#love honour disobey
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AN- Serving you these sweet preferences is my duty... even though it means failing mathematics test, cause I can't pass it anyway 🤣
Requests are always open and well appreciated!
Thank you and Enjoy your reading!
HOTD Preferences
Defending Your Honor
Characters- Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon, Cregan Stark and Criston Cole.
Warnings- Slut-shaming, Curse, Murder (Daemon and Aemond), Fighting and Cutting off... something
Daemon 'Rogue Prince' Targaryen
You were Daemon Targaryen's paramour, with nothing to your name but his love and devotion. A mere dressmaker who somehow charmed the prince.
While your relationship was purely based on emotional supports and the physical attributes followed way later, the nobles didn't share the same thoughts.
Behind your back, you could hear their derogatory comments over you, questioning your relationship with the infamous prince.
"She must have a tight cunt for the prince to keep her so close."
"I am sure she is a witch and has fucked her magic into prince Daemon."
"There is no doubt that she will be ready to fuck and undress herself in front of anyone for money."
While Daemon would hear anything about himself with amusement, hearing things as such for his beloved made his blood boil.
In a feast in the honor of his own nameday, he made sure you were seated next to him with the Royal Family.
The family was welcoming but the courtiers weren't.
And he hears them again.
And goes crazy.
At the abrupt end of the feast, the Noble degrading you and your honor was taken to the Silent Sisters with a separated head or probably something even harsher.
Aemond 'One-Eyed' Targaryen
Aemond loves you a lot.
Everyone loves you, honestly. Except for some who think you are some scheming bitch, which secretly includes Otto.
During a normal session of the court, Aemond hears a member of a vassal house of Lannisters speaking rubbish about you.
Your honor was put to question and he won’t have it that way.
Interrupting the session, he calls the man ahead and when the spotlight is upon that man.
Aemond starts announcing the young lord’s “accusations”. And the whispers start.
But they are abruptly put to stop, by Aemond’s sword cutting off the lord’s head; much in a way Daemon had drove Dark Sister through Vaemond Velaryon.
And followed a long monologue about you and defending your honor and a threat of what shall happen if he is disobeyed.
All while that dead lord’s blood painted his face.
Otto ‘Hand of the King’ Hightower
You are his wife, or maybe courting each other, or betrothed to marry.
Either way, he is protective. Very. Very. Protective.
You are younger. Beautiful. Almost goddess like.
At a feast, you talk to a lord.
And there goes numerous rumours.
While Otto doesn’t believes it, others do.
And then, one day, you admit it. That the rumours were troubling you a lot.
And next, you hear that the man responsible for the rumours could never have children again, had you overjoyed and smirking. Found with the sigil of House Hightower next to him.
That was the very clear message to all.
Corlys ‘Sea Snake’ Velaryon
Corlys is possessive and protective of you, his darling wife.
You were from Dorne, and your Dornish practices aren’t quite far from your heart.
And that includes the flirtatious comments.
Corlys enjoyed that. But the other lords and ladies had a field trip, making rumours and what not.
When they hear them, he is angry and he throws a feast, intending to show what honour these people were talking of.
The feast was all normal except the wine was specifically strong and the servant ladies were all dressed provocatively.
And all of the lords were leering and everything.
Next morning, he organises a breakfast. And gives a loud and clear announcement.
All of it while the lady wives of those men were present and fuming with rage at the humiliation.
In directly, never talk bad about Corlys Velaryon’s wife.
Cregan ‘Wolf of the North’ Stark
You were of South and you arrived in Southern style.
And it made the lords of the North send you leering gazes.
And you were bold to admit it to Cregan who softly replied with:
“I apologise on their behalf, my lady. I shall see to it that it is taken care of.”
It was. But for only a few weeks.
And then came the feast before your wedding to him.
And the lords were drunk and again dishonouring sentences were exchanged.
The smile on your face was long gone and your jaw sat in a gesture of displeasure.
And it seemed to do something to Cregan. For one second, his direwolf was in front of the table; the other, that drunken lord was on the floor with the direwolf growling at his face.
“Since this day ahead, no one shall dare to dishonour my wife, your lady. Or, you shall not like what shall happen.”
And the smile on your face is sweet as you looked at your betrothed.
Criston ‘Kingmaker’ Cole
You were only a friend of his at that time.
And a Dornish lady.
A beautiful lady who was close to a member of King’s Guard.
And boom! There are rumours.
Penting up everything in his chest, Criston blasted when he heard a comment about you in the training grounds.
He challenged that knight or lord to a combat fight.
That fight ended with the lord being beaten to near death while Criston’s fists were bloodied.
You were told way later that something like that happened.
And while everyone were rather angry at his action, you were very very proud.
#house of the dragon#house of the dragon preferences#daemon targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#otto hightower x reader#corlys velaryon x reader#cregan stark x reader#criston cole x reader#daemon targeryan#aemond targaryen#otto hightower#corlys velaryon#cregan stark#criston cole
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How would they drink your blood
[ bg3, several characters, au where they are a vampire ]
Karlach
Apologetically. Wirsts.
She'd feel so guilty, mumbling an apology after another with each mouthful of blood. Never takes more than she needs, sometimes even less than she needs.
She fusses over you the morning after, giving you sweets and food. Keeping an eye on you and making sure she'll be your shoulder to lean on.
Shadowheart
Carefully. Neck.
It's very intimate with her since she realises the amount of trust you've given her to even allow this. It's something she will treasure and protect.
Gets more attached to you because of it, more protective. Healing spells, warding buffs after each feeding.
Wyll
Guiltily. Wrists.
With immense guilt, he is disgusted with himself each time he has to do it. It eats up at him each time her takes your hand in his own, sinking his fangs into the tender flesh of your wirst.
It pains him more than it pains you. He brushed too close to death too many times for you liking. You have to be the one to pry him from its cluthes and offer your blood each time.
Laezel
Efficiently. Neck.
It ends quickly. She doesn't waste any time for your comfort or hers. Forcing gulp after gulp even to rid you of her fangs as fast as possible. She hates being a parasite.
Has the courtesy to bandage your wound afterwards, orders you to eat something as she watches and only after allows you to go to sleep.
Minthara
Dominantly. Neck, thighs.
Like it was her birthright, like she owned the blood flowing through your veins alongside your body. But she takes great care of her belongings, so it never hurts more than it has to.
But make no mistake, it's still hers to take. No one else gets the right to your blood after she has tasted you. Obey, and you'll be taken care of, fed, loved, and protected.
Mizora
Selfishly. Neck, wirsts, thighs.
She toys with you, switching from place to place each minute as she wastes your blood. Fangs dripping red as she smiles at you.
Tells you to be a good pup and let her savour her meal, afterall you should feel honoured she chose you when a powerful devil like herself has so many other options.
Cazador
Sadisticly. Neck.
Makes it hurt on purpose. You can not move, you can not disobey, you can not think for yourself, he will do all of the thinking.
Scream for him, tell him how much it hurts. Better yet, how about a reenactment of the first time he took your blood? You know when he drank you to the edge of death.
#♡minthara#minthara x reader#♡karlach#karlach x reader#♡shart#shadowheart x reader#♡laezel#laezel x reader#♡Wyll#wyll x reader#♡Mizora#Mizora x reader#♡Cazador#cazador x reader#bg3#bg3 x reader#vampire au#suggestive#♡Suggestive
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the ocean and the wind. (6)
ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis: tonowari is the ocean and ronal is the wind. where does it leave you?
ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes: yooo i'm so sorry for the super late update, school got me tied up again aksldnakjd i speedran writing this so if there's any mistakes i am so sorry!! anyways the next part will be the last part and can i just say holy shit??? totw is finally ending and i gen don't know how to feel about this. anyways ive read so much of your replies and i am so honoured and flattered that many of you love this story! i am kissing your forehead as you read this btw xoxo as usual, pls let me know your thoughts and which parts were your favourite! till next time!!
part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ part 3 ✩ part 4 ✩ part 5 ✩ part 6 (here!) ✩ part 7 (final part)
Tonowari is at a loss as he watches you ignore him once more. He talked to you before, he asked you where you had been as you seemingly disappeared into thin air for a couple of weeks. He could not see even a glimpse of your hair and the days without you, his head swam in concern and worry. Have you gone sick? Were you okay? Did something happen?
As the days without any news from gone by, he grew more distracted from his classes and it was the same for Ronal as well. She grew more anxious and distressed as days went by, and without a proper outlet to let it all out, she grew more emotionally unstable. They could only comfort each other but not once has the turbulence in their heart disappear from the thought of you.
When the news of you that you had gotten sick, he felt helpless. He wanted to come into your home and check in on how you were doing, to be by your side and take care of you in any way he and Ronal can, but your mother had not allowed it. He contemplated sneaking inside your pod to at least see you but there he could not disobey the Healer of the clan. So he sighs inside his heart and with a strained smile, he thanks your mother for the news and offered his best wishes for you to get well soon. When he told Ronal of the news, she frowned deeply and huffed. He watched her gather medicinal herbs and nutritious berries before she gripped them hard in her fist and tears welled in her eyes.
“[Name]... I want to see her,” she said in a brittle voice, her face contorted with longing and anguish for you. Tonowari grabbed her face with both of his hands and pushed the hair out of her face.
“I know,” he leaned his forehead against hers and looks at her straight in the eyes. Her tears slipped and rolled down her cheeks silently and his heart broke apart at the sight of her in pain. Helplessness crept up and weigh his heavy heart down once again. Now, Ronal was hurting and there was nothing he could do. “[Name] is strong. We’ll see them back in no time and they will be healthy when they return.”
“And when they do, they will know of the worry we have for them. The painful agony without them and they will laugh at us, tease us at how much of a baby we two are. They will say how we are just giant children that never really aged with how we cannot handle being without them.” He promised her, promised himself, that everything would be okay and would soon return to normal. Ronal let out a snort and she hid in his embrace.
“They will know of the adoration we have for them,” he whispered against her forehead and kissed the top of her head. Fear comes back and it fills his lungs dark blue. But his passion for you outweighs any of his doubts and suddenly he found himself able to breathe underwater. “We will them of beautiful they are, how they fill us with Atokirina. How much love we carry and drown for her. When [Name] returns, they will finally see how we see them.”
“When [Name] returns.” Ronal murmured against his chest with finality.
Hope swelled in Tonowari’s chest but reality burst it open. When he finally saw you again, relief and joy takes away the heavy weight from his shoulders. When he and Ronal came up to you, they were glad they could finally see you and take the Iknimaya with you. However, they were still worried if you were truly well enough to complete the ritual. But that type of worry soon turned into worry about what have they done wrong for you to avoid them.
You weren’t being the usual you, they noticed. Your happy and cheery aura was nowhere to be seen. Your usual rambles turned into small and curt replies. Your genuine smile turned into one he could not recognize anymore as it did not reach your cheeks. You did not see them anymore. He watched you excuse yourself to your other friends and leave him weak and with so much pain. He watched you the whole time during Iknimaya as you avoided his yearning gazes. He watched you as you continued to hurt him unknowingly, or perhaps you did without giving him and Ronal to ask you why.
You do not see him anymore.
Now, he looks at you, you who is so alluring as you stand underneath the Cove of Ancestors, adorned with the garments your parents had knitted you that fit you so well and your freshly inked chest that represents your big heart that cared for everyone to which he desperately hopes that he and Ronal are included. The bioluminescent Spirit Tree underwater glows so brightly that it still shines on you. Eywa’s creations swims and streaks of light kisses your skin and he could only think how you leave him breathless of your beauty. He finds himself jealous of the water that you stand in and is closer and touches you the way he wants to be with you.
He recalls how you two promised back then that you two would complete your coming-of-age ceremony together and you two did, just not the way he thought it would. Why do you not see him anymore? Do you hate him? Had he done something wrong? Tonowari wanted to beg you and if he has to be on his knees, he will do so without hesitation as long as you tell him and he will do anything for you to see him once more. But he is the Olo’eyktan’s son, the future chief and has an image to show to everyone, as his father tells him every second. But what use is of his position without you?
Ronal grips his hand and looks at him with worry. He presses his lips into a flat lip, a horrible attempt to send her a smile to ease her concerns for him. She squeezes his hand thrice and his heart throbs at the thought of you.
He remembers how you ignored him before and how everything was just like back then. How you avoided him so and how he thought how you must have despised him. How much pain you gave him in months of you pretending he does not exist. You’re so cruel. So, so cruel. What if this time, you truly despise him now? What if he is nothing to you anymore? Can he take it? Can he truly take it and accept a future without you?
Tonowari’s face is suddenly caressed by Ronal. He looks at her in confusion and she just pushes the hair out of his face.
“When they return, they will know of the adoration we have for them,” she says quietly yet her yearning for you that he also feels is apparent, “We will them of beautiful they are, how they fill us with Atokirina. How much love we carry and drown for her.”
She says what he promised her word for word and he chuckles. He catches her hands and he kisses the knuckles of one of her hands. He squeezes the other hand thrice and finishes his promise to her.
“When [Name] returns, they will finally see how we see them.” No. He cannot just accept that you despise him now without telling him any reason why. He cannot just accept that he is nothing to you so easily. He does not want months of avoidance to happen again and perhaps turn into years of pretending he and Ronal does not exist. He will not give in to the voices that cloud his head for he knows you and you could never hate him. You care about him and Ronal too much and he wishes that it is the same care he and her have for you. Even if he did, he will not risk losing the chance of losing you and a future with you because he loves you. Ronal loves you.
“I see you,” he says to Ronal with eyes full of gratefulness that she snapped him out of his spiralling thoughts and love for her.
“I see you,” she replies with the same eyes that make his heart skip a beat.
He just hopes that you still see both of them and see them the way they see you.
.
.
.
You are cruel. So, so cruel, Ronal thought as she watches you ignore her. When she talked to you after your disappearance, you acted like there was a barrier between the two of you. You placed a vast distance from her and it tore her heart, clawed it open and you left her to bleed so openly when you left and you didn’t even look back once. The pain from the worry and agony for your safety turned into a burning one that fills her lungs with smoke. Why? What did she do for you to despise being in her presence? Has she scared you as well? Have you grown tired of her as well?
She thought this time would be different. That you would be different. That she has finally found love in Tonowari and you and everything will be all and well. That she wouldn’t hurt anyone again, especially you who is one of the most beloved to her. Was everything a lie then? You said that this time would be different. You said that you were here for her. You said you see her. Was it all just a lie?
No, she silently scoffs to herself. She knows you and she sees you. You are kind. You have a big heart. You see everyone. Perhaps you just didn’t see her anymore. Perhaps it was truly her fault that made you turn away from her just like everybody else.
Disgusting. And so, so pathetic. Had she really not learned anything at all? How could she do that to you unknowingly? How could she hurt you, you who is one of the most precious to her? She does not deserve you, you who is so bright and so full of life and love and all she had done is hurt you. Is this Eywa’s punishment for her? For all the sins she had done in the past, all to return and come back to return in the name of [Name]?
“This time will be different, Ronal.” You said, bringing her face in front of yours. You wiped away her tears and assured her. “I’m here for you.”
“I see you.”
Your words ran through Rona’s mind and oh, despite it all, she still wants you. She still believes that you are different. She still believes that you still see her. She would never give up on you just like you had never given up on her when she didn’t want you to see her. She looks at you in your ethereal beauty that knocks the air out of her and she feels herself falling in love again. You stand there like Eywa’s most treasured creation of all time with the way all of life surrounds you. She looks at the three beads you hold in the palm of your hands and wonders if she and Tonowari would be a part of your waytelem. She finds herself envying the wind that ripples through your hair and clothes and is closer and touches you the way he wants to be with you.
And so, she tells Tonowari and tells him how you will know the wind and the ocean that carries their love for you and grips Tonowari’s hand and would not let him give up on you as well.
“Greetings, brother, Ronal,” a friend of Tonowari’s suddenly cut off her thoughts she lets go of Tonowari’s hand. She nods at him while he greeted him back.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of having my brother here before me?” Tonowari chuckles.
“I just wanted to give you my congratulations for completing Iknimaya, our future Olo’eyktan,” his friend grins to him and nods at her, “And of course, our future Tsahìk.”
She frowns at this. What future Tsahìk? She was not aware of this nor the Tsahìk had personally told her of this. She looks at Tonowari with a questioning gaze.
“Future Tsahìk? When did you learn of this?” his eyebrows press into a flat line while his ears twitched.
“Everyone knows this, brother. In fact, we are all surprised [Name] wasn’t chosen,” he told them and realization dawns on Ronal. Do you know of this as well? Is this the reason why you were avoiding them?
Ronal looks at Tonowari with wide eyes. Tonowari grips her hand and looks at her and tells her with his eyes that they both need to talk to you quickly. Perhaps his friend had sensed that there was something wrong as he apologized and asked if he was in the wrong.
“No, no, thank you for telling me this, brother,” Tonowari pats his shoulder and sends him a strained smile, “I’m sorry but Ronal and I need to go now. I will make it up to you soon.”
She and he nods at him before they go to where you were before. You were not there anymore. Panic swells in her chest as the seconds go by she could not see you. She sees a common friend you and her shared and she quickly calls her over.
“Greetings, Ronal and Tonowari. Congratulations on your Iknimaya!” she beams at her.
“Greetings. I’m sorry but there is an urgent matter I need to attend to. Have you seen [Name]?” she hastily says and concern quickly washes over her friend’s face.
“Oh, I think she left early. Why, had something happened?”
“Thank you. There is just something we need to talk to her. I’ll see you soon.” She nods at her and calls for Ilus nearby. As they swim towards her and Tonowari, she cannot help but the questions that plague her mind. What if they were too late and you refuse to hear them out? What if you hate them for the betrayal you must have felt? What if—
“Ronal,” Tonowari grabs caresses her face with one hand and squeezes her hand with another. “Deep breaths. Breathe.”
She looks at him, frustration welling up in her eyes and she bites her lip. “[Name] sees you. She sees us.”
“What if she doesn’t anymore?” she asks the question that gives them immense pain to even think about. What if? What then?
Tonowar’s eyes soften and he tries to hide his flinch. He is silent and both of them could only cling desperately to the hope that you still do.
Oh, Eywa, she begs, Please help them see our innermost thoughts and the sincerity we have in our souls.
Please let them know of the wind and the ocean that calls out their name.
Please let them still see us.
series-taglist: (tumblr won't let me tag some blogs so if you changed your username, please lmk!) @totesnothere04 @ducks118 @narutoboi @yeosxxx @fanboyluvr @ladylovegood-69 @northsoulss @thatfictionalwh0re @ghostlyworld @toodaloo432 @lovefromjazzy @greendino7 @neteyamforlife @vermilionzombie @vxncxntt @adaiasafira @tsuteysyawntu @mooniequeen @eywas-heir @arminsgfloll @dev1lm4n @myh3artttt @thehoneymushroomhealer @delightcandlelight @shadowmoonlight0604 @dae-dreamer @buttercup-beeee
#blue writes! ✧˖*°࿐#avatar#avatar angst#avatar the way of water#avatar x reader#ronal x you#ronal x reader#tonowari x reader#tonowari x you#atwow#atwow angst#avatar 2
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Print and Palms - Morpheus x reader SOULMATE AU!
Summary: A little Godling finds her way back to Preston over the long years she has roamed, visiting the grave of a dear friend. Her little visit is interrupted though, as her and an endless are bound.
Words: Around 3k
Warnings: Blood, Swearing.
AN: This is the first fiction I have written since college, please be nice to me! Comments are really appreciated! Also its a Slooooooooow Burn because in this chapter, they have yet to meet. But in the next chapter, they shall!
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There you now stood, on the edge of the world it seemed.
Watching from the top of the old bell tower in the centre of town, you peeked beneath the awning above you. All bustle and hustle below. Rain angrily flew sideways at you, sticking your hair to your cheek, occasionally landing a drop from your brow onto your chin. Women and men dressed in their warmest clothing Scurried away towards the shelter of a pub or home. Umbrellas, gloves and heavy skirts to fight off the chill.
Your garb mimicked theirs. The woollen skirts layered over you. But you did not feel the chill, you already felt gutted and cold from the inside. For you were at this bell tower to honour a promise. You could almost see it from here, the mountains now cleared of any fog that may have been there before the rain. What was once a fresh mound of dirt a mere 300 years ago, now fell into a flat landscape.
“Hello Perrin,” you whispered towards the mountains.
A sincere sadness plagued your heart, You had missed the last visit to his grave 300 years ago. Not that you were able to say it was an accident. You had merely tried to pretend you were human. That is what they do. They mourn and move on, create distance between the one that had died. As after all, even a great wizard needed to greet his death like a well-earned slumber. But, after 50 years you realised something. Humans do not spend the better part of a thousand years with the ones they love. You needed to honour the man that picked you up when you scraped your knees running with the hounds. Or the man who had hidden you when you had torn the heart from a man the first time.
Ah, to be 13 again.
Even when you had lost control, tearing flesh from man and woman. Howling and biting for the throats of the innocent. He had taken you in by the hearth. Swaddled you and washed the blood clean. Soft and stern like only a father of a disobeying child would be. A child who did not know why they disobeyed so.
That was the time before the amulet hung by your breast. He was the reason you were in control. You had returned the favour well, helping him through 17 wives and what must have been scores of little spawn.
You wanted to be able to tell him of his descendants. Where to start? You still kept an eye on a select few, the ones that had more of his blood running through them than most.
“That small one,” you started suddenly,” with the red hair, Ronny? He found his soulmate. He was ordering his coffee, looking though his wallet for a tip for the jar when the girl asked for his name. She was sweet looking; not too tall. And then they locked eyes.”
You sighed and leaned onto the pillar beside you. A soulmate was a beautiful thing. It meant that the universe and the realms had converged in such a way that you were near enough to feel them.
Perrin had never found his, nor had you. Two with such a long life, surviving with the knowledge that the universe preferred you alone.
For those that are mostly or all human, It’s a warm feeling. They can feel what the air is like to breath from the others lungs for a brief moment. Then it turns into a warm and comforting hum. That’s the way others had described it to you.
Love was apparently pleasant and warm. Or, at the very least, human love. Kind and simple.
You watched as a print had made its burn onto the skin behind Ronny's ear. No doubt where his new loves hand would fall many times as she kissed his freckled face.
Why you had been so long without a soulmate was baffling. Most of the time, even immortals found their own. If they tended to be mortal, Death made an exception. They’re ‘record’ seemed to be lost, and they mistakenly were taken to the wrong realm it seemed.
Lightening cracked, illuminating the large manor beyond the treeline. Wind picked up as you waited for the thunder to hit. In those seconds the wind seemed to still. You looked back at what was now a grave.
“I’m so sorry.”
Tears seemed to jerk from your eyes as a single sob ripped into your chest, rattling the amulet that was tucked beneath your collar. And the flood gates opened. The next sob was met with the crash of the thunder, wind flew through the bell tower, finally warning you it was time to go.
Yet, you couldn’t. Not yet.
“Five more minutes, old friend. I owe you that much.”
Years passed.
You travelled far and wide, half a century had passed before you felt the pull back to Perrin and his resting place.
You had finally made your way back to the town that was once small and meek, now booming with wealth and prosperity thanks to the attraction that became the Burgess house. It had always made you queasy that thing, it seemed to call to you, then shun you away with the same breath.
A warning and a plea.
Perrin had often told you to not meddle in the affairs of folk that believed they had more power than they did. It wasn’t worth risking those that would bring a godling to harm.
But yet, you had always wondered about the rumours the poor folks in the pubs spouted at you.
“A devil.” They would slur. “An’ if yer’ not careful, he’ll gobbl’ you up and ne’er spit you out!”
You had felt bad for most of them, they would never know what a true devil was. Although some of the ones that were on the handsier side you hoped would taste a portion of the devils wrath. For now, you sat at the pub at the bottom of the street, as you had so many times. Every so often flitting back in when you were confident that you would not be sought after as a witch and burned at the stake.
Again.
Now you stood before the stone building, holding an old leather bag and watching the flapper women gleefully run towards cars awaiting to take them to the Magus. It was still slightly familiar, it had not been quite long enough for the building to shake the last of the century off just yet. The doorway still held those designs from the last visit, although it seemed several layers of paint had been slopped over them.
You sat by the door, shrugging off your obnoxiously large, old coat, which was by now more patches than the real deal, harshly shoving it between you and the hard seat back as a cushion. Slipping into the seat you placed your bag by your feet, pulling an old notebook bound in leather from its innards.
“’ello, miss!”
You glance up at a kindly older gentlemen, his eyebrows slightly unruly. His nose was large, almost as though a cauliflower had been plopped in the centre. Above that his glasses fell slightly askew, doubting they did much as he was still squinting at you merrily. He was dressed cosily, a vest and woollen jumper hugged him tight. Though it did nothing to hide the finger marks that peeked from the sleeve. What would have been a bright scarred colour was now a dull grey.
A lost soul, you thought.
“Just a pint of the freshest you have, please,” You answered.
He seemed to understand and cheerfully chatted to another at the bar as he poured. You went back to the notes. Reading over a few runes that you had found in some abandoned building not far from here. You could see what they were going for. A few tweaks and they may have successfully summoned something.
As you saw the movement of the barkeep turn back towards you, the sky exploded.
Blue and black shook the windows angrily. Sand and grass flew through doors that were flung wide open like mouths. A few of the lights on the streets shattered and sparked, only to blacken the streets moments later.
Chaos erupted. A few that had been holding drinks nearer to their mouths spat glass and ale mixed with red. You had been thrown to the floor, napkins and coasters flying past your head.
What was this power? This anger that you felt screaming through every part of your being. You clutched at the amulet under your shirt as your heart seemed to pick up to match the heartbeat in the wind. Closing your eyes for a moment before you managed to scramble to your feet. The wind still pushed at the backs of your knees. Almost as though willing you to bend before it. To kneel.
You watched as others started to come to a sense of realisation that the world wasn’t ending. Burgess house was probably at it again. They all did their best to close windows and doors. Bundle the injured up and out to the back where windows were less frequent. Others just continued to drink. To grumble out a harsh:
“Always knew those doors were shoddy.”
But they couldn't feel it, couldn’t grasp the absolute rage that had freed itself into the room. It was still ebbing and flowing and screaming. Even if the wind had flown on to the next victim.
You cautiously approached the ghost of what was once a window, glancing upwards at the path that was well paved and still well lit, compared to the dark streets outside the door that were missing bricks. You watched a gust pick up the leaves and branches at the entrance. Framed by beautiful arches of life that seemed to answer the call. You knew it was through there. The Burgess estate.
Perhaps it was time to venture past those borders and visit the Magus.
A small tingling on your chest made you look down. Black grains sank beneath your skin, your breath caught and you stumbled back to your chair. Hearing the kind old man calling out politely as you felt your hands go numb. Your nose felt cold and your knees fell stiff.
The necklace chain you had worn for centuries seemed to scream away from your neck as pain ripped through your back. The power you had felt just before punching through to your heart as a scream tore its way from your throat. You could barely afford to breath as a pain as hot as a branding iron slashed at the base of your throat.
You finally fell, finding the strength to open your eyes, you curled in on yourself. You could just make it out, golden sand flowed from what seemed to be the glow of fire in your neck. The tears that blurred your vision seemed to evaporate as soon as they found your lashes.
You began to question just how much more you could take, the sand felt cool on your skin as the fiery feeling raged on.
You did not know how long it lasted, nor did you wish to know, but the calls and shouts from the pub patrons were mere buzzing in your brain. You knew there were hands on you. Knew there were people clawing through the sand to clear you from it. And yet all you could feel was the presence of anger and power that ripped you to shreds.
As soon as it started. It ceased to be.
The smouldering ache left almost immediately, but in it’s stead it left a wanting. You felt as though you had ice on your throat that you would never be able to warm. For now, a welcome contrast but in the coming years, it would prove maddening.
You gasped and threw yourself away from the sand beneath you. Scurrying backwards on your hands with a new found energy. Panic induced adrenaline seemed to be a hell of a drive. When your back hit the bottom of the bar you stalled, eyes wide and panting. In the middle of the room was now a pile of sand that seemingly glowed under the light.
Dragging your gaze from a very human shaped mark on the floor you looked at the people hovering around. Concern, disgust, fear. One woman even had a hat pin aimed in your direction.
The new silence deafened you, and you found the energy to try and stand. Clumsily you stumbled to your things, attempting to grab your bag and coat before you, so gracefully, ran away. You could hear the people around you starting to move again and you wanted to be gone before some poor police officer was sent this way.
Your skin felt like ice and you just wanted to be away from here. Before you could escape, however, you caught your reflection in the window of the doors. Your eyes were red, small splotches of blood hung by your lash line and nose.
And a hand print had snugly found it’s way around your throat. The skin around it still angry and bright. Your breath caught in the back of your throat.
You needed to get the fuck out of here.
Not far away from where the pub now shook, the Endless sat, statuesque and tall. All muscle and bone, seemingly as healthy as when he first fell. Alex dared not venture past the frame of the door. Not this time. He simply peered through the bars, avoiding the light that would catch on the beings prison and cast shadows over the floor.
There he was, the dream.
Shrouded by the glass that could not quite allow him to hear well enough to make out the goings on upstairs. To hear the fact that above them, the Magus laughed and rejoiced with those that buckled beneath his feet. This was a natural occurrence for Alex, staring at the pale man whilst he heard the guards bicker about something stupid.
He was in awe of this monster, as he always had. But awe can be overshadowed by fear. As much as the Magus, his father, believed it would finally bestow him his brother back, Alex could not be so sure the creature would comply.
And that’s all he was now. A creature in the silence that seemed to breathe slower and slower as the years passed. His bird like torso almost still. Almost as though he had forgotten that he needed to to breathe.
Alex could hear a ruckus from up the stairs. No doubt another fight had broken out after too much liquor and swapping women. The old stairs behind him flew dust down at his feet. A wind that didn’t exist scraping over the ancient walls near his face. Roderick was probably up to no good again. At least, that’s what Alex had hoped.
He was not able to think on the subject any longer as he turned his attention back to Dream. He had slightly moved from his position. Now his face basked slightly upward and his eyes cast to the ceiling. Furrowed brow and pursed lips as his eyes seemed to melt into starlight.
“Always freaks me out when he moves.” One of the guards grumbled with a clink of a coffee cup. Just out his eye line he knew that the men were lounged quite comfortably. Against the Magus’ wishes.
The other let a grunt in response as he stood, footsteps edging close to the glass ball.
“’es stopped now, eh?” He could make out a shoulder coming into view, and Alex ducked up a few of the steps, trying not to crunch the stone beneath his dress shoes. The silence that followed seemed to be enough of an answer as the shoes clacked back towards the table.
Alex felt the floor seemingly fall from under him as he slipped, the guard let out shocked “OI!” as it seemed they had felt the same. Alex's’ attention immediately turned to the door again. Scrambling back to his knees he peeked back through the bars as the glass prison seemed to fill with some sort of wind. Impossibly harsh, throwing the Endless about against the walls.
He didn’t seem too phased as he let the current take him left to right, he seemed amused almost. Intrigued. The guards started to scramble, talking about Roderick and if they should go get him. Alex at this point wasn’t scared of being found, all he could do was watch.
Because the Endless lord started to SCREAM.
The first sound he had uttered in such a long time. His voice had not been used for such an age that it seemed to not quite reach it’s peak. It was hoarse and pained, Alex shot upwards, tempted to throw the gate open and barge in. Still wishing no harm onto him.
The dark hair fell over his eyes that now screwed shut as he clutched at his right hand. A golden light spreading over the palm, the muscles rippled through his chest and back. Changing what was once a relaxed canvas of skin, into a map of veins and tendon.
The glow seemed to fill the prison with warmth that the cellar had not felt in a long time. Alex could feel it on his face and hands as they clutched at the metal. But alas, the light was short lived as the glow was snuffed out by red.
Blood began pouring through his palm, by the bucket load.
The screams were higher now, more desperate as his toes disappeared into the thick warmth. By the time it had stopped, Dream had slumped backwards, trying to find footing as he tired. His feet were now gone. He sloshed as he attempted to stand, below his ankles were hidden from view.
He seemed to trip. Putting his hands out to steady himself, his right hand pressed against the glass. Alex’s eyes almost burst from his skull, his heart dropping with them. For there, in the Endless’ palm, was the print of another. Smaller, slightly more curved and delicate than his own.
I’ll be damned. He thought. Even the fucking Sandman gets one.
The riot came to an end and he heard one of the guards grunting to climb to his feet. It was time to leave. Turning on his heel, not without sparing one last look at the burn on the beings hand, and ran.
#the sandman#morpheus x reader#lord morpheus#the sandman netflix#fanfic#dream x reader#dream of the endless#x reader#slow burn#soulmates#soulmate au
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hiii!! so i am asking (reaaaally nicely) if you are able to continue 'intoxicating fear'? its so good and your work is amazing. thanks for your time <333333
-athena (@andtheysaidspeaknoww
Intoxicating Fear — part X
ATHENA?! BADASS IN THE ARENA?! UNMATCHED, WITTY AND QUEEN OF THE BEST STRATEGIES WE’VE SEEN?!
I am honoured, I have always loved your work except for a couple questionable things with Medusa but I understand…
Of course! This is for you @andtheysaidspeaknoww I hope you enjoy it <3 I also want to dedicate this part to @xxgalgurlxx for making ART of the boys™️ which I’m attaching to the bottom because it is so cool and I love it a lot :;) ENJOY SOME FLUFF/comfort for Kit (Hero).
Also! In case you haven’t seen Hero and Villain have names now! Hero’s name is Kit, and Villain’s name is Ambrose. I will link their character descriptions here.
Read part one here
Continued from this part here
I hope you enjoy this part!
*~*~*~*~*
Kit cleaned his arms of the leftover blood, gritting his teeth and hissing when the water ran over his cuts. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to ignore them as much as possible, but it was hard to when they still hurt. When Kit stood from the bath his tracksuit bottoms clung uncomfortably to his legs. He stepped out with a squelch of his socks hitting the tile and dabbed the towel gently over his arms.
The towel came back with bright red streaks across it and he wanted to scream. He can’t even have a towel in his own fucking house. Kit stormed out of his bathroom and straight into his room, slamming the door shut. Just for effect. Just to show Ambrose that he was pissed and he would let him know it.
Though, now that he thought about it, the sadist probably got off on his anger or something.
Change out of those clothes.
The command echoed off the walls of Kit’s skull, but he just stood with his back against the door, hands on his knees. His breaths coming out laboured and rattly. Kit tightened his grip on his knees until his knuckles turned white, trying to hold himself back from obeying Villain’s command.
If he fought it long enough… when Superhero came back they’d see.
Kit squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth as he felt his body fighting against his mind.
Come on, Kit pleaded with his limbs. Please. Listen to me, not Ambrose. Obey me.
Even if Kit wanted to disobey this particular command he couldn’t fight the damp coldness permeating from the wet clothes. If he stayed in them any longer he’d probably get sick for real. The sleeves on his shirt weren’t wet per se, just damp, cold and irritating. And his tracksuit clung to his legs awkwardly making Kit feel colder than he actually was.
Kit let out a sigh.
He would change, he decided, and that was important. That Kit decided to change, not Ambrose and his stupid power.
Kit took his hands off his knees and straightened up before stepping into the room and grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up over his head. Once his shirt was off he already felt ten times better as he obeyed the command got out of their wet clothes. He quickly slipped out of his tracksuit, the soggy fabric slapped wetly against the wood. Kit took his socks off and dropped them on the dirty pile to bring to Ambrose.
Kit opened his wardrobe, eyes drifting lazily over the selection of clothes and froze. His eyes caught the multiple cuts on his inner wrist and he wanted to throw up. Kit swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he reached over gingerly to run his finger down along one of the deeper cuts. He felt the ridges the knife created against his skin, the valleys between the flesh of his wrist and how much was cut away.
Kit stepped back, casting his eyes to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. It wasn’t like they were the first scars Kit ever had, but it didn’t feel like a scar he got from fighting some random Villain. It was so much more personal than that.
So much more violating because Kit had done it to himself, but it was Ambrose’s marking. His brand. His sign of ownership over Kit their strings. Ambrose decided exactly how many cuts, the varying depth of each of them. A cruel, insidious reminder that Kit really was nothing except what Ambrose wanted him to be.
That even if Kit fought tooth and nail against Ambrose he would never be able to win.
A sudden, helpless fury overtook Kit, the energy coursing uncomfortably under his skin. Tight and wired and itching to be released. Kit drew his fist back and punched the wall of his wardrobe, and without waiting delivered a second harder punch.
“Kit?” Ambrose called from some other part of the apartment. “Everything okay in there?”
Kit swallowed a sob, a mix of anger and despair clogging his throat. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and swallowed again before calling back: “yeah fine.”
Kit pretended it didn’t come out as pathetic as it sounded, because that’s all he could do anymore. Pretend. Fool himself. Cower in his imagination away from Ambrose.
Make himself appear more like a Hero and less like a… Fuck, what even was he anymore?
Kit grabbed a black crew neck jumper from his wardrobe and another pair of slate grey joggers. He slipped on another pair of socks before scooping up the wet clothes and walking out their door.
“Here,” Kit grumbled, handing Ambrose the wet clothes. Ambrose smiled down at him.
“Thank you, Christopher.”
“Don’t call me that,” Kit snapped. Ambrose grinned and pinched his cheek like Kit was a child.
“But you did such a good job following orders,” Ambrose cooed. Kit slapped his hand away with a huff and turned on his heel towards his room again.
He hadn’t even taken a step forward when Ambrose spoke. “Ah, where are you going?”
Kit’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “To my room. Is that allowed?”
“Hmm… why don’t you ask nicely?”
Fury winded through Kit again as he turned, eyes blazing at Ambrose who stood with the wet clothes still in hand just smiling at Kit’s anger.
“Haven’t you humiliated me enough already today?” Kit demanded.
“Clearly not if you think you can take that tone with me,” Ambrose replied nonchalantly, cocking an eyebrow at Kit when he took a step forward.
“Please, just give me peace, for…” Kit said all anger leaking from his frame once he knew he wasnt getting anywhere with it. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, licking his lips before continuing: “For an hour or two, I’ll be good I’ll just go into my room and make no noise or do anything bad I promise just please can I have a moment alone? Please?”
Ambrose said nothing for a minute. Instead he just drank in the desperation oozing from Kit’s tired frame, his sunken shoulders and his hands out, palms facing up as if to show he was no threat.
Begging.
Maybe Ambrose’s lesson finally sunk in this time. Maybe he did crack a little of Kit’s usual steel resolve.
Ambrose inclined his head. “Fine. I didn’t really have anything else planned for the day anyways so your time is yours.”
“Thank you,” Kit said with a breath. Closing his eyes and savouring the moment. Kit turned for his room again, walking towards it waiting for Ambrose to speak again. To laugh or say “gotcha” and force Kit to do another horrible thing to himself or…
Kit’s hand touched the handle of his bedroom. The cool metal beneath his palm and fingers a shock to his system, that Ambrose was actually allowing him to relax. Kit kicked his lips in anticipation and opened the door. Before he walked in though, Kit looked over his shoulder at Ambrose.
His dark eyes were following Kit the whole way, and when they met Kit’s the corner of his lips twitched up with amusement.
“Thank you,” Kit said again, forcing his gratitude and relief into his voice. Ambrose blinked, tilting his head slightly as if trying to see from what angle Kit was trying to get over him. “Really.”
Kit turned again and walked into his room after that, letting the door close behind him. Ambrose stood rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door where Kit had disappeared behind.
He swallowed them remembered the wet clothes in his arms. Ambrose cleared his throat, ignoring whatever that was all about and focusing instead on getting the clothes out of his arms.
Perhaps he went too far… perhaps he did more than crack the little Hero. Ambrose’s gaze flickered back to the door.
Only time would tell.
*~*~*~*~*
Continued here
This is @xxgalgurlxx art for Kit and Ambrose. Which I love, thank you again <3
The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom
#intoxicating fear#intoxicating#fear#Kit and Ambrose#hero villain writing#hero villain snippet#hero villain story#hero#villain#writing#orphan writing#whump writing#orphan#writblr#scared hero x telepath villain#scared whumpee#scared hero#sadistic whumper#sadistic villain#Captivity Whump#captive hero#hero captivity#fluff#as fluff as it’s gonna get#let’s be real#hero whump#hero whumpee#villain whumper#telepath villain#intelligent whumper
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Pedro Boys - Lawful/Neutral/Chaotic
This was such a tough one to do... Thanks to everyone who shared their input and helped me put this one together :). I hope I did everyone justice!
Lawful Good - Marcus Moreno. Always acts with compassion, honour and a sense of duty. Marcus will always do what's right. He is courageous and moral and respects law and order. A "superhero" through and through.
Lawful Neutral - Din Djarin, Frankie Morales. Din will follow his creed; the creed of the Mandalore, always ("This is the way"). He has a strong moral compass and upholds order. His creed and his clan come before anything else. Frankie also follows a code; the one that's patched on his jacket shoulder in the form of an American flag. He may not always agree with the orders he's tasked to carry out and for that he'll carry a lifetime of grief and trauma on his broad shoulders.
Lawful Evil - Jack Daniels. Jack uses the "black & white" of the law to further his own agenda. Blinded by vengeance, he has a goal to achieve and he plans on seeing it through, regardless if it means harm will come to others who may or may not deserve it.
Neutral Good - Javier Peña. A man ultimately out to do good in the world, Javier upholds strong moral values and pursues justice, however he isn't afraid to act outside the law (which happens to be his job) if it's what he believes to be for the greater good. Javier will disobey a direct order if he believes the end justifies the means. He doesn't feel as bound by the red tape as the bureaucrats upstairs and it's always been his belief that it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Neutral - Joel Miller. A true neutral, Joel Miller marches by the beat of his own moral drum. He'll act for himself, indifferent to what is "good" or "bad", based solely on his own needs or feelings at the time, or if his survival depends on it. He won't kill for no reason, but he would certainly kill if he believes someone means harm to himself or his loved ones. By the way, "the trolley problem?" Don't worry, Joel solved it :P
Neutral Evil - Maxwell Lord, Dave York. They have little to no reservations about bringing harm to others if it gets them what they want, but they also won't go out of their way to do something hurtful or evil if it brings them no benefit. Dave is paid to do a job. It's a name on a piece of paper in his pocket, nothing more. Loyalty or morality plays no part in it and Dave is happy to dust off his hands after it's done and go home and tuck his children into bed (and he sleeps just fine at night, thank you for asking). Maxwell has grand aspirations and plans to see them through, regardless of who gets hurt in the process. He'll "grant your wish" whether its for the greater good or the greater bad, as long as it benefits his own agenda.
Chaotic Good - Oberyn Martell, Javi Gutierrez. They uphold principles of justice and freedom but are unconcerned about how it is achieved (inside or outside of the law). Oberyn Martell believes in vengeance in the name of justice. He is bound by honour, love and duty to kill those who brought harm to his family and he will do it with a smile on his face. Javi Gutierrez' actions are inherently good and he believes in doing the right thing, although he will turn a blind eye to his criminal empire family and reap the benefits of their actions because he knows no other way.
Chaotic Neutral - Pero Tovar, Ezra. These individuals follow their own whims and will act in whichever way benefits them the most at any point in time. They are beholden to no one. A mercenary, Tovar can be paid to operate on either side. It makes little difference to him, so long as the price is right. However he also has no qualms about switching alliances, should it ultimately benefit him better, or just because he feels like it. Ezra is first and foremost a survivalist. He will always act in his own self interest with no intentions or bias toward doing evil or good. He's quite capable of switching sides if it is what is best for him (and the teenager he accidentally adopted along the way) either in the moment or for the long run.
Chaotic Evil - Max Phillips. This man is evil simply because he can be, and because it's fun. He lives for himself and his own desires with no respect to rules, authority or other peoples lives. He thrives on destruction and chaos (and has a blast doing it, thank you very much).
related posts:
Pedro Boys "During a Fire Emergency"
Pedro Boys "Nice Argument. Unfortunately,"
Pedro Boys "Don't Fuck This Up"
Pedro Boys "Dad(dy) Matrix"
Pedro Boys & Stabbing
Pedro Boys "Feral/Sad/Angelic"
Pedro Boys Respond to "I love you."
Pedro Boys "Character Tropes"
Pedro Boys "Gay/Depressed/Horny on Main"
Pedro Boys "Dad/THOT/Bastard"
Pedro Boys "bring some Coke to the party"
Pedro Boys "Zombie Apocalypse Team"
Pedro Boys "I Want a Baby"
Pedro Boys "As Babysitters"
Pedro Boys "As McDonald's Dads"
Pedro Boys "in a horror movie"
Pedro Boys "Cinnamon Rolls"
Pedro Boys "5 Kids, 3 Chairs"
Pedro Boys "Playing Monopoly"
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal cinematic universe#pedro pascal characters#max phillips#din djarin#joel miller#agent whiskey#dave york#frankie morales#pero tovar#ezra prospect#oberyn martell#javi gutierrez#javier peña#marcus moreno#alignment chart#alignment meme#moral alignment#the last of us#narcos#triple frontier#the mandalorian#game of thrones
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Supper
Authors note: this is my sweet revenge to @sihtricfedaraaahvicius and @tinumiel for making me impossibly horny over Masema for the whole day. And believe me it was a long day. I love you guys and I hope you will enjoy this little drabble
Summary: there is no summary, there is no plot, just pure SMUT 18+
Warnings: it's not proofread, I didn't even read it through a second time, I just needed to get this out of my brains
Pairing: Masema x reader (female)
Word Count: 0,9 K
You approach the Prophet's chambers carrying the plate with some meat and vegetables. The Prophet leads a humble life you have been told. He is devoted to Dragon, he hears his voice in his dreams and follows his orders. To be allowed to serve the Prophet is a great honour and this is the very first time you are allowed to go to this chambers and serve him his supper since you have started to work in the kitchen six months ago.
You knock and wait to be summoned herein before you push the door open and enter. There he sits in a chair before the window, immersed in a book. He doesn’t even look at you, when you enter, just raises his hand and points to the table. You turn and head to the table to put the plate and arrange the cutlery.
You turn around hastily as you feel someone behind you, just to face the Prophet towering over you. He is tall, his dark hair bound back in a bun, his face stern and the look in his eyes inquiring as if he could see through you, to read each and every thought in your mind. You swallow hard and want to move out of his way, but he doesn’t let you, his both hands on your waist.
You feel a shiver going down your spine as his grip tightens and his eyes continue scanning you. You open your mouth, but no sound escapes as you feel drowning in his eyes.
"Sch-sh,” the Prophet places a finger on your lips letting you know he wants you to keep silent. “There is no need for words, my child. I can see what you want, I can see what you need. And I will give it to you,” his voice is so soft and you feel yourself unable to move as if caught in a giant cobweb, paralyzed by his intense gaze.
He takes hold of your jaw and pushes it slightly up, his thumb nudging your lips. You open your mouth, his thumb slides inside and you start sucking it, swirling your tongue around it.
“Have you been a good girl today?” he whispers in your ear. You want to answer, but he suddenly squeezes your jaw tightly, preventing you from speaking. “Don’t try to pretend before me. I know you haven’t,” he continues, “And do you know what happens to bad girls? They need to be punished.”
You swallow hard and your eyes widens as you see the Prophet undoing his belt.
“Hands,” he commands and you know there is no way of disobeying him. You stretch your hands and feel the belt tightening around your wrists.
“Prophet…” you finally mumble, but can’t say anything more as his hand is gripping your jaw once again, his fingers digging in your cheeks with force
“You can call me Masema,” he smirks at you, “But only when I ask you something or when I allow you to speak. Do you understand me? You can nod, if you do.”
And all you can do is nod.
“Good girl, you learn fast,” he lets go of your jaw and leads you to the bed, pushing you backwards on it. You fall on your back and in the next moment he is on top of you, tying the other end of the belt to the head of the bed. You yelp from the stretch burning your wrists, but before another sound escapes your lips you feel Masemas hand closing on your throat, pushing slightly, just slightly to let you feel the pressure, to show you how helpless you are. Letting go of your throat, his hands slide down to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them under your dress.
“Daddy knows what you need, child,” Masema gets off from you. With a smooth motion he flips you over to your belly, pulls you up to your knees with your ass up and spreads your legs. You yelp again as you feel your dress being lifted up and your underpants pulled down to your knees, and a harsh slap on your bottom is an answer to it. You try to contain yourself and bury your face in the pillow to muffle the whine that threatens to escape your lips at the burning sensation of it.
And then you feel it - a wet finger sliding through your folds from your clit to the entrance. You bite the pillow, but he still hears that soft whimper you are unable to suppress. Another slap on your bottom sends waves of burning sensation all over your body, and before the sting on your cheeks fades away you feel Masemas hot breath on your core and his tongue at your entrance. A low groan escapes him as his hot, wet tongue finds its way through your folds, reaching your clit, teasingly circling it and going all the way back to your entrance. Masema presses his lips against your core and starts moving his tongue over your folds, licking with fast short laps like a kitten drinking his milk and there is nothing that can stop you from moaning in pleasure as each lap, each movement of his tongue sends electrifying waves all over your body.
Pleasure building up in you is so intense that the only thing you can do is to arch your back and moan loudly as you pull hard on the belt restraining your hands, trying to lift up your ass closer to him.
“Mmm, so eager … so needy … I told you, I know what you need,” he purrs against your cunt, “Daddy always knows what his girl needs,” Masema hums against your cunt starting to move his tongue with long, heavy, wet stripes all over your folds back and forth, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue and pushing it slightly within you. You feel your core tightening and clenching around nothing and you desperately want to feel more than just his tongue.
“Masema… please…” you beg, forgetting that you were not allowed to speak. He withdraws instantly and you whine in disappointment. Another spank lands on your bottom, the burning sensation only increases your yearning for him.
“Behave, whore!” he hisses, pushing his index finger inside you and starting to move it in and out, his thumb brushing against your clit. With a loud moan you pull against the restraints, trying to move your hips against his finger, to fasten his pace. But he takes his time and keeps torturing you, moving his finger with a steady pace - in and out, in and out. You almost scream out when he finally adds another finger and speeds up his movements, his thumb rubbing your clit more harshly than before. This is all you need, your core starts clenching around his fingers, your hips dance against them frantically, you are so close to the edge, just one more thrust and you’ll see the stars...
“Patience is a great virtue,” you hear Masemas' hoarse voice in your ear as he withdraws his fingers from you and undoes his breeches, releasing his hard, leaking cock.
He grabs your hair and pulls your head back, teasing your entrance with the tip. You arch your back and push your hips towards him as much as your restraint allows you, you need him so desperately. You moan loudly as he grabs your hips with both hands and pushes inside you in one single motion until the very end of his rigid length.
He is so big, you can feel him stretching you out and filling you completely, almost painfully, as with a loud groan he starts snapping his hips into you.
“Yeah, so good. You are so fucking, good! Now you can scream for me. I want to hear you screaming my name, little slut,” he hisses, holding you firmly in place as he proceeds forcefully thrusting into you, his breath fastening and getting twitchy with each slap.
His cock reaches so deep inside you, brushing against that special spot within you, that you feel relieved to have received his permission, as nothing in this world could prevent your cries of pure pleasure now echoing through the chambers and probably beyond. You are so close, one more thrust and your core starts clenching, squeezing and spasming around his cock as you feel your release washing over you in electrifying waves and you embrace your overwhelming orgasm screaming his name in pure bliss.
“Good girl,” Masemas groans now fill the room mixing with your moans and whines, his movements get sloppier, his breath hitching as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm and it isn't long before he follows you with a loud growl filling you up with his release and you both collapse on the bed. He reaches out and quickly undoes the belt, freeing your hands.
“You are such a good girl. I want you to serve me my supper from now on each evening,” he whispers, trailing his fingers over your back, pushing your hair away and placing a soft kiss on your neck.
“With pleasure, daddy,” you chuckle, turning to look in his mismatched eyes.
#masema#masema dagar#masema fanfic#masema smut#wheel of time fanfic#masema x reader#masema x you#arnas fedaravicius
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Hi 🤗♥️
I saw that you opened requests for Oscar Isaac and lately I'm in full obsession with Dune
I wanted to see if you would like to write oneshot fluff about Duke Leto x reader.
The duke and his wife have been happily married for years and have a daughter who is just 14 years old.
She is totally daddy's girl, always following him where he goes and seeing him as if her father had hung the same stars, but lately she seems more and more rebellious and distant. Defying his father every chance he gets and being a constant pain in the Duke's mind. Then he and the reader talk about it.
And the duke confesses that he has a great fear of losing his daughter, but the reader reassures him.
It can end however you want (angry or fluffy)
Hope you have a nice day (Sorry if I wrote everything wrong, English is not my native language) ❣️🤗
A small ficlet for you! Thanks for the request!!
"I just...I just don't know what to do," your Duke sighs. You know that whenever your Duke speaks plainly and shows such a lack of restraint of his emotions tells you that you know he has very limited options. "It's like she's going through this god-complex, trying her hardest to make everyone around her feel inferior to her. She has no respect, disobeys every word and lacks responsibility. How am I suppose to manage my own responsibilities when I'm having to make excuses for hers?"
For the last few months it's become common knowledge amongst all those serving under House Atreides that the Duke has been struggling to contain the temperment of his 14 year old daughter, especially those have fallen directly into the firing line of her unsavory behaviour.
As a chambermaid only a few rotations older than the Duke's daughter, it isn't common for you to discuss such matters with the Duke, let alone be in the same room as him, but recently he's begun confiding in you in a way you were never trained for, so your hesitance to help him doesn't go unnoticed. But after seeing how defeated he is sitting on the edge of his bed, looking rather unruly, you decide to chance the same luck. "May I speak plainly, my duke?"
"Please." He looks up to you as if you are the beholder of all wisdom, fingers still tracing the grain of his beard.
"You had lived many rotations before I was even born, so I cannot judge on who you were, but I can speak on who you are now. Everyone knows that you are a leader and a fighter. A good one; even-handed and compassionate. And for that, you have attained Caladan's respect and loyalty. But you are also a father. Her father exclusively. Nobody else on Caladan can share the honour of being your daughter, only her."
His eyes travel over you like he's seeing a side of you he hadn't before, adding to the profile he already has in his head. "It's so curious to me that you are only a few years older than her but yet so vastly different. Why can't I make her see it the way you do?"
Because you've pampered her from the moment she left the womb. Alas, you have more sense to remember what kind of consequences you'd face should you have spoken those words so candidly.
"By blurring the lines of being a leader, a fighter and a father. By letting her see the reason of why you are Duke of Caladan. Gain her respect the same way you did ours. Invite her to House conferences, show her how you train, show her how you handle hostile environments, make her your shadow."
The Duke rises from the edge of the bed with a sigh and saunters over to his wife's vanity, glaring at himself in the mirror. He has a narrow face full of angles and planes, with a high-bridged aquiline nose that gave him the look of a hawk, and woodsmoke in his brown eyes. Despite his intimidating looks, his outer shell doesn't quite reflect what's within. A point that perhaps his daughter has been abusing in recent months.
"I miss the little girl she used to be. I have so much love for her that I can't bear to spare the thought of her not being in my life. I'm scared of losing her. I fear that exposing her to this would put her in harm's way."
"Of course, and she trusts you to protect her as every child does. But what would innocence teach her that you coudn't?"
The Duke's face remains expressionless apart from the very small twitch of his eyebrow furrowing inwards. After a long moment of deliberating, his gaze sweeps to yours through the mirror. You begin to worry that you've stepped out of line.
"Do you think it would work?" He asks quietly.
To be completely honest, you don't know. At the very least, it would do her some good to be humbled.
"It is only advice, my Duke, not an instruction. I would never tell you how to parent your child, I would never disrespect you in that way."
The gentle nod of his head is a relief, and you feel your breath pouring from your lungs.
The Duke paces back over to you, standing just before you that you could feel the traces of his breath sweep across your features.
"Perhaps you are right. When I think about it, I learned most, if not everything from my father when I was a teenager."
A small smile spreads across your lips. "As did I."
The Duke reciprocates the smile, returning his gratitude in the way his hand gently squeezes the top of your arm. "He is a man I aspire to be. Hopefully one day I can be as proud of my daughter as he is of you."
"Thank you, my Duke. I'm sure your daughter will make a great leader one day."
He chuckles softly, "here's hoping she can survive being grouded for longer than a week."
#leto atreides#oscar isaac characters#dune#fluff#oscar isaac#request#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac fanfiction#leto atreides x reader#leto atreides x you#leto atreides imagine
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Um, hello. ^^ Anonymous Matthew's fangirl here 😅 Could we know something more about his past, and Marcella maybe? Flashback or not. With some dose of whump, of course. 🐺
Pretty please. ^^
Thank you for the request, nonny! I'm honoured that Matthew has a fan 🥰 love the wolf emoji there 🐺😊💙.
Hopeless
Matthew was lying on the sidewalk, dirt and small stones digging into his right cheek. His vision went dark for second and it was still hazy. Where did all the other wolves go? There was a group of them just a minute ago...
"Oi. You aren't dead, are you? Wake up."
The voice was unfamiliar, rough, annoyed. Matthew didn't feel inspired to give it an answer.
"They are gone. You are safe. Hey. Get up."
Someone must have helped chase the others away, when he fell to the ground and blacked out. But shouldn't a savior sound more friendly? Who was this guy?
When Matthew scrunched his eyes, he could see a mop of curly unruly blond hair and weirdly light brown eyes that almost looked yellow in the blinding sunlight.
"Mhhhhgr?" Matthew blinked, trying to lift himself on his arms, but shooting lighting pain at the lower part of his back left him breathless and nosediving back to the ground. Christ, that hurt. Who hit him in the back like that? Good sportsmanship indeed.
"Where's your shadow, eh? Heal yourself up. Seriously." Hector sounded even more annoyed now, like he had to deal with a problem he really didn't like.
Matthew tried very very feebly to call his shadow, but it jolted away from his grasp. He wasn't sure if it was humiliated, scared to be caught in such a state or just disobeying when he least needed it. But his back was hurting too much and his ears were ringing enough that he really didn't have the energy to fight for control and get more nauseous and discerned than he was.
"What a pathetic thing you are. And you are my brother's second? Tsch."
Matthew closed his eyes, feeling Hector moving away. Maybe he would finally leave him alone to black out and feel miserable in peace.
Then he felt his hands on his shoulders, going under him and hoisting him up.
Matthew groaned at the movement and the accompanying pain. "You want to kill me?"
"Tsk. If I wanted that, I wouldn't have bothered helping."
Hector helped him? That was entirely impossible. Matthew didn't even bother checking. Isaiah's mean accusatory and barky little brother that had nothing nice to say about him? Matthew didn't know what exactly the issue was, but someone who wasn't willing to give Isaiah even a chance, who could believe he could do anything with bad intentions...
Like okay, Isaiah was mysterious and a martyr and annoyingly guilty and insecure about every little thing. But that only made Matthew think the ones who got the chance to know him, really know him, should defend him all the more. Even from himself.
In that regard, Hector was a complete failure Matthew didn't want to bother with. And he suspected the feelings were mutual.
But here they were, Hector throwing Matthew's arms around his neck and dragging him to the nearest bench.
"Hey. Dead-head. Should I call a taxi? Can you get back on your own?" Still sounding way too disgusted for Matthew's tastes. Though it was actually kinda helpful of him? Kinda.
Matthew slumped against the bench, teeth gritted from pain. His back was seriously messed up. His eyes were watering just from the effort to sit, not to mention move and his shadow wasn't listening, when he needed it and...
And he really just wanted Isaiah.
"Can you...could you call Isaiah?" Matthew said between wheezing breaths. He tried leaning over his knees, but it made him more light-headed. Nausea was climbing up his spine, cold sweat washing over him in waves.
"Please." Yeah. Matthew felt utterly too pathetic to care today.
Hector's head went back a little at the word. He grumbled something, scrolling up and down through his contacts. "I...don't have his number. You got a phone on you."
Matthew shook his head, pressing his lips together. Cold heaviness was pooling in his stomach and he knew that would be trying to climb out soon. He didn't carry his phone on his runs.
The wolves attacked him out of nowhere. Three against one. Isaiah would understand. He wasn't so sure Hector would.
The blond in question clicked his tongue. "Ugh. Fine. I'll call a taxi and take you home, how about that."
Matthew didn't comment at what it showed, that Hector knew Isaiah's address, been invited there in need, but didn't bother to save his phone number. Utterly insufferable, this guy.
Hector all but insulted the taxi driver into coming, then sat down next to Matthew, his leg jumping nervously.
Matthew closed his eyes, taking slow careful breaths through his nose. His back was burning steadily, and he was too warm and his hands were shaking. Damn it all.
The car parked sharply on the sidewalk. Hector opened the door, said something to the driver, then returned for Matthew.
"Young man, you aren't going to be sick are you?" The taxi driver asked from inside as Hector circled his arms around Matthew's upper back again, helping him hobble to the car.
"What if I do?" Matthew wanted to sound resentful and rebellious, but the sentence came out more like a whisper.
"Well, the taxi will survive," Hector snarled at the driver who was eying them both in the rear view mirror. He winced and looked away quickly at the scary look on Hector's face.
Matthew slumped against the window, but the more he was sitting the more his back muscles trembled. The pain was getting worse by the moving, and the nausea was spiking. He couldn't imagine how he was supposed to survive when the car started to move.
And as he expected, the car moved and Matthew couldn't suppress a quiet groan. His hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his skin, but it wasn't helping, he was still seeing stars in front of his eyes.
There was something warm and solid, suddenly pressing against his side. Hector's muscular arm around his neck again, pushing Matthew to lean against him, trying to fix him in the spot against the jostling of the car.
Matthew moaned quietly, but it did actually help - he wasn't moving so much, pressed against Hector, face against the crook of his neck. The red wolf squeezed his eyes shut, not having the capacity to think about it.
The car ride was a blur. Matthew stayed like that, eyes squeezed shut, waves of warmth coursing through him, fighting the nausea as it climbed and sank. Hector said nothing, all solid like a statue under Matthew. He must have held himself very tense and strong to fight against the rocking off the car.
Matthew's mind circled and wondered, the darkness enveloping him. The last time he fought three wolves...Matthew was no stranger to being outnumbered. As a teenager, the wolves in his pack had to gang up on him, to suppress his shadow. It was too big, too wild, too out of control. Add that to Matthew's volatile puberty hormones and temper, he had to be beaten and taken control of quite often.
Usually making a giant scene in the process. A scene his mother would angrily scoff over, turning her back. Matthew wasn't worth her time.
Scene enough that his sisters and younger siblings were too wary and horrified to approach him.
Since going to the boarding school, he could only spend his summers at home. And with the scenes he made, he spend most of the time behind their house at the back of the backyard. Outside. Alone.
"Why are you so sad?"
Matthew lifted his head from his crossed hands, hugging his knees. The little girl with strawberry red hair and big blue eyes stared back at him. A little witch. The youngest of his sisters, whole 10 years younger than him. The only witch, the long awaited one by his mother.
Marcella.
Matthew looked at her steadily. "I'm not sad," he grumbled.
"You look sad though." She crouched down, mimicking his pose by hugging her knees. She was only six years old. "Is it because you are alone?"
"I don't mind being alone," he said, baring his teeth. His mother would surely not be pleased that he talked to the witchling. They were very protective of her.
Marcella tilted her head to the side. "You don't look like you don't mind."
Matthew lowered his gaze. "They are all scared of me. Cowards." He said sulkingly, voice breaking a little at the end.
Marcella watched him curiously. "I'm not scared. Can I stay with you?"
Matthew let out a sigh, wiggling closer against the warmth and solidness of a human body beside him...when the car stopped. The sheer lack of the motion he almost got used to jolted him awake, his stomach doing somersaults immediately.
Matthew gagged, pressing his hand against his mouth as his body lurched forward. The movement had spikes of burning needles digging into his back and he moaned.
Hector reached over him, opening the door. The gust of fresh air helped a little, Matthew following the scent as he fought against the next gag. He succeeded in suppressing the wave of slimy coldness, gulping it down resolutely. His chest hitched and his stomach rolled in protest, but he managed.
"Okay. We are here, we are here. You made it." Hector got out through the other side, circling around to crouch next to Matthew, planting a hand on his biceps. "You gonna be okay?"
"Y-...grrr...you are asking me that?" Matthew grumbled, slightly amused. Hector made for a good distraction. Matthew automatically reached for his arm to help himself up and Hector had enough brain and observation skills to take Matthew's weight himself.
"You owe me for the ride," Hector complained with no heat in his tone. Matthew murmed something in return, letting Hector support him. Everything was coming in and out of focus. Maybe for the best he kept his eyes closed.
Matthew didn't even realized when they reached their floor on the elevator, incredibly proud of himself for not throwing up the whole time. He kept his eyes shut. Hector, fortunately, didn't complain.
Hector rang the bell, the familiar sound vibrating through the air on the next side.
Isaiah opened the door. "Matt-"
Matthew all but threw himself at Isaiah, utter relief giving him enough energy to propell himself forward. The black haired wolf caught him despite the surprise, and Matthew gratefully slumped against him. "Oh, dear God, I'm home."
Isaiah splattered for air under the weight. "Matt, what happened?"
"Geez, he is acting like I was no help," Hector grunted, frozen in the doorway at the sight.
"And you were?" Isaiah said sceptically.
Hector scoffed. "Seriously. Found him getting his ass kicked by a bunch of wolves. Chased them away but he ain't healing, so-"
"That's alright," Isaiah jumped in. "Thank you for bringing him." Isaiah didn't close the door, but Matthew still felt like Hector just got dismissed as the oldest wolf retreated back from the hall into the living roon, Matthew still in his arms. "Where are you hurt?"
Matthew groaned against the back of his throat. "Mmy back. Feels like someone stabbed me there."
He could feel Isaiah's hands running over his back as if to check for bleeding cuts, but the skin was intact. It was something deeper, like a pulled muscle. But why did it hurt like that?
Isaiah helped Matthew to lie down on his stomach, helping him out of his sweat-soaked shirt. "Okay. You are going to be alright, bud. Deep breaths. Is your shadow hurt?"
Matthew hid his face between his arms, finally relaxing at the stable surface. When the tension left, the nausea trickled right back in and he hissed in pain.
"I-Isaiah? I'm...ugh-" Matthew gulped, loudly, feeling his stomach spasming. He tried lifting himself up and moaned, his back feeling like he got a slash with a sword at the movement. "Ifeelsick."
Isaiah jumped into action, fetching a mixing bowl from the kitchen and and springing back to Matthew's side. "Okay, I got you. Shhhh. Don't move."
Matthew shifted to the edge of the sofa, moaning as his cheeks bulged out. How was he supposed to not move? His stomach didn't care his back was hurting like a bitch, it was spasming and making him lurch. The movement was absolutely involuntary at this point.
Isaiah put the large mixing bowl down on the floor, then took Matthew's face gently in his hands. His palm against Matthew's forehead and the other on his cheek felt heavenly cold as Isaiah supported the weight of Matthew's head.
Matthew was leaning over the edge just enough to let out a trick of thick spit into the bowl. He moaned again, his stomach cramping as it send the next wave of chunky sick up his throat with a load burp.
Isaiah diligently held his face in his hands as the puke spilled from Matthew's open mouth. "Shhhhh. You are alright. Just breathe. It will be over in a minute."
Matthew's eyes were watering from the strain and pressure at his neck, connected to the burning nerve endings of his back. But it was thousand times better as to strain there without Isaiah's support.
Matthew burped up a second gush of puke, whole body jerking in the process. He groaned, tears running down his cheeks and into Isaiah's fingers.
The spasms of vomit died down slowly, with Matthew twitching and groaning pitifully for another good minute. Isaiah held his cheek, stroking his hair with the hand, trying to shush him.
Matthew completely gave up on any emberassment or pretense, raw and tired from the pain, afraid of more of it coming. He was so glad Isaiah was there he would have cried if he wasn't already.
Matthew was left breathing harshly against the sofa's leather, now shivering from the cold that also jolted his back and hurt. Everything hurt, everything was too much and his shadow wasn't listening...
"Hey. Shhhhh. You are okay. You are home, you are safe. You will get through this. I'm right here. Everything will be fine."
Isaiah's confidence broke Matthew's spiral. Matthew strained to look up at him, turning his head to the side.
Isaiah got rid of the bowl, bringing it back cleaned out, then sat down beside him. Matthew didn't protest against being pulled into Isaiah's lap like a child.
Isaiah said nothing about the tears, only stroking his sweaty hair and his scalp gently. His utter calm was making Matthew believe everything was indeed going to be fine. He relaxed, starting to feel sleepy. Just the occasional shiver jolted him awake.
Isaiah pressed his lips together and pulled a blanket neatly folded at the foot of the sofa over Matthew's naked back. "Just sleep. Everything will go back to normal once you wake up."
Isaiah was sure once Matthew calmed down, he would be able to call upon his shadow and heal himself. Isaiah never had any doubts Matthew could do it. He never doubted Matthew could do anything.
Matthew let his eyes fall closed with the gravity, wondering at what point Hector's presence disappeared from the apartment.
He must have been in a hurry, leaving the door open.
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･✻･ What sharing a bed with them is like ･✻･
• ══─━━── ⫷⫸ ──══─━━ •
I've decided to break my silence and finally share my opinions on Zhongli and Childe as your partners because I love them a healthy amount. It's pretty vanilla and romantic, but still NSFW, so be mindful.
These are simply my headcanons and thoughts based on my view on the characters. Hope you enjoy!
P.S. please, note that English is not my native language, so perhaps some phrases may sound unusual. If there are any grammatical/syntactic/spelling mistakes, you may let me know, I'd really appreciate that!
CW: AFAB reader, soft dom!Zhongli (praising and pet names), switch!Tartaglia (inexperienced partner)
• ══─━━── ⫷⫸ ──══─━━ •
Now, we all know that ultimately Zhongli and Childe are two very different men.
One will become your personal island of peace and serenity, his calming presence grounding you, his strong arms never letting you fall and his gentle gaze being your guiding light in the darkness.
Whilst the other is a fierce wildfire only you can tame. And instead of biting, burning your flesh and spitting sparkles in your eyes, it warms your hands, it pumps your blood and crackles comfortably within your chest.
But no matter how different these men are, there is one thing that unites them and makes them oh so similar in their love – they have a soft spot for you.
• ══─━━── ⫷⫸ ──══─━━ •
Zhongli is your wall of stone raised to guard and protect you, but never to keep you in, should you decide to leave. You won't, though. This feeling of being watched so carefully and tenderly is your comfort and you know that this wall of his is warm, stones caressed by the sun. Why would you even want to escape?
Zhongli is soft with you, his every touch a measured tenderness on the border with animalistic fervor and lust. Even in bed he will guide you, will lead you – will hide you among the sheets of silk, behind closed doors and heavy curtains. He's not possesive by nature, this wise gentle dragon, and he doesn't fall into the pit of jealousy quite as easily as humans do. Yet he is a genteel man, a quiet lover that would fight for your honour and shield your dignity. You are his and nobody else's for as long as he is yours.
Zhongli is a dominant one, his every word a soft spoken command you wouldn't dare to disobey, you wouldn't even think to do so, you wouldn't want it in the first place. The way he treasures you, the way he talks to you, the way he touches you, looks at you, smiles at you, even the very way he breathes when you gaze at him from under your trembling lashes – everything is to ensure that you feel safe and sound in his arms, that you are ready for him, need him, want him, that you are ready to serve him. So don't let him down now.
Zhongli is always oh so generous. His voice is a river of sweet, sweet honey, praises dripping from his lips like ambrosia, and you drink it up, lap at it, lick it away from his mouth, feeling it in your belly warming your insides, the very core of your being.
"Good girl", when you drop to your knees, your breath leaving your lungs at the sight of the God you're ready to worship.
"You're doing so well, my darling", when you take him to the base, his cock a heavy pulsing heat burning you from the inside, every thrust sending starts dancing in the darkness before your eyes, every low growl making you wetter and wetter. Just for him, only for him, now and forever.
"Ah, my love, my pearl, my precious little priest, I'm so proud of you", when you whisper his name to the skies above in hopes it will reach the Gods of Celestia herself and make them turn their heads away in shame. Only Zhongli will make you feel this good, only he can make you feel this good, Morax, The Lord of Stone, the God of your heart, the Dragon of your soul.
Zhongli is here to take care of you, always.
• ══─━━── ⫷⫸ ──══─━━ •
Childe, oh sweet Childe. He never ceases to amaze you. You know his heart is loyal to the Tsaritsa, not you, just like his hands are loyal to his blades and not lovers, yet when it comes to you he's the softest he can be. This form of tenderness only a wild fierce beast can muster. He's very careful at first, almost timidly so, his touch a lingering warmth on your skin, his deep dark eyes watching every movement, every change on your face, catching the very breath leaving your chest in steady calm streams, his fingers caressing you down there so lightly it almost feels like a wind's touch, his lips pink and boyishly plump, unused to kisses and bites. You smile and reach out your welcoming arms towards him.
Childe is inexperienced and this fear that he may hurt you sticks to his face, hiding in the crease between his eyebrows, in the trembling corners of his lips, in the warm air that slips between you two in places where Childe is too afraid to touch you. He wants to please you, wants to make love to you so intensely, so passionately, wants to mark you as his even if you will never truly belong to him, wants to hide your heart in his big rough hands and steal your breath away. But he cannot do that, not yet.
Childe respects you. No matter how many times you fall in bed together, how long you look each other in the eyes and how often you share the secret words of love, you will always remain a person he values as a friend as much as a lover. You're his comrade, almost his family, and he will never disrespect you. Neither with his hands, nor with his words. As young and unskilled in love and sex as Childe is, he is ready to learn and accept your wants, your desires, your needs, he's ready to obey your rules and be a good boy for you, ready to serve and worship you – but he will never be ready to use a dirty word to address you, will never be ready to land a hand on you. You are way too precious for him, a stolen sun shining for a murdered with blood on his hands.
Sometimes Childe doesn't know what he wants, but with your careful guidance and gentle coaxing, he'll understand eventually. He wants to trust you, wants to put himself into your loving hands, and let you know better. Strip him of his control, tie him up and chain him down, love him in the way he deserves – in the way nobody loved him before, make him forget about names other than your own, about colors other than the color of your eyes, about sounds other than the sound of his own broken voice. Take care of him so thoroughly it leaves him falling into pieces. Take him apart and then put him back together again.
Childe is here to be better for you, always.
• ══─━━── ⫷⫸ ──══─━━ •
#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin thirsts#genshin imagines#genshin smut#childe smut#zhongli smut
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Hello. I saw that you wrote in the hp universe. I wonder if you could write for the yandere husbands Cygnus Black,( Druella husband) Orion Black,(Walburga husband ) Alphard Black. There are no entries for these three Blacks. Please
hi anon, thank you for this request, i'm sorry it took awhile for release i struggled to create fleshed out ideas of them as im not too versed in their characters
Cygnus Black
i think he would be the most manipulative on this list
he would poach on your fears and take advantage of your blood status, no matter whether your muggle-born, half-blood or pureblood he has something to say about it
we know from his disowning of Andromeda that he is very strict beliefs and will not let love drive him so it's probably not an immediate attraction that drew him to you and more that he enjoys playing with your feelings
he wants to control you, to consume you
but somewhere along the way that became his only purpose, don't you know you couldn't survive without him?
he will slowly distance you from your friends until you don't even remember the last time you saw them, he'll soothe you when you feel lonely and proclaim that he's all you need anyway
the obsession makes it difficult for him to let you out of his sight
would propose to you in the most elaborate way in your common room in your last year of school where everyone is watching, he knows what pressure does to people
when you're wearing his ring he gets an unexplainable throbbing in his chest that makes him want to cut it out
when you're married he stops caring so much what you want, you're his now and he's quick to babytrap you
you're pregnant within the first two months of your marriage and he's never been more attracted to you than when you're carrying his child
doesn't stop after the girls are born, claims he just wants a boy to carry on his name but he just loves seeing you pregnant
Orion Black
he's less controlling but he's more violent than his brother-in-law
however he is much more strict on who you associate yourself with and is very judgemental over the ones he begrudgingly allows.
he's standoffish when he first begins a relationship with you and will never be big on pda but his touch is also very hot and cold, either gentle or bruising he doesn't have an in-between
he proposes in private but still somewhat elaborate, he also doesn't even consider for a second that you might say no
he does genuinely think his love for you is normal, he didn't receive the most obvious shows of love and affection growing up
his possessiveness over you is the highest on this list and he doesn't let anyone think for a moment that you're anyone else's, he shows this particularly at your wedding
he wants you to always remember, he can provide for you, they can't so the Black family crest is hung almost everywhere
he would indulge you if you wanted children but it wasn't much of a priority for him
he will want a son but after you have Sirius he won't really care, leaving you to care for him most of the time
he will try and care for him but his patience is thin and as far as he's concerned he only has enough space in his heart to love one person and he's already chosen you so why should he try to change that?
isn't above snapping your wand if you disobey him
Alphard Black
overall he will seem the lesser of all three but don't be fooled, if he wants you he's taking you
he would be more overt about pushing himself into your life under the guise of a concerned observer and your relationship moves swiftly, he wants you to see the best of him and lock you down before he shows his problematic tendencies
he will hurt people in the name of your honour or people he doesn't like around you but wit your soothing words, there are few incidents
you won't meet his family ever unless you get pregnant which will make him happy but he's willing to put his whole life on hold if you ask it
a new house? already signing the mortgage. a pet? on its way, darling. another bundle of joy? okay, sweetheart.
least likely to keep you holed up inside but he has his limits
if you show any signs of leaving him he'll have a breakdown and bombard you with affection and gifts
only seeks his family out as a last resort, he knows in his heart he can't live without you, he refuses to
people are allowed to visit you but you can't visit them without him there
he will raise your children into a sphere of protection and treasure each one of them
a lot more sympathetic of you if you defy him
nothing is your fault, you just need someone to guide and love you, he's sure
#yandere husbands#Orion Black#Alphard Black#Cygnus Black#yandere cygnus black#yandere orion black#yandere alphard black#dark cygnus black#dark alphard black#dark orion black#orion black x reader#cygnus black x reader#alphard black x reader#dark orion black x reader#dark cygnus black x reader#dark alphard black x reader#yandere hp universe#yandere wizarding world
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Drowning Inside You - Aemon & Ryn
Summary:
All his life, Aemon believed he was going to be an Alpha like his father, but he presents as an Omega and his life falls apart.
Unable to comprehend his presentation, Aemon lives in despair, until his younger sister Ryn becomes an Alpha and Aemon's world changes again.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
Warning(s): Self loathing, Despair, Anger, Mention of Self Harm, Eventual Acceptance.
Word Count: 2200
Author Note: An Alpha/Omega Story.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
Aemon smiled as he ran his fingers over the fresh mating mark that graced his neck.
Yesterday he’d married his Alpha sister Ryn and now they were mated for life.
But this wasn’t always what he’d envisioned for himself.
Before his presentation he was convinced that he was going to be an Alpha.
Just like his father, he’d dedicated himself to his education and training with the sword.
He spent hours poring over books and scrolls in the library.
He lingered in the training yard far longer than his older brother.
Vhalarr was the heir to Driftmark, and he was a second son in line to inherit nothing, but he accepted his position in life and vowed to make both of his parents proud.
His Alpha father was a skilled swordsman, and people from all over the seven kingdoms would travel to Driftmark just for the chance to challenge the great Aemond Targaryen.
His father remained undefeated, not even the Rogue Prince and his blade Dark Sister could dent his father’s victories.
Which frustrated his 'step grandfather' very much.
Aemon wanted to be just like his Alpha father, the rider of the mighty Vhagar, Queen of the sky.
Yet the day he presented as an Omega, all his hopes for the future came crashing down.
No, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Aemon writhed in agony on his bed as his organs rearranged themselves and the blood from his new womb ran down his thighs.
His Omega mother tried her best to comfort him, but he didn’t want to know.
I’m nothing. I’m weak. I’m a failure.
I should be an Alpha. Not an Omega.
Why have the gods cursed me?
Aemon couldn’t even face his father.
He became convinced that his father would be ashamed of him.
He spent weeks holed up in his chambers, refusing to see anyone.
How am I supposed to live my life now?
I wanted to travel to Essos. To fly with Vhagon over the ruins of Old Valyria.
Now I’ve been reduced to nothing but a prize to be sold off and used for my Valyrian blood.
I would rather die than submit to some fat lord who only sees me as a broodmare.
No. I will run away. I will take my dragon and never come back.
Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, he experienced his first heat, as he was newly presented it only lasted two days, but it was horrible.
That voice inside him yearning desperately for relief.
Clawing and screaming inside his head as he buried his face into his pillows and cried.
Make it stop. Please. I don't know how.
Eventually the Omega inside him quietened down and the longing stopped.
Heats were something he would have to endure alone for the foreseeable future as he didn't want an Alpha.
Mayhaps he should slit his own throat and be done with it.
But he couldn't willingly subject his mother to the pain of a losing a child.
Even if he hated what he'd become, he still loved his mother.
When Aemon did eventually emerge from his chambers, it was with sheer reluctance on his part, but his father had threatened to drag him out by his ears if necessary.
He knew that his mother had just given birth to another pup; a girl named Corla in honour of their great grandsire.
Aemon also knew better than to disobey his Alpha father, and he was rather fond of his ears being attached to his head, so he made the decision to go and see his mother.
She was safe. She was understanding. She would care.
As he entered his parents shared chambers, the scent of fresh milk lingered in the air.
After weeks of self-seclusion, the sight of his Omega mother holding a tiny snivelling pup to her chest was truly something to behold.
As soon as he locked eyes with his mother, he folded to his knees bedside the bed and cried.
“Oh, my sweet boy”
“I-I don’t know how to stop feeling like this” sobbed Aemon.
“It’ll be ok son” whispered Aemond as he knelt down and wrapped his arms around his crying son and held him tight.
“I don’t want to be a disappointment” muttered Aemon.
“You listen to me. Never ever think that. You’re never going to be a disappointment to me or to your mother” replied Aemond.
“Listen to your father sweet boy. We love you more than anything in this world”.
“I know I just-“
“I will admit that you presenting as an Omega was a surprise, but it doesn’t have to mean what you think it does” said Aemond.
“It-it doesn’t?” asked Aemon.
“No. You don’t have to change who you are or what you do. Carry on training with the sword, fly with Vhagon as far as he’ll take you. Just be yourself” replied Aemond.
“What about when I’m older and-“
“If you do not wish to marry, then we shall not force you. It will be entirely your own choice. We just want you to be happy” urged Valaera as she took Aemon’s hand and squeezed it.
“I would be happier if I was an Alpha” mumbled Aemon.
“Do you think me weak?” asked Valaera.
“N-No mother. Never”
“Well, there you go. I am proof enough that an Omega can rise beyond their presentation”.
“Whilst your mother may indeed birth my pups, she also sits the Driftwood throne and is Lady of Driftmark” said Aemond.
“You are Aemon Targaryen, rider of Vhagon and you are everything” exclaimed Valaera as she gently rocked Corla in his arms.
The sound of his mother's soft voice was soothing, it made him feel calm.
“On the morrow you will report to the training yard at first light. You’ve missed many weeks of training, and I shall see it corrected” said Aemond firmly.
“Yes father” replied Aemon.
“Don’t for one second think that I will go easy on you. Because I won’t” retorted Aemond.
I will be like mother, I will do my best and rise beyond my presentation.
Aemon smiled as he felt his father pat him on the back affectionately.
Maybe things were going to be ok after all.
So, Aemon resumed his training with the sword and after a few weeks, it was like he’d never been away.
If anything, his presentation as an Omega pushed him even further than before and he soon defeated every knight on Driftmark.
Yet his father still reigned as champion. But Aemon was determined, and he vowed that one day he would defeat his father.
Aside from training with the sword, Aemon would spend his days with Vhagon.
Admittedly he did still struggle with the notion that he was indeed an Omega, but his parents and sibling were a constant support and he felt very lucky to have such a family that loved him unconditionally.
Once he thought he’d come to terms with being an Omega, things changed again.
The day his younger sister Ryn presented as an Alpha.
He never gave much thought to his sisters scent before.
But after her presentation, she’d walked past him in the corridor and that’s when he smelled her. It was a combination of the sea and fresh fruit. Entirely unique to Ryn.
It plagued him, every waking second of the day.
When he thought about her, he would feel an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach and his heart would beat faster whenever she was near him.
The pair had been close before either of them presented, but now Aemon was driving himself to madness at the thought of his sister.
One night, he’d caught sight of her emerging from the bath in her chambers and he felt a wet feeling in his small clothes. He realised that what he experienced was arousal and according to a book he found in the library, it was completely normal.
It was shameful. It was indecent. It was depraved.
But Aemon couldn’t stop thinking of how Ryn’s body had looked and how her long wavy brown hair cascaded down her back.
He began touching himself at the thought of Ryn.
He would put his fingers inside himself and imagine that it was her, he would bring himself to peak every time with her name on his lips.
But eventually he became frustrated, being an Omega was hard enough, but now he was having improper thoughts about his sister.
Surely their father would go crazy if he found out.
Aemond Targaryen was widely known to be very protective over his pups. Especially his daughters.
Yet here was his own son, lusting like some unchecked whore over Ryn.
Even worse when he went into heat and Ryn was all he could think about as he writhed around on his bed.
He felt empty and his inner Omega was screaming inside his head.
The need for Ryn was almost unbearable. He cried, screamed and raged for relief.
But it never came, and afterwards he felt so ashamed of himself that he figured it was for the best that he avoided spending time with Ryn.
He declined her invites to go dragon riding, he refused her requests to train, and he most certainly ignored her when she would ask him to go the library with her.
She would stare at him with those big eyes and he would simply shoo her away.
He felt awful, as he knew it was hurting Ryn’s feelings, but he just couldn’t be around her anymore.
Until one day she cornered him outside his room and demanded to know why he was avoiding her.
He couldn’t speak. He just stood there not moving or breathing as she clutched at his leather doublet.
She’s too close. Much too close. I can’t have her near me. She smells so good.
Then she surged forward and kissed him.
It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
Her lips were soft and sweet against his.
Growing more confident, Aemon pressed Ryn against the wall and slid his tongue against hers.
Ryn slid her hands in Aemon’s long silver hair and scrapped her nails against his scalp.
“Ryn” moaned Aemon quietly.
“I’ve been wondering what it was like to kiss you” exclaimed Ryn sweetly.
“Y-You have?” asked Aemon.
“Yes, ever since my presentation, your all I can think about. Your scent is driving me crazy”.
"M-My scent?" asked Aemon.
"Sweet like freshly baked lemon cake. I crave you every minute of the day" muttered Ryn.
“I feel the same way about you” muttered Aemon blushing.
“If it’s ok with you. I would like to explore what’s happening between us, We'll go slow and take it one day at a time” said Ryn.
“I would like that” whispered Aemon surprising himself with his rapid agreement.
“I just want you to know that I would never try to change you. I think your prefect, just the way you are” exclaimed Ryn.
She thinks I’m perfect just the way I am. She accepts me. She wants me.
Over the next year, Aemon and Ryn spent as much time together as they possibly could.
Training, reading in the library, flying with Vhagon and Silver and stealing kisses when no one was watching.
Ryn was true to her word, she accepted him for who he was, and in a way, she saved him.
Omega’s were supposed to be soft and submissive, yet Aemon was defiant and strong willed.
Ryn seemed to like that about him.
He fell deeply in love with her and knew there was never going to be another for him.
Aemon never thought he would want to get married, not after his presentation as an Omega, the thought of some Alpha sticking their knot in him made him feel sick to his stomach.
But now, he wanted Ryn to be his Alpha and the thought of her knot, made him happy.
I want to marry her. I want her to mark me. I want to be with her forever.
So, he worked up the courage and asked their father for his permission to marry Ryn.
Which he readily granted. As it turns out their secret relationship wasn’t so secret after all, and their parents had known all along.
“We knew you’d find your way to one another” exclaimed Valaera happily.
With their parents approval, the wedding preparations were well underway.
But Aemon couldn’t shake his anxiety at the thought about consummating the marriage.
He’d never had any experience with sex, and Ryn was his first ever kiss.
So, he decided that he wanted to go to bed with Ryn before they were wed.
It was his choice and whilst it might be considered improper, he didn’t really care.
He loved Ryn and she loved him, and it was because of that love that Aemon had finally accepted who he was.
His parents had tried, but ultimately it was Ryn, and she would have his heart forever.
He’d even suffered through a rather embarrassing conversation with his mother about Alpha coupling’s with male Omega’s, but it was worth it.
When he asked Ryn to take him to bed, she was a little hesitant as she didn’t want to sully his virtue but when he assured her that it was truly what he wanted, she nodded and took him to bed.
He was nervous, but his sister was gentle and patient.
It did hurt a little bit when she first entered him, but the pain soon gave way to pleasure.
The feeling of Ryn inside him was something he would never forget.
She moved slowly savouring their coupling, stroking his pale skin, and placing gentle kisses along his neck.
She was patient and understanding. Taking her time.
The knot hurt, but the feeling of his Alpha pumping full of seed sent him over the edge too.
Being locked together with Ryn was a revelation.
He’d never again be this close to anyone in his life, and he wanted to do it again.
He soon found himself becoming insatiable, they would sneak into each other’s chambers at night and spend most of the night locked together by Ryn’s knot.
She even managed to help him through his heats and what a difference it made.
Before when he'd had his heats, he felt empty and everything hurt, but now he was happy and fulfilled.
If anything it made him fall even more in love with Ryn.
Unfortunately, their secret was soon discovered when their father happened across them when they were in the middle of harassing one of Driftmark's Maester’s for moontea.
Their father actually took it better than they thought he would. Of course, it helped that despite his protective nature, he was weak for his daughters.
Aemon did have to stifle his snigger at his Alpha father's crumbling resolve when Ryn gave him the 'look'.
It was the same look mother would often give him whenever she wanted something.
And it always worked.
The greatest swordsman in the realm reduced to mush by one look from one of the women in his life.
It was truly something to behold, until of course his father made him swear never to repeat to anyone what he'd just witnessed.
Their wedding was almost upon them, but Aemon was in a panic.
His monthly bleeding hadn’t come and now he felt sick.
But I took the tea.
Didn't I?
He’d seen his mother pupped enough times to know what his symptoms meant but it didn’t stop him from being in denial until he ended up confessing to his mother on the day of his wedding no less.
His mother was understanding and very helpful, especially when it came to discussions of the consummation.
After they’d left the celebrations and retired to their shared chambers for the night, there was a sense of relief in the air.
After tonight they would be a mated pair.
They would give each other the bite and be bound together forever.
Their wedding night was filled with passion and love.
When Ryn sunk her teeth into his mating gland as she knotted him, he could feel her become part of his heart and soul.
Then Ryn offered her neck to him and as the bond snapped into place, he could see the realisation in her eyes.
“Y-Your with child” exclaimed Ryn.
Aemon smiled nodded. He hoped his Alpha wasn’t angry with him for keeping it a secret, but through the bond he knew she was happy, and his Omega purred for the first time.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, content with the knowledge of their pup’s existence.
Ryn had even placed her hand on his stomach and smiled widely.
Alpha is pleased that I carry her pup.
“I love you” whispered Ryn.
“I love you too my sweet wife” replied Aemon.
Once it hard been hard to ever imagine that he would find himself with child.
Willingly anyway.
But here he was, carrying his Alpha’s first pup.
In the months after the wedding, his stomach began to swell and it suddenly became very real, that he was going to be a mother.
He prayed nightly that he would be just like his sweet mother.
She supported him through the pregnancy and answered every question and worry that he had.
Ryn of course had developed a possessive streak and wouldn’t let anyone within reaching distance of Aemon, especially after an incident that involved his uncle Aegon trying to touch his stomach.
Ryn went berserk and it took two Alpha’s to even hold her back.
All through the pregnancy Ryn was convinced their pup was a boy, but Aemon thought the pup was a girl.
Turns out that Aemon was right and on one stormy night, he gave birth to a girl named Adelynn, who had inherited his mismatched eyes.
As he held his daughter in his arms, Aemon made his peace with the gods and thanked them for allowing his presentation as an Omega.
This was always meant to be.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#alpha omega#original character#aemond fanfiction#aemond x oc#aemond x original female character
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Okay I've never really asked anything before but I just saw this spicy lil morsel and couldn't resist showing you it
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Czey7s3vJPx/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
Imagine using this on bratty sub minho😵💫😵💫😵💫
Welcome dear! I'm always grateful for asks, specially from people who interact with my content daily (I recognize your name from my notifs, pleasure to see you in my ask box💖) Feel free to send whatever you want!
Oh dear lord💀💀💀💀thank you so much for sharing this with me. I'm honoured
Oh, I would love it. You'll make him wear it as a punishment when you're fucking him, still clothes while he's completely bare under you, except for the collar of course. The moment he starts to brat out and disobey you, you can adjust that little collar tighter until it cuts his breathing. Imagine his shaking, pretty hands grasping unto yours as you do this, panting and begging you to stop but also crying for you to keep going.
He'll fucking love it. He'll wear it outside too just to provoke you, but also because he sees himself pretty with it and wants to show everyone he belongs to you.
No one dares to question the red lines around his neck.
thoughts? @2chopsticks2eyes @hanjisunglover @queenmea604 @linlinaert @thightswideforhanin @skzms @minsungisvreal @hanjibug
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hi can you do headcanons about dating klaus mikaelson
Dating Klaus Mikaelson
Warnings: nsfw, violence, substance abuse
You can't lie to yourself you love the bad boys
Klaus striving to garner for your attention for decades
Finally getting you to trust that he would not hurt you
Seeing the good in him
Klaus killing any man who has ever layed a hand on you
"I know I'm not your first love, but I intend to be your last"
Threatening any man that looks at you the wrong way
Even his family
Especially Elijah who always had a thing for you (we all know he likes feisty women)
Keeping him distracted by your charms
And therefore out of trouble
Having whole rooms of nude paintings of you
Being his life drawing model
Old-fashioned chivalry
Never letting you open a door
Always offering you his hand when you stand up or get out of the car
Whenever you had been apart he would greet you again with a deep passionate kiss, lifting you off the ground
When he gets mad he takes it out on you in the bedroom
He can't help it he needs to find a way to relax
He loves to spank you when you're being bratty and disobeying him
Your ALPHA
Chaining you up
Whispering sweet nothings filthy nothings in your ear
Biting
Edging
c h o a k i n g
He can't resist feeding on you
"you're good enough to eat love"
So he finds a witch to cast a spell causing you to be immune to werewolf venom
Occasionally he will let you feed from him too
The intimate connection of blood-sharing makes him feel closer to you than anyone in the whole world
Passionate fiery arguments that would always send in rough sex
Klaus fucking into you with his huge hybrid cock until you are sore and crying
You would have all the luxury in life
Extravagant gift giving
"for you love, anything that your heart desires"
Beautiful balls held in your honour
For birthdays
Anniversaries
And honestly just Tuesdays
He takes any opportunity to show you off
Sneaking off to a side room
Doing lines off eachother's bodies
Because who gives a fuck about drugs when you can't die
Getting high and fucking was just a Saturday afternoon for the two of you
Being his accomplice in crime
Him taking you all over the world
Paris
Venice
Moscow
He loved to see you amazed at the sights of the world
You are his whole world
#tvd klaus#daddy klaus#klausmikealson#klaus mikealson smut#klaus mikaleson imagine#the vampire diaries#the vampire diares imagine#the vampire diaries headcanon#klaus mikealson headcanon
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