.”

The realization clicked in your eyes and your cheeks redden. It was silly to think he was there for you. Pulling the book from the shelf behind you and turning back to Fenrys you give him a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as sad as you felt. “Here you go.” His fingers brushed against yours. You felt a warmth rush through your body at the soft touch.

Your cheeks heat even more as you bite back your smile. Fenrys takes the book giving you a reassuring smile. “Thanks,” he says softly. “You’re welcome.” He nods and turns to leave. Fenrys cringes at himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

He stopped with his hand on the door, thinking screw it. Marching back up to the counter Fenrys takes a deep breath. You look up at him with bright curiosity in your eyes. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

You nod your head excitedly. “I would love that. Is tomorrow night ok?” “Absolutely.” You give him a bright smile. Taking out a pen and paper you write down your address for him. He takes it happily and practically skips out of your store back to the castle.

#throne of glass imagine #throne of glass #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #Fenrys moonbeam #Fenrys throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam x you #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys x reader #fenrys x you #fenrys fluff #throne of glass fenrys

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lizaluvsthis · 7 months

Text

Kisame

"I regret the things I did..."

Written by @lizaluvsthis

Inspiration from the song ' Kisame ' by Rhodessa

[Recommended song to listen to]

Summary- SMG4 finished his daily video and laid back down to his bed, he finds himself overthinking...

Note- Kisame in english means ceiling ^^

Chapter is only 1/1

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Pining, Angst/Self Comfort, Gay and Depression is real.

You opened this chapter and I won't say sorry once you did.

10:25 pm

SMG4 had finished editing his video, shutting off the lights and laying his back flat on the mattress.

Taking a huge breath from all the exhaustion he wasted on another brand new video, opening both of his eyes.

He began to stare at the ceiling for a while with a blank thought of his mind, trying to take a break after everything. Even how much he pushed out those problems, it kept bothering him anyway.

What was he supposed to do? SMG4 is a hard worker, to keep the fans entertained, worked out from his ass by 24/7 with every videos he'd make, he couldn't stop.

Oh, how he regretted every moment of that, how he hated himself, he could never say sorry. Even just a simple sorry was difficult enough to emphasize his own character.

What made it hard for him to apologize is that he couldn't say sorry to himself, never even forgive. He was selfish, a selfish man whose hopes are up to 'follow that dream' but he can't push all of those problems forever, he can't just forget about them because they were such a big deal when you're living.

He found it hard to accept, to live as a normal guy. He has such a big reputation to be in and yet he's stuck at some place built a castle with his name written on it.

He still has to pay, living a day in a world where you survive while time passes by... it's sad.

He wished he never existed in the first place, but what came in? Contents to make him keep alive, endless amounts of videos he'd make.

The passion he craved with, the goal he reached. He made it. What next?

What was his next goal? If he had everything to himself now, why did he feel so incomplete? Why did he feel lost? Something missing?

SMG4 knows that he'd already been miserable enough, why else would he be upset?

"We can make another!"

A memory echoed through his head, ears hearing this out from Three's voice were surreal.

Just seeing three by his side, was he actually telling the truth? Were they both really friends? Were the things he said are real? Did he ACTUALLY had that soft side that led him to open up his heart and spoke the whole thing?

Or was that all just to set him free and that none ever he said were true?

But if he did... then why else would Three help him even after and before?

If three considered him as a friend, friends always got their back. Like how Mario helped him, how every crew of his are like a family he never had.

SMG3 meant something... something special...

He was the first antagonist he met but became ex rivals with four even right after the whole "destroying your reputation" arc.

What made three change his heart of mind? What made him change his choice?

Wasn't he supposed to kill the guy- him?

Wasn't he supposed to be the evil one?

Weren't his actions to make Four's life a living hell?

Weren't all those things he did is to steal his youtube channel?

What happened to him?

Where did his old self go and whats this new him?

What took four this long to realize that three had done so much to save him? Risked his life? Literally.

He was sorry for him, sorry for everything. But he never even told him how sorry, how much of a bother, how annoyingly of a coward he was towards his feelings.

"R-remember what I said?" What did he say? What was that? What is four missing here? What did he forgot? What did he miss?

"We're friends!"

-ring-

Was that right?

Were they both really friends?

After everything they've been through?

After... he destroyed him...?

"Ughhhh..." he tried to cover his eyes, planting his wrist to his view. Tried to keep himself calm...

-inhale-

A deep quiet sleep...

-exhale-

A silent evening with nothing to feel bothered of...

-inhale-

Just push them all away and never bother...

-exhale-

Going...

Back...

Opening his eyes back again looking upon the clock...

10:31 pm

Tik...

Tok...

Tik...

Tok...

Time passes by too slow... yet too fast at the same time...

It makes you go crazy and lose your mind...

Where did I went through?

How did I get here?

Why did I ended up like this?

A mind flooded questions, unanswered thoughts. Overthinking again and again and again and over again.

Why was he thinking about Three back there?

Why did it matter to him again?

He didn't know how or why...

There is just something... a thing that he isn't sure what it's called...

Sure they're friends but are they really?

There's so many things roaming through his head, sending him mixed signals from Three's complicated doings.

He found it quite interesting and exciting but at the same time- scary.

Intrigued and fascinated by how Three could do everything better, and that he never misses. All of it... impressive...

But wasn't four more better than him from the start? Back in memewarts he kept notice that Three had tried everything... yet... he got the attention all to himself again...

"You're an -sshole smg4..."

He said that to himself... everything is pretty bad to him... why did he have to do that? When you're already full of everything and you keep bugging into their life?

Came crashing in and picking up the pieces you can't fix...?

"You're so tsundere SMG3" "NO I'M NOT! YOU BAKA!"

Another set of memory flashed to his eyes, three is a tsundere... he looked at the meaning earlier ago, was this all true?

Three? Being an actual tsundere to SMG4... everytime... he gets back to him... a possibility he had feelings for...

No... no way... there's just no way...

His heart started beating faster, warmth from his face, his cheeks and his nose turning red. Felt like his eyes were burning, how he forgot to cry...

Felt like this was the first time from him in years to ever cry after so long... he gripped the sheets from the mattress, his heart felt torn apart.

Ripped up to bits, feeling it sunken deeper, like drowning from a breathable surface. Was that all he could ever wanted? Changing for the better person?

He was gay for him? Madly inlove? A reason why he RISKED his LIFE to SAVE HIM...???

"But why...?" Time and time again, why does Four even bother? It was all from Three... he felt so stupid... so oblivious that he is now realizing Three had this feeling for him...

"I'm... I'm just so lonely... I'm so stupid..." SMG4 hugged the only pillow from his head to his chest, "SO STUPID!" almost tearing the fabric. He lets go, fear that he'd been hurting...

Left for burden...

"I..." He didn't know what to do anymore, looking down at the small rips... in a depth of staring silently...

How long had he been too busy? How long? How long did Three wanted to admit he really love him? How long did three change?

How long was he also suffering the same silence just like his? How long did he hide everything from him? Being the coldest and meanest person? Becoming soft? How long?

How long didn't he express? How long had Four been ignoring his feelings? How long didn't he just act now? How long? How long could he stay like that?

How long would he keep on doing this?

...

Well one thing is for sure...

You can't solve everything from your problems...

You just... kind of did it... beyond repair... broken...

He knows he can't hide his pain anymore... why does he still deepen it when everything is collapsing?

Everything hurts...

Even if... how many times... he kept himself in strangles with the hardest things...

He still finds Three as his other way... like a pathway guiding him to the light like how he did when he was at his darkest moments of life.

Like how he saved him for not going insane...

Thats how of a person SMG3 is...

He hated it... he loved it at the same time...

He felt safe... yet uncomfortable...

Relaxed... panic...

Sad... happy...

Home... loved... and cared...

He didn't deserve all of this... but he is still greatful to have the people he's closest to by his side. Because they'll never leave him no matter what happens.

Four is thinking negative thoughts, but now it was replaced by Three and the positive outcomes of him catching up.

"Three you... you saved me..." Twice he said it... twice... yet Three saved him a bunch of times now, he had to thank him.

"Yeah whatever" how he nearly died during the chase with mario and the notebook, three flunging him out due to the missle's point.

He almost died, and three is just.

"You're gay for me?" he remembered the past, unsure if he really admitted that he has feelings for the man in purple. He was too scared to love, the most closest people he'd been with.

Made a thought of abandonment...

If he could've done more, he wouldn't be a burden to his friends and to him...

How does he tell Three that he also liked him? That he really really loved him...?

His thoughts can never get rid of him because he was someone special.

He wasn't sure if he's worthy for his love.

Why does it always have to end up like this?

He looked at his hand touching the air, notice of his tears stopping.

It's okay... even no matter what or how many times he ignored him, because the pain they both are baring now. Are insufferable to deal to.

Just for Three...

And to himself...

To live...

The water that dripped down from his tears dried, eyes widened and understanding. His heart now wrapped and covered with warmth and joy.

He finally smiled with those soft eyes.

He hugged himself and laughed, how he loved Three, how he just overthinked everything to question his purpose and living, then to him again.

It doesn't matter anymore.

What matters is that he continued living than choosing to die, his decisions are what he points at.

No matter now, if he doesn't know how to deal with his problems? He'll find a way...

He always does...

With a final exhale, relaxing his head and shutting both of his eyes.

How he loved it...

Dying from his lifeline with just a silent scream, daring not to tell a word or two.

Three is all that matters to him in the end.

A few minutes passed by as he drifting away to sleep...

----------

Three however is also dealing the same problem... except it was the opposite. Crying himself to sleep...

- END -

#lizaluv #smg4 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #my art #my fic #kisame

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random-thot-generator · 8 months

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Thinking about dark knight!Ghost who is sent by King John to conquer a neighboring kingdom and bring him back a pretty princess to marry.

TW- Adult content below the cut. Brief violence, Sexual situations, Explicit sexual content

Notes: A long drabble(?) to purge this horny medieval brainworm from my head, so I can work on my other WIPS. Hope you enjoy my brainrot. Bone apple tea!

Dark knight Ghost, who sneaks in a small band of his personally trained men through the king's own escape tunnel in the wee hours of the morning. The entire castle guard is defeated by dawn, the king himself captured.

Dark knight Ghost, who corners the king in his chambers and under threat of death forces him to sign a decree, giving over the Princess' hand in marriage. The king's daughter is now betrothed to Ghost's sovereign lord, King John. He makes sure the wedding banns are posted throughout the surrounding kingdoms, cementing his king's claim on the princess.

Dark knight Ghost, who has also been tasked with delivering the bride-to-be to King John, but he ends up being duped by the crafty princess and her ladies-in-waiting, who dress you, her chambermaid, in one of her finest dresses, draping you in jewels and finery before handing you over to the frightening dark knight in your princess' stead.

Dark knight Ghost, who is only doing this odious task at his king's behest, but the gruff knight doesn't care to deal with a royal snobby brat. He's heard the stories about the Princess' terrible moods and tantrums and has already decided he will suffer none of it.

Dark knight Ghost, who can't reconcile the stories of the shrewish Princess with the shy, soft-spoken damsel now in his care. Thinking you are trying to play him for a fool, his treatment of you is gruff, manhandling you and barking orders at you until tears well up in your eyes and you cringe away in fright. If he happens to feel guilty for scaring you and making you cry, he never lets it show, but he refrains from doing it again; he honestly can't bear to see you shrink away from him.

Dark knight Ghost, who is irritated when his younger knights, Sirs Kyle and Johnny, fawn over you, dressing them down for their unseemly behavior even though he himself can't deny that your sweet smile, soft voice and big doe-eyes are a constant distraction. He can't get you back to King John fast enough.

Dark knight Ghost, who insists on accompanying you himself when you bathe. He tries to be chivalrous and keep his back turned, but after catching a glimpse of your naked, wet curves shimmering in the sunlight, he now blatantly watches you bathe from the bank, much to your mortification. He takes particular delight in ordering you out of the river, just to watch your nude form rise from the water like Aphrodite from the waves.

Dark knight Ghost, who begins to grow jealous of his knights, Kyle and Johnny, who he has ordered to guard you while traveling. The pair of them are too bloody charming for their own good, making your cute little giggles ring in his ears and harden his cock. He ends up having to call a halt for rest, just to relieve the heaviness of his aching balls, leaving a copious amount of his seed on the trunk of an ancient oak.

Dark knight Ghost, who 'discovers' the following morning that your royal mount is now gone, apparently "stolen by vagabonds" while most of the camp was asleep. He admonishes the men on guard duty for not keeping a sharper eye, but leaves it at that, uncharacteristically lenient, for a change. He does insist that you ride his destrier with him for the rest of the journey, however.

Dark knight Ghost, who makes you sleep by his side when camp is set every night, because he likes waking in the predawn hours to find you cuddled up in his arms. He now pulls you close before you even fall asleep, pulling your back into his chest before settling his big hand on your belly, telling you it's the pommel of his short sword that's poking you in the back.

Dark knight Ghost, who doesn't realize how hard he's truly fallen for you until highway bandits attack them on the forest road and steal you away. He decides in that instant he'll kill anyone who stands between him and his sweet princess.

Dark knight Ghost, who will stop at nothing to get you back, so tracks down the thieves to their den hidden deep in the forest and slaughters them all for daring to lay a finger on his woman. The cowardly bandit who pressed his blade to your throat and drew a bead of blood dies a particularly brutal death, Ghost relishing the sound of the bastard choking on his own blood.

Dark knight Ghost, who can no longer keep his feelings hidden, ripping his helmet off and kissing you amidst the carnage, swearing an oath to give his own life to protect you. His hold is possessive as he carries you back to his destrier and sits you in front of him, hands wandering over your body as he lets his horse pick its way back to camp.

Dark knight Ghost, who stops at an inn to give you a proper rest while his men camp outside of town. He demands the best room in the inn for his Princess. There is only the one bed, and though he offers to sleep on the floor, you won't allow it. What finally breaks his will to deny you is when you look up at him with those soulful eyes and soft, trembling lips, whispering, "I cannot sleep without you now, my lord. Please, come to bed."

Dark knight Ghost, who strips down to his tunic and climbs into bed with his king's betrothed, knowing full well he's already done enough to warrant his own execution, but still pulls you close in the darkness as a shudder runs through his body. When his lips meet yours, he is well and truly lost.

Dark knight Ghost, who feels your soft hands tracing the many scars underneath his tunic— on his back, on his chest, even the ones on his face, and leans into your touch instead of away, letting his own hands explore the intimate parts of your body that he has denied himself for too long.

Dark knight Ghost, who has never wanted a woman more than he wants you and can't stop himself from climbing on top of you to kiss your soft lips while his hand delves between your legs to find you wet and wanting. He drinks long and deep from your cup, making you squirm and beg, but for what you do not know.

Dark knight Ghost, who can no longer bear to listen to your soft little whines and moans, can no longer deny his need for you, so settles himself between her trembling thighs and eases his engorged cock into your virgin cunt, finally claiming you for his own. If he had to die a thousand deaths to experience this one moment with you, he would gladly receive the killing blade into his heart over and over again.

Dark knight Ghost, who takes you again and again throughout the night, insatiable for you, your cries of his name echoing down the narrow, creaking corridors of the inn. If his fellow knights happen to overhear, Kyle and Johnny do not mention it the following morning.

Dark knight Ghost, who smirks smugly under his helm when you can barely sit a horse the next day. He stops midday to take you to "bathe" at the river, soothing your sore cunt with his tongue. He lays you out on the soft grass of the riverbank, his head buried between your legs for the better part of an hour, still in his full armor, your cum painting his face. He doesn't think he's ever tasted anything sweeter; he would happily drown in you, unable to imagine a better death.

Dark knight Ghost, who begins to drag out the journey, no longer eager to return to King John's court. He's never shirked his duty to his king, but this time he is sorely tested. He knows if the king learns that his most trusted knight has deflowered his betrothed, he may well kill you both, so your dark knight insists that you say he forced you if your illicit affair is discovered. You refuse, much to his irritation, but also to his secret delight. You are well and truly his, no matter what fate has in store for you.

Dark knight Ghost, who finally arrives at King John's castle, feeling sick down to his very soul as he leads you into the throne room to greet your future husband and king. He watches with a heavy heart as you demure before the king, bowing in a deep curtsy, hand laid over your fluttering heart.

Dark knight Ghost, who frowns in confusion when King John barks out a laugh and waves a hand at you, the so-called Princess. "This is not the princess, Sir Ghost," King John informs him. He sniffs in amusement. "Should have known the little minx would pull something like this. You've been duped, Sir knight, by no fault of your own. I will have to retrieve the stubborn wench myself, I suppose, show her who her future husband really is."

Dark knight Ghost, who glares at you while you stare down at your fidgeting hands, biting your lip in that way that drives him bloody mad with lust. He seizes your arm in his grip, his cock twitching beneath his armor when you let out a squeak of fright. "An' what o' this one, my king? What shall I do with her?"

Dark knight Ghost, whose eyes go half-lidded and dark when the king grants him permission to interrogate this false princess for information about the king's true betrothed. He can keep you as his servant, the king tells him, if you're still alive once the interrogation is over. This is said only to frighten you, of course, but there's no need to tell you that just yet.

Dark knight Ghost, who is already planning on marrying you once all this Princess business is finally done and over, but he isn't about to tell you that just yet, either. He finds that he very much likes the way you tremble in his hands. He's most eager to begin your 'interrogation'. "Don't worry, my Liege. I know just what t'do t'make her sing like a li'l bird." He grips your arm and pulls you close. "Ain't tha' right, Princess?"

Good King!John drabble (sequel)

#brainworm drabble #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #dark knight!ghost #ghost cod

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pepperonidk · 1 year

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In This Life and the Next || j.ww

MASTERLIST

Pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader Summary: dragons, deities, dreams (oh my!), aren't enough to keep you from your lover. Warnings: none Word Count: 574

a/n: i was thinking about across the spider-verse and fire emblem and i got this... please if u want to talk to me about either of these things just hit me up i am begging

“Babe?” you called, breaking the soft silence that had come to be as your boyfriend read his book behind you. He hummed in response, beginning to trace a new pattern along your arm. “Do you think we dream about our parallel lives?” The question alone was enough to pique his interest, evident in the way his fingers shifted as they traced patterns on your arm, but not enough to distract him from his book.

“Maybe,” he mused. “What happened in your dream?”

You paused thoughtfully, trying to soak back in all the details that had slipped your mind since then. “Well, I remember we were in a castle,” you began. “You were the prince of an isolated kingdom and I was a mercenary?” With a laugh and the sound of his book shutting, Wonwoo shifted your position so that you were instead sitting across from him, your hands in his.

“Interesting,” he replied. “How did we meet then?” Wonwoo smiled as he watched you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, obviously lost in thought. He felt his heart leap ever so slightly at the sight of it and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to steady his heart in your presence.

“The castle was a school for royalty, and I had snuck my way in as a professor,” you explained. “But secretly, I was actually a reincarnated deity. Crazy right?” You beamed as your boyfriend nodded and pulled your hands to his lips.

“And then what happened?” He asked, fully invested in the fantastic story you were telling him and the way your eyes lit up as you did. He wishes he could see the story as vividly as you did, to be able to walk alongside you in your dreams.

“There was a war,” you continued, gauging the way his eyebrow raised. “Against a dragon lady and you had become a king but we had somehow managed to save the whole world. Then we ended up proposing to each other at the same time in the tallest tower of the castle. And you kept calling me ‘my beloved.’” Now it was your turn to raise a teasing eyebrow at him.

He pulled you into him so that you were now sitting on his lap and pulled your left hand up between the two of you, placing a light kiss against the knuckle of your ring finger. “Are you trying to tell me something?” he teased as he felt those all too familiar butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah,” you replied, matching his tone. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m a reincarnation of an ancient deity.”

“Is that so?” Now his kisses were trailing up into your wrist, playful and teasing. “Anything else?”

“And that if you want to propose to me, you’ll have to defeat a dragon first.”

“Duly noted,” he replied with a laugh, pulling away and adjusting the covers to get under them. “Now let’s go to sleep so you can find out what’s happening in one of our other lives.” After setting his glasses down on the nightstand and turning off the light, he snuggled into his pillow and pulled you down against him so that your head was against his chest and your arm draped against his waist. In any life he lived with you, dragon war or not, he knew he’d find peace with you in his arms just as you were now.

“Goodnight, my beloved.”

#Wonwoo seventeen #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo angst #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo imagines #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #wonwoo x yn #wonwoo x reader #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year

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me and the devil - o. hightower/r. targaryen

Description: Rhaenyra Targaryen feels alone after the passing of her mother, and the exile of her beloved uncle. Otto lends a helping hand. In which, the Black Princess may finally have a chance in becoming Queen. (a bit of a crack fic) Rating: Mature (Spanking, Daddy Issues/Kink, Fingering [f. recieving], Fucking, Purity Culture, Loss of Virginity, Degradation, Riding [Otto topping from the bottom].) Author's Note: Rhaenyra's age is adjusted and she is in her majority age, because I don't want to be creepy.

Her world was torn in two - hands playing with her rings as her father finished announcing his engagement to her friend. It was all a ploy - she was used to elevate another person's status at court. She takes a step backward, bumping into the chest of Otto Hightower.

"I'm sorry," she squeaks while moving out of his way. She prided herself in knowing nothing about the gossips of her father's court - but she wasn't entirely oblivious. She was aware of a lot of things. She was aware of the feud between Otto and her uncle. She was aware that it was Otto's plot in making his daughter Queen.

He doesn't say anything - he stays in his place, staring at her and searching for a reaction in her eyes. Otto Hightower was aware of everything - every friendship, relationship or death that happened around court. He knew that Rhaenyra was friends with his daughter - he knew that she would feel betrayed and in search of vengeance.

"Congratulations on your daughter's engagement," Rhaenyra broke the thick air of silence around them. His lips formed into a thin line, no emotions were evident in his face. He was stoic and calm, as a king should be. "Thank you, I will be sure to extend this word of gratitude to my daughter." he paused intending for her to stare deep into his eyes. "My princess," he adds like he has forgotten her title.

"This is the perfect time to find a husband. One that can strengthen your family's claim." he was quick to add, knowing that he has already laid the groundwork - and the only thing she has to do is follow it. Her husband shouldn't be too powerful, or too weak. Her husband should be loyal to the Hightowers so that she may not contest her future brother's reign.

"I-I beg your pardon?" she stuttered. He was dominating over her, looking down on her small figure like a lion would do to its prey. He commanded her full attention, the people around them began to drown away. "As your father's heir, it is imperative that you find a dutiful husband and make heirs of your own." he informed, attempting to sound like a dutiful hand providing insight upon his future liege.

Otto continues staring at the Princess. She had a sharp jaw, almond eyes and the brightest blonde hair. She was a striking beauty - he liked that, but he would never act upon it. His plan was already in motion, there was no use in trying to sully the Princess. "After the wedding, the King will be asking you - with no doubt." the man continued staring, soaking in every indention on her face, soaking in her sharp collarbones that he wanted to bury his face in.

"It is none of your concern, lord hand. My future husband will not affect you." she regained her fire, reaching to her full height but not reaching him just quite. He takes a step back, bowing slightly and moving away. He would leave a stain on the Princess' mind. A seed planted in her mind that she wasn't going to be heir for long.

A feast was held in the wedding's favor. Lords from all across the realm began to visit the castle - they were all vying for Rhaenyra's hand, and she having a hard time trying to send them away peacefully. "I would prefer to be sitting down, Lord Lannister - I have been dancing for far too long." she reasoned, staring at the side. Jason Lannister was a leech that couldn't be shaken away. He seemed to adore following her everywhere - talking about his gold and the political benefit that she'd have if they are to be wed.

"Such a shame, my princess. I have been practicing my dances for you." the man tried to plead but was quickly sent away with a glare from the King. She lets out a sigh of relief. She didn't want to dance anyone - she only wanted to dance with Daemon, and he was not there. He was exiled - for the hundredth time.

A servant fills her goblet with wine, and she begins greedily drinking - savoring every drop of the Dornish delicacy. A lord sits beside her, clad in green, he smelled like ale - but in a delicious way. She turns her head to the side, an attempt to look at him. "Lord hand." her lips press into a thin line as she finishes the goblet of wine. "My princess," he answered. She looks away from him, focusing her attention upon the blushing bride - Alicent Hightower, who hasn't spoken to her since the engagement was announced.

She wanted to kill her old friend for stealing her father, and for trying to replace her with the spawns that she would give birth to.

"Queenship suits my daughter, doesn't it?" Otto taunted, allowing the ale to speak his mind. Rhaenyra responds with a chuckle, one that she was sure that he wouldn't be able to remember tomorrow. "As much as pink suits my skin-tone." she remarked sarcastically, motioning for the servant to fill her cup again.

" - and it suits you very well." Otto joked, staring deep at the Princess' face. Her nose has a small bump, and he's only noticed now. "My lord, I am not in the mood for conversation." she tried to dismiss, still staring at her old friend. She wanted her revenge - she wanted Alicent to feel the same way as she did. "Why not?" he questioned, and only then did she look at him.

She has a way for revenge now: steal Alicent's father.

Men were weak creatures according to her uncle. Show a little leg, and they are swooning - reveal your affections, and they grovel beneath your feet. Otto Hightower was going to be an easy prey.

She strides towards the library armed with her favorite dress. It was a beautiful black gown that revealed enough for him to imagine things.

Rhaenyra was beautiful - everyone around her always said that. Her lips were full and red, and her skin was snow white. Every man in the seven kingdoms has thought of becoming her husband.

She opens the door to the library gently, careful to not alert the Maester who was beginning to fall asleep.

She walked - like a siren swimming in water.

She halts in front of the hand.

"Lord Otto," she said, ensuring that her eyes were focusing on his face. Darting back and forth between his eyes and his cherry lips. "Princess?" he questioned, not taking his eyes off the book that he was reading. She walks closer, pushing the book down - revealing his honey-brown eyes.

"I was wondering if you could help me with history?" she paused to ask. A small groan exits his mouth - angered with the slight disruption. In his mind, she was girl sent to annoy him - oblivious of the plans that she had. "Of course." he hummed, not finding it appropriate to disobey the orders of the King's heir.

She finds it as a reason to sit beside him, leaning into his shoulder but not resting her head fully. "I find myself confused with Oldtown's history." she lied, pushing her body closer to his - allowing him to have a full view at her breasts.

"Allow me to explain."

Otto wasn't aware of how teaching turned into fucking.

A few days ago, he was still attending his library lessons with the Princess - and now he was inside her chambers watching as she laid on the bed with her legs open and welcoming him.

It was a lewd sight - his own personal heaven.

He slowly begins to remove his cloak, throwing it over the neat pile of the Princess' jewelry. "Come closer, my lord." she hummed, a siren lulling her prey into the deep waters. He obeys her - not finding the power to fight against her strength.

He begins crawling towards her - staring at her milky white cunt that oozed with wet juice. He could speak - afraid that he'd wake up from the dream and find himself alone on his bed. "Look at me." Rhaenyra commanded, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to stare at her eyes. "This is all for you." she moaned, dipping a finger into her cunt.

"Ahhh," she moaned, pushing her finger in and out of her body. She pushes a second finger inside, and his eyes trail down to her delicious pearl. She reaches for his hand, massaging it down from the valleys of her breast, down to her soft stomach and to her cunt that was oozing with wetness. "Fuck me." she pleaded, a small smile finds itself etched on his face.

If this was a dream - then he never wanted to wake up.

He places two fingers inside her cunt, squeezing the inside with all of his tender strength. He knew how to pleasure a woman - to fuck a lady that was in desperate need of him. "So tight," he mused pumping his finger in and out of her body - tipping her g-spot with ease. "So needy," he teased taking his fingers out of her.

She was bucking and searching for his hand.

"My lord," she moaned, his other hand laid on her chest - controlling her breathing. He was sitting down - her body was now on top of his lap, grinding unto him with renewed vigor. " - please," she cried feeling her pussy twitch with agony.

He licks his fingers clean of her juices. She tasted like metal - like blood that was plastered on her family's motto. He wipes his hand on her stomach, teasing her as it began to trail down the lower part of her waist - playing around her thighs, and dipping back into her. "My good girl." he purred, concentrated on pumping his fingers in and out of her good little cunt. Her eyes closed softly, shuddering around the pleasure she was feeling.

"Qogralbar -" she moaned.

Fuck.

And he ceased his fucking.

He raised his hands again - spanking her cunny.

"Do not curse, princess. I can fuck you very properly without using those words." He scolded, like a father who caught his daughter saying bad things. Her eyes opened, flinching from the sudden pain. " - but you" she tried to reason but he silences her with the touch of his hand. "Will I have to make you, little girl? Do I really have to turn you into my perfect little whore? When you should already know how to be that." he taunted, retreating his hands away from her body.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered trying to chase her high. She had no idea that her simple revenge would turn into something more. "Please keep going," she pleaded - frustrated as he pushed her body out of his lap - out of his bulge that was pressing on her bare ass.

"You will have to apologize in another way, Rhaenyra." he announced darkly, reminding the Princess that he was still fully dressed. He walks out of the bed, standing in front of her as she began to crawl to him. She stares up at him - he smirks seeing the trail of wetness evident on her brown sheets. She unbuckles his belt, allowing his pants to pool around the floor - she unbuttons his shirt, like a dutiful servant undressing her master.

Otto was her master at this moment, but he wouldn't be for long. Slowly and surely, Rhaenyra is sure to switch the tides. To make sure that Otto would be loyal to her - and not to Alicent.

Otto thought the same thing. He was thankful because he didn't have to kill Rhaenyra. It would benefit him more having his son as King rather than his grandson.

And there was only one more thing to do before ensuring that.

Once his shirt was taken off - he lays on the bed, his dick reaching to its full height. He raises his hand, motioning for her to lay on top of him. "Have you ever been fucked, girl?" he interrogated, placing both of his hands around her plush bottom. His fingers almost sank into the girl's skin at the rate of its softness.

"Yes - but not right there," she gazed down at where their organs were about to connect. "Do you want to be fucked there?" he interrogated, staring deep into her purple eyes. He prays that their children have her eyes. "Yes." she hummed and he pressed her down.

Her eyes rolled immediately - finding his cock to be perfect fit. It reached all the places that she wanted to reach. "Fu-" she was about to curse, but she stops - knowing that he wouldn't like that.

He waits for her to settle around him before pressing her body in and out of him. She raises her hands - grabbing unto the bed-frame. "Ahh," she moaned loudly - the entire keep could almost hear. "Keep moaning sweet girl, and your father will know how good I can fuck you." Otto warned - she grinned, gaining enough momentum to be riding him without any guide.

"You are my father now - my kepa. You will guide me, fuck me - everything." she moaned while riding him with all her strength.

Pleasure was beginning to cloud her brain - it filled her with a bright aura - a feeling that she wanted to keep chasing. "Dirty girl," he degraded, his hands firmly wrapped around her waist.

In and out.

Otto wanted to close his eyes - but he also wanted to see the Princess moan and roll hers. "My lord," she sang - feeling the deepest delight inside her stomach - a thick and warm feeling permeating though her flesh and bones. "You have to cum?" he asks and she nodded her head. He keeps going, moving her body to the side as he fucks his way through her.

There was silence - only the sound of skin bouncing into skin. "Otto!" the princess yelled and a thick rope of white fluid squirts out of her cunt, staining his abdomen and cock with the juice.

He keeps pumping for a few times - finishing inside of her womb.

An heir was created.

Rhaenyra looks at the floor - still wearing her nightgown. "Skorkydoso gōntan bisa massigon, Rhaenyra? (How did this happen?)" Viserys asks, staring at his daughter - anger pulsing through his veins. Otto was standing beside her, but he chose to ignore him - for now.

"Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon, kepa. (I don't know, kepa.)" she cried, ashamed of her deeds. "Ao ȳdra daor gīmigon? (You don't know?)" he taunted, circling around her - glaring at her. "Tolvys ryptan ao. (Everyone heard you.)" he exaggerated.

"I apologize, my king." Otto breaks his lover's silence, Viserys' fury is transported unto his Hand. "Give me a good reason on why I should not exile you." the King demanded. Rhaenyra often believed that her father wasn't a real dragon - he was dragonless after all. She was born after Balerion died - and perhaps the dragon inside her father died too.

"He did not force me, kepa." she repeated, reminiscent of the time that she called Otto that. "I wanted it too." she kept her eyes casted on the floor. A chuckle escapes the King's mouth. "You do not know what you want, Rhaenyra. You can hardly decide on what gown to wear - how can you be so sure of him?" Viserys questioned, his hands on his waist.

Rhaenyra looks up, hands reaching for Otto's.

"Nyke jorrāelagon zirȳla, kepa. (I love him, father.)" she stated, almost causing the king to have a heart attack.

At that very moment Viserys regretted deciding upon marrying Alicent - he regretted having Otto as hand and most of all, he regretted not wedding his daughter to Daemon.

"Very well." he swallows.

#rhaenyra targaryen x otto hightower #otto hightower x oc #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon fanfic #house targaryen fanfic #my crackfic #Rhaenyra x otto #targaryen x hightower

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lavendertales · 2 years

Text

Matches & gasoline—Aemond Targaryen x gn!reader

summary: being the Queen’s personal advisor, your interests should lie with her and her only. Which means her children are off limits. Well, all except one for you.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: tension, mutual pining, forbidden relationship.

gif: @alicentloyalist

read on AO3

No staring. No talking unless absolutely necessary.

My mother cannot know of this. And neither can anyone else.

The rules were ringing in your ear still, as clear as the night they’d first been whispered to you.

You understood the ramifications of this charade you had going on. You understood the potential consequences and risks of leading such a treacherous act behind closed doors. But it has been virtually impossible to resist it. And you tried. The Gods know you’ve tried.

At first it was a simple greeting, meant only out of politeness. Then, as the prince returned it with a cheeky smile, you felt your heart flutter inside your chest. A grave telling sign, you thought. It went on in this manner for days, until eventually you were introduced to the Queen’s beloved progenies: Aegon, Aemond and Helaena.

Admittedly, there were plenty of reasons to take notice of Aemond: many remained intimidated by him, perhaps even afraid of the way he conducted himself, but you’ve only ever seen him be just and—intriguing. And that’s how he’s got to capture your attention.

It’s infatuation. Plain and simple. You know that now. It is admiration taken to a whole other level; a desire to know, mentally, emotionally, physically, a never-ending thought that called out to you, day and night.

And who are you to call out against it?

No one, that’s who. No one but a mere mortal, a complete nobody amongst royalty.

Well, not nobody. You were named the Queen’s personal advisor. Truthfully, you weren’t quite certain what that job entailed. All you knew with certainty was that you had to be present during the Small Council’s meetings, take notes of the discussions and always speak on the Queen’s behalf. No one else’s.

No one else can know.

The Queen certainly was the last person who could ever find out about your affair. After all, you and Aemond were only protecting her and everyone else around you. Should things remain quiet, then all would be well. Though you had to admit, you didn’t know how much more you could stand: all the stares, the yearning they all transmitted, the hot breaths drawn in sharply as you managed to catch lonesome seconds in the hallways, the hasty touches Aemond used to bring your body closer to his… all of this, and no way to properly release all of that tension.

It seemed there was someone always around. Always. Whether a maiden, a guard, Aemond’s siblings or even Otto or Alicent themselves, there was absolutely no privacy to be had. Which meant you and Aemond had to make do with whatever crumbs and illusions of intimacy you were fed. And given how starved you both were, you were sated with the bare minimum.

After all, it was a very risky and dangerous affair to be had.

But you truly couldn’t help it. Once Aemond made the first move and offered you some high-class speech about finding you the most intriguing presence in the castle, you knew you were doomed. You already liked him well enough, but hearing him converse with you so smoothly, tongue loose and blue eye searching yours for some sort of mystical confirmation, it was fairly obvious you were a goner.

The Queen’s sudden callout of your name awakens you from your daydream as you glance in her direction. You were trained by this point to always be at her service, yet it seems today you are a tad slow in your reactions.

I wonder why.

“Come in here,” she demands rather sweetly.

“Your Grace?”

“I’d like your assistance with something.”

Ah, there it is. Advice-giving, the actual job you were taken in to do. At least this will get your mind off of—you know who.

Or so you had hoped until your gaze falls upon none other than Aemond himself, standing up as you walk in, hands tied behind his back and the same Cheshire smile on his face.

He does a little nod in your direction to indicate that he’s acknowledged your presence, but nothing more. You’ve always thought he was more skilled at hiding his intentions and sentiments—in this matter, at least—than you were, so there’s no surprise here.

“Your Grace,” you salute him as well, doing your best to conceal a gulp.

“Aemond has successfully managed to dismiss every single piece of clothing I have provided him with,” Alicent goes on, absentmindedly going through the clothes lying on the bed. “I hope a different perspective might help shed a little light on the matter.”

All the while, Aemond’s eye never leaves your figure. He simply stares, telling you everything you might need to know through that single glare, and you nearly crumble on the spot. You do your very best to maintain your composure, to appear unaffected and professional, but there more you stare at the man in the background, the more your pulse races and your blood boils in your veins.

“Let us agree you do not quite grasp my sense of style, mother,” Aemond says.

You stifle a chuckle, resorting to flash only a kind smile in his direction. Alicent, however, makes a gesture in order to dismiss her son’s words.

“For heaven’s sake, you only wear black, darling,” she says, still going through the clothes.

“It is still style, mother, is it not?”

You lick your lips absentmindedly, but the gesture does not escape Aemond’s sharp sense of observation. He takes notice of it, of the way your chest heaves in some sort of anticipation, your pulse probably racing as you wait, wait, wait.

“What do you think?”

You come to realize that Alicent is addressing you, so you quickly turn to face her and the clothes she has laid out, glaring through them all.

“I’m not quite certain how I could help, your Grace,” you reply.

“Tell me what looks good on me.”

Aemond’s remark is far bolder than you would’ve expected, and in front of his mother, no less. It takes you aback for a few seconds, as you stand petrified next to Alicent, rather hoping you misheard him. Aemond remains in the chair, close to the fire, where the flames and the light can dance off his leather black outfit and form some sort of aura around him, drawing you to him even more.

You gulp again. If he feels like playing with fire tonight, you shall not entertain. Not in front of the Queen.

“Yes, please, do tell him what looks good on him because it would seem the eyes of his mother would not suffice,” Alicent seems to joke.

“Must I, your Grace? I only mean—I am your personal advisor.”

Alicent looks concerned at you, but she does not scold. No; she merely searches your face for an explanation, and in that moment you see the family’s resemblance.

“Well, for tonight—“Aemond says as he finally stands up and walks towards you, “you’ll be mine.”

Your heart races further, and it is then that you realize Aemond is purposely playing this game. He’s purposely saying everything with double meaning, hoping to see you fall apart right there under his hawk-like supervision. Or perhaps the idea of being caught entices him.

You cannot deny it—it entices you as well.

But the reality remains frightening, so you stand firm on your position, unwilling to bend or trip over Aemond’s cleverly chosen words.

“What do you say, mother? Can I have them?”

Oh Gods, have mercy on me.

“Of course,” Alicent concedes.

Only she has no idea what she’s truly giving her accord to, and yes, it does get you in a certain mood to acknowledge that.

Aemond is finally at your side, hands still tied behind his back, and he exchanges a polite smile with you, fleeting as his glare. It seems he too remains aware of the dreadful consequences of your little game, so for that you feel thankful.

“What am I to do, your Grace?” you address the Queen.

“I shall leave you two to it,” she replies, and the answer has you truly bewildered.

“She did say I get to have you for tonight,” Aemond intervenes.

“I did.”

Alicent leans in, her warm breath tickling your cheek and earlobe as she whispers, “See if you can convince him to wear something less ominous.”

You chuckle lightly, nodding as you watch her leave the chambers.

Suddenly, a knot twists itself in your throat. You cannot believe it; for the first time in months, you and Aemond are alone. Truly alone. No guards, no maidens, no one but the two of you. Now that this is happening, it has you nervous and sweaty.

“So,” Aemond begins, a mischievous grin on his face that informs you about his intentions loud and clear. “Why don’t you tell me what looks good on me?”

“Very well.”

You take a look at the clothes splayed before you, freezing in the same spot when you feel a hand grazing the hair at the back of your head. You close your eyes momentarily, allowing your body to absorb the multitude of emotions that single touch awakens in you, but then you open them abruptly, turning around.

“I will tell you what I believe suits me,” Aemond boldly coos. “I believe you would look quite dashing on me.”

You knew where he was headed with that, you simply knew it, and yet it still took you aback to hear it. You draw in a sharp breath, readying yourself to be the logical one in this situation.

“We—we cannot,” you warn, though yearning seeps through the cracks of your voice.

“Do we not have the privacy we have always wished for?”

“We are in the Queen’s chambers, we cannot taint it with unspeakable acts—“

You swear you hear Aemond groan, yet you mention nothing of the sort. And not when he inches closer to you, his warm breath now on your face and his good eye stuck on your lips.

“Well, if you were atop of me, you would not taint anything within this room,” Aemond grins. “I would.”

Fire spread rapidly throughout your body, warming up your extremities and finally settling in your nether region, pooling and begging to be released.

“Aemond—we cannot.”

He stares you down, seemingly not even blinking, and soon you realize that he’s staring at your lips. You reciprocate, unable to focus on anything else.

“Very well,” he concedes. “I suppose there is truth in admitting it would be improper to do anything in these chambers.”

You nod, although your interest has not changed within the last minute.

“But I do wonder, how improper would it be if I’d only—“

He stops, staring at you hoping you’d receive the message.

And receive you do.

Your mind is big blur when your lips find his in what can only be described as a loaded kiss. It’s not rushed albeit both your hunger, yet it’s not slow either. It’s too loaded with unbridled tension, too many unspoken words and glances that led nowhere.

Heat burns you from inside out, and as the kiss deepens, you find yourself backed against a wall, with Aemond’s hands boldly resting on your hips, kneading the flesh beneath your clothes with fortitude. You cannot help the moan that escapes your throat, reverberating straight into his mouth, and it feels so decadent, so indecent, you might as well be naked, on full display for the entire kingdom to see.

Your hands are wrapped around his neck, pulling him in as close as humanly possible, and you know you will run out of breath soon, but you could not care any less about that.

Footsteps are heard behind you, and you both separate in a haste. Aemond resumes his stoic position from before, and you take a respectable distance from him as well. Alicent returns to the chambers, smiling pleasantly at the two of you.

“Any fortune with the clothes?” she asks.

You gulp, unsure what to respond. But Aemond thinks fast enough for you both, and you could not be more grateful for that.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he answers. “I have chosen something that pleases me.”

He side eyes you, and you cannot believe how filthy that one action makes you feel.

“Which is?”

Aemond walks to the duvet, showcasing a green piece that seems to make Alicent smile brightly.

“Thank you,” she tells him, cupping his cheeks sweetly. “And thank you as well.”

Now she is addressing you, and you flash a polite smile instead of verbalizing anything. Truth be told, your lips are still swollen and red from the kiss. You’re surprised Alicent has not taken notice of it.

But why would she? It’s not as if she would have any reason to suspect that there is any funny business between her son and her personal advisor.

“Mother, I’d like to employ these services once in a while,” Aemond adds, leaving you breathless. “I hope that will not cause a disturbance in your daily routine.”

Although slightly surprised, Alicent makes a grimace that signals acceptance.

“I should not see a problem of it,” she says. “When would you require it?”

“Late hours. Twice a week.”

Alicent ponders over that, and you could even see past the fact that they have been speaking about you as if you weren’t there in the first place. In all honesty, you were too preoccupied thinking of the fact that you were just about to get a free pass from the Queen herself to spending uninterrupted time with Aemond.

“Very well,” she concedes, nodding at you both. “They seem to be fine at persuading you to be more malleable.”

Aemond smiles at you once again, then at Alicent, and you reckon your time tonight is over. Only now, for once, you do not regret it. You got more than you could have hoped for.

“I believe you can be as easily persuaded, and bent over,” he adds, only this part is strictly for your ears.

By the looks of it, you will be getting a lot more in the following time.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic

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